Thank you for everyone who is reviewing! They are much appreciated, and it always makes me smile to open my inbox and read them! I don't own ashes and this is unbeta'd

December 17th, 1983

CID was festive. Shaz had decorated the office in tinsel and baubles the day before for the party that night. Everyone was careful to avoid the mistletoe that hung on the entrance to CID.

Catherine sat on her desk, watching the festivity. Shaz approached her, now seriously round.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

Catherine had grown quite fond of Shaz. She was like a little sister. She smiled.

"Yes, Shaz I'm fine." Content, Shaz walked over to Chris and pulled him under the mistletoe. The room cheered as they kissed.

In reality, Catherine wasn't okay. She was growing more and more depressed as the days went by. She knew that Matt wasn't really her husband, he had admitted that much back in October to Gene. The problem was, even though she knew she wasn't Catherine, she didn't know who Alex was either.

For a few days, Gene had tried to call her Alex, but finally got so frustrated because she never responded, that he gave up and started calling her Catherine again. Catherine felt bad. She could tell that she was frustrating everyone in CID because of her constant questions on the way they did things. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't remember what had happened, was it?

Gene walked into the room, scotch bottle in hand. She respected him now. The day after she decided that she would try to be Alex; he had shown her everything that Alex had known. Catherine had lived in Alex's apartment for a few months, much to the delight of Luigi. He knew she didn't remember anything, but that didn't stop him from preparing her exquisite dishes that he always told her he would never fix for any of the men in CID. Catherine sighed. If only she could remember.

*

Gene stared at the woman sitting on Alex's desk. She was trying, but Gene was starting to doubt that Alex would ever come back. Nothing he had done triggered a memory. After Annie had left, he showed her Alex's old flat, the alley which she was walking down that day, Markham's old boat, where he had found her dressed as a prostitute. Everything looked familiar to her, but she couldn't place it.

He didn't mind Catherine so much now. She had started to get the hang of CID, and didn't act like she was better than everyone anymore. He walked out of his office, with his scotch. Catherine looked at him.

"Are you always drinking?"

"You ask me that every single time you see me with a drink!"

"You never seem to be without one!"

Gene offered her a small smile. It was painful to see Alex every day, to hear her voice, and then realise that it wasn't really Alex. Catherine looked at him nervously.

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

Gene was caught off guard. "Er, nothing. Why?"

"I was wondering, seeing as I have no family and you don't seem to either, if you'd like to join me for a Christmas dinner at Luigi's?"

He looked at her incredulously. He remembered the time he had asked Alex to dinner. They had never actually made it to Dover sole. Catherine sat, waiting anxiously for his response.

"Er, yeah sure. What time?"

"Seven-ish?"

"Okay. Sounds good." Gene was actually slightly happy. "Tell ya what, I'll make it classy. I'll even get a bottle of Bolly!"

"Bolly?"

"Yeah, that posh champagne. You probably have drunk it loads. You know. Bollinger? Normal people also call it Bolly, or even Bolls." He smiled sadly again, remembering.

*

The party finally wrapped up, the finale being a woman photocopying her bum. Apparently this was an annual tradition.

Catherine was lost in thought. "Bolly. That sounds so familiar. More familiar than anything in this world. Bolly... Bollinger... Bolls... What is it about that word?"

Troubled, Catherine climbed into bed, the booze helping her fall asleep quickly.

She was trapped in a dark room. Night and day meant nothing. She was weak, hungry, and in pain. The beating earlier had left her bruised, battered, and bleeding. She crumpled up her white jacket, transforming it into a pillow. How she wished someone would find her! No one would, though. They'd kill her first. She was certain she would die. Something was wrong though. She couldn't remember the names of anyone in CID, even her old DCI. She could hardly remember her own name. She drifted into a fitful sleep, not even escaping the dark room in her dreams. Suddenly she heard someone say something. It was a male voice, but not one of the men that tortured her. "Bolly." She started, the voice scaring her. However, she could not get that one word out of her head. "Bolly." Bolly was familiar. Bolly, Bolls, Bollinger Knickers. There were so many variations of it. It was her nickname. The one thing she had left to hold onto. She was Bolly. And that was all she had left.

Catherine woke up, sitting straight up. "Knickers...Bolly...Knickers..."

Suddenly she realised. "I am Bollinger Knickers. I am Alex Drake."

TBC... Thanks again for reading