Thanks to Kimi for the betaing. To Grainweevil for the obsessed detective idea. To lilgreenmomo for support and Eloise, cause she's obsessed and she hasn't even seen the show yet. Also thanks to everyone else who helped out. I whine. A lot. Review and don't be mad at me!

Four:

Gene just stands there in the doorway looking into her flat. He leans against the doorframe and Alex can't decide if it is because he's trying to seem nonchalant as he decides what to do next or if it is because he had had too much to drink.
Alex looks around quickly, frantically, but there is no sign of Molly.

She pulls on Gene's hand and leads him in to the room. Her heartbeat is impossibly loud in her own ears and she steals a glance at him in case he can hear it as well.
She stares at his fingers and her own. He isn't holding her hand but he isn't letting go either.

Alex can feel the electricity crackle where their skin is touching. And he can feel it too she realises because in that moment he drops her hand as if scalded. The expression on his face is wary and a bit curious. He rocks from his heels to his toes for a second as if testing the floor; as if he is uncertain it won't crack under his weight and send him plummeting.

Now that she has made her decision, Alex is unsure where to begin. Should she try to explain things to him? Throw herself into his arms? Should she kiss him? So many possibilities. How did she proceed in the past? The past is a blank sheet. Why is every time like the first time?

She figures she must look like a lunatic in her robe, her feet bare, yesterdays make up smudged and caked; her eyes feverish and that stupid grin on her face.
Wasn't this what you wanted? She wants to scream, her impatience getting the better of her.

Gene is watching her intently. She can almost see him struggling with his thoughts, trying to assess her state of mind.

"Shall I make you some tea?" He asks at last, his expression concerned.

The question seems so absurdly out of character that Alex laughs out loud. Gene blinks. Then his features rearrange themselves into a scowl and he stomps into the kitchen.

"Yeah, ok." She calls after him and sits down on the sofa.

He has absolutely no idea where I'm going with this Alex realises suddenly. It's almost comic. All that agonising over whether or not to give in to her emotions, on whether or not to give in to him. Now it seems he has changed his mind. If she had even been interpreting his signals properly to begin with.

Despite years of study Alex has never really understood the opposite sex. She supposes that is why she was so shocked to discover Evan's affair with her mother. She still saw men in archetypes. Evan was the hero, the white knight. Apt pun. Gene was the trickster. The real world didn't work that way though. If Gene was a fool, a jester, why had she ever taken his advances seriously? All that talk of her bra size and her peachy arse. Alex can't be sure she didn't imagine the whole thing; that she had been flattering herself all these months thinking he was pining for her.
They sip their tea in silence. Gene seems huge sitting beside her on that ridiculous striped sofa. Huge and unwieldy. Alex pauses for a second.

It always comes down to this with her. She sets a scene in motion only to find events have taken matters into their own hands. She wants something, someone, only to realise, the object or person she spent all her time struggling to obtain, has nothing in common with the image she had created in her head. And then without alcohol or similar to spur her on, she usually draws back, at this point she is usually deterred by the reality of the situation. By the human, three dimensional qualities of the person she was persuing. Not this time though. This time the fact that she can no longer place him, no longer write him off as an archetype or construct, the fact that he is unfathomable, serves to make him all the more attractive.

She wants this man. This man sitting beside her, tangible and frighteningly real. There are two choices: either she waits to see if he will initiate something or she has to be the one to do it.

Why don't you tell me why you've been watching over me? Alex thinks. The thought is so deafening in her head that she can't be sure she hasn't spoken it out loud.

"I've been thinking." She says. "We've lost perspective on this case."

"Yeah, could be." He replies.

Why don't you tell me why you are still doing here with me at three in the morning instead of making your excuses and fleeing to the safety of your own bed? She wants to ask.

"I've been meaning to ask the others what they think. Maybe we should go over the case with them point by point in the morning, get a fresh view." She continues.
Hunt nods slowly.

Why don't you touch me now? She wonders. Why don't you kiss me now?

Hunt leans forward. This is it now. Now.

He sets his mug down on the floor.

"Right, I'll take the couch, we'd better try to get some sleep." There is an edge in his voice that Alex recognises. It's the same tone she uses on Molly on school nights.
She stares at him.

"That is what you had in mind wasn't it Alex?"

She waits for the leer for a good five seconds. But it doesn't come. He means these words, this isn't a test, he isn't flirting. He really believes she just wants him here for protection.

In the end it is the way he said her name that decides her.
She leads him to the bedroom and takes off her robe. Beneath it she's wearing her pyjama top but her legs are bare and cold. He stares at them for a minute before flicking his eyes away. Alex lies down on the left side of the bed. He falters. She thinks he might change his mind and run the other way. Instead he takes his trousers off, folds them carefully and drapes them on the chair, leaving his shirt on.
When he gets in beside her she stops breathing.

"Night Bolly." He says.

As Alex lies there beside him, wide awake, she can feel every nerve in her body tingling. She hears his breathing slow down until she's sure he's asleep. Too late now she thinks. She should have acted sooner.

A wave of relief and a wave of disappointment wash over her simultaneously.
She leans towards him, comforted, perhaps because it is Gene lying beside her or perhaps because it has been so long since anyone has really shared her bed. She realises that she has been so lonely and not only since she arrived here in 1981. She has been so lonely.

In the dark corner of the room she can see the outline of Molly. Molly is laughing softly. It isn't the laugh she remembers, the sweet vital laugh of her daughter. It is menacing, a hiss, soft but deliberate. The figure takes a step closer. Alex feels her insides freeze. Beside her Gene murmurs in his sleep and pulls the red coverlet closer. She turns on her side and closes her eyes, wrapping the sleeping man in a loose embrace. She presses her face into his back. The black shirt smells of washing powder and cigarettes and Gene. It isn't the smell of his aftershave, it's a scent uniquely his, his 'man stink' if you will. But it isn't unpleasant. The laughter dies out.

Alex holds on tighter and is surprised when she feels him absently stroke her arm with one hand. His breathing is even, still asleep. The outline of his body against hers is dizzying. She traces a soft pattern on his shoulder. It's getting easier. She's more daring by the second. Alex lets her hand skim along the long length of his body, down his thigh and then up again, up the inside of his thigh. His breathing quickens. Alex's heart leaps to her throat. He turns to face her abruptly, flipping her onto her back and pulling her into his arms, the coverlet tenting them. He is holding her so tightly, so roughly that Alex can hear her bones groan in protest. Then just as quickly he releases her. In the dark she can see the spark of anger blaze in his eyes.

"What are you playing at?" He demands switching on the light, fully awake.

She lays there in shock her thoughts flying in every direction like startled birds. He tears the red coverlet off and sits up. He swings his legs to the floor and gets up grabbing his trousers and exiting the room. The bathroom door slams.

"Gene." She says from the other side of the door. "Gene, I'm sorry."
She rests her head against the lacquer of the door. The water is running, she can hear him moving around in there.

"Gene?"

The water stops and the door opens.

He gives her a look she can't interpret. "It's ok. I have to go."

Alex can smell her lavender hand soap on him, it's disconcerting.

She stares down at the floor. The world is spinning. This strangely sweet world, four days after the bomb, is revolving at a dizzying speed. If she looks at him now she may lose her balance. "Yeah." She says.

He strides through the flat to the front door. "It's alright Bolls. I'll see you in the morning."

Gene shuts the door gently.

Alex sits down on hard the floor. Her mind is blank, her stomach churning. For a horrible minute she thinks she may cry. Instead, back at square one, the world a new and peculiar place, she starts to laugh. She laughs so hard that tears come after all. She laughs so hard her chest aches with it.

She enters CID that morning dressed to the nines. She figures she may as well go all the way since she has already humiliated herself beyond all hope. She wears red so that everyone, not just Gene, will recognise her Scarlet Woman status. The reactions are perfect, just what she wanted. She smiles and laughs a bit under her breath. Chris looks like his eyes might fall out of his head. Ray can barely contain the mix of lust and smugness, his expression seems to read 'I told you so'.

Shaz looks sad. For a minute that makes Alex feel cold and shabby. Then she remembers how funny everything is. This world doesn't exist either she reminds herself. It's a joke. A sick joke. And Alex is tired of frustration and grief. She wants to laugh.

"Good morning!" She sings out gaily. "Today we're going to solve this case!"

There is a collected chorus of grumbles. Then the glass door swings open and Gene appears.

"Christ." He sighs. She can see it then, the sentence on the tip of his tongue. He has some lovely, mocking remark he is longing to deliver but then he sits down, rolls his eyes at her and gestures.

"Proceed o Bollinger Knickers." He says instead. She is standing beside his chair and for a second their arms brush. She feels the reaction at once and suppresses it violently. He humiliated her; she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how he was affecting her.

"Right. Let's sum this up:

Kirsty Andrews is missing. Found three days later, dead. On the corpse: Rose petals. Strawberry scent. She was probably bathed after her death. In her room: A jumper with rabbit hair. Tina Burnham died 20 years ago. From what we managed to figure out she was missing approximately three days but this wasn't unusual. She was found dead in the rose bushes, throat crushed, petals in her pockets. And a toy panda bear. Her throat wrapped in a scarf. The pattern of the lace was Limerick. The corpse was washed, strawberry scent again. In both cases it wasn't the father."

She looks into all their faces respectively. Nothing. Blank stares all around.

"That was a mouthful Drake." Gene says.

"Who would have thought we had all that info!" Chris chips in. "What's this strawberry bath stuff then?"

"Yeah!" You want us to search all the houses in the area if someone likes fruit scented soap?" Ray snorts.

"No, silly!" Alex laughs. It's fun. Like a game. Like playing at policemen. Like she played at policeman and murderer with Kirsty as a child.

"And the lace? What's that about? Some old biddy murdering kiddies?" Ray goes on.

"I don't know. Maybe start with the roses. That's a good one. The same roses as the ones in school I assume." She says thoughtfully speaking very slowly, like a schoolteacher. This can't be anything but a joke. Look at what she has to work with? Who she has to work with.

Chris makes an odd choking sound. "No they can't be."

"And why is that DC Skelton?" Alex asks.

"Well." Chris' face is bright red with embarrassment. "Well it's cause the colour is wrong see?"

They don't see.

"Those ones by the school are a different colour. These ones are darkish red. So are the Tina Burnham ones. Well from what you can tell in the photos. And the school ones are brighter like."

"Look exactly the same to me." Gene says dismissively.

Alex is thinking the same thing but doesn't dare admit it. She is still standing to close to Hunt, afraid that if she moves away someone will notice her strange behaviour. Also she is still unsure of the rules of this world. She has already learned, four days after the bomb, just because everything feels and looks normal doesn't mean the world won't turn on her unexpectedly.

"No they're different see!" Chris insists. Ray is making funny faces at him.

This triggers a playful fight, Shaz giggling and throwing in comments from the side. Alex joins in the laughter feeling like one of the team at last. Perhaps the big secret is just to let go. To fit in. Maybe all she has to do is just stop taking everything so seriously.

The sound of a throat clearing silences everyone. A man has entered the room on silent soles.

"My name is Todd, Benjamin Todd." He says.

Alex fails to stifle a giggle.

"Formerly DI Benjamin Todd." He continues shooting her a look of distaste. "I heard you were looking into the Burnham case."

"Look here Mr. Todd…" Gene begins.

Todd is an average sized man well over sixty. His hair is steel grey and a little too long; it sweeps against the brown of his collar. His hands shake slightly. His eyes are bright blue and have an unnatural gleam to them; one Alex is all too familiar with. Andrews, Burnham, Tim Price.

"There were others you know."

The silence after that is so sharp Alex can feel it sting her.
Beside her Hunt twitches nervously.

"No of course you don't." He has a quiet voice, a calming voice. It settles the hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her.

"Two others. Lucy Ashworth, aged 11 in Manchester in 1946, Emma Gainey aged 9 in 1936 in Limerick. It was the same man. It took me years, I must have read hundreds of cases but I'm sure those two were killed by the same man who murdered Tina Burnham."

"How…" Ray starts.

"Well the lace, on a hunch I stumbled upon the Limerick case. And of course the rose petals. The toys." Todd seems to take note of the looks on their faces.

"You didn't notice the toys?" He smiles briefly. "Well to be fair Tina Burham's panda, Lucy Ashworth's doll and Emma's rosary. The rosary isn't strictly a toy."

Alex coughs. "How were they killed?" She asks.

"Lucy was strangled. Emma was bludgeoned with a heavy object. Both of them had been missing three days prior to their deaths. But despite the information I managed to gather I never really found a suspect. It must have been someone they trusted. Someone they saw everyday. But due to the huge gaps of time between the crimes it was impossible to find reliable witnesses."

"Didn't you question the people at the school?" Shaz pipes up.

"The school was largely uncooperative. Both schools were. The one in Manchester and Ash Street here in London. The girl in Limerick wasn't a student."

"What else can you say about the victims?" Alex asks.

"They were all lonely girls. Neglected by their parents. Tina's mother had affairs; her father was a known sexual offender. Lucy had no mother and her father worked long hours. Emma. Little is know about her. She died in the thirties. So aside from the case file found largely by luck, nothing…and the Irish are a sloppy bunch."

Alex hisses her aversion to his last comment. Her mind is working at a furious rate. Building connections where there were none. Connections upon connections like a spider web.

"Kirsty Andrews was also neglected, she spent all her time at school or at my…at friend's houses. And the toy… the troll, she had a troll." She says, still fretting at the implications of this discovery.

"Hang on now!" Gene bursts out. "One in Manchester? With rose petals? Thirteen years ago when we questioned that fancy French flower fellow..."

"The fleur de mort." Chris interrupts him.

"Shut up Christopher!" Gene snaps. "Anyhow Terence Finn, he said an old murder case had given him the idea of leaving flowers on the body."

Alex shifts her weight from one foot to the other. A darkness is spreading through her. Everything is relevant she thinks. Everything is connected. She was right. Only a few more steps till she frees herself from this labyrinth, this spider's web. She can get out of here, back to Molly. Away from Gene and that whole awkward situation. This should make her happy. Instead she feels frightened and sad.

"I need to speak to her!" Some one is calling from the hall. "Alex! Alex!"

It's Evan. Dishevelled and hysterical. Alex reaches for his hands unconsciously. They are ice cold. She has never seen him like this. Not even after the bomb. Today, four days after the bomb, she is witnessing the ultimate ruin of a human being.
"What is it Evan?" She demands. "What has happened?"

"It's Alex, Alex Price. She's gone. She's missing."