Thanks for all the brilliant reviews last chapter! The angst shall continue for a while, I have to say. Prolly at the end of chap 6 or so it might brighten up a bit. at least... i hope so... :D Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Molly followed Alex out of the station, noting the surprise on the face of the desk sergeant. Molly simply glared at him and he looked away. She smirked, feeling that she was quickly earning herself a reputation around here. She didn't care. They might be real, or they could be constructs, but either way they had taken her mum away from her. They had made Alex forget about her. She had every right to give them some form of hell.

Alex opened the door to her flat. Molly noticed how tense she seemed, a mix of worry and anger flowing off of her in waves. She followed her mum into the flat, taking everything in.

"Really? That's your sofa?" It was absolutely horrid, the black and white diagonal stripes screaming the era they were supposedly in.

"It came with the flat," her mum said, speaking her first words since they left the interrogation room. "I didn't have anything when I woke up here. Just a warrant card."

"So...what is here?" Molly asked, flopping herself down on the ugly couch. It was surprisingly comfortable and she propped her feet up on the coffee table.

Alex shook her head, sitting next to her. "I don't know. I used to think it was all in my head. But now...I'm starting to think that Sam was right."

Molly laughed loudly. "Sam? Sam Tyler? You really think we're all just back in time?"

"What else can it be?"

"What if...?" she pretended to think. "We're all dead?" she said as if talking to an idiot.

"But no," Alex protested. "That can't be. I'm not dead. I'm fighting to get back!"

Molly's mouth dropped open and she laughed in disbelief. "You aren't fighting to get back Mum. Honestly. You aren't fighting to get anywhere. You've forgotten your daughter, forgotten your time and are infatuated with your bloody boss. Besides, you've got nothing to fight for. You've been dead three years. Evan took you off your life support a month after you were shot."

"No," Alex breathed, looking lost. "I can't be dead. Not after everything..." she trailed off. Molly almost felt guilty. She knew enough from her mum's psychology books to know that no one should have news like that broken to them so harshly. There was a long moment of silence.

"Did they catch him?"

"Who?"

"Layton."

"Yeah. They found you as soon as the gunshot went off. You hardly made it to the hospital though. They didn't even think you'd make it through surgery, but you did. The doctors were convinced you'd be a vegetable if you ever woke up, but I knew you wouldn't be. They convinced Evan that the best thing would be to take you off the vent, to let you go without even risking you waking up. The bastard agreed with them. No one believed me when I said I saw your eyelids move. They thought I was making it up so they'd keep you alive. But I did. I saw them. You weren't strong enough to wake up completely, but you were getting there. And no one listened to me. Because I was too young to know what was going on. I had to let the 'grown-ups' make the decision. And because of that, you died. You could have made it, Mum, but because of my wanker of a godfather, you died."

Molly could tell that Alex was numb. She had to be, hearing about how she died.

"What about you? How did you get here?"

"I couldn't take living with him anymore. I had no one to run to, and I wouldn't be able to make it on my own. All I wanted was to get back to you, Mum. I withdrew. Evan had put me through course after course of therapy. He bought the drugs they prescribed, he tried the techniques they suggested, but I wouldn't let them work. I just pulled back further. I didn't take the pills either. I just wanted him to suffer, the way he made me suffer by killing you. I couldn't be without you anymore. And then yesterday...today...whatever. I visited your grave and realised that finally, I had found a way out. I took a whole bottle of the antidepressants. I mixed it with paracetamol. I shouldn't be waking up."

Molly saw disappointment in Alex's face. She didn't understand. Shouldn't her mum be happy to see her?

She wouldn't be, Molly realised suddenly. She forgot about me and now I turn up out of the blue. I'm just an inconvenience to her in this world. With this horrible realisation, the room fell into silence once more. Once again, Alex broke it.

"I told Gene that you ran away from your father's. In a few days, I'll tell him that we've worked it out and he's given me custody. In the meantime, we'll get you enrolled in school."

"How? I don't have any records of anything. They're all in 2011."

"They'll turn up," Alex said confidently. Molly just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She wanted a fag, but she knew if she even tried to light up, Alex would kill her. She focused on her shoes, trying to ignore the silence that had fallen over the room for the third time in an hour.

We don't know what to talk about anymore. We've been away from each other for too long.

Molly stiffened as Alex's fingers touched her hair. "It's so dark," she said softly. "When'd you do this?"

"It was never like this. I got some black streaks a few months ago, but Evan flipped shit and I was never able to go completely black. He probably would have made me shave my head or something."

"So you woke up and your hair was the colour you wanted it to be," Alex murmured.

"Yeah, and it was all crimped and stuff. Still, it could have been worse," Molly said, looking pointedly at Alex's perm.

"I'm growing it out!" she said defensively.

"Yeah, but how long have you been here?"

Alex looked down. "About a year."

Molly rolled her eyes. "You're lying. You look down when you lie."

Alex sighed. "Two and a half years."

Molly burst out laughing but it was cut short by a loud knock on the door. Alex stood immediately, and Molly knew from the look in her eyes who was standing in the hallway. Sighing, she stood as well, instead moving to the table to finish her sketch. She was going to have to get a sketchbook, and fast. Molly hated folding her drawings. The crease in the paper always ruined the picture.

She heard her mum say something to the man outside and heard his rumbled reply. Molly considered eavesdropping for a moment, but then the voices rose to shouting level.

"Just send her back then!" he bellowed.

"She's not an item of clothing, Gene! I can't just return her like an unwanted pair of shoes!"

Molly closed her eyes and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her mum had just confirmed what she had thought earlier. She was just an inconvenience to her mum.

She put her headphones on and pressed play on the walkman she had found in her pocket. David Bowie's Heroes started blasting in her ears, drowning out the voices. Her hand moved with fury, shading and sketching out her fury. She knew she had to leave.

Molly was angry at herself. She had throught that her mum had missed her. No she had deluded herself into believing her mum would miss her.

Well, she thought, you've made it bloody obvious how you feel now.

She continued working on her drawing, not stopping until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Molly pulled her headphones off and put her arm over the drawing. She hated people looking at her work.

"Molly, I have to go back. There's been a break in a big case and they need me."

Molly simply nodded. "I know. You've got a stack of reports," she said bitterly, knowing that it was unlikely Alex would pick up the reference.

"Do you need anything?"

"I just want to get a sketchbook," she said. Alex nodded, laying a few notes on the table.

"There's a Tesco just a few streets away. Just go to the end of the street and look right and you'll see it."

Molly nodded. "I'll see you when you get done."

Alex smiled and walked out the door without a single glance back.

Molly let out a deep sigh. It was clear that her mum didn't want her here. It was time for her to leave. Grabbing the notes on the table and stuffing them in her pocket, she left, forgetting the drawing she had worked so intently on only moments before.

~(*)~

Alex rubbed her head, filling out the last file before she could get back to her flat. She felt bad for leaving Molly alone like she had, but they really needed her on the case. However, Molly had said something just before she left that had distracted her through the whole interview and the filling out of paperwork.

"I know. You've got a stack of reports."

Why did that make her feel guilty? There was something about the phrase that rung in her head but she couldn't figure out what it was. She glanced up at the clock. Four minutes until lunchtime.

Alex sighed. She wasn't even sure she wanted to go back to her flat at the moment. The girl that was currently inhabiting it was not the daughter she had always dreamed about getting back to. This girl almost scared her in some ways. Her casual tossing around of the words like wanker, bastard, and shit, told Alex who Molly had been hanging out with. Plus there was the distinct smell of cigarette smoke on her clothes. Whoever her daughter had been, she had been replaced with this dark, angry version.

Alex sighed and put her head in her hands. Molly had killed herself to find her. Alex couldn't help but feel disappointed. Molly had had her whole life in front of her, and because Alex couldn't recover from a bullet wound, Molly had thrown it all down the drain.

"All I wanted was to get back to you, Mum."

And what a horrible mother she was. She had completely forgotten her daughter's existence. But could anyone really blame her? The world made people forget about their previous lives, she now struggled to remember who Evan White was, besides a lawyer she had trusted a few years previously. And Molly had looked so different.

Alex shook her head. It was no excuse. She should have known her daughter.

The door to Gene's office opened. Now there was someone she was furious with. She couldn't believe how callous he was, suggesting she just take Molly back and drop her on Pete's doorstep. Not that she could exactly. But Alex knew it would never be considered either. Molly was her baby. She wouldn't be able to give Molly up.

"Lunchtime!" Gene announced, staring at her.

Ignoring him, Alex jumped up, collecting her jacket and throwing it over her shoulders. She practically ran back to her flat, knocking over a few plod and an old woman in her rush. Finally back, Alex opened her door.

"Molly, I'm back. I'm sorry honey, I..."

Alex trailed off. The flat felt too empty. She looked around, seeing no one.

"Molly?"

There was no reply. A white sheet of paper lay on the table, and Alex recognised it as what Molly had been sketching earlier. She picked it up and let out a strangled sob.

It was a beautifully drawn picture of Alex and Gene, standing together and holding hands. Both of their faces were lit up with smile, seeming to be laughing. It was bright around them, but the whiteness slowly dissolved into shadows as it moved up to the left corner of the page. Molly was standing in the darkness, her face one of ultimate sadness. Quotes were next to the figure of Molly.

Sorrow sank deep inside my blood. All the ones around me I cared for and loved.

Don't mourn for me; I had to set me free.

There's no more breath left inside.

Alex stared at the paper in disbelief. Molly thought Gene was replacing her. And the quotes. It sounded like a sort of poetic suicide note. Surely she wouldn't do that, would she?

Not wanting to take any chances, Alex grabbed the paper, rushing down the stairs to the boozing coppers. They had to find Molly before something happened.

If Molly dies, Alex thought. It's my fault. It's all my fault.

to be continued