Summary: What if Gene hadn't called Ray, Chris and Shaz back? It seems unlikely they would have gone into a lift so heavily loaded with symbolism.

A/N: A fairly tongue in cheek tribute to the lift scene in S3.E8. Love it though I do, they were laying the message on with a trowel at that point. Also, while the writers confirmed Jim Keats is the Devil himself, this was written with him as a minor demon- it just worked better that way. (And if you haven't seen series 3, then that previous sentence contained spoilers.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes and its characters- they're the property of Ashley Pharaoh and Matthew Graham. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.

DCI Jim Keats was practically skipping as he led the way out of Fenchurch East's CID room and down the gleaming new corridors to the lifts.

'Everybody set?' he called over his shoulder to the three behind him. 'I'll just, ah, call up our transport.' The red light behind the 'Call Lift' button flickered to life as he pressed it. It reflected ominously in his glasses as he turned to the others, who, he was surprised to see, weren't looking quite so upbeat.

Well, it was probably quite a shock for them, he reminded himself- finding out you're dead from brutal circumstances, and have been for some time, isn't really the best way to start your day. Better try a bit of patented Keats sensitivity.

'Cheer up, you lot,' he said.' Wait till you see some of the murders we get down there-'

'Down?' Shaz interrupted, and Keats glanced across at her- he'd thought she might be trouble.

'Sorry?'

'It's just- should we be worried this new world you're taking us to is... in the basement? Sir?' Shaz said, frowning slightly.

'Well, someone has to be in the basement,' Keats said, trying for nonchalance. 'We just got the short straw when it came to handing out the outer-dimensional office space.'

'I don't know about this,' Shaz murmured, taking a step back.

'What, because of the location?' Keats spread his hands, looking to Ray and Chris, trying to get them on side, male logic against womanly superstition.

Chris cleared his throat nervously, and stepped forward, getting a smile from Keats- which evaporated rapidly as the young DS spoke.

'I agree with Shazza, actually, sir. See, I've been doing a lot of reading lately, and it seems, well...'

'Yes, Chris?' Keats growled.

'Well, we're, like, in some allegory for the afterlife-'

'You what?' Ray interrupted. 'I'm bloody not, sounds dirty.'

'So it doesn't seem that clever to go jumping into a lift that's going to take us down instead of up,' Chris finished, and Shaz nodded her agreement, taking his arm.

'Oh, come on!' Keats laughed. He looked desperately to Ray. 'So we have to go down a bit- so what, mate? Did I mention the beer? And Abby?'

'Hang on a minute. I dunno what this ponce over here is going on about,' Ray said, pointing to Chris with his shotgun, 'but I know when someone's playing silly buggers, and I just saw you put '666' into that keypad. You think we're stupid or something?'

'No, you see, that's because... because I have trouble remembering long codes, and this just makes it easier.' Keats was horribly aware that he wasn't being as convincing as he could be, and so he sighed with relief as he heard the elevator arrive behind him.

'Anyway, fascinating though this discussion is- all aboard! A whole new life awaits,' he said, stabbing desperately at the button again.

Sadly, he'd forgotten that the lift doors would open in their customary overly dramatic fashion. A gust of steam billowed out into the lobby, illuminated by the red glow that seemed to suffuse the whole of the small space. There was a small uncomfortable pause, which no one seemed willing to break.

Keats cleared his throat. 'Now. Um, given what we've just been talking about, I realise what this might look a little bit like-' he began.

'I know exactly what it looks like,' Shaz snapped.

'A really shit disco,' Ray said.

'Yeah, not really sure about this, Guv. Other Guv, I mean,' Chris added. 'All that red light-'

'Mood lighting!'

'And that smoke-'

'Plumbing problems!' Keats said. 'Oh, you can't be serious- throwing away a chance like this, based on, what, some dodgy symbolism you read in a magazine?' Keats took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down, running a hand over his hair.

'I've got perfectly logical reasons for all of this,' he said.

'Yeah? And what would they be?' Ray asked, prodding him with the unfriendly end of the shotgun.

'Well, they would be-'

But what they would be was never actually found out, because at that moment, a great cry rose up from the depths of the lift. A thousand voices seemed to be raised in torment for one agonising moment, before they fell into silence again.

Keats ran a finger round the inside of his collar. 'And that was-'

Shaz rolled her eyes. 'Let me guess, the drains?'

Jim Keats rested his head against the lift wall and glared at the floor buttons. This wasn't very satisfying, as they remained completely unaffected by the glare, and continued to light up in descending order as the lift made its groaning, clattering descent. With only one passenger.

Oh, They were not going to be happy about this, Keats reflected. Not that it was his bloody fault. How could he be expected to work in these sorts of conditions? They might try and drag him over the coals for this cock-up, but he was already working out what he was going to say to Them.

Starting with, 'How, exactly, am I meant to tempt people into a God-damned lift when it's so bloody obvious that's precisely what it is?'

FIN.