Authors Note:First off, I can only assume that there's at least a few people out there who are still reading. Needless to say, there's a poll on my profile page that allows you to vote for the story you want updated next - please vote! Anyways, on with the show :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes at all, I can only wish!
Destined To Follow In Her Footsteps
Chapter Four-Molly Is Back And The Heartbreak Continues
"Alex love, do you wanna cuppa?"
Almost child - like in her posture, Alex Drake was sat cross – legged on Gene's desk in his office. Head bowed, she refused to speak to anybody or even ask how Matt knew the name. Her brown hair had hues of auburn entwined into it as Gene stood over her. Parts of Alex's hair were ruffled from where she'd been running her fingers through it. Occasionally she sniffed and muffled a sob before reaching out for another tissue. She's been like this for almost an hour.
Nobody at Fenchurch had ever seen DCI Alex Drake behave in this manner before. Yet again, nobody knew her past. It hadn't all been plain sailing living in Gene's world, and there were some things that confused her, even now. For example, Alex hadn't heard the name "Molly" in over thirteen years and no longer knew why it meant something to her. However, Alex hated forgetting important things and so had panicked when she couldn't remember.
Another thing she seemed to find funny was the age thing. Technically, she should almost fifty by now and Gene, if she took his birthday as 1933, should be about sixty three. But they didn't look a day over thirty five and forty five, respectively. This was because they didn't age. Every time new recruits came in, their birth years changed to keep them at thirty five and forty seven. Like everybody else, they celebrated their birthdays as and when they came about, but neither Gene or Alex let on that they'd had already celebrated that particular birthday. They were just thankful that the last team, who been there for quite a while, never noticed.
Currently though, Alex was torn. She wanted to question DS Lewis thoroughly about what he knew, but she also wanted to go home. Home. Where was that? The trail of thought jogged through her mind. She remembered saying on more than one occasion, but it was a long time ago.
Looking up into Gene's beautiful, but concerned eyes, she gave her reply, "Yes please. I think I will." As he turned away, Alex tentatively uncrossed her legs and allowed them to dangle off the edge of the desk. The blinds were closed, enveloping her in their aquamarine atmosphere. After much persuasion from her, Gene had finally – in 1991 – changed the colour of the blinds. It made everything seem more inviting.
Suddenly, a vivid memory passed through her head. That bloody Lexus. Papers over the backseat.
"Schizo? Delusional? What's the German one? Is he going in 'The Book'?"
The Book.
But it was gone. Alex continued to grapple with the thought, wrestling it as if her life depended on it. Her eyes scrunched up with effort, but to no avail. It was gone.
Rubbing her hands over her face in desperation, she felt her heart rate soar. These vivid thoughts were becoming more frequent, and alerted a small part of her brain to an idea that seemed impossible. Alex had accepted that she'd always been here, at Fenchurch, and working alongside Gene. She also accepted that their relationship hadn't always been perfect. Something about that love/hate thing. But more recently she was entertaining an idea that threatened the foundation of their world.
What if she hadn't always been here?
Suddenly, Alex didn't want a cup of tea. She wanted answers. Uncurling her legs and swinging them forwards, Alex leapt off the desk. Calling into the kitchenette to Gene, she marched out of the room. "I'll see you later. I've got something I need to look into." Her voice travelled back to the kitchen and by the time Gene came to look, Alex was already long gone.
Three hours later, Alex and Gene's living room was unrecognisable.
Everything was scattered everywhere. The aquamarine carpet had disappeared under the boxes that Alex had removed from the attic. On the coffee table sat the phone and newest digital computer, but they were supposed to be on the desk. But, the desk itself was covered in police reports and form dating back to the early eighties.
Dispersed over the remaining floor between the sofa and the beginning of the kitchen area were Alex's notes. One thing stood out – "Am I mad, in a coma, or back in time?" – And it seemed to hold the answer to everything she valued.
Alex liked to think that she was an analytical person as well as logical, but to no avail as there was nothing here to shed light on that terrifying thought. Although, that didn't explain why a few dates kept popping into her mind. 20th July. 10th October. 12th November.
Still puzzled, Alex passed it off as her simply being a bit mad. She always had been, ever since she arrived.
When she arrived back at the station, the desk sergent caught her. "DCI Drake, there's a girl in reception who is requesting to see you."
She nodded, "I've got to go get the Guv." The sergent smiled. "I mean, I've got to go get DCI Hunt. Get one of the Police Constables to sit with her."
"Um...she's panicked. And...she asked for you specifically."
"Okay then, we'll be along in a few minutes – take her to interview room one."
As Alex sat at her heavy black desk, she started to type out the interview tape. When she and Gene had entered the Suite, the sight of the girl had been shocking. She had pushed herself as far into the corner at possible and her back and shoulders were hunched in an awkward position. Dangling limply from her head were strands of greasy and knotted brown hair. Hollow eyes had met Alex's with an expression of relief, fear and helplessness.
Shaking the image of the girl from her head, Alex pressed play on the digital recorder.
"This interview was conducted in interview room one. Present are DCI Alex Drake and DCI Gene Hunt of CID. We are interviewing a possible attack or rape victim. Interview commenced on Tuesday 11th November at sixteen oh six."
"Hello. My name is Alex. You're safe now. Nobody can hurt you. Okay?
There was a brief pause where the girl did not answer.
"Okay, what's your name?"
"My name is Jessica. Jessica Nightingale."
"Okay Jessica, so what are you reporting? Or would you like to write it down?"
There was another pause. Alex remembered the girl had glanced fearfully at Gene.
"Would you like DCI Hunt to leave?"
"Yes please."
There was a scraping on the tape as Gene pushed his chair back. He threw Alex a look of hatred – a look meant for the person who's done this.
"Thank you...Alex."
"No problem. Now, why have you come to see us?"
There was rustling on the tape, and in her minds eye, Alex saw the girl take off her hoodie.
"I was attacked. It was a man. He was about your height with dark brown hair. He had a husky voice, but all he said were names. Like a chant."
"What names did he say, Jessica?"
"Umm...Alex, I think. Yeah, that was it. Alex and Molly."
At this point, Alex stopped the recording. What was going on around here?
"Ma'am, you're not going t' believe this," Jeanette said as Alex strolled through the CID Squad Room, the following day "There's been another attack; the girl is waiting in interview room two."
When Gene and Alex arrived at interview room two, Alex honestly thought it was Jessica. They two girls were the same height, had the same hair colour, and even had the same eye colour. Additionally, they had the same wounds on their bodies and both claimed the guy had said the names "Alex" and "Molly".
Piecing together the information on this case was hard; it appeared that the man had worn gloves, used a clean knife and worn a balaclava. Great.
"Right then!" Gene called out to CID after Alex had told him the case details. "This has become one of our toughest cases yet. I want results! These attacks hav' been planned an' carefully followed through." He glanced at Alex warily. After all, she had written this little speech. "Myself and Bolly Knickers 'r' gonna assess the crime scenes while the rest of you can divide the following tasks between you: searching for suspects wiv previous, revisiting old case files for similarities and keeping an eye on forensics. Bolls – lets go."
The team had worked hard for the rest of the day, making notes, scanning case reports and collecting forensic evidence. But they'd had no breakthroughs. Gene was angry. Alex was analysing. Matt was writing on the board. And Harry and Jeanette were organising surveillance of the scene. About 4 o'clock, Gene emerged from his office.
He appeared his usual demanding, Neanderthal self when he ordered for everyone to "Pull in their snouts." He carried the air of authority and one by one officers took their places and pulled up chairs. "We need to know if they've heard anything abou' this scumbag." Nobody moved. "Mush!" he bellowed, and they fled, leaving CID a ghost town. Turning towards Alex, he ordered her into his office.
But when she settled on his desk and he shut the door, Alex saw a different Gene Hunt. His features were tired and he was actually beginning to look old. Metaphorically, obviously, since neither of them could. His stance looked almost defeated – his eyes haunted by what had happened to those girls. Despite his tough exterior, Gene Hunt really cared, and Alex guessed that's why she fell in love with him.
Gene sat down heavily in chair, picked up the half full whiskey tumbler and placed his feet on the desk. "Yer can go home, if you want. Get yourself ready. I'll pick you up at six – wear something...classy." A strange looked crossed his face as if he was going to say something else but had forgotten. Or maybe it was a distant memory.
"Taking me to dinner, are you? Alex teased. "Makes a change." Realisation dawned, "what's the date?"
Gene tucked his hands in his pockets and shifted uncomfortably. "12th of November, Wednesday."
A little smile played on Alex's lips. "Every year to take me to dinner – are you trying to apologise for something?"
Suddenly, something flashed in front of her eyes. A memory, perhaps. It was of a churchyard. There was somebody lying on the ground. I will shoot. Were they dead? I know. A beeping sound filled her ears and she felt like she was clinging on to newfound hope. Then she stumbled, and there was a shout. Bolly! Gene...? Then...a bright white light...four faces looked down on her. One was dressed in white – she looked like an angel. But they were frowning...or something like that. But...that was all she remembered.
Alex frowned and shook her head. "Okay then, see you at six."
Hooking her silvery black earrings through her ears, Alex thought about what she knew. Gene and herself were under no illusion, they knew they were dead. Occasionally, when they were alone on a cold, dark winters day, they would talk about how it felt. But Keats had got it right all those years ago, they did have a life – they laughed, they drank, they loved. They all had a second chance. Sometimes it bothered Alex, especially when she worried about seeing "The Other Alex Drake" as they referred to her. That would be hard to explain.
But everything else had melted away. Their job was to help officers find peace and cross over, while keeping Keats away. Gene lost one of his men to Keats and it wouldn't happen again. Alex didn't know how long she'd been here, or how she even got here. But she had a job to do – and there was always more scum to catch.
She sighed softly and smoothed the dress down. It was quite a simple design, but very fashionable. The sleek black material clung to every curve. It was strapless, but had a halter neck and lace that settled gently on the skin between her neck baseline and the top of the dress. It was classy – not too short, but not concealing everything, either.
Applying the last of her make-up, Alex wondered why today was always so important to Gene. Every year since they'd been together, he had taken to dinner. She tried to remember if anything significant had happened, but couldn't recall.
Everything is significant. So, your brain is made of up puzzle pieces for you to solve. Because that is the way I will get strong. NO! I've lost track of where I'm from. I had to make sure it was you Alex. You're starting to forget. Oscar Papa Romeo.I thought it was all in my head. Operation Rose. King Doug job. Sounds like a porn star. The van will be diverted. I have to fight him. Time is running out. Operation Rose. Operation Rose. Operation...
"Hope yer ready Bolls, cuz if yer not, I'm draggin' you outta here in yer knickers!"
Alex blinked. The conversations, the voices, they sounded so familiar. So vivid. What was going on?
"Here's to us," Alex toasted as their meal arrived. "And to the new team...and that absent DI wherever they are."
"Here here," Gene replied. "I wonder when he's gonna show his face."
"Dunno, could be a woman," Alex replied, taking a sip of her wine.
"Bloody hell! I hope not!" Gene spluttered with a look of outrage of his face. "At this rate yer be taking over the place."
She snorted, "I remember when you said there wouldn't be a woman prime minister while you still had..."
"Oh shut up Mrs Women." A comfortable silence descended for a while before Gene asked warily. "When did I say tha'?"
"Um...I don't know. It was a while ago. Back in '83, I think." She blinked, absolutely puzzled. "Although, I'm not sure. I remember you saying it. We were in a bar – it looks like La Verità and we were talking about an election. Shaz said Labour would never lead us into a pointless war. I laughed and began to reply with something like..."Well actually...never mind. I'll leave you to find that one out for yourselves." Odd, that's all I remember."
Gene watched her talk about that memory – a look of happiness settled in her eyes. She smiled at something else – another memory, perhaps. For her, the memory was distant. But for him, it felt like yesterday.
Because if Alex had looked at Gene closely while she was talking, she would have noticed he flinched and then stiffened every time she mentioned Shaz. He'd been practically holding his breath waiting for the inevitable question to arise, but thankfully it hadn't yet. You see, Alex thought that both she and Gene knew the same things. She was wrong. Gene had been here longer and built up a tolerance to forgetting. He...
"Gene?" Alex whispered, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. "Who's Shaz?"
The question had been asked.
How could he tell her that since 1983, when she walked out of the Pub, he'd still remembered everything? And she hadn't. He remembered the 20th July; Molly's birthday. 10th October 1981; the day her parents were killed. 12th November 1982; the day he shot her during the King Douglas Lane Robbery. 21st May 1983; the day Alex turned her back on the Pub. To stay with him.
He didn't quite meet her eyes. "An old friend...she was a WPC at the station. She...transferred." It wasn't quite a lie.
"Ohh..." then she frowned and started muttering. "She was the one who looked like an angel. All dressed in white...in the churchyard...after the gunshot..."
"Alex?" Gene called softly, "are you feeling alright?"
She took a breath and repeated key words to him, "do you remember a churchyard...a gun shot...Oscar Papa Romeo...Operation Rose...King Doug Job...what does it mean?"
Only one memory from that day stood out: the look on Alexs' face when she realised he'd shot her. As she fell the ground, Shaz had looked at him intently. It was a look he could never explain.
Luckily, Gene was saved from answering that question when his phone buzzed. Retrieving it from his suit pocket, Gene sighed and flipped it up. He talked for a few minutes while Alex finished her meal. A grim expression filled his features - something bad had happened.
"We've gotta go. CID just called, there's a girl makin' a racket outside our 'ouse."
"What?" Alex queried, grabbing her jacket as Gene left some notes on the table, "What's she saying?"
"Haven't a clue. Find out when we get there."
As Gene and Alex approached their house, it was a scene they never thought they'd witness in their neighbourhood. There were at least half a dozen plod cars and two undercover vehicles – all with their lights flashing and a one hadn't had the siren turned off yet. Get the siren. Let me do it! I want to do it! Shaking her head, Alex noticed the yellow tape surrounding the alleyway next to their house. Around it were members of the public, two of which were being interviewed. An ambulance was packing up their things, sirens still flashing.
As Jeanette turned, she saw her superior officers walking towards her. "Guv, Ma'am!" she called, "over here!" She led them to a gap in the tape and allowed them to walk through. A memory smacked Alex in the face. Okay, talk to me sergeant. My daughters in the goddamn car! Fine! Armed response? On their way. Okay. Give me a minute.
Dismissing it, Alex followed Gene. In the middle of the taped off area was a young girl curled up on the pavement. Initially Alex thought she looked about twelve, but when she uncurled and started screaming and shouting again, she realised that was about mid-twenties. The sun was beginning to set, and the light caught on the girls' clothes. They were fashionable – flowered leggings that clung to her curves and mid thigh length black top. Her skinny arms were thrashing around on the pavement. She looked demented – or high.
"Starting talking sergeant," Alex instructed.
"Well-"
"Has she been attacked?" Alex interrupted immediately.
"No. Well, we don't think so."
"'Don't think so?'" mimicked Gene, "Yer didn't think ter find out? Bolls, wiv me."
Dismissing the sergeant, Gene and Alex approached the girl. As the neared her, they realised what she was saying.
"Help me! Please, somebody help! I've been shot – I need an ambulance. Help!" Her tone was panicky and her voice extremely shrill. She was rolling around on the floor helplessly.
"Keeps saying she's been shot," said Jeanette quietly, "but the ambulance can't find any blood, or previous wounds. She's not drunk or high either." Alex and Gene exchanged a worried glance. In the corner of their eye, the girl was still hitting the tarmac. "We couldn't go near her; she floored two officers." Jeanette checked her notes. "Oh, and she reckons that her name is DCI Molly Caroline Lewis – head of CID."
When the girl heard her name, she paused and clambered slowly to her feet. Breathing heavily and glaring at anyone who looked as if they would arrest her, she looked straight at the three of them.
"Guv, Ma'am. She could be armed."
"Be quiet WPC Hale. We don't need 'elp from a plonk."
"Gene Hunt!" Alex chided. The girls' mouth opened slightly. "There's no need to be rude." Alex took a step closer to the girl, but wasn't focusing properly. The crowd of onlookers fell silent and watched the well-known criminal psychologist approach the girl.
"Drake! " Gene retorted! "Get back here!" Rolling his eyes as Alex made no attempt to move, he called her again and walked forward, "Alex!"
As Gene approached Alex, the girl gasped loudly. She glanced between them; a look of incredibility, fear, and relief appeared on her features. "I don't believe it...Gene Hunt?" The bag she was holding slammed to the floor like a ton of bricks. Her eyes moved to Alex as she whispered, "Mum...?" Eyes skyward, the girl tottered forward, tripped over and crashed into the tarmac.
She'd fainted.
Smirking, Alex stated calmly, "My reputation precedes me," but didn't know why it felt familiar.
Gene rolled his eyes and marched forward to pick her up. "Bloody Drake women!" he muttered on instinct, and without thinking.
Alex, who had been surveying the scene of onlookers for anybody suspicious, turned on her heel and frowned at him, "What did you say?" She said with a dangerous glint in her eye.
Covering himself quickly, Gene replied, "Nowt yer should be worried abou' Bolls."
Taking a few steps closer to Gene, Alex watched as a fleeting look of panic crossed his face. She was just about to reply when she caught sight of the limp girl in Gene's arms. She half smiled with content – and at an old memory. It's a comfy place to be, she thought happily. But he's never carried me like that. Or has he?
Suddenly, it was as if a floodgate had opened. Memories, feelings and thoughts rushed towards her. She remembered a very short red dress. If that thing was any shorter, I'd see what you had for breakfast. A fur coat. Black stockings and a red car. Those boots. Gene Hunt? He saved her from that awful boat. Classiest prozzie I've seen all week. But how did she get there?
Alex couldn't remember. But there was a gunshot – had somebody on the boat been killed? Ohhhh, Vienna. No, the gun was pointed at her. Dark sunglasses. Greasy hair. The boat was cold and damp. But how did she get there? She'd been hauled down to the docks. I know who you are, love. Tim and Caroline Price's daughter. I'll tell her the truth about why her parents died! Tick Tock. Alex! Come back. She was in charcoal suit. What? That made no sense. She always wore fashionable clothes to work.
Some music, Alex? A red balloon. We're going to be late. Flames and heat. Anger and failure. I'm happy, hope you're happy too. NO! Don't shoot! That's my little girl! I'm coming back to you Molly. A girl in the corner of her eye. In the reflection on the TV. Don't shoot! Molly! BANG! Molly! My daughter...she's somebody that I used to know. I'm coming back to you, Molly. We'll blow the candles out together.
Molly. Molly. Molly Drake. Molly Caroline Drake. Molly Caroline Lewis.
No...It couldn't be. But after the memories had settled, and Alex made connections, suddenly her world was lighter. It was as if a switch had been flicked. With renewed thoughts, Alex surveyed the girl. Her cropped bob and fringe meant she could have been any young woman. Four grips held the stray bits of hair away from her face. Upon closer inspection, Alex noted that her makeup was actually immaculate, leading her to believe that the girl hadn't cried. How odd. She still could have been any young woman.
As Gene settled her into the car, called for plod to send the onlookers home, and ordered forensics onto the scene, the girls face rolled towards Alex. Her breath caught in her throat and she raised a hand to her heart. Yes, it could have been any young woman. But the mole on her cheek gave her away.
It really was Molly.
Authors Note: I hope you liked it! Next chapter won't be up for a while, but there might be a sneak peek for anybody who reviews xD
Finding Answers xx