The Aftermath

Alex walked into the blindingly white light that was heaven. The god himself left behind on that strange world of nineteen eighty three; the world that she, herself had unwillingly been the 'goddess' of, the one and only possession Mr Gene Hunt had previously been able to hold on to. Clenching tightly the scarf of her only child Molly, the warmth still there and would always be, frozen in a timeless state. She knew this was what must be. In front, far through the fog the young Chris Skeleton, holding hands with his lover, 'Shazza' and next to the two a gormless Ray Carling stood tall and strong. The three figures walked on together in a trio partnership – they would be together always and somehow they would find a way through this mist, but Alex. Alex was all alone in this world. The voices of Molly and Gene, in particular the words 'see you later little lady' clung to her head, the arguments of Gene and Keats, the ticking of a clock she could not see nor find in the struggle through the brightness would be there always as frozen memories, eventually beginning to ease the pain of the loneliness. After a while the figures in front, absent of her presence faded into the great fog and all became a great blur. She tried to hide herself, wearing the huge fur jacket and red dress she had appeared in, but when she looked at herself it would only bring back the pain of the hero himself. They needed him back in the met, but so did she and her need was so much greater.

She found the clock.

Upon a while wall a clock was rushing by, minutes passing in what she believed was only seconds, but time was different in this world. An unclean silence seemed to pass through her and she could feel the vibration of time run through her body. "I've found it." Called the voice of Ray "super" replied Shaz, but as she looked around and screamed there names time after time she heard no reply, again looking at the clock she stared so closely that the face itself became a video of some sort. Chris and Shaz and Ray were all there and they had found what looked like London in the time she had came from. In fact it was London, a young man stood there was watching the three closely, pointing to the huge city. The man was a face she recognised and immediately she ran to attack the clock, shattering knuckles against its glass face and screaming agonisingly. Her hands left covered in her dark blood, but she felt nothing. Nothing but longing, loneliness, helplessness, pain only for him. The man in the picture was Hunt, not the broken man now alone with his thoughts and godliness, but the young Hunt from the future, voice like pure glass, unbreakable. Unbreakable. Tone as sharp as ice and the look of diamond, clear and sparkling – a brand new man unhurt by the world and its failures. He, himself has never and would never fail to do his duty and it would later kill him. The three loners entered the city walls all clenching hands, as it faded again – faded forever because she never saw the three again. They were gone, as was Hunt and she couldn't find the way to his city. She was lost in the white abyss hoping for a way out.

Meanwhile in 1983 Gene was contemplating the first stages of this uncontrollable raw

loneliness by looking through a Mercedes book. He could have his Quattro fixed but it would remind him too much of Alex, so he was planning on getting it scrapped. He wanted to forget again. Pouring a glass of the strongest whisky he could find – in fact the same bottle he had begun several nights before to drink himself into a stupor before his date with Alex. He eyed the bottle cautiously before pouring the remainder of the bottle into his glass and throwing the bottle into his bin. He drunk greedily, noticing a shadow along the corridor he wondered who dared to enter in this time of great loss. Now was not the time for visitors, but little did he know this one was different. Nobody in CID dared to enter Hunts office, unacknowledged of there own deaths, nobody dared to ask where the beautiful DI Drake had gone, nor the couple Chris and Shaz or everyone's friend Ray. They would never be back again. Gene was slowly crumbling, walls around him falling. He felt helpless.

A figure from Gene's past walked through the solid doors of his land. His voice cold as ice and strong as concrete, so much stronger than Gene now, he asked "Where's my office?"

( = NOTE this is chapter one, I will be uploading chapter 2 shortly =)

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