Disclaimer: I own nothing of the amazing Ashes to Ashes much as I wish I did... ah well, we can dream. Neither do I have any claim on the brilliant Doctor Who, or Harry Potter for that matter. The lyrics and title are borrowed from The Human League who are awesome so naturally I don't own those either.

Ok this is the closest thing to a proper full-blown story I've done so far so I really hope you like it. It was a story merging the A2A and DW universes that was just begging to be written, so I did! Spoilers for both series of Ashes and minor Who references. It's set sometime during series 2 of Ashes, but before any of the corruption stuff ever really evolved, plus it's before series 4 of Doctor Who. Oh and its Galex by the way!

I really hope you enjoy and please review so I know what you thought! Thanks. Now I'll shush and leave you to read...

Kiss the Future

Time has gone to hesitate; nothing now can make you wait.

Take control of your own fate.

Take tomorrow in your hand, make the others understand.

One break you must demand.

Your past life don't suit you; take my hand, kiss the future.

Let fortune uproot you; take my hand.

Kiss the future.

Chapter 1: Careless memories, careless driving... and breadsticks

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and surveyed his surroundings in bewilderment.

"Either this isn't in fact the planet Thisterillion 5000 or I had a few more banana daiquiris last night than I thought I did..." The Timelord trailed off, scratching his head as a bright red Audi Quattro came gunning round the corner, sped past him and swerved to a halt across the pavement further up the road.

The Doctor whipped his specs out from the pocket of his brown suit jacket and slipped them on, moving forward to study a tattered Adam and The Ants poster hanging lopsided from a lamppost. He sniffed loudly before removing his glasses.

"Not Thisterillion 5000 as it turns out," he spoke aloud again, although there was no one listening. "More like London, Earth," and sniffing once more he finished "1982. Right. Yes. Good." And with that he retreated into the TARDIS, muttering under his breath.

Glad there was no one here to see that.

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For the third time since she'd entered the car ten minutes ago, Alex Drake's palms slapped against the dashboard as her boss slammed on the breaks.

It really would be easier just to wear the damn seatbelt.

"You're a police officer not a bloody vicar!" Gene Hunt reminded her, reading her thoughts – or maybe just the look on her face. He pulled open his door and got out; she did the same, followed by Ray and Chris from the back seat.

Suddenly remembering the other thought that had crossed her mind as they'd been hurled round the corner, Alex gazed back down the street. Maybe it was just her imagination (so to speak) but she could have sworn she had seen... No, definitely not, it was a television program for God's sake, it couldn't be... then again, Zippy and George, not forgetting Morph and Roland the Rat and–

"You comin' Bolly Knickers?" Gene's voice diverted her attention back to reality, successfully dismissing all thoughts of a certain famous little blue box from her head. Alex turned away, following him obediently up to the front door of the eyewitness they were going to question (or more appropriately; bully) for information.

That evening, after the usual celebratory 'lunch' following a case solved, Alex stumbled up the stairs and into her flat, feeling the effect of the nightly piss-up weighing on her eyelids. She felt slightly flushed, partly from the stuffy heat downstairs, and partly from the amount of Luigi's house rubbish she had consumed since seven o'clock. It was also due to the realisation that she had probably been flirting with Gene. A lot.

"Oh God..." She moaned, rubbing her head, although she couldn't help the smile spreading across her lips as she did so. And besides, she reasoned, Gene had been even more drunk than her when Chris and Shaz had bundled him into a cab. Hopefully he wouldn't remember the way she had clutched his arm and whispered in his ear as they had parted ways when he regained consciousness in the morning. Alex blushed again at the thought.

"Bloody alcohol." She decided as she switched on the lights and headed towards the shower. "And Luigi... swear he does it on purpose..."

The cool water was soothing. When she stepped out a couple of minutes later, Alex felt much more refreshed and vaguely more sober. She slipped on her black silk nightshirt and got into bed, her thoughts full of her daughter and, much as she tried to ignore them, one Gene Hunt.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Doctor was sat at a small table in a quaint Italian restaurant called Luigi's having lost count of the number of attempts he had made to leave. No matter what destination he set off for, or what co-ordinates he programmed into the TARDIS's console, every time he stepped outside, he found himself in the same place; South London, Earth, March 1982.

Each time he landed, the Doctor had wandered around, trying to identify where and when he was, and it was always very similar, although not the same. The second time he had emerged from the TARDIS to find himself nose to nose with a wall of weathered posters: Duran Duran, The Human League, Blondie, and another one of Adam Ant as well as advertisements for the Blitz Club plus other more 'specialist' venues in nearby Soho.

On his next try, the Timelord had found himself down by Wapping Wharf, and was intrigued to spot that same red Quattro that had driven past him earlier, parked a few feet away. The sound of gunshots and shouting behind him had made the Doctor turn and search for the source of the commotion. He had just about been able to make out a man in a long dark coat and a woman in black jeans and a white leather jacket running after a another man clutching a briefcase to his chest. A couple of police cars had then appeared further down and more people joined in until they had soon closed in on the man.

A woman dressed in a very short pink skirt, a tight gold low cut top, black stockings and boots, and with heavy pink eyeliner around her blue eyes was what the Doctor had been faced with on the following attempt. She had blown a mouthful of smoke in his direction from the cigarette perched between her pointed nails before addressing him.

"What you after then darlin'?" The Doctor had practically thrown himself back into the TARDIS and dematerialised her without giving the woman a second glance, let alone an answer, for fear of being caught somewhere he shouldn't be.

A couple of tries later, the Doctor had landed outside a disused warehouse, the now familiar red Quattro parked just round the corner. He had watched what was going on inside through a gap in one of the boarded-up windows. The same man and woman he had seen earlier were making their way quietly forward, guns held in their hands. This time they were joined by two other men; one was quite tall and skinny, wearing tight white jeans and a stone-washed denim jacket. He also had a gun in one hand, while the other slid through his messy dark hair nervously. The other man had what looked to the Doctor suspiciously like a perm, and wore a maroon leather jacket, also carrying a gun.

The foursome moved cautiously further into the building, stopping when a voice broke the silence.

"Don't you come any closer!" It shouted. "You come any closer and I'll kill him!"

The Doctor peered through the gap. He could now see a fifth figure, a man dressed in jeans and a dirty t-shirt, holding a young boy at knifepoint. As he watched, the woman in the white leather jacket spoke.

"Jason, you don't want to kill him, I know you don't; you care about him." Her voice was calm and confident, and as she was talking, she reached behind her and tucked her gun into her waistband. She then held up her hands, palms open to reinforce the lack of threat in her intentions. The woman stepped forward slowly, hands still held up as she continued to speak.

"People will understand why you took him." She went on. "You were only trying to help him weren't you Jason? That's good; you wanted him to be safe. And that's all that we want too – to make sure that Tommy's safe, so just put the knife down. Just put it down, that's it; gently does it."

The others all remained silent, letting her take the lead. They watched, relieved, as Jason removed the weapon from against the little boy's throat and dropped it on the ground. Quickly, the two police officers hurried forward and grabbed the man's arms, snapping handcuffs on, while the boy ran towards the others. The woman in the white leather jacket knelt down and put her arms around him as he sniffed, asking for his mummy. She picked him up and held him securely on her hip; he wrapped his little arms around her neck, comforted by her embrace.

From his vantage point, the Doctor also let out a breath in relief, impressed by the ease with which the woman had talked the man down. She was obviously a natural, and perhaps a mother too, judging by the way she was consoling the poor little boy. He retreated back to the TARDIS, keen to leave – or at least move – before they emerged.

Several attempts later, the Doctor had established that he was undoubtedly stuck. Stuck in this specific area of South London. In the 1980's. But why, he had no idea. The only link he could find was it was all around the same time; early March 1982. And the constant presence of that red Audi Quattro and the police officers, particularly the woman in the white leather jacket, intrigued the Doctor further.

When he'd been able to find one, he had checked newspapers, but nothing had jumped out at him as being a clear reason for his being here. As far as his history went – and that was generally quite reliable... sort of – he couldn't recall anything particularly significant happening.

The TARDIS hadn't been able to give him any hints either; she seemed just as confused as he was. Being a highly intelligent life form (if he did say so himself) the Doctor had done everything he could think of to break out of this 1980's bubble he had found himself in. He had even tried setting the co-ordinates for London, March 1982, as if that might do something, but eventually he had resigned himself to the fact that, for now, he was stuck here, and had left the TARDIS to find some lunch.

Could be worse, he reminded himself as he nibbled on a breadstick. Plenty of worse places to end up than the 80's.

The Doctor glanced around interestedly at the tratorria he had come across. It was fairly quiet at the moment; a couple in one corner arguing over which pasta to order, a man in his sixties with a cigar in his mouth, flicking through a newspaper, and a woman at the bar, ordering another round for the group of suited business types occupying a table in the centre of the restaurant.

A kindly man came over to the Doctor's table carrying a plate of steaming Spaghetti Bolognese.

"Your food signor." The old waiter told him, setting it down.

"Aah, thanks very much!" the Doctor replied happily, picking up his fork. The waiter smiled again.

"Enjoy." He said, backing away from his satisfied customer. The Doctor watched for a moment as the Italian returned to the bar, where he resumed his task of polishing glasses with a contented smile on his kind face. Turning back to his meal, the Doctor ate hungrily, occasionally looking up at his fellow patrons, also enjoying their food and drink.

A little while later the waiter, Luigi, appeared once more at the Doctor's elbow. He collected his now clean plate and addressed him in his friendly, Italian accent.

"I take it you enjoyed the food Signor?" He asked with a knowing smile.

"It was delicious, best spag bol I've had in decades!" If Luigi was surprised by this remark, it didn't show.

"Good, good. More drink for you?"

"Well, I really should be going, I mean I've tried to leave but I don't seem to be able to. It's as if something's keeping me here, but I can't for the life of me see what it is. You see Luigi, there's something wrong with my err... transport. Not sure what's wrong with her but it seems I'm stuck here. Must be something I've got to do, must be a reason for it all but I have no idea what it is. I mean, London okay, I get that; I'm always bumping into London, very hard to avoid in fact, but the 1980's? What's that about? The 21st century I can understand... but 1982? Come on!" The Doctor stopped, sensing he had been rambling slightly then, and that he hadn't actually answered the man's question.

" Yes please, another lime and soda would be lovely."

This time Luigi didn't need to hide his surprise or confusion at the Doctor's words; with the price of his alcohol, he was used to it. Besides, since the arrival of one of his most regular customers, a certain Detective Inspector, he had gotten much more accustomed to her similar outbursts, even when she hadn't been drinking.

"Of course." Luigi responded, reaching for his empty glass. "You know Signor, I have a friend who speaks much like you do, talking "in another dimension"." He went on, echoing something DCI Hunt had once said of his DI. At this, the Doctor looked up, his turn to be surprised.

"She is a lovely lady, but so very lost. Far from home. If you ask Luigi, she does not feel as if she belongs here. She is torn between two different worlds, or so it seems to me, Signor. I pray that she will soon realise that this is where she belongs, this is her home..." Luigi trailed off, thinking of Alex. Oh how he worried about her. At least she and Signor Hunt seemed to be growing closer, helped along in a small part by Luigi, or so he liked to think.

Also lost in his own thoughts, the Doctor considered his situation. Maybe this was why he was here; maybe this woman Luigi was talking about was the reason, the person he had to help get back home, in order for him to leave here as well, to continue travelling through time and space.

"What's her name?" He asked, hoping not to sound too nosy.

"The lovely Signorina Drake." Luigi told him with a smile. "She is a Detective Inspector at Fenchurch East police station just across the road. But I'm afraid Signor, her heart is already claimed by another – a strong, handsome, brave lion of man."

"Really?" The Doctor questioned. Luigi beamed again.

"Well, perhaps not quite yet, but Luigi knows how they feel about each other even if they do not. Another very good friend of mine, and also a police officer signor, so it would not be wise to get between them. Signor Hunt is feared by most men you see, although Luigi knows it is one woman who scares him more than anything. No passion! That is the trouble with all Englishmen when it comes to love, so Luigi helps things along as best he can. I only wish to see them happy you see Signor. If the lovely Alex is made happy then Luigi will be happy. How does that song go? 'I'm happy, hope you're happy too'; yes that is it!"

Luigi disappeared again to fetch the Doctor's drink, humming David Bowie to himself, but with a touch of Italian flair. The Timelord smiled; Alex Drake, a Detective Inspector of the Met, and she worked right across the road – how convenient. After hearing Luigi talk about her, the Doctor was sure that this Alex was the person he was supposed to help. If she really was lost, from a different time, unable to get back, then he wanted to do all he could to help her.