Hi everyone. Whew, so its been a long time since my last story post and this one's been an idea which has been brewing for a while and I had a lot of time on my hands during lockdown! Also, following in the footsteps of Jadeycakes92 and her fabulous alternative ending story, What if Andrea Survived, I present my own alternative ending! Just for all of you Andrea/Neil fans, you should know that the despised (by me) dastardly DI does not feature in this, thus now does their story, but I hope you like it anyway! Please let me know what you think by leaving a review!

The ruins of the station were still smouldering, though the fire had been put under control and was nearly out. Gabriel stood to the side, ash and dust covering his uniform, watching the firemen coming in and out of the destroyed front office, where, as far as anyone could understand, a van had been driven through hours earlier, triggering a catastrophic explosion. It was dark now, and cold, but he had to wait. They were picking through the charred building, searching. And he wanted to be sure they would find her, dead. People were on the alert now that Smithy had opened his big mouth in the hospital, frantically telling Gina Gold that he hadn't seen her out as he'd been instructed to. Then Bruce Malcolm had turned up, demanding to know where she was. She'd missed an appointment and it wasn't like her. She wasn't at home, and she wasn't answering her phone. Duty had bound Okaro to order two officers to search Sun Hill for her.

He knew where they would find her, of course. Slumped amongst the rubble and bricks. Where he'd left her after striking her unconscious when she'd pulled herself over to him to check if he was alright. Maybe he should be glad of her compassion. He doubted he could have stopped her if she'd chosen to leave him there. His jaw tightened. He'd had to leave her there. She'd found out about his identity. She knew everything; what he'd done to June, to Kerry and all about his involvement with the sniper. She'd left him with no other choice. If he'd let her live, it would be all over the papers by the next day, there was no doubt about that. She'd had the photographic proof of him and the sniper, which of course would have been destroyed in the fire, but if she could get it once, she could get it again.

But it was okay. She couldn't tell. Everyone would assume she'd been knocked out by falling debris, or the explosion itself. Then the smoke inhalation would have taken her; at least that would have eased her suffering. She wouldn't have even known what was happening as the poisonous fumes seeped through her body, constricting her windpipe, suffocating her. He'd done her a favour by smashing that brick over her head. Now they would find her, and obviously despite the revelations of the day, it would be tragic. She'd worked with them all for a year, gotten close with them – very close in Smithy's case – and regardless of her deception, death was a heavy price to pay. A light pattering of rain began to fall and his face darkened. She should have stayed out of his way. Okaro stepped up to his side, still wearing his coat.

"Anything, PC Kent?"

"No, Sir."

"I'm just asking around, you understand - Did you see Miss Dunbar today?"

"There and about. She didn't exactly get to stop and chat. Last time I saw her, Smithy was taking her to the locker room to clear out her things."

"Yes. So he said. She wanted to pick up some 'personal post' from her pigeonhole and he was called away. He was just about to look for her again when…"

Okaro pointed to the station.

"How is Marilyn Chambers, sir?"

"It's not looking good. She was knocked unconscious by the fireball and suffered severe burns. Ken Drummond was in the back of the van when it exploded. DC Carver has gone to inform his family."

Gabriel nodded. He'd heard and the fire crew had already informed them of their discovery of the charred remains of a body in the burnt-out van used to drive into the station. The chief fireman came over to them, pushing the visor up on his helmet and pulling off his gloves.

"Chief?" said Okaro.

Gabriel noted the slight tremor in his superior's voice. It must have been a disaster of a day for Okaro, in all senses of the word. First, you find out a highly valued officer, wasn't an officer at all, and was a journalist masquerading as one, feeding stories to a newspaper, resulting in a major trial collapsing, then the station suffers its second deliberate arson attack in three years.

The chief fire officer shrugged.

"The fire's all out," he said. "Of course, extensive damage. But we've done a thorough sweep of the building. There's nobody else in there."

The words hit Gabriel like a blow to the chest. Nobody else in there.

"You're sure?"

"As I can be. I mean, we would have a better picture in good light and without any debris but yes. We searched room by room, floor by floor." He looked over his shoulder and added, "As police stations go, it's not the biggest. We will do another search tomorrow, but I'm fairly confident. Wherever your missing girl is, she's not in there."

"Thank you," said Okaro, visibly relieved. "Thank you Chief."

"We'll talk again tomorrow," said the Chief. "When we begin to compile a report."

With a nod to both men, he turned to walk back to his crew. Okaro turned to go back into the station's adjoining hall, deemed safe as the fire hadn't damaged it.

"PC Kent? Are you coming?"

"In a minute Sir. The air feels good after the shock of…"

He spread his arms and let his voice trail off vaguely. Okaro nodded.

"Of course. Well, when you're ready."

He watched Okaro go and clenched his fists, nails digging painfully into his palms. Damn her, the tenacious bitch. He should have hit her harder, maybe even choked the life from her himself. Finished the job properly. How long had she been gone? How the hell had she got out without anybody seeing her? Reg and Tony had been sent to look for her, what if they found her? Clothes covered in soot, much like him, blood running down her head, soaking her hair. In a state of shock and panic, he shouldn't wonder. They'd take her to hospital. She'd talk. Tell them everything.

He turned to go back into the hall when the area car came around the corner. He could see Tony and Reg in the front seat. She wasn't with them. They got out and he went over to them.

"Any sign of her?"

"No," Tony said, looking thoroughly disgruntled that he'd been sent to look. "We drove around most of Canley. Went back to the news office, called at her flat, and checked the hospitals. Nothing. Didn't stop Reg here thinking that we should waste our time, sitting outside her house in case she came back."

Reg, as usual, didn't look remotely affronted and pushed his phone back into his pocket, having tried unsuccessfully to call her again.

"Not answering her phone either. No news here then?"

"Fire crew have said she's not in there," he said, and nodded at the station. "It's not looking good for Marilyn, and Jim had gone to inform Ken's family."

The three men lapsed into silence. Losing Ken had been a massive blow, and knowing Marilyn was barely hanging onto her life worsened it still. And having someone else missing, albeit someone who had caused a lot of pain? It was the cherry on top of the cake. Eventually, Tony spoke.

"Well. I guess we'd better go inside. See if there are any leads. I tell you, when I get my hands on the scumbag who did this…"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. The sentiment, Gabriel thought, was shared by everyone. Who on earth would drive a petrol filled van, with a man trapped in the back, into a station and trigger an explosion? If two fatalities – he was hoping for three – was the height of the death toll, it would be a miracle.

"Gabriel?" said Reg, and he snapped his attention to him. "Are you coming? You don't want to be staying out here in the rain."

Gabriel look another look at the embers of the station and realised his fists were still clenched. He relaxed them slowly; he'd broken his skin with his nails. Then he followed the other two. If it took him all night, he vowed he'd find her and silence her for good.

Andrea opened her eyes slowly. Her head was pounding. She could still feel the white-hot pain of the brick as he bought it smashing down onto her skull. It'd stunned her, knocking her out for mere moments before she was brought back by the agony as her coat had caught fire, burning her arm. Pushing herself to her hands and knees, she crawled to the bathroom to run her arm under the tap. She'd heard Tony and Reg come to call. They'd knocked at her door for minutes, but she hadn't been able to move. Paralysed by fear or the effects of the fire, she still wasn't sure. She turned on the bath tap with a shaking hand and turned on the tap. Gingerly, she pulled off her coat, then her hooded jumper. What she saw underneath nearly made her pass out again.

The skin was red-raw and blistering, still burning. She held it under the tap, gasping as the icy stream of water doused her arm. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at it. Good thing it was a police station she went undercover in, and not somewhere like a hospital. She wouldn't have been able to stand blood, gore and all manner of those injuries, day in, day out. She leant against the bathtub, musing. What an awful day. The exposure. The collapse of the Kennedy trial. Gabriel. Even thinking about it turned her blood to ice. Everything he'd told her; admitting to everything she'd suspected him of and more. He'd wanted to kill her today. He nearly had.

She turned off the tap with a shaking hand and breathed deeply. She had to keep calm. She had to figure out what to do now. She could tell Smithy; he'd told her to come and find him if she got anything. But what would he say now? If she told him that Gabriel had admitted to killing Kerry – he'd probably kill Gabriel himself, and gladly be jailed for it. Was he okay? Was he hurt in the fire? Who else was hurt? Dead, even. It had only just occurred to her. Guiltily, she sat against the bath and then straightened abruptly.

Graham She could call Graham. He'd never let her down yet. And never would.

She pulled herself up gingerly, wincing, holding her ribs. She must have broken something when she fell; she'd been knocked to the floor by the force of the explosion. She remembered now. She thought she'd nearly convinced him to give himself up. She'd thought he was relenting. He was crying. She'd nearly believed him to be remorseful. Maybe she'd still believed that when she'd pulled herself over to check on him when she'd seen him lying motionless yards to her left. But the moment she'd touched his shoulder, he'd grabbed her arm. In his other hand, he'd held a brick, and had brought it down onto her head with a sickening crunch. Maybe she should have left him there. It probably would have been what he'd have done to her if she'd already been unconscious. But she couldn't even imagine herself doing it; it would make her just as bad as him and moreover, that wasn't justice for his victims. He needed to pay. They'd get their justice in court.

She'd dropped her phone and keys when she'd passed out on the floor, and picked it up. It was scratched and dirty, but still working. She flipped it open and stared at the screen. There were lots of missed calls; eight from Bruce, five from Reg, three from Inspector Gold and several others from numbers she didn't recognise. She scrolled, looking for Graham's number, then dropped her phone as she coughed violently, grabbing onto the wall to support herself. She felt dizzy and sick. She felt like she was about to throw up. She reached to pick up her phone again and everything swayed. She was unconscious again before she hit the floor.

Gabriel went straight from the station, once they'd all been cleared to leave. Ken was dead. Marilyn had died shortly after arriving at hospital. Smithy was serious, but stable. And Andrea was missing. That Bruce Malcolm had still been there when he'd left, ranting and raving about missing the deadline for the morning's front page. It seemed Andrea was his second concern. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

Her house was on the corner. He parked and looked up at it. All was quiet and dark. Tony and Reg hadn't got a response. That didn't mean she wasn't there. He got out and walked to the door. He knocked, politely, like a neighbour might. Nothing. He looked around. It was dark, quiet and the dead of night. The door was a blind spot. If anyone questioned him, he had his warrant card. And if any colleagues turned up…he was just a worried friend. That didn't mean not to be cautious though. Checking nobody was around, he barged at the door. It broke open, the door hitting the wall forcefully. He stepped in, rubbing his shoulder and examined the lock. It was damaged, but it could easily be fixed. He closed the door behind him and switched on the light. He saw her almost immediately, in a crumpled heap, by the sofa. He put a hand in front of her face and felt warm breath. Still alive. He pulled her face towards him and she stirred, opening her eyes. Almost instantly, they filled with panic. Then came the knocking at the door. He grabbed her as she made forwards, dragging her back, covering her mouth, cutting off her scream. He had the advantage, even if she hadn't been weakened by the effects of the smoke.

"Andrea, love?" Reg called. "Are you there?"

He knocked again. Gabriel pulled her back as she struggled, out of sight of any windows that anyone could look into from the street. Her heart was thumping quickly, but his hadn't changed at all. Reg knocked one more time before giving up. They heard the car drive away. He felt her deflate in despair.

"Now then," he said in her ear. "What am I going to do with you?"