A/N Hope you enjoyed Chapter 1. I'm starting to get somewhere now, so enjoy! :)
Playing with Fire~Chapter 2
Molly plonked herself down on the grass next to the River Thames. She wondered if running away had been a mistake. She had only been away five hours, and already she had been wolf-whistled at by several drunks, stumbled across a circle of stoners and been asked to join them, and nearly been kidnapped by an old pervy bloke wearing a beige mac. "Alright darlin'" he had said, sarcastically, "Are you lost? You want me to give you a 'lift' home, if you know what I mean" he leered, and Molly, her heart beating like a machine gun against a steel door, had run for her life, not being able to hear whether he was following her over the rat-a-tat-tat of her heart in her ears. She had finally flopped down when she had run out of road, and now here she lay, by the river, breathing hard, wondering whether she was safe, and at the same time thinking that she might just have been paranoid, and he hadn't even followed her in the first place.
At 16 years old, with a mum who had been dead for nearly four years, a dad who, if he called once a year on her birthday, she was lucky, and a godfather who she couldn't seem to talk to anymore without getting into an argument, Molly Drake considered herself to be fairly world-wary, and not nearly as naive as many of the girls who went to her posh school were, but all the same, she hadn't been prepared for this; the brutal reality of life as a runaway. As Molly sprawled there, wondering if her life would ever be good again, something just around the bend of the river caught her eye. It was an old boat and, as Molly raised herself up and walked towards it, she saw that her eyesight had not failed her – the faded name on the back read The Lady Di – the boat where her mum had been killed.
Gene returned, empty-handed and grumpy from Alex's flat. It had almost been like she was a ghost, a fading memory of a dream; there had been nothing in her flat to suggest Alex had been there, nothing to suggest that there had been anyone living there at all, except a day old coffee mug with lipstick on. Gene wondered who had cleared the flat out, or whether all of Alex's possessions and obsessions had been taken with her to the next life. As Gene stomped back into CID, Rip van Wanker called out "Guv!" But the Guv in question pointedly ignored him and continued into his office, slamming the door behind him.
As Gene slumped down at his desk once again, furiously disappointed at his failure to find anything useful about his DI, especially for the three years she had been with him. He had taken them for granted, that was his problem; he had taken them all for granted, and now he was stuck with the useless twonks like Rip van Wanker and Bammo and the 'eye-phone' plonker. He sighed heavily, pouring himself yet another drink. As he was draining the glass, something Alex had said came to his mind. It had been a nearly nine months ago, before he had accidentally shot her, and he had returned the letter that she'd given him, unopened. She had told them not to open it until after she was gone, and he had respected that, unlike the others, but she had said "Not even slightly interested in what I have to say to you, Guv?" He had answered flippantly, brushing off her comment, never revealing his true self. He groaned inwardly. He wished he hadn't now.
Then he did a double take. Of course, the letter! That would give him some information about his DI, his colleague, and, despite the fact they always seemed to be at odds, his friend. He exited his office and stood again behind DI Alex Drake's desk, opening drawers, but again, not finding anything. Then he realized that there was a drawer he had missed last time, skipped over because it was locked, but now he was determined to open it.
"Oi, Bammo!" Gene shouted. When Bammo didn't stir from his desk, he took up a pen from Alex's desk and threw it at his head, again shouting "Bammo!"
"What, Guv?" said Bammo, sleepily and more than a little irritably.
"Where do we keep the keys to the desk drawers?"
"What?" he asked, confused at the track his DCI had gone off on.
"Never mind," Gene muttered grumpily, turning into his office again then re-exiting with a paperclip in hand. "If you want something doing..." He fiddled with the paperclip, pushing it into the lock, "you have to do it..." the lock clicked, "yourself!" he finished triumphantly, and a little loudly, earning some odd stares from the rest of CID, which he either didn't notice, or blatantly ignored. He pulled the drawer open, and there, on the top of a pile of papers, was an envelope, addressed in neat, curly handwriting to 'Gene Hunt, DCI'. He pulled it out, shut the drawer, and went into his office once again. Then he shut and locked the door behind him, and pulled the blinds closed, the message to CID clear; DO NOT DISTURB. He settled down to read the letter.
A/N If any of you have any ideas of what should be in the letter, please leave me a review and I'll try and include your ideas :D