This fic turned out to be shorter than I expected it to be, but since I planned to have 3 fics in this series I needed to wrap this up as it's mainly set up for the other two now. Hopefully the next fic shouldn't be too long away, though I want to finish it all before I post so who knows. I've been planning it for ages and can't wait to get started.

(Yes there are two more fics planned. I'm terrible at posting author's notes on )

White. Glowing, gleaming, beautiful white light.

I sit up slowly and gingerly, rubbing my 'ead as I look around the space. The ground beneath me looks hard as stone but feels as soft as a feather. A gentle breeze whips my 'air, moving the pink-tinged fog around and cooling my face Somewhere there's something like a sun, which reflects off the white and makes where I am the colour of candyfloss.

"Sir."

I freeze like a statue. A voice, far away across the murky, humid room, drifts into my ears. I take an apprehensive step forward towards the sound.

"It's good to see you, DCI Hunt. How are your men holding up after what happened with the Tylers?"

I pause. The voice is aged, mid-50s I'm estimatin', and from somewhere around Manchester. A little more refined, perhaps, but northern all the same.

"They're as well as they can be, sir. It's all hit us hard."

There's another person, younger than the one before 'im. He's more Manc than the other one, more workin' class though 'e's just as commandin'. 'is voice is rough and and 'as a quality which can only be described as "man-like".

"And they've moved on, correct?"

My ears prick up as my 'eart thumps inside my chest. Moved on? That's what you say to people who've…

Death.

I stumble sideways for a moment and throw my 'ands out for something imaginary, nausea risin' in my stomach. Death, the word that was scrawled on Alex's paper, the word that 'as been in the back of all of this. The fact that one moment, almost a week ago, I was hangin' in the balance between the two sides of this world.

"… And that poor plonk who was meant to arrive months ago still 'asn't, and now Chris- "

"It were a mix up of paperwork, Hunt. I told you this when she didn't appear 2 weeks after she was scheduled."

"With respect, sir, it doesn't make sense. I were informed that she would arrive and someone from down south would 'elp 'er settle in, just until Sam and Annie 'ad gone and we could get down there." He pauses and gives a deep sigh. "It's like someone's interfered some'ow."

My ears barely pay attention until I 'ear the other man give a hollow laugh that echoes through the room. My body tenses up at the sound, almost like something from a horror film.

"Do I have to keep telling you DCI Hunt? The paperwork were messed up."

"It's not just the plonk. DC Chris Skelton's disappeared as well, I can't find a trace of 'im anywhere, 'is flat's been cleared and no one- "

My 'eart sinks as concern rips through my body at the sound of 'is name. I almost feel like I'm a young girl again, standing behind a door eavesdropping on my parents' important conversations that I never should 'ave listened in to long after I should 'ave been in bed asleep.

"Who's "DC Skelton"?"

My blood runs ice-cold in my veins. I suspect that DCI Hunt's blood does as well, though 'e doesn't seem the type of person to admit it.

"Not you too, sir." He mutters under 'is breath.

A moment of silence follows, followed by a deeply exasperated sigh from the man he's talkin' to.

"You and DS Carling are to report to the train station at 9:00 next Saturday. I'll send a van to take your belongings down a couple of days before, though knowing you I don't expect you'll 'ave many between the two of yer."

DCI Hunt doesn't reply. I take another step forward, trying to locate where they are in this light, airy void.

"You know you can't stay up 'ere, what with the investigations around WDS Tyler's "disappearance". It'll lead back to yer, yer know. They'll 'ave records of the phone call. If yer leave, then I can make sure they don't get to that part."

I blink and, for a split second, I see them standin' in a dark, messy office A flash of a beige camel coat and white slip-ons. A man in a deep grey anorak with a grey handlebar moustache.

"I'll see yer down there." DCI Hunt mutters. "On Saturday, I mean."

The door creaks as someone, I assume the one with the moustache, opens it. I blink again, this time the image stays in my eyes. A freeze frame of one singular moment, somewhere in the past. Their faces are a mystery, both face away and the tension in my body and the room doesn't dissipate.

I've only ever 'eard one person refer to a female police officer as a "plonk", and that was a Neanderthal who I bumped into once in the hallway. There's a mix in the people I work with, I've always thought it reflects London as a whole. There's even been talk on the grapevine that they're goin' to get rid of the "w" before WPCs titles, though there 'asn't been anythin' yet.

The door slams and the sound rings through the entire candyfloss space, like an earthquake erupting without warnin'. My body is forced backwards, flying through the air at speed before it hits the ground so 'ard that I'm sure I've broken some'hin', no matter how soft the ground feels. I take a couple of moments to try and catch my breath, all the wind 'as been knocked out of me.

The ground opens like a sinkhole, drawin' me in like a magnet into a pool of liquid. I fight but I can't move, all I can do is scream until the liquid draws me under into its throes. It slowly covers my face and I 'elplessly watch it cover my mouth and cover my eyes until the world is dark and my body is unable to scream or fight anymore.

My eyes snap open to the white plastered ceiling of my bedroom. The duvet is freezing cold and the moon makes patterns on the plain carpet. The room is chilly, musty, as if it ain't been touched or entered for weeks. A fine layer of dust covers everything. I don't know 'ow it got there.

I shiver and look out of the open window. I must have forgotten to shut it this morning, the wind blows around the room and rustles the paper on my beside table. My parents and siblings smile out at me from the photo next to me, frozen in time, captured in that gorgeous moment. My heart swells with love for all of them and for a moment I feel a strange sense of loss, like I'll never see them in person again.

Shaking my 'ead of all feelin's, I bury it in my pillow and turn over to sleep, the ominous darkness creeping into my thoughts even as I feel myself slippin' away.

New Year's Eve, 1995

Surprisingly, I'm not completely plastered.

My dress got wine down it at some point, I don't know when. It could 'ave been when we danced around to Wonderwall played at 78rpm like a lunatic, or when we decided to see if we could drain that cheap bottle Toby got for Christmas which Tilly drank almost the entirety of. She's currently conked out on the sofa snorin', missing the entire reason we're together tonight.

Wonderwall's playin' again, at normal speed this time, I suspect Sam put it on as she's proclaimed it her favourite song as of this evening. There's a gentle breeze in the air as I lean over the railings of the small balcony, a freshness which is only felt at new year. Big Ben is able to be seen peeking through the skyline of an illuminated London as I wrap my cardigan tighter around my body. Laughter comes from behind me inside the apartment, a soft smile touches my lips.

10…

The earliest New Year's Eve I can remember properly is 1978. I have faint memories, more like feelin's I suppose, of ones earlier. I can remember vividly the saucepan-bangin' welcomin' in 1977, Mum's arms 'olding me outside our 'ouse in Billericay long after I should 'ave been asleep. When we welcomed in 1979 I know mum and dad were 'oping that the year would be better than the last one, but that wasn't to 'appen. I can still remember Dad's quiet fury when Thatcher was elected and the looks shared between the two of them.

9…

The final dregs of Wonderwall drone out from behind me, followed by Sam's giggly laughter and the beginnin' of the guitar part again. Last time I saw them Sam and Toby were drunkenly snoggin' on one of 'is many sofas. Knowin' Sam, I expect it'll progress to somethin' more by the time the night's out. Robert was at least coherent when I spoke to 'im, settled in an armchair with a book in 'is 'ands and Clive James on the Telly. The flower that Tilly put in my 'air as we walked back from the Nightclub falls out of my 'air, I pick it up and look at it illuminated in the bright lights of London.

8…

"You goin' to come out 'ere and see '96 in?"

I yell to anyone who's able to 'ear me. No reply or movement, just the sound of slurping tongues and snoring from indoors. I sigh and turn back to the skyline.

7…

'95's been an okay year. Nothin' much really 'appened, I was just bidin' my time a bit as I waited for my probation period to be over. Music's been okay too, what with What's The Story? (Morning Glory) comin' out in October and all. It's just been… okay. That's the only way to describe it.

6…

Only six seconds to go until the end of 1995. 1996 is goin' to be a good year, I can feel it warmin' me inside. Things are goin' to be so much more interestin' in the next 12 months, 'specially as I finish as a probationary constable in September and I ain't goin' to stay in uniform much longer after that, from what my Sergeant says about me. I can finally live up to all the potential I 'ave, it won't be pushed down anymore. People can finally see me for who I am.

5…

The people below me singing drunken songs are like pinpricks, too small to be properly made out in the dim light below. Down the road is the club we spent 'alf our evening at this evenin', before we came back to Toby's spacious apartment. I'll probably end up fallin' asleep on one of 'is sofas tonight. But that won't 'appen for a long while. It's time to live in the moment, as Tabby says.

4…

It's the first time in what must be over a decade that the two of us 'aven't spent new years together. She's got 'er friends from work to go out with now, and I've got mine. It's the furthest apart we've ever been and 'alf of me wants to try and get our friendship back the way it was once, but I know it's only natural that we've grown apart. It was always Sharon and Tabby against the world in our teens and my 'eart yearns for those times as I remember.

3…

The entirety of London appears to be countin' down the seconds until the new year, a chorus of voices echoing across the skies. It's a spectacle to behold. I can't help but let myself smile. The entire country, despite our divisions, always comes together for new year.

2…

At this moment two years ago I was in my final year of uni, getting' smashed in our normal club with all my mates. 1993 seems such a long time ago now, a different life to the one I live now. I was a different person. Maybe in two years I'll think back on this point with a sense of nostalgia.

1…

In a year's time, I know my life will 'ave changed, for the better or for worse I don't know and I'm not sure I want to. But it's goin' to be important. I know that much for sure.

1996!

A loud cheer echoes across the sky as I take in a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. Fireworks are lit from people's gardens and explode into spectacles of beautiful colour. My eyes are alight with the night and the beauty, my mouth can't 'elp but fall open a little as Auld Lang Syne mixes with the chimes of the clock in the distance.

I blink whilst I'm lookin' at a particularly beautiful gold firework and for a moment my brain makes a face out of the ribbons of gold. He's a lot older than me, in 'is 40s, ridged in gold that makes 'im seem like a lion coming out of a dark world. It's a blink-and-you-miss-it moment and before I know it e's gone, the moment and face already fadin' from my mind.

#...Should old acquaintance be forgot… and never be brought to mind…#

Whatever the next year brings, I'm ready. Bring it on.

I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be long gone.

Finally those dreams make sense. It should 'ave been obvious from the start, that they were tellin' me somethin'. It was there even at new year, that somethin' was going to 'appen. The man I saw in the fireworks that night is the key to everythin'.

I should 'ave left a long time ago, but someone's messed with it. I know where I need to be now and it's not 'ere. As long as I'm where I need to be everythin' will fall into place. I can focus on findin' out who messed with my life and so many others later.

He's here. I can see 'im in front of me. I should know him properly but I don't. All because someone messed with my life.

A lost expression covers 'is face. He's scared, absolutely bloody terrified. It's in 'is eyes, plain to see. He knows I'm 'ere though, able to be seen. Able to be felt. A presence.

Take my 'and, I call, We can do this together,

My 'and stretches out towards 'im. 'e falters for a moment, looks between me and the 'and like 'e doesn't know what to do before 'is joins mine and we look into each other's eyes properly for the first time.

Light surrounds us and all I can feel is 'is touch as we descend into the great unknown.

All there is now is me and him. Him and me. In some way.

Forever.