Hello – I've never uploaded any Ashes to Ashes before, but have spent many an hour scribbling them down ... especially stupid hours like between 2 and 3am. I'm not entirely sure what this is – I don't know whether or not there's any more to it ... it's just what it is, at the moment! I've done my very best to remove spelling and grammar issues, but apologies if there are still some in existence! Reading it, I suppose it's set in series 1, somewhere, though I was picturing Alex in series 2, but that's probably just because I love her hair in series 2! Anyway, I'll stop waffling now! Oh and I must confess that I'm terrible at paragraphing ... so I'm really, really sorry about that, in advance!

Gene Hunt sat in his office; arms folded, trademark boots crossed on the top of his desk. He glanced, for what must have been the fifteenth time that morning, at the clock on the wall above his filing cabinet and then to the desk on the far left of CID. He frowned. On the rare occasion that his DI had been late for work, she'd never been *this* late – it was fast approaching ten o'clock. Gene waited a few more minutes; just until the large hand reached the twelve.
"Right" he said, unfolding his arms and swinging his legs from the desk to the floor, before standing and striding purposefully into the main office of CID.

" 'as anyone heard from DI Drake this mornin'?" he asked the room. The response was that of several blank looks and shaking heads.
"No, Guv" Ray answered " 'aven't seen 'er since we left Luigi's last night"

"She seemed alright though, Guv – just a bit distant, but you know 'er; she 'as 'er ups and da'ans" shrugged Shaz, smiling reassuringly.

" 'ormones" said Chris, knowingly, causing both Ray and Shaz to roll their eyes skywards.

"Right", their DCI repeated "looks like it's up to me to go an' find 'er, then – Ray, you're in charge". With that, he returned to his office for his coat and keys and marched out of the double doors.

The bright red Quattro pulled sharply into a space outside Luigi's trattoria. As soon as the engine stopped, crocodile skin met tarmac as Gene got out of the car and paused, leaning on the door. He looked up to a window on the second floor of the restaurant building. The blinds were still drawn.
"Wakey, wakey, sleepin' beauty" he muttered as the car door slammed, and he descended the stairs into the restaurant.

"Mornin' Luigi" he called as he passed the bar and started up the stairs.
"Signore Hunt!" smiled Luigi; surprise playing across his features "it's not even lunch time!" he exclaimed.

" s'alright, Luigi; I've just come to remind her Ladyship that she's got a bloody job to do!" he replied as he disappeared round the corner and out of sight.
"Signorita Drake is not well, I think - she very quiet and sad yesterday" explained Luigi, almost to himself, but Gene heard it and paused.

Caught between concern and annoyance, he knocked on the door forcefully and called "DI Drake?"
No answer.
"DI Drake, this is your senior officer – open the door!"
No answer.
Concern began to take over as the silence from beyond the door showed no sign of being broken from within.
"Bolly!" he called out "Bolly ... Bolly, open the bloody door!"
Gene began to panic. "Ale ..." he began but, finally, at that moment, the door swung open to reveal Alex Drake, dressed in white, striped pyjamas, yesterday's make-up smudged across her face and struggling, it appeared, to stay upright.

"Mother of ..." began Gene, unsure of quite what to say. "...you're drunk!" he finished, incredulously.
"You're a fine one to talk" slurred his DI, as she took hold of the doorframe to stop herself from toppling over.
"It's twenty past ten in the mornin' " he stated.
"Doesn't stop *you*!" Alex retorted, scoffing.
"Yes, but the difference between me and you, Bolly, is that I can't handle my drink. Now sit down before ya' fall down!"
Alex opened her mouth to argue, but Gene was too quick for her – taking her by the wrists and guiding her to the sofa.
"Get your hands off me!" she cried at him, fighting to be free of his grasp.
"Sit *down*" he said again, more forcefully this time, but still unable to keep the concern from his voice completely.
"How dare you! ... let *go* of me!" Alex struggled against his grip, but her head was all over the place and she didn't have a hope.

Gene eventually managed to push her onto the sofa, and let go of her, stepping backwards and breathing heavily.
"Bloody 'ell, you're a stroppy mare this mornin'" he exclaimed, in an attempt at normality. "What's the m ..." he started, but Alex was on her feet again and, despite the drunken haze, managed to bring her fist into contact with the side of Gene's jaw, catching him completely by surprise and sending him staggering backwards into the wall opposite.

"I am sick and tired of this place!" Alex yelled, almost hysterically.
Gene swerved out of her way as she tried to hit him again, and managed to take hold of her arms from behind.
"Calm down, Bolls" he said as calmly as he could as she struggled against his restraint.
"I am sick of the 80s, I am sick of this flat and I am sick to death of bloody clowns!" she yelled.
Gene couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the last one.

He turned her around to face him, her back against the wall to minimise the damage she could do. He was quite shocked at what he saw. Her whole body was shaking. He'd never seen her anywhere near this angry before ... nor this frightened.
"Calm down" he said again; his voice was stern, but almost pleading.

"I will not calm down, I want to go *home*!" she shrieked. "Why can't I go home!"
Gene had to increase the pressure on his forearms as she tried her best to lash out once more.
"You *are* 'ome, Bolls" he frowned "this is your flat".

Alex's dark brown eyes burned into Gene's as she replied, her words venting out anger Gene didn't think even Alex could harbour.
"This is not my home, Gene! I don't belong here in this hell-hole! I belong with my daughter! It's her Birthday, and I can't be there, because I'm stuck in this Godforsaken place with you! ..." Alex voice broke and she trailed off – falling still and silent, panting. She hung her head, dropping eye contact with her DCI.
Realisation dawned on Gene's face, mingling with the concern already present.
"It's Molly's Birthday?" he questioned, quietly – treading carefully. Eyes still on the floor, Alex nodded, slowly. He wished he could see her face.
"Where is she?" he continued, cautiously; he hadn't yet let go of her arms, just in case.
"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you" came the murmured reply.
"Try me".
She exhaled, heavily, then slowly raised her head once more. As her eyes drew level with Gene's, her breath caught in her throat. Such piercing blue eyes, but in that moment, she was very aware of the warmth in them. Slowly, he dropped his arms to his sides.
"You really want to know?" she managed.
"Somethin's been clawin' away at you for months. Where is she?"
He fought very hard against the urge to pull her into his arms, as tears began to form in her already swollen eyes, but he knew that if he stopped her now, she may never tell him what was hurting her.

Alex swallowed hard, maintaining eye contact.
"I was shot in 2008, Gene. I was shot in the head and when I woke up, I was on a boat and it was 1981. I ran off the boat, calling for help, but the only person there was Markham – a man I didn't even know, but who seemed intent on hurting me ... and then there was you, and ... well ... you know the rest. You know as much as I do. But Molly's still there in 2008, and she's going to be twelve today. She was born in 1996, Gene. That's fourteen years from now... it's her Birthday, and I can't get to her".
By this point, a steady stream of tears was making its way down Alex's face. She shut her eyes tightly, pausing. When she opened them again, she choked out:
"What sort of a mother am I, Gene, if I can't get be there for my own daughter?"
At this, a sob escaped Alex's lips, and she pitched forwards.

Gene caught her in a tight embrace, stopping her from falling to her knees. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the sofa. He needed to hold her, and she needed to be held, so he sat her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Alex flung her arms around his neck, sobbed into his chest and broke his heart.

Gene swallowed hard, battling to keep his own emotions in check. He'd never seen Alex, his Alex, so upset and it hurt – especially as he didn't know how to help her, how to take away the pain.
"S'alright, Alex" he whispered, stroking her hair "S'alright", he repeated softly. Gradually, the sobs subsided, and she fell asleep in his arms.

Half an hour later, when he was sure that she was sound asleep, Gene decided, albeit reluctantly, that he'd better get back to CID before anyone came looking for them. He didn't want anyone disturbing his Bolly when she was this fragile. She needed to rest.
Carefully, he lifted her off him and laid her back down, resting her head on the arm of the sofa. He looked down at her sleeping form. His heart ached - she looked so small and vulnerable, quite the opposite of the Alex Drake he was used to. He decided that she looked cold.

Gene walked quietly into her bedroom in search of a blanket. Almost immediately, he spotted one, folded neatly at the bottom of her fully-made bed. This, along with the vast array of bottles in the living room, confirmed his suspicions that Alex hadn't been to bed the night before. He sighed to himself.

Smiling slightly, he carried the blanket back to the living room – it was the same one he'd covered her up with when she'd collapsed on the sofa, very drunk and feeling extremely sick. He draped it over her gently, tucked it around her to keep her warm and knelt down next to the sofa.
"You know, Bolls, I've seen a lot of liars in my time. More than I'd care to count, in fact" he breathed.
"You're not lying to me, Bolly ... which means you're either mad ... or you're telling the truth ..."
He brushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, then leaned forward and planted a feather-light kiss on her forehead.
" ... and you don't look like a mad woman to me, Alex" he finished, his voice barely audible.

With that, Gene straightened up, crept quietly to the door and left the flat.

The words Alex had spoken played over and over in Gene's mind as he drove the Quattro back to CID.

"...I was shot in 2008..."
"...she was born in 1996..."
"...I woke up in 1981..."

"Well it would bloody well explain a lot!" he said out loud to himself as he swung the car around a corner before coming to an abrupt halt outside the station.

As he left the car and started up the steps to the building, he thought about all of the times that she had said something would happen before it did, when she'd laughed in tame hysteria when the latest technology had been placed in front of her and how her eyes would glaze over whenever her daughter was mentioned. In fact, all of the quirks that DI Drake appeared to have could be explained by her story ... but the thought of her really being from the future was so bizarre ... and yet, Gene had to admit to himself as he pushed open the double doors to his department, he didn't really know what to believe, any more.