*Looks sheepish* HIII GUYS. I haven't written in yonks. First it was exams and shizzle... and then it was Tumblr, followed by writer's block... followed by Tumblr. Pfft, and so I get the WANT to write in the last few weeks of my summer holiday. TYPICAL, EH? Well I hope to update a lot more regularly now (I'm not promising, I'm just hoping) but we'll see. This idea actually came to me after watching "Shutter Island" there are kinda some few little details that are similar... but I'm not creating like a Ashes to Ashes version of the film, just borrowing a few things. :P Anyway, the first lil' bit is a prequel. This fic takes place in 1982. Just forget EVERYTHING about series 2 of Ashes, k? Cool. There will be Galex. *Wiggles eyebrows*

Hasn't been beta'd. Proof read a lot and frowned at a few things. If you frown at a few things too, please gimme criticism. All mistakes are mine, not yours, it's ok, I'll take the blame.

I OWN NADA. KUDOS OWNS ALL. FUCK THEM FOR THAT.

October 21st, 1981.

Gene Hunt studied the man sat in front of him through squinted, accusing eyes. His face was emotionless, his grey eyes gave away nothing; his long, thick hair was greasy and matted, and his lips were set into a slight smile… if you could even call it that. The clothes he wore were tattered and stained in blood; some of it was fresh, some of it looked like it had been there for weeks. It was like looking at a caged beast. Calm on the outside, but inside he was raging, ready to unleash his anger. He was almost scary to Gene - and Gene Hunt was never scared.

"Simon Reese: part time drug dealer, full time bastard." Gene began, "Murderer of 12 women." He displayed 12 photos of 12 women on the desk, but Simon didn't avert his eyes from Gene's. Instead his smile widened, producing yellowing teeth and blackening gums. "All 'ave the average age of 30, all 'ave brown hair, all got the surprise of a lifetime from you. We've found yer fingerprints on one of yer victims, Sarah Glen, and we even 'ave blood samples righ' there on yer clothes." He pointed.

"They're pretty aren't they, hmm?" Simon whispered, tilting his head to the side. "Such pretty girls." He began to drum his fingers on the table.

"Each victim suffered multiple stab wounds across their body, all sharing the same cause of death: a slit throat. Before killing 'em, you ripped off all of their nails and gave 'em a nice little 'air cut. We even stumbled across the knife you used."

"They screamed so beautifully…"

"Stop it," Gene warned through clenched teeth.

"I liked to make them cry. I was good at making them cry," he grinned.

Gene abruptly stood up and grabbed Simon by his collar. "Enough!" He yelled, slamming his face into the table and holding it there. "Simon Reese, I'm charging you with the murder of 12 women. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be drowned out by the sound of me cracking yer ribs in two."

Simon laughed and shrieked as two policemen cuffed his hands behind his back and lead him down to the station's cells. "I'll get you back for this, Hunt. You wait. Life is made of choices. You've just made the wrong one. You'll see! You'll see!" He thrashed about and shouted, the caged beast inside of him had been released, it seemed.

"Think you'll enjoy a lifetime in prison, Simon. I 'ear every Friday they do a freshman beat-up. Might pop along to watch them bash yer twat of a 'ead in." Gene called after him, glad to be free of such a disturbing person.

Present day, July 14th 1982

CID was at its quietest. The finishing of paperwork was the only action the department seemed to be getting; there were no robberies, no shootings, no prank phone calls. Nothing. Ray and Chris were sat with their feet propped up on their desks, switching between reading magazines and doodling rude drawings on a piece of paper – both ignoring the little work they had. Shaz was at her typewriter, her fingers a blur as she rushed to complete her work, hoping that perhaps the sooner she finished the sooner she could go home.

Alex, on the other hand, decided to waste her time by watching her boss, Gene Hunt, through the glass windows of his office. She focused her attention to the pout forming on his lips, desperately wishing she could just kiss it away, as well as smooth out the frown he was wearing… Without warning he looked up. Her mind was someplace else, however, and didn't register the fact his eyes were looking at hers. When she finally noticed, she snapped her eyes down to her desk and tried to fight the blood that rushed to her cheeks. It was no use; she could feel the flush and suspected he was now probably looking smugly at her because of it. Alex made a note to slap herself later for giving him the satisfaction. The relationship with her boss had to stay professional - she knew that - but as days went by she seemed to become fonder of him, and she couldn't help but think what life would be like if they did ever end up as more than colleagues… more than friends. No, she thought, I wouldn't want to be with him like that, no way. She accidentally snorted at the thought, attracting weird looks from a few of the officers in the room.

The high pitched shrill of the telephone was a shock to everyone, excluding Shaz who was too absorbed in her work to notice. Gene picked up the phone and answered. Moments later he was out of the office, face filled with a mixture of anger and fear. "D.I. Drake, Raymondo, Christopher: follow my lead." And with that he stormed out of CID's double doors.

"Guv!" Alex had to run to catch up with him, "Guv, what is it? What's happened?"

"Simon Reese, remember 'im? Slimy bastard, looked like he'd been living in a deep fat fryer for 'alf 'is life. Was sentenced to a life time in prison last October. Charged with the murder of 12 girls."

"Yes, yes I remember." Alex nodded, slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, well, the twat escaped Fenchurch prison a few hours ago. Wardens did their afternoon check and found 'is cell unoccupied. God knows where 'e could be and what 'e might do."

"Shit." She whispered.

"My thoughts exactly, Bolly, my thoughts exactly."

"Have they been looking for him? How on earth did he get out? What will happen when the public finds out?" Her words were out so fast Gene barely understood her.

"Of course they've been bloody looking for 'im - 'e's a serial killer! Although why they didn't call us as soon as they found out is beyond me. As for getting out; I wouldn't 'ave a clue. And the public? The public 'ave to know, Alex. If we offer a price for 'is 'ead maybe 'e'll show up quicker." Gene opened the door to the main building, allowing Alex to go ahead of him.

"If we don't find him soon, who knows what he could do. Urgh, I could scream" She admitted, worry laced between her words.

"Don't do that, you'll scare 'im off, then we'll never find 'im." A pointed look from Alex was enough to stop him from kidding around. An edgy warden took them to Simon's former cell and stood by the door as they explored, he constantly looked around, worried the serial killer would jump out at any moment.

Alex took in the sight around her: the door to the cell was in tact, the walls were still standing, the little window was still barred… either he stole a key off a warden and escaped without being noticed, or he had help. Most likely the latter, seeing as it would be virtually impossible to escape without some form of help. Although who would be sick enough to help someone who had stabbed 12 women to death? It all seemed so confusing - she needed someone to fit the puzzle pieces together so she could see things clearer. Whilst she stood thinking, Ray and Chris were already phoning back to the station, sending out plods to check around the area for any signs of Reese.

Gene, however, had found a loose tile on the floor and placed it to his left, uncovering what was underneath. He found a note, signed by Simon himself. "Right. You!" He pointed to the nervous warden, "We'll need to interview every warden and every prisoner here. This bastard needs to be found. Whilst you're at it, make sure no other murdering twat escapes this place." The man nodded and scurried off to one of the offices.

"What was on the note?" Alex asked, fear swimming in her eyes. He handed it to her.

"'Let's play hide and seek'. Anyone would think he's a fucking three-year-old."

I SWEAR this one will end up as a black comedy. I couldn't control writing some of the lines I did in this... Ah well. Please review! All comments welcome. :')

Claire x