A/N: A quick note to thank you all for reading this fic about the British show written by a Yank.

Thanks everyone.

Chapter Four

He has to laugh, "You're a copper and a Detective Superintendent too, shit." He begins to pace around the room, "I get it now, all this, is what? A joke?"

"No, Gerry," she says solemnly, watching the scowl form on his face. "You believe me, don't you?"

He expels a long breath, "I don't know. This is so bizarre, like something from the Twilight Zone." He begins to pace again running his fingers through a head full of hair. He turns to face her, "What is going on?"

"I wish I knew," she says with an exasperated tone, "I really do. It seems to me that my Dad and I have been given a second chance to maybe right the wrongs."

"A second chance, huh?" He sits down next to her on the couch, "Alright," he slaps his thighs, "Where and when?"

"No," she shakes her head as she stands, "You should stay here, I'll do it alone."

"Alone?" He reaches for her hand, "No way, I'm going with you." He gently pulls her close to him as he stands, "I can't let you go alone." He raises his hands and cups her face, "I said it before and I'll say it again, I want to help. Anyway there must be a reason that you found me." He pulls her in for a much-needed embrace.

Canning Town

Sandra points to the dilapidated building, "There, that's the parlor."

Gerry parks the car directly in front, reaching for the door handle of the car, "You stay here," he says with a commanding tone.

She nods her head, seconds later, he is out of the car, "Wait a minute," she says aloud to no one. She opens the car door and exits the vehicle. Gerry is just opening the door when she catches up to him. "Don't argue with me Gerry, I'm a cop remember? And I can handle this."

"No doubt about that Sandra, but if you do then how in the hell do we explain you?" He doesn't wait for an answer he turns away from her and enters the building, she catches the door with her hand before it closes and watches him jog up the stairs. She remains motionless for a moment, debating within her mind whether to go up the stairs. "I'm going," she says aloud then hears a sound, as if something metal had hit the floor. She climbs the stairs and sees the shining metal, Gerry's lighter. She picks it up and stuffs it into her bag.

The first shot startled her, moments later she is halfway up the stairs and another shot rings out. To her trained ears, it sounded different. She opens the door hastily and it hits the wall, she sees her father standing in the middle of the room, with a gun in his hand. Before him is the form of a woman, who she knows to be Deidre Mortimer lying on the floor. She hears sobbing and spies her brother sitting on the floor knees up to his chest. Lying before him is Ian Randal she is sure about that. Too late, we were too late. She scans the room, looking for Gerry, where did he go? She hears a soft moan to her right and, "Oh my God, Gerry!" she runs to him and kneels down beside him. "Don't just stand there," she screams keeping her focus on her friend, "Get help, he needs help."

"I was to late Sandra, I'm sorry."

"No," she caresses his face, "Nothing to be sorry about." She takes a hold of his hand, then turns to face her father, "You've really fucked up this time."

"He saw what happened," Gordon points to Ian on the floor, "He was going to shoot me."

"He," Gerry coughs, "He was strangling the boy and then a shot rang out," he moans in pain as his body shakes, "Fuck it hurts."

"Stay still," she says softly.

"He," Gerry attempts to point toward Randall, "He was on the floor and then...he, he missed."

She turns her focus to her father, watching as he picks up the receiving end of the phone, "You have to tell what happened; you have to be honest about what you did and not cover it up."

He seems not to hear her and speaks softly into the phone, she listens intently, "Need an ambulance at 18 White Street. Someone's been shot." He pauses as the person on the other end is asking a question, "No I heard it from the street." He hangs up the phone.

Gerry coughs and she looks down at him, the blood has now covered most of his shirt. "Nothing's changed Sandra."

She turns to look at her father, who is now reaching for his son. She sees before her a stranger not the man who would take her on outings and tell her stories. The man she has ached for all these years, she shakes her head in despair, "I know Gerry," she looks down at him and brushes a hand across his forehead, "I know, don't talk."

"Who are you and what? Where did you come from?" Gordon asks as he walks toward them, hand and hand with his son.

"This," she holds up Gerry's hand, "PC Gerry Standing and he is my friend, my name is…." Gerry loosens his grip, she looks down and his eyes are open, not focused on her, they are blank. "Oh God No!" she screams.

The sweat is running down the side of her face, "NO!" she bolts up from her lying position. Her eyes focus in on the room, her bedroom, "Holy shit, it was a dream, no," she uses her hand to wipe away the sweat, "A nightmare, have to stop eating spicy foods right before bed." She removes the bed cover and places her feet on the floor, she begins to chuckle softly, "Wait till the guys hear this one."

If she could whistle a tune, she would as she walks the hallway toward UCOS. She opens the door, things are, as they should, thank God for that, she thinks as she gazes around the room. Sitting at their desks looking busy, however she knows better, are Jack and Brian. She stands with her hands on her hips. "Morning, guys."

"Morning, Sandra," Jack replies followed closely behind by Brian.

"Where's Gerry?" she says lightheartedly.

Jack turns a page of the newspaper that he is reading, "Gerry?" he looks up at her, "Gerry who?"

She smirks, "Funny Jack, very funny."

He frowns as he sits back in the chair, "What's funny?"

"Alright I'll play along, Gerry Standing, where is he off too?"

"Morning Guv," a voice says from behind.

Sandra turns to the sound of the voice, and standing before her is a man clearly in his late 50's, brown hair, with a multitude of gray seeping through, green eyes and very unfamiliar to her. She searches her mind for the date, "Ok guys, are we having an early April fool's day joke?"

"No," Jack says as he stands. "Sandra what is the matter?"

She steps back as he steps forward, "I want to know now, where is Gerry?" An incredible rush of fear feels her, she turns to Jack and then to Brian, "Gerry Standing."

"Gerry Standing, now who's playing an early April fool joke?"

"What happened to him?" She asks with a shaky voice.

"He was found shot dead in a rundown building along side a pimp named Ian Randal. It was discovered that Ian shot Gerry but no gun shot residue was found on Standing," Brian says casually.

"My father," she turns to Jack, "You always suspected," she sits down on the couch feeling as if she didn't, her body would meet the floor. "You discovered that my father shot Ian Randal, right Jack?"

"Yes Sandra we have discussed this before," he frowns as he catches Brian's gaze and shrugs his shoulders.

"Dreaming," she says aloud, keeping her focus forward, "Please let me be dreaming."

Jack sits down next to her, "Sandra."

"I'm dreaming right Jack?" Her eyes fill with tears, "Please tell me to wake up."

"Sandra whatever is the matter?" Jack asks.

"Yes Sandra, tell us," the stranger says imploringly.

She lets out a laugh, a bogus one however, the guys buy it, "Kidding, I'm just kidding."

Raised eyebrows from the guys but they believe her, they have to.

She goes through the motions of her day, trying very hard to like the NEW guy but whenever he talks she wishes he would just disappear and Gerry would take his place but she knows in her head that, that will never happen but her heart is aching for him.

What have I done? I wished so hard to have my Dad with me and now, not only is he gone I destroyed another life and prevented the lives of four people, Paula, Amelia, Kaitlin and little Gerry, my God am I that selfish. My father shooting Ian Randall wasn't an accident he had to do it and he had every right to do it, saving the life of a little boy, but why? I still don't know why he covered it all up, yes maybe he would have lost his job but not his life. Nothing I did was going to change that. You can't change the past to appease yourself, it's, "I'm sorry Gerry, I'm so sorry." The first drink she had wasn't enough she needed more and a great deal more. She finally closed her eyes and sleep does indeed come.

That is all for now

Later The Mominator