So! You all surprised me! This was only going to be a oneshot. And in the fabulous reviews you asked me to give you another chapter. And loads of you put it on alert as well. So, I considered it, and put the first chapter with two or three fic ideas I had turning, and have come up with what looks to become a fully fledged angst fic :) Thanks to you brilliant reviewers! And thanks to those who read and put on story alert and favorite!

Chapter 2

It was difficult to wake from her slumber. As she slowly woke, the disappointment set in, overwhelming her. She wasn't supposed to wake up. She was supposed to die, to be with her mum for the rest of eternity. If she could move, she'd punch something.

Molly waited for her consciousness to ebb back before trying to open her eyes. However, as her senses slowly returned to her, she started to realize that something was wrong. It was much too hot, and something didn't smell right. It smelled almost like...a bonfire. She frowned inwardly. It was nowhere near bonfire night. As her sense of hearing came back, she realised she could hear crackling.

She grew tense, unable to break her slumber. The house had to be on fire around her. She had to get out!

Molly tried desperately to move, but was unable to, the drugs still inhibiting her nerves from responding. Suddenly, she heard a male voice.

"We've got one in here!"

Molly was aware of being picked up into someone's arms and being hoisted into a fireman's lift. She was being rescued. Although she was happy, she was also disappointed. Dying was the only way to get to her mum. Now that she had been rescued, the wanker that was her godfather would be watching her even more carefully than ever. She was certain that if she was taken to hospital, the shirt would be taken off and replaced with a gown, revealing to Evan everything he was too stupid to realise.

He couldn't realise it. Not until it was too late. And since she still seemed to be alive, she had to wake up, and soon. Molly fought against her eyes, finally succeeding at opening them a crack. Instantly the smoke started to burn and she shut them again until she smelled fresh air.

"Who've you got there, Paul?" someone asked.

"She was sleeping in one of the rooms."

"She doesn't live here!" said a woman's voice indignantly. "Who is she? Why is she in my house?"

Someone was gently tapping her on the face. Molly opened her eyes to see a fireman kneeling over her. "You okay, love?" he asked.

"Who cares? I want the cops here! I want her arrested! She set fire to my house!" a woman was screaming from a few feet away.

Molly shook her head. "I don't understand," she murmured.

"You've got a nasty cut on your forehead. Let someone from the ambulance look at it."

Molly consented, noting the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. "What time is it?"

"Just gone seven in the morning."

Molly frowned. She had been out that long without Evan finding her? That was odd. After she had snuck out several times the year before, he had made a habit of checking her when he went to bed and when he went for a piss around one in the morning. He always went to bed before her. Wouldn't he have found it weird that she was sleeping?

Molly rolled her eyes. He wouldn't have cared. Maybe he was hoping that she would die. That way he could be free of the Price/Drake family forever.

A man came over to her and investigated the cut on her forehead. "This doesn't look too bad," he said kindly. "It's not very deep, and definitely doesn't need stitches. The worst you're gonna get is a nasty bruise."

Molly nodded as he grabbed something to clean up the wound with. She grimaced as he put some antiseptic on it, but the pain was quickly gone. He put a bandage on her head and patted her on the shoulder as the screeching of tyres sounded through the air. "You're just fine," he said.

Molly simply nodded, jumping down. She noticed for the first time what she was wearing. She was still clad in skinny jeans and converse, but her top had changed. Instead of the jumper she wore earlier, she was wearing one that hung off the shoulder, a vest showing underneath. Molly frowned. How did she get into these clothes?

"Where is she?" a man roared from nearby. He was tall and blonde, a black coat covering his suit. The man he was yelling at didn't even flinch. The man had a perm and a polo neck, and was smoking a fag. Molly frowned. What, was he out of the 1980's?

"She's not bothered to come, Guv."

"I want you on the phone with her now. It's her own problem if she has a hangover. Tell her to get over it and come in ASA bloody P."

The man with the perm nodded and pulled out a radio. Meanwhile, the woman who had been yelling earlier had worked her way over to the blonde man. Molly took this as her cue to leave.

"Hang on, Miss," said a man, putting his hand on her shoulder. Molly almost snorted in laughter. He was wearing tight white trousers and a green plaid shirt, accented with a red leather tie.

"What the bloody hell are you supposed to be?" she asked, unable to keep herself from laughing.

The man frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Look at you! God, you look ridiculous!"

The man frowned and opened his mouth, but the blonde man interrupted.

"WonderChris! Bring that girl over here!"

Molly tried to work her wrist out of the man's grasp to no avail.

"She had to have done it!" the woman cried. Molly sighed. This woman was extremely annoying to say the least. "Why else would she be in my house?"

Molly could tell that the woman was starting to get on the blonde man's nerves as well. He ignored the woman, instead turning to her and pulling something out of his pocket. Molly's stomach dropped as she saw it. Handcuffs.

She instinctively tried to run but the man with the perm grabbed her and held her tight as the blonde man started to cuff her.

"I am arresting you on the suspicion of arson and home invasion and for trying to resist arrest." He continued to read her her rights before the man with the perm took her to a uniform car and tossed her in.

Molly spent the entire ride trying to worm out of her handcuffs, trying to remember the trick her mum had taught her when she was young. However, as the car slowed down, Molly remembered that she had simply pulled her hands out of the cuffs because her mum had not locked them tight enough. She sighed, starting to look out on the street. It was confusing. Everyone was wearing clothing that belonged in the eighties.

As the car stopped, Molly saw a woman walk into the station. Her hair was in a perm and she was wearing a white leather jacket and boots to match. Molly smirked. God help us all, she thought. What was it with this part of London and perms? Had they become popular while she was sleeping?

The uniformed police officer led her out of the car and into an interview room and sat her down.

"DCI Hunt will be in to interview you in a moment," he said stiffly, before leaving. Molly heard a lock click behind him. She sighed. Great. Now she was locked in here.

Molly sighed, waiting impatiently for the DCI to come in and start interviewing her. She tugged uselessly against the handcuffs binding her wrists together. She was only two aware of how quickly things could go wrong. Right now she was facing charges for arson and home invasion and she didn't even bloody know where she was.

She didn't have an excuse either. Molly knew she had absolutely no reason to be in that house. She had a sneaking suspicion this was all a hallucination from the drugs she had taken, but she didn't particularly fancy sitting in a stinking cell, even if it was in her imagination.

Bored, Molly looked out the window, catching her transparent reflection. She grinned. The hallucination had made her hair completely black, making her almost completely unrecognisable. She almost laughed as she imagined Evan's reaction to seeing her. He had gone mental when she had simply put the black streaks in her hair. As Molly continued to stare she realised that her previously shoulder length straight hair was now crimped. She smirked. Soon she'd be wearing white leather as well.

Suddenly the door slammed open and the blonde man came in, followed closely by the man with the perm. Molly suppressed a snigger. The man looked utterly ridiculous.

The man with the perm unlocked her handcuffs and she moved her hands to the front of her body, rubbing her wrists and glaring at them.

The man with the blonde hair offered her a fag, and she accepted, reaching into her pocket and finding a lighter. She lit up and stared at the two men. "Shouldn't you know if I'm even legal to smoke?" she asked dryly.

"Are you?" the blonde man asked, as if he really didn't care.

"Well, if I wasn't, I wouldn't tell you now, would I?"

"I could force you to tell me, couldn't I?"

"How'd you manage that?"

The blonde man smirked and nodded towards the man with the perm. "Ray here had a curry last night. Believe me, we make him work in the evidence room after he's had one."

The man named Ray smirked and grabbed his stomach. "And this one didn't settle well, Guv," he said laughingly.

Molly just rolled her eyes. "Lovely."

"Not what I'd describe it as, love," the blonde man said. Molly just sighed and took a long drag on her cigarette, propping her black converse clad feet on the table. She noticed the change in their faces and realised she was annoying them by being so calm.

"What were you doing in that house?" the blonde man asked suddenly.

"Why don't you ask that mad woman who was running around on the scene?" she asked sarcastically.

"So you were committing arson?" asked the man with the perm excitedly.

"Nope," she said.

"What were you doing there?" the blonde man asked.

"Learning how to tango." She took another drag on her cigarette and started to blow smoke circles, smirking as she saw the man's face go red. She knew she shouldn't be riling up a copper, but she couldn't help it. He was to easy.

"I'll ask you again, only slightly louder. What were you doing in that home?"

Molly shrugged. "Sleeping."

The blonde man stood and walked over to her, taking the fag out of her mouth and stomping on it. "Teenagers," he muttered to himself. "Can't stand any of you lot."

Molly simply raised an eyebrow. The man glared at Ray. "You're not helping."

Ray stood up. "I'll send in the Ma'am," he said, looking disappointed.

"You read my mind."

Ray left the room, leaving the man glaring at her, two inches away from her face.

"What's your name?"

"Lucy, Countess of Bedford." Molly couldn't help but be sarcastic. There was something about this man she didn't like. Maybe it was the whiskey on his breath or his nicotine stained teeth. She resisted the urge to just kick him where it hurt.

"I swear to God, if you don't shut that smart arse mouth of yours..."

"I thought you wanted me to answer questions, Sir," she said innocently, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

The man made a violent strangling motion in the air as the door opened.

"Christ, Gene, calm down," a woman said as she walked in. Molly's heart started to race. She knew that voice.

Molly stared at the woman who had just walked through the door. It was her mother, complete with a batwing top and chunky jewellery. Molly made a sort of strangled choking noise and her mum turned her attention to the table. Her mum smiled softly at her. Molly's stomach dropped. It was not a smile of recognition.

"Sorry for the rude behaviour of my DCI. I promise he'll be more civil when I'm in here," she said, glaring at the blonde man.

"Now, let's get down to business. What's your name?"

If her world hadn't have frozen three years earlier, it would have stopped now. She was finally back with her mum, but now, her mum didn't know who she was.

to be continued