AN: This is my first Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes story. It's going to cover both shows and may well be Gene/Alex later! Please read and honestly review!! I don't own any of the characters except obviously those that never appeared in either show!!

London – April 1981

"Gene? Gene, are you there? Where are you? I need you, where are you?"

He was dreaming again. The same dream he had every so often. One that would creep into his subconscious a few times a year and had the power to leave him utterly drained and incapable of focusing on anything else. He wasn't sure what had prompted it this night. Had it been the fact that he had caught sight of her picture that afternoon as he had opened his desk drawer? Was it the telephone message left on his desk from Ted Ryan? Or was it the fact that another young woman had been seemingly abducted off of the street for no apparent reason?

"Gene…Gene, please help me…"

He could picture her. Alone in the dark. Crying out for help. Crying out for him. In his most vivid dreams he could see her, bound at the wrists and ankles, locked in some dark place with no hope. He could smell her fear. Could taste the salt of the tears coursing down her cheeks. Could see her chest rising and falling rapidly as her panic grew.

He didn't know how it had ended for her. He liked to pretend that it had been quick. That the hands around her neck had swiftly cut off the oxygen and that she had slipped easily into unconsciousness and then death. He didn't want to imagine that it had been prolonged. Didn't want to picture her fighting wildly for her life, her hands clawing at her attacker, her screams echoing where no-one could hear them as he degraded her for one last time...

"Gene!"

The final scream woke him and Gene Hunt found himself sitting up in bed, panting heavily, drenched in sweat. The bed sheets were bunched around him, a clear indication that he had been tossing and turning. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table he saw that it was just after five am and the first gentle light of dawn was beginning to filter in through the curtains. He ran a hand over his face, trying to bring his breathing under control, trying to dislodge the sight and sound of her from his mind. But he couldn't. She lurked behind his closed lids, an image from so long ago. An image of what might have been.

Suddenly desperate for a drink and a cigarette, Gene got out of bed and padded through to the living room. The scotch bottle sat on the table next to the telly where he had left it, half-drunk, the night before. His fags were there too and, with his hand still shaking, he lit one and then poured himself a generous measure. He didn't care that it was so early in the morning. He needed something to stabilise himself, bring himself back onto solid ground.

Flopping down in the easy chair, he grabbed the remote and flicked the telly on from standby. The test card girl greeted him with her moronic smile and that freaky looking clown. He watched her for a long moment, thinking about how she reminded him about someone else. Another ghost…

At precisely that moment, the telephone at the other end of the room shrilled loudly, making him jump. Stubbing out his cigarette, he got up and walked over to answer it.

"Hunt."

"Guv, it's Ray," the voice of his DS floated down the line.

"Do you know what bleeding time it is?" Gene demanded, glad to have something else to focus on apart from the past.

"I know, I'm sorry…"

"I could be shagging Sharon Tate in 'ere for all you know, you tosser!" There was silence at the other end of the phone as Ray appeared to be trying to digest this information, "What the 'ell do you want anyway?"

"They've found another one."

Gene froze, all thought of humour vanishing. "Who?"

"Think it might be Laura Hemmings. Dog walker found her down by the river an hour ago. Raped and strangled, Guv, just like the others."

"I'll be right there." Gene put the phone down before Ray could say anymore. Jesus it was happening again, it was all happening again. He didn't know if he could deal with it. Another pretty girl used and discarded like rubbish, another family torn apart, another father screaming at him that it couldn't be true, another boyfriend or husband robbed of the person dearest to them, their future…He shook his head to rid himself of the images. He couldn't afford to let personal feelings cloud this investigation. He was in charge and he had to act like it. It wasn't the right time to be thinking about her. It never was.

XXXX

When he arrived at the scene, the first thing Gene saw as he approached the body was DI Alex Drake crouched down next to it. She was facing away from him and he couldn't help but observe that she had on yet another fetching pair of tight jeans which showed off her arse to complete perfection. This lascivious thought was quickly quelled however as she turned to face him and he saw the seriousness in her eyes.

"Laura Hemmings," she said quietly, "the second to go missing and the second to die." Gene circled the body, "He's increasing."

"'e's what?"

"Speeding up," she explained, "The first victim, Angie O'Rourke. She was missing for nearly two weeks before her body was found. Laura was abducted six days ago. His need is increasing."

"Don't give us yer psycho-babble-whatsit, Bolly," he told her, "Just stick to the bleeding facts."

"That is a 'bleeding fact'," she retorted, "he's increasing…"

"I 'eard you the first time you bored me with that phrase."

"Which means that we can probably expect to find Liz Wilson in the next few days," Alex ploughed on, ignoring him, "and as for Pauline Bennett…"

"One thing at a time, all right?" he glared at her, "In case you hadn't noticed, it's only gone six and I 'aven't had me morning brew yet."

"Since when have you ever drunk anything except your weight in whisky?"

"What brew did you think I was referring to?" his eyes raked over Laura's clothing. "Short skirt, slutty top, 'igh heels…"

"So?" Alex demanded, convinced he was going somewhere unsavoury with that observation.

"Same as the other one," he said.

"Same as all of them. They were all abducted on night's out on the piss."

"Yeah…" Gene gazed at the pathetic figure lying in front of him, the familiarity of it made him want to vomit. He remembered looking at others just like her, looking at one in particular, the despair and the agony…God why did this have to be happening now? When he had tried so hard to forget…

"Are you listening to me?" Alex's voice broke through his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said, we should get the boys to do a sweep of the local area. See if anyone saw anything. If she put up a fight…"

"If she put up a fight." He could hear the pathologist's words in his mind again. "She wouldn't have been able to fight, Gene. She had nothing left to fight with…" "But yer right," he got to his feet, "the boys can handle it, and we'll get a few plonks onto it too." He ignored the look on Alex's face. "Chris! Ray! Get yerself started on a door to door. I want to know that someone saw something 'ere last night. And by door to door, I do not mean pub door to pub door, all right?" They both nodded. "Right," he turned back to Alex, "let's you and me handle the parents."

XXXX

"Well that was incredibly helpful! I'm not sure I've ever seen such a touching display of sympathy!" Alex pushed open the door of the office and stormed in two hours later, Gene close behind.

"What?" he demanded.

"Well, I think practically accusing her dad was a really nice touch."

"'e knew more than 'e was letting on," Gene told her, "what kind of father doesn't know what 'is only daughter gets up to of an evening?"

"Half the father's in this city I would imagine!" she shot back.

"'e's as much to blame as whoever did this."

"Oh, that is just…"

"'e should have kept a closer eye on 'er. Letting 'er dress like a tart and roam around the city…"

"She was twenty-seven!"

"It doesn't matter!" he raged at her, his anger bringing her up short, "You don't get it, Bolly, it's doesn't bloody matter! 'e should have taken better care of her! I should have…" He stopped, catching himself. "Just…do something useful, all right?!

"Why is he in such a shit mood?" Alex asked as Gene stormed into his office and slammed the door behind him, causing the glass to rattle ominously. She lifted a file that had been sat on her desk. "I know it's not ideal having another murder victim on our hands but…" she stopped as Ray and Chris exchanged knowing looks. "What?"

"Well it's…you know…" Chris said uncomfortably.

"No I don't know."

"Well, it brings back memories for 'im, don't it?" Chris continued, "Can't be easy for 'im to be reminded all the time."

Alex stared at him. "I have absolutely no idea what you're…"

"What dozy Joe is trying to say," Ray said, "is that this latest girl, all of 'em in fact, remind the Guv of Meg."

Alex frowned, "Meg? Who's Meg?"

"She was his goddaughter, not to mention one of the team. Back in the old days," Ray said, "she disappeared in Manchester in 1974. There was a few of 'em. Taken right off the streets like these poor cows. Raped, strangled and then dumped. Meg was the last, or so we thought." He exchanged another look with Chris, "Meg and the Guv…they were…well…close."

"Of course," Alex said, "his goddaughter. Of course they were close."

"No, he means they were close," Chris said. Alex looked at him, "You know…"

She rolled her eyes, "Chris…"

"He was giving her one!"

Alex was shocked in temporary speechlessness, "You mean Gene Hunt and his own goddaughter…?" Both Chris and Ray nodded. "Well, that wasn't what I expected." She glanced through the office door where Gene was sat staring at something on his desk. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected. Yet the idea that he had been intimate with his goddaughter gave her a slight feeling of both surprise and disgust.

"Look ma'am," Ray said, "it weren't what you think. It weren't how spastic 'ere says it was. 'e cared about Meg. Really cared about her. Took 'im years to get 'er death, if 'e even has. So don't go thinking it were something it weren't.

Alex turned back to look at him, "I wasn't thinking anything of the kind." She paused, "The cases in Manchester. Was anyone ever caught?"

Chris shook his head, "The killing stopped after Meg died. We never found out who did it, or why. Not that we didn't try mind."

"Do you think you could have the case files sent down from your old division?"

Ray and Chris exchanged looks. "Why?" the former asked.

Alex fought to keep her temper, "Because, it might be that the murders in Manchester are connected to the murders here in London."

"You're joking," Chris said, "'e waits all these years and then comes down 'ere?"

"It's worth a look, surely?"

"Might take a few days."

"The sooner you get on it, the sooner we'll have them." She waited as they made their way back to their desks and then turned back to face Gene's office. Purposefully she walked in and noticed as she did so, that he quickly slid something off of his desk and into an open drawer.

"What have you got?" he demanded gruffly.

"Preliminary post-mortem report," Alex replied, opening the file "Laura Hemmings was dead about six hours before she was found. Ate her last meal about two hours before death. She was raped and sodomised before being strangled with what appears to be a belt." Gene nodded distractedly, as if he hadn't really heard her. "I've asked Chris and Ray to send down the old files from Manchester."

Gene's head snapped up, "What old files?"

"The ones on the murders committed there in 1974. They told me that there were similarities with these murders."

"What the bleeding 'ell does that have to do with anything?!"

"There might be a connection," she explained patiently, "the killers might have known each other. Or," she paused, "it might be the same person."

"No," Gene shook his head, "not after all this time."

"Then it might be a copycat." She waited for a few seconds, "I understand that one of the Manchester victims was your goddaughter…"

"Chris and Ray have got better things to do with their time than spend it on the phone to those twats back up in Manchester who spend their days hiding away in the Records room," he interrupted her before she could continue, "We've got live investigations down 'ere which need their full attention."

"I appreciate it that but…"

"I'm serious Bolly," he looked up at her and she was struck by the feeling emanating from his gaze, "I don't want some bastarding old cases brought into this. These murders have nothing to do with what happened…"

"Don't you want to know who killed Meg?" The very mention of her name seemed to make Gene visibly wince. "I would have thought you would, especially after all these years."

Gene got to his feet and came to stand in front of her, glorifying in the few inches he had over her in height. "I don't want to talk about 'er. I don't want to hear 'er name mentioned, got it?"

"Gene…"

"Got it?!"

"Fine," she replied easily, "whatever you say."

"Good." He held her gaze for a long moment, almost as if he were about to divulge something to her. Then his gaze changed and he clapped his hands together. "Right, I'm 'ungry. What's for dinner?" With that, he threw open the door, "Christopher, Raymondo. Lunch at Luigi's – now!" The three of them hurried towards the door with Gene stopping to look back at her, "Are you coming or are you watching yer figure?"

"I'll pass," Alex replied. He looked at her up and down before following the other two out into the corridor. She waited until she was sure they had gone before going back into his office and opening the top right hand drawer of his desk. Immediately she was greeted by a picture of a pretty young woman with blonde hair. She was dressed casually in bell bottoms and a cropped top, grinning into the camera and holding a large sunflower. She looked happy, carefree, unaware of what awaited her.

"Well," Alex said to the photograph, "you must be Meg."