I just keep forgetting I'm updating, lol. I've been making an obnoxious amount of sourdough (like 4 loaves a week) and running 5ks. Maybe next time will be faster!

"So you've visited everywhere that you have before? Fenchurch, Luigi's, your flat?"

A nodded at the psychologist. "I moved back to my flat, actually. About a week ago. There were bottles of my favourite wine that I apparently loved to drink so I opened one and drank it too." She shrugged. "I'm not even getting flashes anymore."

"What about the day at the crime scene, when you passed out?"

A shrugged. "There was nothing," she lied smoothly. "They said that the bullet matched the ones from the other crime scene and my shoulder, but no flashes, nothing brought forward. I don't know why I passed out. Gene thinks it's because I'm basically a rookie again."

"And you've been going through your old case files?"

"I've even read the one from the day I went missing," she lied again. She had seen that one sitting on the desk in the pile of files and had actively avoided it. When she looked at it, she saw danger again. Something told her that that case was the reason that her memory was gone.

The psychologist nodded, but frowned, his eyebrows furrowed, and made a note.

"I'm getting to the point where I don't think they're going to come back," A said honestly. "It's been eight weeks since I was found on the boat, and everything is gone. The dreams disappeared. The flashes disappeared. All my memories are from the last two months. Basic living, like balancing a chequebook and how to cook, clean, all that stuff, I know. But who I was before? I have no idea."

"Does this bother you?" the psychologist asked directly.

"It did at first," she lied again. "Now, I guess I'm learning to live with it. I go out with CID nightly to try and learn about them like I did before, and I'm making progress, but they all remember a relationship I don't. It makes everything slightly more awkward. I think they're starting to know me for who I am now, but I feel like I am missing out. And I can't do anything about it."

"You sound frustrated."

A sighed inwardly. She hated when he tried to put feelings to what she said. "A little," she said, playing along. "But I just have to realise that until my memories come back, if my memories come back, it doesn't matter what they remember that I don't. I feel like I've done everything I can to regain them, and they just won't show up. Now there's nothing I can really do except learn how to live my new life."

"Are you going to go back to the MET?"

"I don't think so. As much knowledge and training was in my head, it's pretty much gone. Like I said, I've got the basics of living down, but everything about who Alex was before, who I was before, that's gone. All the police training, the years of psychology study, it's gone."

"So what are you going to do?"

A shrugged. "I don't know. Find something with low-level experience and get a job, I suppose. Maybe I'll work in a shop. It all depends on who will hire someone whose memory starts eight weeks ago." She laughed. "Maybe I won't mention that bit."

The psychologist finally smiled, the first time she had seen him do that in all of her sessions. "You probably shouldn't. I'll help you with your search for jobs. I may have some connections that can get you placed somewhere."

A nodded. "That works. I need to start earning some money if I want to stop being a freeloader."

The psychologist looked at the clock. "Our session is done for now, and I don't really think we need too many more. I will see you next week and we can discuss any jobs that I have found for you or any jobs that you have found. Does that sound okay?"

A nodded again. "That sounds fine. I'll see you at the same time next week." With that, she got up and left the psychologist's dark office, stepping out into the bright lobby. She squinted her eyes in the bright light, automatically looking for Gene sitting in the chairs. He wasn't there, however. Since she had moved out, she had seen a lot less of him. A still tried to go down to Luigi's every night, but apparently they were working a big case right now, so they hadn't been frequenting the restaurant as often, or for as long. It was something that she hadn't really thought about when she was making her plans to leave. She didn't know anyone. She had no friends, no one to talk to. A's plan was to cut off all contact when she moved, but she hadn't realized how lonely it would be.

A walked out of the office and walked to the closest tube station. She walked down the stairs to the tracks below, waiting for the next train, lost in thought. She still had to officially turn in her resignation to the MET. A was certain Gene would be angry about it, but there was nothing she could do. She had refused to let Alex come back, and now, Alex's memories were gone. Just like she had told the psychologist, she couldn't go back to the MET. All of her training was gone. She didn't remember how to hold a gun, much less how to psychologically profile a criminal.

She sighed as the train approached, and got on as the doors opened. It was the end of the working day, and the car was nearly full, but A was able to find an open seat. She grabbed a newspaper that was left of the seat, reading it until her stop approached. All of the news was the same drivel. Thatcher did this, Thatcher did that. In twenty years, it wouldn't matter what Thatcher did, so why did she care?

As A approached the stop, she became aware of someone staring at her. She studied him over her newspaper. The man was tall, but lanky. He had long black hair and a bushy moustache, but the predominant feature on his face was a large, hawk-like nose. Something about his appearance made A shudder inside, but she ignored the feeling. She stared back at him as she made her way off the car, trying to stare him down, to tell him that she had noticed him and that she wasn't scared.

He smiled at her, gesturing to let her get off the train before him. The smile did nothing to help her from feeling nervous, but she got off in front of him anyway. He followed her off,up the stairs, but then broke off into a different direction as soon as they went through the turnstiles.

There was something about the encounter that A couldn't shake off however. The man's small watery eyes were burned into her brain, and even as she left the tube station and headed back to her flat, she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. No matter how many times she turned around, however, she couldn't find the man.

"No one is following me," she told herself. "It's a trick of your mind. You got unsettled, but everything is going to be okay. If worse comes to worse, find Gene."

A arrived at her flat without incident, went upstairs to change for the night. Apparently, it was Chris's birthday. Gene told her to wear something slutty, something she knew he actually sort of meant. She had chosen to ignore this decree, choosing a black dress that showed off her good points, but didn't cling to every single curve like the gold one she had found in the back of Alex's wardrobe had. She looked at herself in the mirror critically. Honestly, she didn't look any worse for wear. Since the ordeal 2 months ago, she had healed fairly well. The only sign that anything had happened was the scar in her shoulder from where they removed the bullet, and that was covered up.

A knock at her door brought A back to awareness. She grinned. Was Gene honestly that impatient? She was supposed to be downstairs less than five minutes earlier. A walked over to the door, opening it without hesitation.

"I only just got back. If you'd give me five minutes, I'll be down."

Gene stared at her, a gruff expression on his face. "Bloody women. Always taking forever." There was kindness in his statement as well as annoyance.

"Like I said, I only got a home a few minutes ago. I saw the psychologist today."

"What did he have to say? Also, I told you to dress slutty. That dress isn't nearly slutty enough."

A grinned. "It's as slutty as it's getting, Gene. And he's going to help me to find a job."

"A job? Outside the MET?" Gene frowned at her, looking confused and angry.

A nodded. "Yes. It's going to be ridiculous trying to recertify for the service. I don't remember any psychology training, and at this point, both the psychologist and I agree that it's unlikely my memories are going to return. I'm missing over 30 years of learning and training. I can't gain that back in a few weeks, Gene. It's going to be easier to start over I think."

Gene's face was a mask, his eyes dark. When he finally spoke, his voice was strangled. "I suppose I understand. When were you planning on officially telling me?

"I was going to turn in my resignation on Monday," A replied, suddenly feeling like she had betrayed Gene.

He nodded with equanimity. "I suppose I understand. I'll accept your resignation when you hand it in." Gene's voice still sounded strained, but she didn't push the matter further, feeling embarrassed. "Are you ready to go down?" he asked, obviously changing the subject fto something he was more comfortable with.

"I need to just finish my makeup," she replied.

"Bloody women, always primping." He walked around her flat, waiting as she put on her finishing touches. "Hey, Bolly, what is this?" he asked, holding a piece of gold fabric up.

A laughed. "That's the other dress I was thinking about wearing. It's far too revealing."

Gene looked at her incredulously. "That's the whole point of tonight! You're supposed to wear far too little. It's the only proper way to celebrate."

A shook her head at him. "I'm not wearing something that revealing. If you're so concerned though, Gene, you can wear it."

For the first time since she had met him eight weeks ago, Gene was absolutely speechless. His mouth hung open, staring at her in disbelief. "I can't...I wouldn't…" he spluttered his words out.

A started giggling, she couldn't help it. "But Gene, I think gold is your colour! I could call you Rocky! Like from Rocky Horror Picture Show." She doubled over in laughter as Gene continued to splutter. Finally he threw the offending piece of cloth to the couch.

"I'm not wearing your dress," he muttered underneath his breath, putting his mouth up into a pout.

"I still think gold would be your colour," A responded.

At that moment, another knock sounded at her door. A looked at Gene, confused. "I guess CID must be getting impatient," he said, walking over to the door.

A shrugged, turning back to the mirror to finish applying her lipstick. She heard the door open. "Who the hell are you?" Gene's voice asked, sounding angry.

"I'm looking for Alex," a voice said back. It sent chills down to her core, and A knew that it was a voice from Before. In fact, she knew that it was the voice from before that caused her to lose her memory.

"What does it matter to you? Gene asked belligerently.

A could almost hear the smile in the man's voice. "Because she's alive."

"Who the fuck are you?"

There was no response, only the sound of Gene grunting in pain and the thud of a body falling heavily to the ground.

A got into the tub, pulling the curtain as quietly as she could so as not to let the man know where she was. All her efforts were in vain, however, as after only a few moments, the curtain was pulled back by a tall, muscular man. He had short cropped hair, as though he had just left the military, and the muscles on his arms spoke of long days of physical labour.

"I told you that you better not survive, and yet here you are," the man said. "Now, both you and Hunt get to die." He grabbed her by the throat, pulling her out of her hiding spot, and slammed his hand into her temple. Her head exploded in pain as her vision turned black. She felt herself falling to the floor, unable to catch herself. A's head hit again, and all sounds and thoughts disappeared as she succumbed to the cold.