TITLE: "Crossroads"
FANDOM: Ashes to Ashes

RATING: M. Because there will be smut. And bad language.
PAIRING: Alex/Gene
GENRE: Romance/Angst

A/N: This? Is a really silly story. Maybe a little over the top, too. Don't expect too 's just a silly piece of angstfluff. But it's summertime, and I like trashy historical romances in the summertime! I hope it's not too weird.

xxXXxx

Voices, somewhere in the distance. Female, soft and muffled. A steady, mechanical pinging.

Her eyes drifted open. There was the white haze of the room, and the blur of two figures at the end of her bed. She peeled her dried, cracked lips apart and tried to speak, but it came out in a raspy moan.

"She's awake. Call the doctor," she heard someone say.

She blinked her eyes, and the room seemed to pop into focus. White, sterile walls. Machines and monitors.

Hospital…I'm still in hospital…Molly…she was here...where is she?

There was another figure there now. Male. White-coated, fiddling with wires and knobs above her head.

"Alex? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she could hear herself say, dry and ragged.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital...was shot..."

"That's right. But you're going to be all right, Alex."

"Wherezzz Molly?"

There was no answer. The doctor turned to the nurse and whispered. "Molly? Who's Molly?"

The nurse only shrugged, and then the realisation came. 1982.

No...need Molly...need to find her...

She tried to rise from the bed, her limp arms and legs moving uselessly under the covers, her lips unable to form the words.

"Alex! No, don't move...it's all right! Nurse!"

There was a flurry of movement. Arms pressing her against the bed, someone injecting something into her IV as she fought with what little strength she could muster. She began to drift again, and then: Gene…where's Gene? She was gone, falling back into the stark white void.

She was aware of time passing. Hours, maybe. There was a series of fractured images. Voices. Distorted and distant, as if underwater. Doctors, nurses.

Gene.

He was there. She could feel him. The way his presence filled a room. When she opened her eyes, it was dark. Shaz was there, sitting at her bedside, talking to her in a thin but even voice.

Don't cry, Shaz. I'm going to be all right. She wanted to say.

There was someone else there, leaning in the doorway. Slouched, head down. Gene. She willed herself to speak, to raise a hand toward him, but felt as if she were floating away, being pulled backward, and she didn't have the strength.

Sleep...just need sleep...

And she was gone.

When she opened her eyes again, daylight streamed in through the blinds, and she could hear the traffic noise from the street below. It was all real. The room, the walls. It was 1982. She was alive. Here. In hospital. Why was she here?

There was someone there, sitting in the chair at the end of her bed. It was Gene, looking disheveled and unshaven in his rumpled suit. He'd been there all night.

She let out a small noise, and his eyes snapped up from the floor. He jumped to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Bolls…thank bloody Christ."

She looked at him sitting there. Relief on his rough, handsome face. He had spent the night with his long frame folded into the hard plastic chair; he was exhausted from lack of sleep and worry.

"I'm alive."

"Yeah. Y'are." He looked down and cleared his throat before he spoke. "I…I don't know what I would've done…" His voice trailed off.

A series of images shot through her brain, and she could feel the memories flooding back into her consciousness. Martin Summers, Gene, Jenette. The churchyard. Then the sharp awareness of the pain in her abdomen.

Her head was still fuzzy, and her voice slurred from the medication. "You shot me."

"I know…I know. I'm sorry. It was…Christ, it was an accident, and I'm sorry, Bolly. It was an accident."

"I heard you…when I was out. I could hear you. Telling me to wake up. You yelled at me."

He looked away. "Yeah, well. Worked, didn't it? Had to get to you somehow."

"They think you tried to kill me."

He shook his head. "No. Jenette's in the nick. She told the truth about what happened. Stupid Irish tart. Finally does one decent thing in her life."

There was a silence. He ran one hand across the bed and folded his long fingers on top of hers. It was the smallest thing, but he had never touched here like that. She almost ached for him, but then she pulled her hand out from under his.

She had felt about him every emotion that it was possible to feel towards another person, but now she only wanted to feel nothing. Anything else hurt too much.

"Gene…" She struggled to sit up.

"No, don't talk. Doctor says you're meant to rest that gob of yours for once."

"No. I need to…what I told you..."

"Doesn't matter right now, Bolls. Doesn't matter," he interrupted. "That Boris bloke. He had you muddled. You didn't know if you were coming on or going."

So, that was it. He was going to dismiss the whole thing as the rantings of a confused woman. They would never, ever speak of it again, and things could go on like before.

But they couldn't. Things couldn't go on. Not like this. It was too awful. She wanted to say it, but the nurse came in again with a new bag for her IV. She was speaking in that chirpy way, words about her amazing progress and how she could go home soon and things could get back to normal.

It couldn't. They were broken. Gene had shot her, and that was the least of it.

"I'll just…go, then, Bolls." He rose from the bed and shuffled awkwardly, leaning down like he might kiss her forehead or squeeze her hand, but he just raised his shoulders and backed out of the room.

"He's been here the whole time," the nurse said with a bland smile after he left. "You're a lucky woman."

Alex only turned her head and looked out the window.

She was there for another couple of days. Doctors and nurses filed in and out, poked and prodded. She was healing well enough that she was released in a few days' time. The bullet hadn't hit anything vital. She was perfectly healthy. On the road to recovery. Time would heal all wounds.

She had sent Shaz round to her flat, and she sat now on the edge of her hospital bed wearing the clothes that Shaz had brought to her, her bloodied belongings in a paper sack on her lap.

There was a noise outside her room from the corridor, and he appeared in the doorway.

"Right." Gene breezed into her room rubbing his hands together. "Doctor says you're ready to go. I've got the Quattro parked in an 'ambulance only' spot, so shake a leg, Bolls."

"I don't want…" She bit at her lip and fought at the emotion in her voice. "Shaz is taking me home, Guv."

"On what? Bloody roller skates?"

"I've called a cab. It should be here any moment."

"Don't be daft, Bolls." He grabbed her bag and turned toward the door. "C'mon. Quattro's waiting."

There was part of her that wanted to throw her arms around him. To tell him she had made the whole stupid thing up, and they'd just forget all about it.

"No. I...can't."

He stood looking at her for a moment in incomprehension. Then his shoulders sank, and he dropped the bag gently in the chair by the door.

"It was an accident, Bolly," he said with pain in his voice. "I'd never hurt you."

But you did. You did hurt me, she wanted to say.

"I know the shooting was an accident. I do. But that's not it." She wiped at her eyes while he was looking away and took a steadying breath. "You didn't trust me, Gene. I don't know if I can…" She could barely breath under the full weight of what had happened. "You didn't trust me."

"I didn't trust you? I asked you to tell me the truth. 'S'all I wanted. You told me you were from the bloody future, and suddenly I'm the bastard?!"

"I know you can't quite wrap your head round it. I'm not sure I can. But I did tell you the truth!"

"Oh, well that's just bloody brilliant! Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"I never betrayed you, Gene! Never. I was right about the King Douglas job, and you didn't trust me!"

"How was I supposed to believe anything that came out of your mouth? I was adrift. Mac, Chris. Nothing made sense anymore. You were the one person I thought I could trust. One person in this whole fucking city. You could've told me just about anything, but you pissed on everything I believe in. So, tell me, Bolly. What was I supposed to do? Tell me, because that's what I can't wrap my head round."

"I don't know! Maybe...maybe I expected you to call someone to haul me away in a straitjacket. Or maybe I expected you to humour me. Maybe...just maybe I even expected you to believe me. What I didn't expect was for you to take my warrant card." She could feel tears well up in her eyes. It was the last bit that hurt so much. "What I didn't expect was for you to use my daughter against me."

He looked away with regret in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Gene. I know it's hard to believe. I know I must've hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you didn't." He rose from the bed suddenly. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart."

He stood looking at her across the room, his face a mix of regret and pain and defiance. There was nothing more to be said.

"Cab's here, ma'am, I'll just…" Shaz stopped in the doorway when she saw Gene there. The air was thick, and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, sorry, Guv. I didn't know…"

"'S'All right, Shaz. I was just going," he said, but he didn't move.

She took a step in the room and crossed to Alex's bed. "Cab's here, ma'am. If you're ready."

Shaz reached out her hand and helped Alex to her feet. The pain flared, and she almost teetered backwards into the bed. "You all right?"

Alex nodded and tried to stand upright. She could sense her legs beneath her, weak and unsteady, and then they walked together slowly to the door. When she looked up, Gene was gone.

"That's it, ma'am," Shaz murmured softly. "Nice and slow."

xxXXxx

Shaz had come in and tidied up while she was in the hospital. The breakfast dishes from the day she was shot had been washed and set in the drainer. There was still a bottle on the counter, with the last few drops of wine in the bottom. It was left over from the night he had staggered here half drunk. "You and me, Bolly," he had toasted her. She shuddered at the memory.

"Doctor says you're to have one of these now and one in four hours if you wake up," Shaz said setting her bottle of pain pills on the counter next to the bottle. "And you're meant to drink it with a full glass of water, so I'll bring you a glass for beside your bed, all right?"

"Thanks, Shaz," Alex said and stood motionless in the middle of the room.

Shaz came in and handed her two pills and a glass of water, and she swallowed them down.

"I put out some pyjamas for you when I was here earlier. They're on your bed. I thought you'd probably want to just go right to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah. I do." She already felt like curling up and sleeping for the next week. "Thanks."

"I know it's not my business, ma'am. But the Guv…"

"Please, Shaz." Alex snapped her eyes shut. "I don't want to talk about the Guv. Not now."

Shaz nodded in understanding. "All right, ma'am. I'll just be here on the sofa, if you need me."

Alex nodded and headed slowly into her room with one hand protectively pressed against her middle, looking forward to nothing more than the emptiness of sleep.

It was dark when she awoke at some point in the night. Medicine. She was meant to take medicine. She rummaged on the bedside table for the water and pills Shaz had said she would leave, but there was nothing. Her head throbbed.

"Shaz?" Alex tried to call out, but her own voice sounded weak and distant. She tried to sit up, but a pain shot through her side, and she let out a startled noise of hurt.

She lifted herself from the bed and tried to stand, but her legs buckled underneath her. She managed to right herself and took a few halting, panicky steps across the floor.

Something was wrong. This hurt too much, and she felt as if she were burning with fever. She could just make out the sound of the voices from the other room. It was a man's voice, and for a moment, she thought it must be Gene.

"Shaz! Anybody!"

She felt her way along the wall, hand over hand, until she reached the living room. Images flickered in the darkness. Old maps and faded, jerky newsreels. Not Gene at all, but some war documentary. Shaz had fallen asleep on the sofa.

She staggered into the kitchen and grabbed the pill bottle with a shaky hand and tried to struggle with the child-safety lid. "Shaz…please. Help me," she said. She could barely hear herself. "Please...help me."

In the other room, Shaz had awakened and was rubbing her eyes sleepily. There was a loud noise, some kind of explosion as the war raged on the TV, and it briefly lit up the room. "Are you all right?" Shaz asked in alarm when she saw her, and she rose quickly from the sofa.

"Something's wrong." Alex had one hand pressed against her wound as Shaz crossed to her. She reached out her hand, but suddenly Shaz seemed far away, at the wrong end of the telescope.

"Ma'am? What is it? What's wrong?"

She could feel herself begin to fall, almost in slow motion. The medicine bottle fell from her hand and dropped to the floor next to her, sending the little pills rolling across the carpet.

Shaz was kneeling on the floor next to her. Her lips were moving, but no sound came. Alex could see the television glowing over Shaz's shoulder. It seemed to fill the room now, hot and blinding. Then Shaz was gone, swallowed up by it.

And then there was nothing.

"Are you all right, miss? Can you hear me?"

It was Shaz's voice again, strong and clear. Alex opened her eyes. The first thing she was aware of was that the searing pain in her side was gone, replaced by a sort of dizzy, queasy haze.

"Yes, Shaz. I'm fine actually." There was a figure above her, blurring in and out of focus.

"You haven't eaten all day, have you? Remember Matron told you to eat to keep your strength up."

Matron? She didn't remember anything like that. And what was that smell? The sickly sweet smell of chloroform and antiseptic.

Everything still seemed to be lost in a white glare. She pulled herself up to sitting, her voice rising in panic. "Where am I? Oh, God, I'm in hospital, aren't I?"

"Well…of course," Shaz said, wrinkling her forehead.

"What's happened to me? Am I dying?"

"You fainted is all, miss"

She blew out a chestful of air in relief. "I fainted. I fainted. That's all."

"Are you sure you're all right? Maybe you hit your head when you fell."

Alex blinked her eyes hard into focus. Shaz was kneeling next to her. The jeans and t-shirt she had been wearing had been replaced by a calf-length blue dress and white apron. Her hair was tucked up under some kind of cap with a long veil.

"Shaz…what are you…were you wearing that before? Where did you get that?"

Shaz only shook her head. "I'm calling Matron. You're not well, miss."

Alex could feel her heart begin to pound as she looked around in mounting fear. The walls of her flat were gone. She was lying at the foot of the stairs in the entrance way of some grand house. Windows looked out not onto the street below but a green lawn that stretched into the distance. The windows had been criss-crossed with strips of tape.

"Oh, God. Oh, God, no…"

"Matron!"

"No, no…God, no…this can't be happening…Please, Shaz. Help me!" She reached out and gripped at Shaz's arms as the girl tried to struggle away.

"Matron!"

"Please!" Alex called out to anyone who would listen. "Somebody! Please!…help me!"

A stout, stern woman in her forties appeared at their side and pried Shaz's arms from Alex's grip. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. She fainted all of the sudden."

"Please…I don't belong here! I shouldn't be here…I need to go home. Please, help me!"

The Matron gave a disapproving click of the tongue. "Why do they insist on sending me these girls?" she muttered. "You volunteered for this, Nurse Drake. It's too late to go home now."

"No! No! I'm not a nurse! This isn't real! You don't understand! This can't be happening!"

Shaz and the Matron only exchanged weary looks. "Of course you don't feel like a nurse, but you will do. And soon," she said briskly and turned to Shaz, whispering under her breath. "Another green recruit. Go and fetch her some tea and biscuits from my office, Nurse Granger."

Shaz nodded, but before she could go, there was a rush of noise outside. A vehicle approaching, the sound of feet scrambling on the gravel outside. Frantic voices, one rising above the rest, somehow familiar.

"We've got a wounded man! We need help! Now!"

Shaz and the Matron scrambled to their feet, leaving Alex still sprawled on the floor.

The front door flung open. Two men carried another man in on a litter, and there was a sudden rush of movement and voices. Shaz directed them down the corridor while the wounded man moaned in pain, and the two nurses hurried off with the men.

Alex sat there leaning back on her palms and blinking in disbelief in the silence that followed. Another man came in through the open door then; she could see the toes of his laced boots as he strode through and stopped there in the doorway. Her eyes moved up his form.

He was standing there with a long-legged swagger, wearing a battered uniform of dark wool. Boots, puttees, trousers, buttoned tunic. His face was barely visible through the spatter of mud and dark, caked blood.

But it was him. Gene.

He looked down at her, his lip curling in contempt as she sat open-mouthed staring up at him from the floor. "Oi! You! Follow me!" He turned and strode off in the direction of the others.

She picked herself up and numbly followed after him. There was a desk by the front door, and her eye fell on the French language newspaper that had been folded and left there. Her fingers shook as she ran her hand over the print to the date in the corner.

3 Juin 1917.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the desk for a moment to steady herself. And then she stumbled along after the others down the long, dark corridor.

END CHAPTER ONE