Easy To Forget?

This is a fanfiction set after the long awaited series 2 finale, which despite what other people might think, is one of my fave A2A episodes so far. I decided to write the events that take place after Alex returns home. It's kind of like my version of Season 3. If you like it, please review and you will get more.

It was still early. Light crept through the crack between the hanging curtains that shielded the room from the worst of the sun's early (but far from weak) rays.

A woman lay in the large bed that took up a great deal of the space in the room, tucked underneath the duvet, curled up into a ball. Her hair spread out over the pillow, a dark brown against the white fabric. Her skin was just as white, just as pale, as she tossed and turned in her sleep.

"Alex. Alex. Wake up Alex."

She slowly opened her eyes, still dazed with the lingering effects of sleep. Lifting her hand to her face as she brushed hair out of her eyes, she sat and looked around the room for the source of the calling.

"Alex. Can you 'ear me? Wake up."

She swallowed nervously and her stomach flipped. She knew that voice anywhere, even though it was sounding more desperate, more urgent than she had ever heard it before.

The room was empty. There was nobody here except her good self. She was about to settle down and try hopelessly to sleep again when the voice called to her.

Turning her head, she looked sideways, at her alarm clock. The voice was coming from her alarm clock.

"Gene?" She whispered fearfully, as though he might hear her. She hadn't heard that voice for three weeks, since she woke up in hospital-

"Alex. Can you 'ear me?"

"What do you want?"

"Alex. I've got to be quick, I'm not s'pposed to be 'ere. I 'aven't got long till yer nurse get's back."

Alex shied away from the voice, curling under the covers in the vain hope that it would go away, leave her in peace.

She knew it wouldn't.

"Alex, I don't know whether you can 'ear me but I need for you to wake up. They still think I shot yer- well, I know I did, but they think…look, I need you to wake up. I need you awake and happy and mental as usual. You and me, Bolls, yeah?"

There was a silence. For one second, she thought it had all ended, and she emerged from the shelter of the covers timidly, sighing in short- lived relief. Because soon after, the voice came again, louder than ever.

" Wake up, Alex. Alex!Alex!"

She groaned and tugged the covers over her head once again, curling up in the dark, waiting for silence. This couldn't be happened. When she woke up, she thought she was finally free, in 2008, not tugged between two lives, the life here and now with her daughter, and the life in the eighties with Shaz and Chris, Ray and Gene.

"Mum? Are you awake?"

When Alex lifted her head, she saw a figure in the doorway, shrouded in shadows. The figure stepped into the light, holding a tray and bearing a wide if not slightly unsure smile.

Molly.

"Morning, Molls. " She greeted her softly, watching as her daughter carried the tray towards her and rested it on her beside table.

"Are you alright?"

Alex brushed a strand of her daughter's hair off her face with a smile.

"I'm fine, Molly." Except for the voices I keep hearing telling me to wake up from a coma.

With a slight cough, she smiled in the direction of the tray.

"So what's this?"

Molly grinned proudly and offered her mother the tray.

"Breakfast in bed. I made you toast, with your favourite jam, and I brewed some coffee, just the way you like it."

Alex smiled outwardly at Molly but was silent as she reached over and lifted the flower that had been on it's own in a simple glass vase. It was a rose, crimson as blood, the thorns pressing into her palm as she turned it round, as if searching for something.

She remembered the roses on her desk, the scattered petals, their smell, overpowering and sweet- she remembered how, for just a short length of time, she had thought he had sent them…why would he? She asked herself. Why would he even think about giving her flowers? Why would she even consider that the flowers were from him?

"Mum?"

Molly stood uncertainly, staring at her mother, waiting for her to speak. Alex swallowed, setting the rose back down on the tray and placing it on the table.

"It's lovely, Molly,"She said when she had found her voice, pulling her daughter closer. " Thank you."

She was silent as she stroked the young girl's soft hair and sighed peacefully. Gene wasn't real. This was real, here and now, with Molly. This was what mattered now.

Glancing over at the alarm clock warily, she bit her lip and hoped it would be easy to move on and forget.