A/N: The second of 2 chapters this morning

Chapter Eighteen: 1995

"How the hell did I end up here?" Simon sighed as he sat on a desk watching Gene breaking all his promises about not trying to use the white board.

"Right," Gene wrote sloppily across the blank, white space, his fingers not quite doing what his brain was telling them to do, "Keats shot 'er, scarpered up onto the roof and had a go at the high dive."

Simon folded his arms.

"You're about to bring up my nipples again, aren't you?" he mumbled crossly.

Gene ignored that.

"We've got three problems," he continued, "not including the fact that Shoebury is still wearing that bloody jumper." He scribbled on the board, "Number one, where's our Alex? Number two, what do we do with Little Miss Amnesiac, and number three, where's Jimbo and what's he got to do with her personality transplant?"

"Technically that's four problems, sir," Kim piped up. She became instantly aware of a cross Gene glaring at her and coughed. "Sorry, sir… I don't know why I said that," she mumbled.

Gene turned his glare away from her and looked back at the board.

"So," he began, then gave a sigh. Alex was much better at the whole whiteboard thing. She had better handwriting for a start, and usually wasn't pissed in charge of a whiteboard marker. He scratched his head. "The Alex we know is definitely not here. She could be alive and wandering around in some twenty first century year. She could still be in a coma, waiting to wake up. She could," he trailed off and took a deep breath. It wasn't something he wanted to consider but it was a possibility, "…she might not have made it. She could be lost forever."

"Don't think like that, Gene," Simon said quietly.

Gene moved onto the second problem.

"And Alex," he began, "the other Alex. She thinks she'd just been shot by that greasy-haired lummox Layton, and has just arrived here. She doesn't know anything about me or you or her life here. She's dangerous and volatile. Could do anything. Doesn't think this is 'real'." He even used her air-quotes to mock the sentiment.

"We need to find her," said Kim, "explain to her."

"Yeah well, that's easier said than done," Gene told her, "for one thing, she hates my guts."

"Oh, we've all been there…" Kim said casually before realising she'd quite possibly talked herself out of a job, slammed her hand over her mouth and tried to backtrack. "I mean, err…"

"She means, it takes a while to get to know you, that's all," Simon came to her rescue.

Gene didn't seem impressed.

"You didn't help yerself by nodding when she said you'd all been there, Shoebury!" Gene scolded.

Simon looked a little flustered.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I can't bloody concentrate! What is it now? Half past five? Six o clock?" He rubbed his stomach. "And I'm bloody starving. Can't we get something to eat before we do this?"

"You could have 'ad a kebab," Gene reminded him.

"I refuse to eat anything that looks like I've already thrown it up first," Simon said crossly, "besides, it's not like anyone here took the last of my bloody pizza, is it…?"

Gene looked away, ignoring that remark and turned his attention back to the board.

"Metal Mickey is right though," he said, "we have to find her pronto-tonto and explain to her what we think has happened."

"If we tell her we'll help her get home then she'll be more likely to work with us instead of throwing us out," Simon suggested.

"Well, try to help her get home," Kim pointed out.

Gene nodded.

"Third thing on the list – Jimbo." He paused. It wasn't a subject any of them wanted to think about but it had to be done. "Is he responsible for more than a bullet?"

Silence descended. No one really knew what to say. No one knew where they even stood on that subject.

"It's possible," Simon said quietly, "there's nothing I wouldn't put past him."

"I don't know," Kim shook her head, "he might have been the one who fired the gun but why would he do that? And how? I know he's not… well, not quite as human as we are but it's not like he's slicing up souls left, right and centre is it? I just think if he was going to do anything to Alex he'd have taken her soul right away, as soon as she was shot."

The others stared at her. She made a lot of sense.

"But if he wasn't responsible then we still are no closer to finding out what happened or how to get her back," Simon pointed out.

"Still something to bear in mind though," Gene mumbled. He began to wonder if he was a little too focused on blaming Keats for everything that went wrong in his world. True, most of the time he was to blame but that wasn't always the case. If Keats wasn't behind Alex's situation then he might be missing the bigger picture or a possible solution. It was something to remember.

"So where do we start?" Kim asked.

Gene looked down. He wasn't looking forward to part one of the plan.

"We've got to find Alex," he said, "and talk her round. Try to get some sense into that brain. And it's not going to be easy."

"Maybe one of us should go," said Simon, "she's already thrown you out and threatened you. If you turn up on her doorstep she could start throwing things."

"Or call the police," said Kim.

"Or handcuff you to the drain pipe."

"Or shove vegetables up your –"

"I think that's enough possibilities, thank you," Gene said crossly. "Now, I understand what you're saying but this is a job for the Gene Genie and his silver tongue."

"That's the problem," Simon commented, "Alex already knows where you want to stick your silver tongue and that's why she's not going to let you anywhere near."

Gene scowled at Simon.

"Enough lip from you, Noel Edmonds," he said.

"We should all go," Kim said decisively. Gene looked at her with interest. Her words had been firm and clear. It wasn't like her to take such a leading role. "That way you've got back up and she can see you're not trying to get in her pants this time."

"Gene Hunt does not try to get in anybody's pants," Gene pointed out, "the pants usually allow Gene Hunt free access."

"Can we please go and get some breakfast first?" Simon whined.

"And some alternative clothing for you," Kim pointed out.

"And a bonfire for this jumper," Simon concluded.

Gene rubbed his face roughly. Between Simon and Kim it was like trying to conduct a lesson with a bunch of six year olds.

"If it means you'll all be presentable, full and obedient by eight o' clock, standing outside Drake's flat then you can do all three," he said.

"Great," sighed Simon. He had his mind on a big, greasy fry-up from the canteen.

"See you there at eight," said Kim, sliding off the desk and following Simon from the room.

Left alone with his thoughts and his white board, Gene felt himself giving a hefty sigh. In a way it was almost more daunting that they had a plan of action. Now they had a plan there was a chance it could fail. When they were still stumbling blindly without a clue it was a lot less frightening.

"Bolly," he mumbled, "where the bloody hell have you gone?"

~xXx~

Simon shuddered as he waited just outside of Alex's flat. The winter was biting hard and all the Noel Edmonds jumpers in the world couldn't keep the cold out. He gave Kim a little wave as he saw her approaching and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

"Hey," Kim looked every bit as cold as Simon felt, "how was breakfast?"

Simon tried to ignore the rabid indigestion the fry-up had given him.

"Let's just say it wasn't a patch on Robin's cooking," he said, "what have you been doing for the last couple of hours?"

"Brewing up a lovely hangover," Kim said, one hand reaching to her forehead.

"Well, let's get this over with and we might be snoring by midday," Simon said hopefully.

"No, we won't," groaned Kim, slumping against a wall, "We'll be chasing Keats up a building or through a car park, or trying to get Alex in a straitjacket, or concocting more plans on a whiteboard. Any of those things could happen. But sleep's not going to be one of them."

"Your optimism is most welcome," Simon said sarcastically as he parked his backside beside her on the ground.

"Oh right, you've been a barrel of laughs lately, I suppose," Kim commented.

Simon put his hand to his head and sighed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I don't know what's wrong with me at the moment. Picked up a temper from somewhere."

"Anything you want to talk about?" asked Kim.

"Not particularly," Simon sighed. He shuddered again. "So bloody freezing," he mumbled, "when we skipped a few weeks couldn't we have skipped all the way to June or something?"

"You look frozen," Kim commented, "how long have you been here?"

"Ages," said Simon.

"But it's not even quite eight yet," said Kim, " why did you get here so early?"

"Kim, it's always eleven forty eight for me," cried Simon, "These days I tend to be early or late for most things!"

"Sorry," said Kim. She scratched her head. "If your watch stopped when you died then how come Hunt and the others can all tell the time?"

"Because they're learnt all about the big hand and the little hand?" suggested Simon. Kim gave him a withering glance. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I think it's to do with whether or not you're dead when you arrive. If you die instantly and come here – you get a free working watch. If you die after you've arrived – time be damned." He looked down. Something had been bothering him. "I'd been wondering about that," he said quietly, "about when I died. I know I was already dead when they pulled Robin from the car. I must have still been alive at first though. If I could remember what time I was called to the raid then maybe I could place how long it was before…" he trailed away and shook his head. "Too grim," he mumbled, "don't really want to go there right now."

Kim looked at him sympathetically. She wished there was something she could say but it wasn't exactly a regular topic of conversation.

"Is that what's been bothering you?" she asked.

Simon shook his head.

"Not really," he sighed. His head began to hurt from thinking too much. He looked down. "I miss Robin," he said.

Kim felt a little uncomfortable. She wasn't sure how to help Simon feel any better.

"I know," she said quietly.

"It's just hard," he said quietly, "not knowing how he is, if he's coping, what he's doing right now, who he has to support him."

Kim nodded slowly.

"I've been working on memorising the letter," she told him, "I read it twice a day. Got the first few sentences almost spot on now."

Simon gave her a grateful smile but it was tinged with sadness.

"Thanks," he whispered. He paused for a moment. "Kim, I… I had a dream yesterday…"

A plodding trail of footsteps stopped Simon mid-sentence and caused them both to look up as Gene headed towards them.

"Blimey, it's a meeting of the national misery front," he commented.

Simon sighed and got to his feet.

"Like you've been joy personified," he said.

"I notice you haven't burnt the jumper," Gene said with genuine disappointment.

"The woman in the canteen wouldn't lend me her matches," Simon mumbled, "chucked a colander at my backside and told me to get lost."

Kim stood up and rubbed her hands together, fighting off the cold.

"So are we going to do this then?" she asked.

Gene sniffed a little as the cold air made his nose run, adjusted his gloves and strode to the door.

"Too bloody right we are," he said.

X

A knock on the door. Another. A third, harder and more intense this time.

"Alex?" Gene yelled, "Alex, if you're in there, open up."

He paused to let Simon have a go.

"Alex, it's Simon… I know you don't really know me any more… but we need to talk to you." He paused and glanced at Gene. "I think we know what's happened. We want to try to help you get home."

There was nothing but silence.

"Oh, come on, Drake," Gene tried knocking one last time, "I'm not going to try to hump you this time."

They both glanced at Kim who took a turn.

"Alex, we know where you're from, we know you're lost," she said, "We want you to get home but you're going to have to talk to us."

Still there was no reply. Kim shrugged at Gene and Simon.

"Right," Simon began decisively to Gene, "You're going to have to break the door down."

Gene's eye twitched in confusion.

"Why am I going to have to break the door down?" he asked.

"Because last time I tried I got a bruised shoulder and a bruised ego," said Simon.

Gene hesitated.

"Or we could use the key," he suggested, pulling it from his pocket.

Simon closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"Lovely, another one to add to my collection of embarrassing moments that will haunt me when I'm trying to sleep at night," he mumbled.

Gene turned the key in the lock and let the door open, peering in a little cautiously. He was half expecting her to fly out and attack him with a hairbrush again but there was no response.

"Alex?" he called, "Come on, Drakey, if you're in we've got some answers for yer."

"I'll check the bedroom," said Simon.

"I'll check the kitchen," said Kim.

Gene took the bathroom, but to his frustration he found nobody there. From the mutters of annoyance he could guess that neither Simon nor Kim had found her either.

"No sign, Guv," Kim said sadly as they gathered back in the lounge.

"Nor in the bedroom," said Simon.

Gene took one last look around. It seemed as though she hadn't been there at all last night.

"Where the bleedin' hell is she then?" he asked, "it's not like she's got anywhere else to go!"

"Maybe she's gone to the station?" suggested Simon.

"I doubt it," said Kim, "I heard the Super yesterday. She went to see him in a state about something. He's barred her from the station."

Gene looked at her, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"And you decided to wait until now to impart this valuable piece of information?" he cried.

Kim looked a little guilty.

"Sorry, Guv," she said quietly, "you weren't really in a fit state to hear about it yesterday and I just forgot until now."

"That'll be the alcohol," mumbled Gene, "you want to lay off that stuff, Stringer."

Kim's mouth fell open in shock at her ironic berating until she realised he was winding her up and she decided to leave it. She gave a sigh and rubbed her aching head.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Now," Gene began, "I think I need to pay a visit to the Super and find out exactly what little miss Amnesia said to him yesterday."

"What about us?" asked Kim.

"I'll go round some of the local places she might have gone to, ask if anyone's seen her," said Simon, "the usual places… Bask, Latte Land…"

"Try the local hotels too," said Gene, He pulled his wallet from his pocket, slipped out a photograph and unfolded it carefully. "'Ere. Show them this. See if anyone recognises her."

Simon glanced at him in disbelief. The notion of Gene carrying a photo of Alex around was one that had genuinely surprised him. He took the slightly dog-eared photograph and tucked it carefully into his pocket.

"Sure," he said quietly.

"And go home and get changed," Gene continued, "You shouldn't be seen out in that thing."

Simon scowled.

"And so it goes right back down," he muttered.

"What?"

"My respect for your humanity," said Simon.

Gene ignored that.

"Metal Mickey, you call the hospitals and the funny farm," Gene continued, "if she's been wandering the streets she could have been swept up by the men in white coats."

"Got it," said Kim.

"And take an aspirin," Gene continued, "I can hear that hangover pounding from here."

Kim frowned.

"Fine."

The three figures marched dejectedly from the flat and Gene locked the door behind them, but just as they turned around a glimmer of starlight swept across the sky for just a split second before the clear, frosty December morning returned in its place.

"What the –" Simon gasped a little and glanced at Gene, looking for some kind of reaction or explanation but Gene was concentrating very hard on not looking at him.

"Move," he told them, "we need Alex and we need her faster than Keats can swoop on a dead man."

Simon and Kim looked on, a little anxiously, as Gene hurried away from the flat and set off back to the station. The speed in his step and the look on his face had brought them both an extra sense of concern and neither knew quite how to describe it. They exchanged a look for a moment before deciding to follow his instructions and hurry their search along.

As Simon took to the streets with the photo of Alex he couldn't get that glimmer of starlight out of his mind. What was its significance and why had Gene reacted that way? If it was important then why wasn't he sharing its meaning with him? He just couldn't get it out of his head Just when he thought he finally had a grip on this world something else happened to pull the rug from under his feet. The world just kept on getting stranger and he missed having Alex's friendship to balance things out.

"Come on, Alex," he mumbled to himself, "You've got to be somewhere. Turn up and go home so we can get our Alex back. It looks like we need you – for more reasons than one."