A/N: Slightly smaller chapter this time, the action kicks off next chapter. Please R+R!
"My name is Daniel Hartley. I was stabbed and found myself in 1988. Is it real, or in my mind? Either way, I have to solve the mystery of what all this means, and then maybe, just maybe, I can get home..."
Dan awoke suddenly to the shrill noise of his alarm clock, frenetically shaking the rickety bedside table to his left-hand side. His already pounding headache became increasingly worse as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, before hitting the snooze button on the clock and sitting up, rubbing his neck sleepily. The pain had slowly ebbed away during last night, leaving him feeling only slightly woozy, so Dan decided to go into the office and continue working; hoping that something might straighten this crazy thing out. Maybe he had to catch Malone here, in this time-period, and then that would mean he couldn't be stabbed by him in 2010.
Shaking his head frantically to clear the confusion clogging his brain, Dan climbed out of bed and reached for a towel, heading into the bathroom to have a quick shower before work, hoping it might refresh him enough to get him through the day without any painkillers.
Closing the bathroom door, he missed the dark shadow that passed briefly over the room.
The door of CID swung open violently as Gene Hunt marched in, before striding across the room and slamming the door to his partitioned office shut. Dan looked up, startled at his DCI's aggressive entrance. Noticing the other members of the team continuing with what they were doing as if there was no interruption, Dan deduced that this must be the Guv's regular entrance. He looked down at his desk, rolling his eyes and preparing himself for the inevitable onslaught he was about to receive by going and talking to him. He welcomed it.
Gene raised his eyes from the tarnished wood of his desk, pausing slightly to eye-up the arrival of his new DI.
"Can I help you?" he grunted, gruffly.
"Are you always so grumpy?"
Gene glared at the man now closing the door, sensing the air of someone on a mission.
Dan raised an eyebrow, aiming to rile his DCI up, make him angry. Gene struck him as someone who would fight back; who would beat someone to within an inch of their life if the cause so demanded it. Dan admired that, so sick he was of tiptoeing around, obeying the law and letting the scum get the upper hand.
"Someone obviously hasn't had a shag in a while," Dan muttered at the lack of reply, hoping to anger him.
At this, Gene propelled himself to his feet, lunging around his desk and grabbing Dan by his lapels for the second time in two days.
"You better take that back, Danny Boy, if you want your head to stay attached to your neck," Gene threatened, madly, desperately trying to clear the image of Alex and that last, terribly chaste kiss, from his anger-clouded brain.
"I don't have a particular preference," Dan gritted his teeth as he received a dull blow to the stomach. "Go on then, hit me again."
The brief scuffle ended in both of them sitting on the floor, propped up by Gene's desk, and clutching various sore parts; Dan pressed his stomach tentatively and Gene massaged his jaw. A gruff acknowledgement rose from Gene's lips.
"Yer not bad, I'll give yer that."
Dan nodded breathlessly.
"You're definitely better than my last DCI," he grinned, turning his head and catching Gene's eyes. "We'll talk, soon. I need to know what's going on here. Why I'm here."
Gene simply nodded, studying his DI, wondering how much he could actually tell this young man.
Before he could speak again, a scream issued from the main office.