Author's Note: This is the 1996-set sequel to Whispering Her Name. Usual disclaimers, do not own A2A, blah blah, eats mice. (anyone gets that reference, I will propose marriage!)

For the purpose of this story I am taking Shaz's death from the shooting script on the Monastic Productions website for S3 ep8 – although the writers have been quoted as saying a couple of different dates around 1995/1996 the one on the shooting script (19th April 1996) works out better for my timeline so that's the one I've gone with.

~xXx~

Prologue

19th April 1996, Real World

She shouldn't even have been there.

Of everything that was the most heart-breaking thing to accept. She wasn't supposed to be on that street, she was on patrol several blocks away. It wasn't her call, it wasn't even her station.

The smell of the burning caught her attention to the arsonist's latest victim. Broad bloody daylight too. They were getting cocky now. Some other team from some other station were already dealing with it but it was borderline territory so she was glad to help. The sight of the house destroyed by flame, the crying family who had nothing left to call their own, it broke her heart.

Of course, this was the reason she joined up. To help people. To stop this sort of thing from happening. She'd been so proud to join, to wear the uniform, to go and serve the good people of the country. But it was the bad ones who were getting her down.

Disillusioned. She'd seen more shit since she joined than she had seen in the bucket in the cells. She only found herself becoming angrier and more frustrated as time went on. It was getting worse, not better.

"You'll become hardened to it," people had told her, "soon it won't affect you."

She wished.

The arson attack had been the final straw, or so she thought. Her anger boiled up inside and she left her own patrol to join the manhunt in the local area. It was thought the suspect was still nearby somewhere. She was given a map, a finger jabbed in the direction she should search and off she went. Never a second thought. Never questioned it for a moment.

Turning a corner, trying another road, there she saw a young man in the distance, pressed up against the side of a car. It was pretty damn clear to her what he was doing and her boiling blood began to bubble over.

She barely noticed the strains of Wonderwall playing from an open window nearby or the pounding of her feet on the ground as she ran towards him. She didn't even stop to think, not for a moment.

"Stop right there!" she cried, "Drop it!"

He stopped. He looked up. There it was, in his hands – the screwdriver. It glinted a little in the daylight. She didn't even see the damn thing amidst her fury, all she saw was the man beginning to turn and run. She wasn't going to let him. Not for one moment was she going to let that thief get away. She grasped him, tried to hold him firmly but before she knew it he was fighting back. As hard as she tried to keep control of him he was bigger and stronger and she couldn't stop him from plunging that screwdriver right into her guts, then with one harder, deeper push he buried the metal even deeper inside as he pushed her back against the wall in the self-same motion.

The pain. There were not words to describe it. The agony was physical and mental. Her body screamed out as she slid to the ground, her life ebbing away, while in her dying moments her mind begged and pleased for a miracle. She was so young – why did this happen to her? To someone so bright and full of ambition?

She hadn't even had a life.

~xXx~

28th March 1996, Gene's World

Alex walked along clutching her take-away latte. She knew Gene would not be impressed if he found out she'd been sloping off without him to Latte Land but he was out on a call with half of CID and, she supposed, he never had to find out. It made her feel a little like a rebel; she was living outside of the law. The Gene Genie's law, that was.

She decided it was her turn to be crowned Coffee Drinker of the Week. Just about everyone else had already had a turn. Why not her? She just had to make a point of going for more coffees. No problem.

Her mind was wandering a little. There were some cases that were playing on her mind and she was concentrating far too much on those than on where she was walking. Unfortunately a young WPC seemed to have the same problem, head in the clouds and mind a million miles away. As the two of them collided crossing a quiet side road Alex's first thought was – Shit! Hot coffee and her eyes immediately went to her cup to make sure none was going to spill onto her hand or onto the woman she'd crashed into.

"Oh, god, madam, I'm so sorry," the young copper said quickly.

"No, I'm sorry," Alex apologised, "I don't know where my head was. Are you OK?"

"I think so," the young lady said and for the first time caught Alex's eye.

The effect on her was instant. She had never felt her heart react so quickly. It started to beat so erratically she thought she was about to suffer a heart attack right there and then. She stepped back a little as the young woman's pretty features sank in. Her dark eyes, her pale complexion, her innocent expression. They all led to a gasp from Alex and a whisper of a name.

"Shaz," she couldn't stop herself.

The young girl looked at her. She blinked in confusion.

"Sharon," she said, "I'm PC Sharon Granger." She paused, "Do I know you?"

Alex pressed her hand to her chest as the shock washed through her whole body. She found herself trembling just a little as she licked her lips nervously, donned a thin smile and whispered,

"No, I don't think you do."

"Are you alright, Madam?" the young woman asked, a little concerned.

Alex swallowed.

"I'm fine," she whispered, "You just look… look awfully like someone I used to know."

The young PC gave a slightly nervous and strained smile.

"Well, If you're sure you're OK," she said, stepping away. "And I'm sorry, again."

Alex gave a nervous smile.

"That's OK," she said quietly as she watched her leave. She couldn't calm the thumping of her heart or the shaking of her hands as she clung to her latte cup. She closed her eyes for a moment and sank to the ground. She couldn't comprehend this. She was used to running into people she had known from her past existence, from the real world, but never had she met one of her colleagues from their 'past life'. "Oh my god," she breathed, "Shaz."

She felt tears filling her eyes. She missed that girl terribly. The nights they sat in Luigi's, drinking wine; all the times Shaz had been there, so helpful and eager, the times they had paired up with an 'us and them' attitude, the women Vs the men. Oh, Shaz.

Sitting there, in the middle of the street, Alex couldn't have felt more confused or peculiar. That was a face she never expected to see again. It was someone she'd said goodbye too so very long ago. In fact she'd never even said goodbye, the last thing she'd said to Shaz was that she was going to the toilet in the Railway Arms and the next thing she knew she was climbing out of the toilet window.

"I've missed you, Shaz," she whispered, bit even as she spoke she wondered if she would ever see her again. It was such a chance meeting. She'd never run into her before. Was that a once-only opportunity?

Slowly she rose to her feet and dusted herself off a little. She had to get back, she knew that much, she'd said she was only going to be gone for a few minutes and didn't want Gene to be back at the station, throwing accusing looks at her Latte Land cup when he realised there was no extra one for him.

All the way back, she shook and trembled, and could not get that face out of her mind.

The young cop with a whole life ahead of her, cut so tragically short.

How much life did she have left here and now? It wasn't an easy question to answer, but it was certainly the one that plagued Alex all the way back to Fenchurch East.