Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos and Monastic own Ashes to Ashes and all the characters. However I claim responsibility for DCI Sam Hunt and his family, and his team except for Molly.

Renewed thanks to everyone who's reading this and especially to those who are reviewing. It means so much to know whether what I'm doing is working or not.

The trouble with writing something like this while Series 2 is still running, is the chance that it could go out of date before I finish posting. I've gone back and made one small amendment to Chapter 2 in the light of new information in Episode 5 on Molly's father, but by and large please remember that this story is a sequel to one written before Series 2 started, and therefore doesn't always take Series 2 into account.

On we go...

By the time she had pulled herself together, washed her face and drunk some tea, she only had about half an hour on the Borough Market statements before the team started to disperse for the evening. Not wanting the rest of the team to think she was "going out with the Guv", she pegged on with the statements until the office was nearly empty and the Guv was standing over her, jingling his car keys with a meaningful air.

"Sorry, Guv, no connection yet."

"Come back to it tomorrow when your brain's fresher. You've had one hell of a day, and it isn't over yet. You've still got the junior Hunts to face. I rang Allie earlier, so she's expecting you. Come on, log off and we'll be on our way."

"Yes, Guv," she said meekly.

Five minutes later the Nissan was powering through the rush hour traffic. Knowing that the Guv didn't like to be disturbed while he was driving, she kept quiet. It felt unfamiliar, and rather exciting, to be beside him in the front seat, which was Bill's place until the new DI arrived - usually she was bundled in the back with Frank - and as she gazed out over the broad bonnet to the road beyond, she suddenly felt grateful that she was being chauffered by the Guv and not by his famous father, whose reckless driving was nearly as much of a legend as his unorthodox but brilliant policing. She had never met the great Gene Hunt - he had retired abroad while she was still a child - and the Guv took care not to mention him too much, but despite their dramatically divergent views on law enforcement it was clear that he worshipped the man. There was scarcely a copper who did not. In his time, he had been regarded as a reactionary dinosaur, but now he was revered as a "real copper's copper". From what she knew of him, she suspected that he would have appreciated the epitaph.

She wondered what it had been like for the Guv, growing up in the shadow of such a formidable figure. Rather like it had been for her, she mused, with the constant feeling that she had to live up to the memory of her mother, in her case coupled with the burning need to hone herself to take revenge on her mother's murderer. Yet the Guv had become very much his own man. Perhaps he was right, and now was the time for her start again. Become my own person at last. But I know it'll be hard after all this time. There will always be the sense of guilt that I've gone beyond Mum's death. Even if it is what she'd have wanted.

Her thoughts were broken into as the car drew up outside a substantial semi-detached house with a well-kept front garden.

"Well, here we are," said the Guv, undoing his seatbelt. "Prepare to enter the lions' den."

Molly smiled. "Your father was known as the Manc Lion, wasn't he?"

Hunt smiled back. "That's right. That's why I was known as the Cub when I first joined the force. Now I've got cubs of my own. Just in case the little buggers move so fast you can't count them, I'll brief you. There are only three of them, though it can look like more. The eldest is Phil, he's six, then Ella's four and Kirsty's two. She's the one who'll use me for a climbing pole as soon as she spots me. Ready to face 'em?"

Molly undid her seatbelt. "Yup."

Just as the Guv had prophesied, as soon as he opened the door and roared "I'm home!", the children erupted from the living room and hurled themselves at their father, clinging to his legs with shrieks of "Daddy!"

"Hey, hey, where's your manners?" he grinned, unsuccessfully trying to look severe. "I bring a visitor home and she must think this place is Arsenal Stadium! Meet Molly, all of you. She works with me."

A small, dark, gracefully lovely young woman emerged from the kitchen. A greater contrast with her tall, golden husband could scarcely be imagined. "Supper will be ready in ten minutes, love."

Molly, who had been holding back, came forward and solemnly shook hands with Phil, who was his father all over again, except that his eyes were fiercely blue; Ella, small and dark like her mother; Kirsty, a bubbly blonde who was clearly destined to be a heartbreaker; and Allie, who greeted her warmly but shyly and vanished back into the kitchen.

"Ten minutes," Hunt beamed at the kids. "Time for a game before supper? What do you say, Molly?"

All eyes turned to her, and she took her cue from him. "Why not?"

"What'll it be then?" Hunt demanded of the kids.

"LION!" they all shrieked.

Hunt chuckled. "Ready, Molly? This is a rough one - " He dropped to his knees, shook his blond locks over his face and charged at the kids on all fours, snarling and growling. They scattered, but he effortlessly herded them into the living room, and somehow Molly was swept along with them. In no time at all she found herself climbing onto the sofa to take refuge, shrieking with laughter, while Kirsty tried to climb onto her head and Hunt pursued the other two around the room.

"Let me ride you, Daddy!" Kirsty crowed, and Hunt stopped and looked up.

"Put her on my back, Molly! She's the Lady of the Lion!"

Molly cautiously lifted the squirming two-year-old, feeling a sudden pang at the feeling of the young, warm life she held, and carefully placed her astride her father's back. She never could have imagined that she would see her revered Guv, in his smart work suit, crawling around the floor with Kirsty bouncing on his back and kicking her heels into his sides. Fortunately for him, it was only a few minutes before Allie came in, announced that supper was ready, and whisked the kids away.

Hunt flopped over on his back with a silent "phew!", pushed the hair off his face, and rolled his eyes up at Molly, who was still crouched on the sofa, breathless with laughter.

"I am definitely getting too old for this sort of thing," he announced solemnly.

"I wouldn't say that, Guv," Molly panted, trying to restore her hair to something like normality.

He eyed her narrowly. "No, you wouldn't. You've got your eye on your next staff appraisal. But if you so much as think of mentioning any of this at work, you'll be back in uniform before you can change your lip gloss!"

"Deal, Guv," she laughed.

"You didn't even pull your weight," he grumbled as she helped him to his feet. "Stayed on the sofa and left Ella and Phil to do the legwork."

"I can run faster than them, and you wouldn't have been able to get me with them in the way. And I did have Kirsty climbing all over me," she added defensively.

"Point taken," he chuckled. "Feeding time. Follow me."

Supper was not quite as riotous as she might have expected to be. The children had clearly been well trained in table manners and she guessed that Allie had warned them to be on their best behaviour in front of a visitor. But there was plenty of happy chatter, with a number of excited questions about her police work and whether she had ever met any real criminals. Molly fended them off as best she could, and seeing that she wanted to avoid the subject, Hunt expertly steered the conversation to other topics. Allie's Lancashire hotpot was sublime, and when Molly complimented her on her cooking, she laughed, "It's in the blood, Sam's dad and mine both being Manchester men. I'd be disowned if I couldn't make this!"

After the meal, Molly offered to help clear up and wash up, but Allie would not hear of it, and insisted that Molly should relax and make herself at home. After clearing the table and stacking the dishwasher, Allie swept the children upstairs for bath and bed, leaving Hunt and Molly in a living room which suddenly seemed very quiet and empty.

Pouring out wine for himself and Molly, and sitting beside her on the sofa, Hunt cocked his ear at the sound of various shrieks and crashes resounding from upstairs.

"It'll sound like Armageddon up there until she gets 'em off to sleep," he chuckled. "She was a teaching assistant until the kids started to come along, so she's used to multiple kids all day long. I'd rather arrest an armed blagger than take on all 'em together on my own at bathtime - and there'll be a Number Four along in seven months, God willing."

"How wonderful," said Molly sincerely. "I'm so pleased for you both, Guv."

There was a distant look in his eyes. "If it's a boy this time, we're going to call him Gene."

"Another Gene Hunt?" Molly smiled as she sipped her wine.

"Yeah. When Phil was born, Allie and I thought one Gene Hunt at a time was as much as the world could stand. Since Dad died, we found out that he'd hoped that we'd name our first son after him. Wish we'd known that. Mum told us that when one of his ex-girlfriends turned up pregnant and he thought he was responsible, he wanted her to name her kid after him. We want to put that right now."

"You miss him a lot, don't you, Guv?"

He nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do. More than I can say. I suppose every Dad's a hero to his kids, but he was so much larger than life in every way. And - look, I'm Sam while we're off duty and the kids are out of the way, OK?"

"OK, G - Sam."

There was a companionable silence, punctuated by the occasional noise from upstairs. Molly settled into the sofa and let fatigue, laughter, the meal and the wine do their work. She realised suddenly that she had not thought about her mother for over an hour. At once she felt a pang of guilt, quickly followed by the realisation that this was what Sam had intended. To take me out of myself.

"Thank you so much for inviting me here this evening, G - Sam. It isn't at all what I'd expected to do after I'd got him at last, but I'm really enjoying it."

"Good. That was the idea," he replied, deadpan. He looked across at her, and his voice became gentler. "I've been worried about you, Molly. I know you won't have noticed. You've been so intense, so driven. All the rest of us have something out of work - a family like mine, boyfriend or girlfriend, favourite football team, garden, pop group, something - but you've been so focused on your work that you haven't been able to think about anything else. Even when you've joined the rest of us for a jar after work, you've been so closed up in your job that you haven't been able to stop talking shop. I thought you were just young and ambitious and eager to prove yourself. 'Course, I know better now." He looked at her very seriously. "I had a number of reasons for bringing you here tonight. The first was to make sure that you didn't end up alone in your flat, full of regrets for the past and drunk as a bottle of beer. The second was to show you one form of life beyond work. Marriage and a houseful of kids may never be what you want, but when you eventually decide what to do with your life now, it's just one of the countless options available to you."

A normal life. How normal has mine ever been? My father left when I was six months old, my mother was murdered when I was twelve.

"Promise me you'll think about starting again, Molly." The deep voice was quiet, but very compelling. "You owe it to yourself."

Molly nodded slowly. "I know. It's still early days yet. But now he's under arrest, at least I've got some sort of closure."

"Good."

"But when things have settled down a bit, I'll remember what you've said. I do promise you that."

"Good. One more thing. Just because your marriage turned out badly, doesn't mean that every relationship you'll ever have will be crap. When my parents got married, it was second time around for both of them, and they both had very ugly divorces behind them, but they remained almost ridiculously in love all their lives. Hell, it was embarrassing for a growing boy, just to see the way they kept looking at each other. But it was very comforting too. The world felt a safe place, knowing how strong they were together. Doesn't mean it was all plain sailing, though. They were both very strong-willed people, and when they argued, you could hear them miles away. They did try to keep that element of their relationship away from us kids, but it must have been hell for their colleagues. Uncle Chris says it was like working on a missile testing range. You never knew which was going to explode first." He chuckled at the memory.

"Sorry, who said?"

"Allie's dad. My godfather."

Molly put her glass down, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, and clasped her hands, deep in thought.

"If I'm going to be really honest with myself, since the divorce I've been using the demands of my work as a shield. To keep me focused on what I had to do for Mum, and to keep me from getting hurt again."

"It isn't always easy, keeping a normal life outside this job," Sam agreed. "Not everyone's prepared to accept it. Allie knew what she was doing when she took me on. We both come from copper families."

"Really?"

"Yes. You probably know, Dad rose to DCI in Manchester. After his divorce in 1980 he transferred to London. Uncle Chris, who was his DC, transferred with him, along with the DS. The DI had died in an accident a few months previously. Dad had been devastated by that, they were close friends. Anyway, when the three of them got to London, Auntie Shaz, that's Allie's mum, was the WPC assigned to the team, and she and Uncle Chris fell for each other like a ton of bricks. Mum joined the team as DI the following year. She and Dad were attracted to each other straight away, but they were both too proud and too stubborn to admit it. Professionally they were at daggers drawn, she was always very forward-looking and he was something of a reactionary. Then the team were involved in a drive-by shooting. Mum was hit in the head and went into a coma. Dad almost went out of his mind. He sat by her bedside for days, talking to her, trying to bring her round. After six days, she woke up and found him watching over her. They never looked back after that. They were married the following year, shortly after Uncle Chris and Auntie Shaz. Allie's parents left the team when they got promoted, of course - they both retired as DCIs - but the two families remained close. They were godparents to each others' kids, and we all grew up together. Allie was named after Mum. She and I were childhood sweethearts. She decided what she wanted very early in life."

"Who did?" said Allie, coming into the room.

"You did," Sam smiled, rising from the sofa to put an arm around her and kiss her cheek. "You wanted me, and you got me."

She laughed and returned the kiss. "So I did, you old ruffian. The Skeltons always were a determined family."

He helped her lower herself carefully into an armchair, and poured her a glass of orange juice. "Back playing up, love?"

"It just catches me once in a while, like it did when I was having Ella. No problem. All kids safely stowed away for the night," Allie laughed.

"Sorry I didn't help you with 'em tonight," he said apologetically. "There was a lot I needed to explain to Molly here. And now Allie's come back," he added, turning to Molly, "I can explain the third reason why I invited you here tonight. You see, Allie," he turned back to his wife, "Molly was instrumental today in arresting a very old enemy of all of us. Arthur Layton."

"Really?!" Allie put her glass down and clapped her hands with delight. "After all these years! Oh, Mum and Dad will be so pleased! Can I ring and let them know?" She was already levering herself to her feet, but Sam gestured to her to stay where she was.

"In a few minutes, love, if you don't mind. We owe Molly a few explanations first. You see, her family have old history with Layton too. Her mother was the cop he murdered twelve years ago."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry - " Instantly Allie was out of her chair and crossing the room to sit beside Molly, putting an arm around her. Once again, after having spent so long alone, Molly felt deeply moved that someone she scarcely knew should be so concerned for her.

"I told you earlier today that Layton's arrest in 1981 was a family affair," Sam went on. "It was when Mum had just joined the team. Dad was trying to crack a big drug ring. The kingpin appeared to be a seriously nasty yuppie named Edward Markham."

"Nine Toed Eddie?" said Molly, surprised.

"That's him, but he had ten toes in those days. There didn't appear to be any connection between him and Layton, who was on police radar as a tinker with a minor record. He had a junk yard in Shadwell which he'd used in the past to fence stolen goods. But Mum always seemed to have an instinct for trouble where Layton was concerned. She fingered that he was the kingpin of the drugs operation and was using Markham as his front man. She stole a notebook from his yard which had details of tide times, and she knew he kept boats. She and Dad realised that Layton was bringing in his drugs by river. She sent Uncle Chris and Auntie Shaz undercover to watch for a message pickup between Markham and Layton, and Markham's heavies kidnapped Auntie Shaz. The whole team raced down to the river to rescue her and intercept the shipment. And there was Layton in all his filthy glory, the drug dealer in his smart suit and gold chain. Uncle Chris went ballistic and opened fire too early, and it turned into a big shoot-out. Layton grabbed Auntie Shaz as hostage. Dad shot out his car engine, so Layton tried to get away with her on foot, and Mum gave chase. Meanwhile Dad and the others got hold of Layton's motor boat and came sweeping to the rescue. Imagine the boat bouncing over the water with the three of them in it, guns in hand, with Tower Bridge in the background!" He laughed, and Molly and Allie laughed with him. "It must have looked like something out of a film. Mum and Layton were in a standoff, with her holding him at gunpoint and him threatening Auntie Shaz. Dad and the others opened fire and brought him down. Markham ran for it, carrying armloads of cocaine, but Uncle Chris caught him, and - well, he later claimed that the bastard was trying to resist arrest - he shot his toe off."

"He did what?" said Molly, incredulous.

"His own little revenge for Auntie Shaz. Police could get away with a lot more in those days. Markham's been known as Nine Toed Eddie in this family ever since. He went to trial and got ten years. As you know, they weren't so lucky with Layton. His lawyer got him off on a technicality while he was in custody awaiting trial."

"I know," said Molly bitterly. "My grandfather. Later that day, he and Gran were blown up in their car. We've always suspected that Layton was behind that."

"I know," Sam said quietly. "You told me this morning. I didn't make the connection at first. Mum would be ashamed of me. What you don't know is who rescued your mother from the blast."

"Wasn't it Evan?" said Molly, surprised. "Mum always thought so."

"No. My father."

"What?" said Molly and Allie together.

"Mum had received a series of phone calls with information about the attack. At least one came from Layton, she wasn't sure about the others. None were recorded. She tried to warn your grandparents to lie low for a time, but they laughed it off. Dad had other things on his mind, Lord Scarman was visiting the station at the time. Eventually, with the time of the blast drawing near, Mum persuaded him to make one last attempt to warn your grandparents. They raced across London but weren't in time to prevent the explosion. As you know, your mother, a child of eight, had got out of the car just before the blast. Dad shielded her from the flames, carried her back to his car, and took her back to the station. Her guardian collected her there later."

"Evan."

"Yes, though I didn't remember his name from what Mum told me about the incident. Remiss of me."

Molly gazed at him in wonder. "Your father. All these years, and she didn't know. I've worked for you for over a year, and I didn't know."

"I told you, our families go back a long way."

"She remembered a tall man in a black coat," Molly mused. "That was why she thought it was Evan."

"Dad wore a big black overcoat at that time," said Sam. "Mum said it was vanity, showed off his fair hair well. He looked a lot like me, though I can say with pardonable pride that he could give me a couple of stone when he was my age." He rose, strolled over to a wall unit behind the sofa, and returned with a large framed photograph. "This was taken a couple of years later. It's good of him, of all four parents actually. My christening. Dad on the left, without the overcoat, Uncle Chris and Auntie Shaz - godparents - on the right, Mum in the middle holding the baby. What a prat I do look in that christening robe. Satin and lace are so not me."

"I don't think you can be held responsible for your dress sense at two months old," Allie teased.

Molly took the photograph, looked at it, and felt the ground shift beneath her. She dimly registered the tall, broad, golden-haired, blue-eyed man who was the image of Sam at the left of the picture, and the couple at the right, a dark, elfin girl very like Allie and a pleasant-faced young man with gold highlights in his dark hair. But in truth she could see nothing but the woman at the centre with the child in her arms, who smiled to her across the years, her beauty imperishable.

"Wh-when was this picture taken?" she gulped.

"Year I was born. 1983."

"But that's my mother. That's my mother." The photograph fell from her hand and she collapsed in a dead faint.

TBC