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Awake – Chapter 2

Alex ripped out the numerous tubes and wires which were connected to her. Wincing in pain as she tore the needle out of her hand – not caring, she continued. Alex burst through her hospital room doors, running past some men pushing the medical equipment; ignoring Gene Hunt's face which was plastered on the screens.

What is Gene still here for?! Her head screamed at her. I don't understand. I thought that this mess would disappear once I had come home. I need to fully be here, I need to be here for Molly. Alex kept running until she could no more, reducing her speed to a fast walk, occasionally stopping and gasping for air. Alex didn't know how long she had been in a coma due to her head injury, it could have been as little as a week or as long as a few months. Part of her knew that running around like a headless chicken was not good for her, however long she had been unconscious. Alex had another, a more dominant order in her head keep running Alex. Just keep running. The air around her was still and at a controlled temperature, but it still gave her goose bumps as she collided with air particles; leaving her skin cold to the touch. Every place looked the same, the same cold white bed linen with the timeless bodies sleeping quietly did I look like that; cold, stiff and dead? She continued to run through the winding corridors of the doctor free long-term ward. The walls were painted a soft white colour, matching the curtains surrounding each patient's body. Alex couldn't help missing the 1982 hospital, it had felt more welcoming in a strange way, the yellow and brown banoffee curtains and the dingy wards. At least in 1982, there is colour to add hope, here it is just white. You'd think that they would add some colour if not for the patient's benefit, for the families. Alex realised that she was alone, no doctors or nurses chasing her, she was alone, and she felt it. Why are there no doctors or nurses around, anyone would think that that the timeless bodies had been forgotten. Alex found herself faced with the first choice she had to make since she had woken, to take the stars, or the lift? Alex wanted to be alone, she needed space to think; her mind chose the stairs.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Alex walked down the three flights of cold concrete stairs. There was little light, most of it was provided by large ceiling mounted round lights, which looked as if they had been there for a very long time; due to the yellowing of the plastic and the dry remains of insects. Alex couldn't help but focus on the lights; they looked familiar, they reminded her of the hospital in 1982. Alex had managed to calm herself down by deep breathing and trying to think of very little, she had learnt to do this in stressful situations from one of her meditation lessons, which she went to when she had once attended during a very stressful murder case she had been working on. Her heart rate decreased and the dizziness subsided. She eventually reached the bottom of the stairs, finding herself at the very bottom of the hospital. No one comes down here, I will be able to think. I will figure out what the hell is going on.

Alex walked through the corridor, she had flicked the light switch on, and much to her surprise the lights worked. The once quiet corridor now buzzed with the hum of electricity, which Alex found more comforting than the painful silence. Alex peered through windows of doors coming off the corridor, most of them she found to be locked. She had become increasingly frustrated with what had happened in her hospital room, but she would not allow her mind to fall to pieces until she found a room that was warm and comfy.

Alex had found, what looked to be an unused store room cross bedroom. She had turned the light on and revealed a comfortable but rather dusty old room; there were several bed frames, one of which had an ancient looking mattress. She had found in a cupboard some pillows and blankets, she shook them, taking off the worst of the dust, coughing as she did so. She put the pillows and blankets on the bed and sat down. She pulled the blankets up and around her neck. She was now ready to fall to pieces.

Tears rolled down her cheeks slowly at first as she remembered Gene's face on the television screen, then she broke into sobs as she realised that she was in a coma in 1982. NO! I AM HOME. I beat the infection. Operation Rose didn't happen. Why is my subconscious in 1982? I was ready and waiting to go home from the moment I got there. I did everything necessary to come home. Now I'm back here and I'm still there! HOW? WHY?

Alex couldn't help but think back to the months before Layton shot her in the head. Alex had been studying the tapes and documents Sam Tyler had made about his time in 1973 and the people he spent it with. Sam had then sent the documents to the Met, before committing suicide. Alex studied the information given to her and had begun to understand what happened to Sam Tyler. For Sam, he was hit by a car in 2006, he woke up in 1973. He was DI Sam Tyler and he worked with DCI Gene Hunt, DS Ray Carling, DC Chris Skelton and WPC Annie Cartwright. Sam and I both suffered a massive head trauma, I ended up in the same world as he did. Sam walked through a tunnel to meet Morgan and he woke up from his coma. I was shot in the head, and then shot in the stomach. He lived a close to normal life after resuming his post as DCI, he claimed he couldn't "feel anything anymore", after suffering a hand injury during a meeting. Alex pinched herself until it hurt, "OWCH!", she could still feel. I was in the same world; I knew and worked with the same people, they are figments of my imagination, of Sam's imagination. Sam needed to go back to 1973 and be with Annie, I needed to leave to be with Molly. What has 1982 got to do with me any more?!

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Alex didn't know what was going on just a few floors above her; she had caused quite a commotion. After Alex had ran from her room, and to her hiding place, her surgeon had come to check how she was doing, having heard from a very pleased and excited little girl that her mummy had woken up. He had pressed the red button, which sent a silent alarm to every nurse and doctor on Alex's ward via pagers; telling them something was wrong and to get to Alex's room ASAP. Nobody had seen Alex leave her room, the last person to see Alex was Molly and her doctor, and then there had been half an hour before the surgeon came to check on her.

Alex had nearly all of the nurses from her ward looking for her; some looked around the ward – checking the empty rooms and cupboards, others checked upper and lower wards, none checked the very base of the hospital. The nurses asked other patients, but no one had seen her. Molly was distraught, her mother had finally woken from her endless sleep, only to disappear, her godfather Evan comforted her in the family room.

Alex lay sobbing into a dusty pillow. She could really do with a whisky, that usually calmed her down and brought her back to reality, but that was the bloody problem; which reality did she belong too? Her thoughts had slowly begun to lose context, her eyes had become sore, red and puffy. Hours had passed and Alex had cried herself to exhaustion, falling into a much needed sleep. She knew that self pity was not the answer to her problem, but she did not know what else to do. She had come to the conclusion that, if, and when, she saw or heard or felt Gene Hunt or anyone from 1982, she would not react in the same way. If it happened again, she would simply pay attention, but not let on to anyone what was actually happening, just like she had done throughout her time in 1981 and 1982. She had to be strong, in order to be there for Molly, so she could be a proper mum to her lovely daughter.

"In here. QUICK!"

Two nurses followed by a doctor came flooding into Alex's hideout. She did not wake or stir. The doctor saw Alex in foetal position, eyes shut and slow breaths. Knowing full well Alex's medical history, he assumed that Alex had slipped back into a coma.

TBC...