AN: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! Believe me, I feel your despair at Alex's fate. Do you like the chapter title? ;)

Alex's Grave

Alex was pulled roughly from the van and untied. As she looked around, she could see she was on a wasteland. All though every second in that van had felt like a year, she was pretty sure they hadn't driven that far. Unfortunately, she didn't recognise her surroundings at all.

Alex watched as her captors dragged a mound of broken furniture from the back of the van. The shop assistant climbed out too, holding a spade, which he gave to her. Alex took it, trying to ignore the molten panic bubbling in her stomach.

Finally, Dominic Dexter himself climbed out of the front of the van, followed by a man she recognised as Michael Farrant, the owner of the furniture store. They both had guns pointed at her.

"Dig," Farrant commanded.

"What?" she breathed in shock.

"You're onto us, aren't you?" said Farrant. "We can't have that. And why should we dig your grave and wear ourselves out when soon you will be unable to feel anything?"

Alex began to dig. It was futile to argue.

When the grave was a foot deep, her captors got bored and made her stop digging. She stood in the hole and a few feet away, pieces of broken furniture burned merrily. Some of the others were gathered around it, chatting amongst themselves, as though another human being wasn't about to die. She realised that Gene had been right, the users had died of overdoses but she had been right too. The fires had been started to get rid of evidence once all the heroin had been extracted. In her case and in the case of Grant Mayhew, it was a calling card. It was a warning.

Farrant and Dexter walked forward keeping their guns pointed at her. This was it. This was how she was going to die. And no one knew where she was. She thought of Gene and wondered if he had missed her yet. Did he know where she was? Would he find her in time? Would it be too late?

Dexter spoke for the first time.

"Goodbye, Alexandra Drake."

"Guv- it's her."

"Her body," Gene whispered.

"No," answered Ray, "look."

He held something out and Gene took it, knowing instantly what it was. He opened it and read the name inside.

"There was this as well," said Ray, holding out Alex's fake engagement ring. Gene took it from him as reverently as he would a real one, had Alex been his real fiancé. Gene wanted to yell at them, he had been so afraid that they had found her body, ugly and covered in soil, three days into decomposition. Then he realised what it meant to find her belongings here, a foot under the ground.

"Get out of her grave," Gene demanded.

"Guv?"

"Get out! She's there! She's a few more inches down and you're standing on her! Show some respect!"

As Ray and Chris scrambled out, Gene jumped in, trying to stand around the edges trying to guess where her face might be and to avoid it with his shoes. He scrabbled at the ground with his fingers, flinging soil and mud out of Alex's grave. Tears blinded his eyes, he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe.

Just like Alex.

Eight feet down, they allowed themselves to hope again. Ray and Chris eased Gene out of the whole and taken up digging with spades, but carefully in case they damaged Alex's body. As they got closer to six feet, they became more and more nervous… it wouldn't be a shallow grave? But six feet came and went.

Now they were ready to give up and conclude that she was alive- or if she was dead, she wasn't buried here. They wouldn't have had the time or patience to bury her much deeper.

Shaz's voice crackled on the radio. "Guv?"

"She's not here Shaz," said Gene, tired but slightly happy. "We didn't find her body."

"So she might be alive?" Gene could hear that Shaz was trying not to get too excited.

"Could be."

"That's brilliant," said Shaz, giving a quiet, relieved laugh. "I really thought… I really thought DI Drake…" she couldn't continue.

"I know, I know. What did you want Shaz?"

"DCI Matthews called. He said they had located the transit seen by the kids. It's outside a huge house on St. Mark's Street. They're on their way there."

"Tell 'em we'll see them there," said Gene and put the radio in his pocket, feeling happier than he had done in days. That's where Alex was. She had been here, something had happened, now she was on St. Mark's Street. And he was going to find her and bring her home.

A tiny voice in his head, the part of his consciousness that spoke with a posh female voice asked if this wasn't too easy, was he really sure that Drake wasn't down there, that she was at this house? What if she was there and they missed her or if she was dead somewhere else? He ignored the voice. He didn't have time to listen to it. He had a beautiful woman to save.