Hi all! Me again! I'm still working on 'Bolly Who?', so don't give up on me! I have got so much to organise before I start Uni this month!

Anyway, this is for XTimeGirlX's Shuffle contest and the song that I got is Playing God by Paramore (my all time favourite band)! If you've never heard the song...YouTube it, kay?

Beta'ing duties go to warbs1981 :D :D

"Me organ grinder, you, monkey. Give"

I can't make my own decisions or make any with precision
Well, maybe you should tie me up, so I don't go where you don't want me
You say that I've been changing, that I'm not just simply aging
Yeah, how could that be logical?
Just keep on cramming ideas down my throat…
Whoa

It had taken almost five minutes for Alex Drake's life in 1982 to collapse completely. Five minutes for her universe to implode. She'd been told once that an implosion and explosion at the same millisecond would cause all matter to remain stable. But this time there had been no explosion. Just a hand held out expectantly. A hand that had taken her warrant card. Then a voice that had ordered her to leave. No explosion. Just disgrace. And shame. And whisper of 'failure'.

Everything she had created, everything she had done to survive in this world had fallen apart at the seams. And all she had done was tell the truth.

The truth.

The stupid, bloody truth.

She had told him the truth and everything came crashing down around her. She knew what was happening. She knew about the King Douglas job. She'd studied it for goodness sake! But how could she tell him that?

She'd tried to explain. God knows she'd tried, but it had all backfired. She'd lost everything.

And now she was fighting for her life.

You don't have to believe me.
But the way I, way I see it.
Next time you point a finger.
I might have to bend it back.
Or break it, break it off.
Next time you point a finger... I'll point you to the mirror…

He thought she was corrupt! Corrupt! The very thought was laughable. She'd been approached and asked to switch sides. But she'd refused. Because of him. She'd given up the chance to see her daughter again but she'd said no. For him. Her construct. The one person this world revolved around; the man at the centre of it all. He was her boss. No. He was more than that; they both knew it too. And for the first time since she had arrived in this godforsaken dystopia she had told the truth. The god damn truth.

And he didn't believe her. None of them did.

But she'd show him. She'd show them all.

If God's the game that you're playing, well, we must get more acquainted
Because it has to be so lonely... to be the only one who's holy
It's just my humble opinion, but it's one that I believe in
You don't deserve a point of view, if the only thing you see is you…

Who did he think he was anyway? She was right! She'd always been right! Hadn't he learnt that no matter how unorthodox she got, she was always right? What about when the Prices' exploded? She gave an involuntary shudder. Thankfully the clown had been banished to her father's grave; no more nightmares for her. Or so she thought. Everything was spinning and splitting and she didn't know what was going to happen. But she was right! This time tomorrow he would be banging on her flat door begging for forgiveness, bottle of Bollinger in hand...perhaps that was stupid, wishful thinking. They couldn't go back. She thought they shared something…but no. He'd gone for the stupid peroxide blonde who had done nothing but simper and plant ideas in his mind that she might not be trustworthy.

And he'd believed her. That was what stung the most. Everything she ever believed in had been a lie. Nothing was what it seemed and nothing fitted. Like a square peg in a round hole. In this world, it all boiled down to trust and the one person he should have trusted the most, he'd shoved out in the cold. She was all alone. Her head laughed scornfully at her, while her heart had slowly sank to the point of no return. It hurts doesn't it?

At least she could be honest with herself. It hurt.

It hurt like a bitch.

You don't have to believe me.
But the way I, way I see it.
Next time you point a finger.
I might have to bend it back.
Or break it, break it off.
Next time you point a finger... I'll point you to the mirror…

"I'll kill you." The words echoed in her mind. He was angry and hurt – she'd seen the look in his eyes. He was as hurt as she was, but couldn't he see why she was doing this? Why she had to fight this infection off and get home? To find that daughter she had lost. To hold her daughter in her arms and swear she'd never leave her again. Couldn't he see that? Couldn't he see that there was nothing that would stop her seeing her daughter again?

"I'll kill you." Could he? Would the man that meant so much to her be able to pull the trigger, sending hot metal and gunpowder spiralling towards her? Would he be able to look at her as the bullet twisted inside her, ripping and tearing at her insides? Would he stay and watch her bleed to death? Could he actually do it?

Would it mean she could go home?

This is the last second chance,
(I'll point you to the mirror).

It was time. Time to do something about this. Time to fix everything. She had only fifty mls before they would give up on her. If she didn't fight, no one would.

I'm half as good as it gets,
(I'll point you to the mirror).

She knew exactly what she was doing, what risk she was taking. He'd threatened to kill her and somehow she knew he meant it. But he wouldn't see her. She'd be invisible, leaving his world without a trace and regaining the world she had lost.

I'm on both sides of the fence,
(I'll point you to the mirror).

Could she actually do it? Leave all of this behind? Leave him behind? Yes. No. Of course. Never. She had to.

Whatever happened in the next twenty four hours would define her future. Her personal timeline. Whether that was in the future or the past. She was beginning to forget which was which. All she knew was she had to get home.

But would she fight for it?

Without a hint of regret... I'll hold you to it.

Of course she would. She had to. To get home. To see her daughter. To forget Gene Hunt. This was her own personal battle and no one else could help her.

I know you don't believe me.
But the way I, way I see it.
Next time you point a finger.
I might have to bend it back.
Or break it, break it off.

Alex Drake took a deep breath, checked her gun was loaded and tucked inside the waistband of her spray on jeans.

It was time.

She was right. She knew she was.

And she was going to prove it.

Next time you point a finger... I'll point you to the mirror.

"Bolly."

It had taken almost five minutes for Gene Hunt's world to collapse completely. Five minutes to watch the woman that had shaken his world to the very core, bleed slowly into oblivion, his own bullet lodged inside her.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

But we know how it ends now don't we? :P