A/N: This fic is the sequel to Addicted To Love and follows on almost immediately from What's a Queen to a Goddess? S2 set (starting after 2.4), but mixes things up a little in places and will eventually be AU. You don't have to have read those stories to follow this one, as it will be partly set in canon (with some variations), but I would love it if you wanted to do so :)

I've been planning this story for *so* long in my head - and I still am - and have no idea how long it will be (and by that reckoning how long it will take to finish), so strap yourselves in for the ride!

Ashes To Ashes and its characters belong to Matthew Graham and Ashley Pharoah / Kudos.

Time After Time

Chapter 1

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick
And think of you
Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new
Flashback - warm nights - almost left behind
Suitcases of memories, time after -

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock, tick tock. Tiiiiick...

The sound was fast becoming the only thing she could hear, both within her dreams – as few and far between as they were nowadays – and her conscious thoughts. Invading everything, a constant presence surrounding her everywhere she turned. Of course it had to be significant and it didn't take much of a stretch to figure out why.

Is time running out? And if it is, where – here, or back there?

Back in a place where everything seemed black and dark grey, nothing distinct apart from blurry shapes moving past her closed eyes and the occasional voice speaking above the constant tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

Infuriating bloody noise. Just give me some peace.

She stared at the clock sitting on her desk, its black panels with the revolving white figures appearing to be stuck, staying firm in place well past sixty seconds. Her hand reached out to bring it closer, shaking it lightly and nestling it to her ear. The engine within it remained silent, unable to compete with the cacophony that was playing inside her head.

As well as the sound knocking against her temples without any let up there was pain too. Dull and persistent at the sides, intensifying as it travelled to the centre, resulting in a sharp pulsation that came out of the blue every few hours, so agonising that it caused her breathing to become shallow and her limbs and organs to seize up. She had taken a couple of paracetamol at regular intervals, wondering whether she should go for something stronger. She drew back from the impulse, knowing that she needed to focus. It was enough of a battle as it was keeping her head straight without putting chemicals into the mix; she was the type to tough out the pain, hardly ever relying on any crutches to bring her through.

Silence descended for seconds and a small burst of light battled through the darkness.

I know what this is.

One of those vague voices coming out of the ether, the words they spoke becoming distinguishable.

"Levels stabilising. I think that she might be ready, at long last."

Oh, god. Is this it?

"Can you hear us, Alex? If you stay like this for another hour or so, we're going to bring you down to theatre. Get rid of this bullet and have you as good as new."

Just a bit longer. A bit longer, then I swear, I'll be ready.

"She's dropping..."

"Ah. Might have spoken too soon..."

The voices drowned out and the sound returned, louder than it had been before.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

Normal service resumed, almost.

She blinked her eyes open blearily, seeing a slightly-fuzzy looking DC Skelton standing in front of her desk.

"Ma'am?"

She rubbed her hands against her face, her vision clearing once she had done so and the sound lulling within the caverns of her mind.

"Chris."

"Got the file on Johnston," he offered it out to her and she looked at it rather than the concerned expression upon his face. "A few things 'ere and there, but no convictions. Must be good at slippin' away."

Alex straightened in her chair, laying the file flat on her desk and studying what was detailed inside.

"Thank you, Chris. This is a very good starting point."

"You're kiddin'."

She raised her head to find the voice of dissent in the room, his body twisted in his seat and smouldering cigarette between his fingers.

"Did I catch something, DS Carling?"

Ray furrowed his brows, leaning his weight forward.

"We've got his file, and we know 'e was there at the scene. That means there's nothin' stoppin' us from marchin' to his hidin' place right now and smashin' the bloody door down."

She took a deep breath in. Staying in control was not a problem.

"We have information on one suspect. Everything that there is tells us that Johnston wasn't working alone. He's one link in a chain." She picked the file up as she got to her feet, presenting what was inside to the room. "We have to dig deeper and that takes time. The whole case could risk imploding if we rush in head first without exploring all the avenues."

Ray lowered his gaze to the floor, head shaking to and fro. "This is exactly why women should never be put in charge. They change their minds more often than they change their bloody knickers."

A few of the other members of CID chuckled at DS Carling's comment, before being silenced by Alex staring towards them in turn.

"I think you'll find that I am permanently your superior," she exclaimed, landing her eyes firmly back upon Ray, "and for as long as the Guv isn't here then I am the acting DCI, and you will follow my orders."

He looked away from her, lips curving as he brought the cigarette back towards his mouth and addressed the rest of the room. "And we all know why she's tetchy...the sooner the Guv gets back and gives 'er a good seein' to, the better."

"For once, I agree with you, DS Carling," her voice echoed in the room, causing a few faces to drain of colour as they desperately tried not to meet her eyes, "and at least I am getting action on a regular basis. I reckon it's been a good few months since you've had so much as a hand-job."

Laughter erupted in the room, Ray's eyes going wide before he got to his feet with a start.

"Bloody 'ell, I don't need this. Someone let me know when there's somethin' actually worth stayin' awake for."

Alex looked up towards the clock that hung above the doors of CID as Ray tore towards them, certain that her eyes couldn't be deceiving her.

"Can anyone else see that?" she questioned the room, pointing towards the time-piece with its hands held suspended. "All of them have stopped...it must mean something. Everyone, check your watches."

She pulled at the sleeve of her jumper, finding that she had forgotten to put hers on that morning.

"Mine's fine, Ma'am," Chris tapped at his wrist, "I've 'ad it for five years and it's never gone dead. Casio, quality."

She shook her head, hearing the ticking come louder and stronger against her head, watching the lights on the ceiling turn off one by one until only one was left, shining intensely above her head like a spotlight.

"I can't be the only one who can hear it..."

Being met with deathly silence and quizzical looks she composed herself, saving up the fear for a later hour.

"Okay, I'm going to take five. And then...then we'll figure out what the next step is."

Once in the kitchenette she turned on the cold tap, filling a glass with water and wincing as she glugged a measure. Not enough time had passed since her last self-prescribed dosage and so there was nothing she could do except ride it out. This too shall pass.

He'd been gone four days but it felt like much longer. She kept telling herself that she was the one in control, that she could cope. The uncomfortable truth was that things didn't feel right without him there. The guardian and the gatekeeper; judge, jury and executioner. No matter how hard she tried to keep it all together it felt like the world was at danger of falling to pieces at any minute, the longer that he wasn't around.

It was a big case, requiring involvement from forces across the country. It had been lucky for them that he'd been called upon, given all the accusations and rumours that had been flying around about the competence of the Met. A lot of the top dogs heading it up. This was very serious business indeed.

She couldn't shake the feeling that there was another level to it though. An elaborate cover to mask something much darker and far more dangerous. The bad atmosphere hadn't died with Mac and the unnerving sensations wouldn't lie still within her veins. God, if something happened to him then she didn't know what she would do. She had no idea what it would mean for her, where she would end up.

The thudding of his heart sounded against her ear as she lay with her head pillowed upon his chest, his arm circled about her waist keeping her anchored to him. The room was getting lighter, a new day gradually dawning.

"Do you think this is about Mac? Maybe they know what was going on, or they found out that we were onto him. What if someone else higher up is pulling all of the strings?"

"Bloody 'ell, Bols. Didn't realise this was a game of twenty questions."

She glanced upwards, catching sight of his eyes staring at her.

"Sorry. I'm making too much of this, I know." Her hand drifted, drawing little lines over the creases in his skin, warm underneath her fingertips. "There's just something I don't like about you being dragged into it."

He grunted and she felt the vibration against her cheek. "Because it couldn't 'ave anythin' to do with my great expertise. You know 'ow to hit me right where it hurts, Bolly."

She raised herself onto her elbow, finding him with a pout firm upon his face.

"Mac hasn't actually been replaced yet. What if they're looking for someone to step into his shoes?"

"You mean me? I think there's more chance of the Pope retirin' and becomin' a world-class gigolo."

Her soft laughter broke the silence, her hand moving up to stroke his neck.

"You've never thought about becoming Superintendent? But you've worked so hard. If anyone deserves it..."

He shook his head upon the pillow, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Not for me. I want to be out there makin' a difference, not 'oled up in pointless meetings and with a stack of case-files longer than Raymondo's face when United get battered. As far as I'm concerned, I'm at the top of the pile as it is."

His hand planted itself at the small of her back, tugging down the sheets so that he could get a good eyeful of her naked backside.

"Besides I wouldn't 'ave the pleasure of lookin' at your lovely figure wigglin' about day in day out, Bols, and that is a crime in itself."

"No, you'd just have to make do with the nights." She dipped her head, laying her lips upon his throat and collarbone, delighting in hearing him groan as her hand wandered lower upon his body. "I wouldn't change a thing about you, so it's just as well, really."

"You surprise me, Bolly," he murmured, "thought you 'ad a list."

As she shook her head her lips brushed back and forth against his skin.

"I couldn't and wouldn't answer directly to that shower of dickheads," he reaffirmed his conviction, pulling her back up by the waist towards him, "not for all the money in the world. And especially not if they did 'ave a clue and did sod all to stop what was happenin'."

She rested her head in the crook of his neck, could hardly get closer to him if she tried. His hand stroking against her arm helped to calm her somewhat but she couldn't settle as still as the night that was fading into the burgeoning day, the clock at the bedside ticking as steadily as the beat of his heart.

"Promise me," she began, doing what she could to stop the shake from sounding in her voice, "that you'll stay safe."

She heard him expel a sigh, his hand caressing beneath her chin and then his lips pressing lightly against her forehead.

"You 'ave my word, Bols. Don't you worry about the Gene-Genie; he's indestructible."

But that was the problem. He was as vulnerable as the rest of them, just as much of a target, if not even more so. The images flashed into her head, of Gene lying on a mortuary slab, a gunshot wound square between his eyes. The idea on its own was enough to make her break.

She was on the verge of tears, managing to stop herself from dissolving when a uniformed Shaz walked through to join her.

"You alright, Ma'am?" the soft voice asked, taking her by surprise.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." She felt the younger woman's eyes upon her, not entirely convinced by her reassurance. "What are you doing here? Are you feeling better?"

"Loads," she chirped, and her eyes did look a lot brighter than they had been a couple of days previous. "I think it must have just been something I ate."

"That's good," Alex smiled at her colleague. "You didn't need to come rushing back, you know."

"I was bored out of my skull, Ma'am. There's only so much daytime TV one person can take." Shaz returned the smile, unveiling a cellophane bundle hidden behind her back. "I saw this when I was coming in, it's addressed to you."

Her heart hammered sickeningly in her throat as she took the single red rose from Shaz's hands; it had been so long since the last, and somehow not long enough. She stared down at the blood-red petals, the thorns that were hidden amidst the cellophane wrapping, a coldness washing over her.

Putting it down onto the counter she looked up again to find Shaz wearing a misty-eyed grin.

"Is it from the Guv? That's so sweet if it is."

Oh, if only.

Alex let out a faltering laugh. "It's not really his style."

She felt the flower possessing her, thorns pricking at her skin and poison seeping into her bloodstream.

"I know what you mean," Shaz went on, sympathising and trying to provide a distraction, though she wasn't aware that she was doing so, "Chris buys me an extra bag of chips, or a chocolate bar, and that's his idea of romance. It was a Marathon last week."

"Oh yes, I remember those," she exclaimed, her equilibrium yet thrown further out of line.

"I can't complain though," Shaz continued, flashing her left hand. "I mean, I still can't believe it. And I don't even want to know where he got the money from for this, but I don't care."

"It's beautiful, Shaz," Alex smiled, finding that she couldn't do much else when the younger woman exuded as much happiness as she did. "You're both very lucky. Any thoughts about dates?"

"I dunno. I quite like the idea of a winter wedding, but I think my mum and dad would prefer something more traditional."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely, whenever it is."

"Thanks, Ma'am. You know that we want you and the Guv to be guests of honour."

She felt her smile crack at the mention of Gene. "That's if he gets back from wherever he is in time."

He'd rung once, the night after he had departed with the call lasting for all of a minute. Every time the phone had gone off since she had picked it up eagerly, hoping to hear his voice down the line. When it wasn't him and that other voice came forth instead she slammed down the receiver, finding it difficult to carry on with her day.

"He'll be alright, Ma'am," Shaz offered, her head tilted to the side. "He's the Guv; he can handle himself, if anyone can."

"I know," Alex sighed, wishing she had the ability to pinpoint exactly where he was at this very moment in time. "I'm just finding it tricky at the moment. Being an acting DCI isn't easy, especially when you've got breasts."

"Oh, don't take any notice of Ray," Shaz frowned, "everyone knows that he talks out of his arse. I'd like to see him try and do what you're doing, he wouldn't last five minutes until he had to go and have a pint to stop himself stressing out."

"I'm probably being unfair to him. I still don't think everything has sunk in about Mac." She wasn't sure that it ever would, but perhaps that was part of her still being here – to make things right again. "I forget how highly-strung he is."

"Honestly, he's worse than any girl I've ever known," Shaz exclaimed, rolling her eyes at the thought of Ray. "You're doing brilliantly, Ma'am. Don't let any of them tell you otherwise."

"Thanks, Shaz. It's good to know that someone is on my side."

The younger woman beamed a smile, already reaching for mugs from the cupboard, as was habitual.

"You'd better put that in water, you don't want it to die."

"No," Alex mumbled, her eyes going back to the rose as Shaz headed off to CID. Her intention was to throw it straight into the bin, but that hadn't done much to perturb the culprit so far, so perhaps she should put it on display, at least until Gene was back again.

She edged the petals of the single rose with her fingers, half expecting her fingertips to become singed. Noticing that there was a card half-hidden by the cellophane, she pulled the wrapping back and plucked up the small scrap. It was indeed addressed to D.I. Drake.

Flicking it over in her fingers, she absorbed the apparently simple message.

Don't play hard to get.

A chorus of raucous noise could be heard from the room a couple of doors down, distracting her helpfully before she could spiral too far. She filled the glass back up with water, being careful with the stem of the flower as she removed it from its wrapping. Exhaling a breath she stood back on her heels, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she held herself on the spot for a moment or two, allowing herself a little bit longer.

They were trying hard, but it still wasn't enough to drown out the sound she had become too accustomed to.

She kept going to Luigi's with the rest of the team once the time to clock off rolled around. It was good to maintain a routine. The man himself fussed over her, brought over bigger portions of food which she could only get halfway through.

Every evening his question was the same and his look more sympathetic when she gave her answer.

"When will Signor Hunt be back, Signorina?"

"Soon," she affirmed, half-believing the conviction she spoke with. If he bothered to dig out twenty pence for the payphone more often I might be clearer about exactly when. "Don't worry, he'll be draining the bar dry and single-handedly bumping up your profits again before you know it."

She made out Luigi's smile and head-tilt through her wine-filled gaze, realising that she probably had had enough for another night.

"Oh, is not me I'm thinking of," he replied. "You're not the same without 'im. Due metà fanno un intero."

Alex waved her glass in the air, thinking that she really should have paid more attention in Italian class.

"As long as I can keep feasting on that delicious tiramisu, I think I'll crawl by."

Her eyes drifted shut as the trattoria owner moved into the distance, the world whirling before her in a dark blur. She could feel her limbs becoming weightless, her whole body floating as everything that surrounded her dissipated into light, smoke or scent.

"I don't think she's going to make it. We're doing all we can and look, no response."

She felt a tapping against her hand. Get off. I am trying, I really am. It took her all of her effort to attempt to move her little finger – she felt the surge of force through her veins, pushing down upon her – but it just proved impossible.

"Maybe a little bit longer. If we do something else to help. It's so tragic; she's got years ahead of her."

That's right. I won't stop fighting. Years and years, time stretching out endlessly before her.

In the 1980's or the new millennium? She could feel herself almost splitting in two, being cleaved, heart and soul.

"I think she needs a miracle, if I'm honest. Come on, Alex. Push back. Show us that you're fighting."

Tap, tap, tap. Prod, prod, poke.

"Will you bloody stop that!"

"Sorry, Ma'am," Shaz shrunk back in her chair, snatching her hand away and moving in nearer to Chris. "You were noddin' off. I thought you wouldn't want to fall asleep in front of us all."

She fought to shake the drowsiness away, the dull ache pressing down upon the back of her skull.

"No...thanks, Shaz. I should...I should probably call it a night."

"Do you want me to see you up, Ma'am?" Chris offered, standing up and remaining oblivious to the sneers of the others. "I reckon the Guv would want that."

She smiled at the DC, signalling for him to resume his seat. "It's fine, thank you, Chris. Have fun, everyone. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"That doesn't leave us with a lot of options," Ray murmured underneath his breath.

She moved from the trattoria out into the street, shivering in her leather jacket as she went the short distance to the flat. Locking the door behind her she didn't bother to look beneath her soles as she ascended the staircase, missing the trail completely.

My god, it's freezing in here. Her breath was almost visible as she exhaled, her body shuddering with each step she took.

Lights began to flicker, causing her to wince. From somewhere in the back of her brain she could hear those voices back again.

"At the very least, she's not the worst case."

"No, that's a point. You think the plug would have been pulled by now..."

Her senses weren't hampered enough for her to fail to notice that her door was ajar, a chink of light falling through to the outside. A shiver coursed up her spine as she ventured slowly forward, wishing she would have been armed at this very moment, but her gun had been left behind at the station.

The thought occurred to her that perhaps it might have been Gene, deciding to take her by surprise by turning up unannounced, a pair of tumblers dangling from his gloved hands as he was sprawled across the sofa, overcoat still on.

She pushed the door further open with the toe of her boot, frantically trying to calm her frayed nerves. Telling herself that she was in control or at the very least that she didn't have to run too far to find safety.

The shadow of the seated figure was high upon the wall, illuminated by bright light. Enough to tell her that it wasn't the man she had hoped to find.

As she stepped behind the door, leaving herself a little leeway to make a quick escape, he turned to face her, a small smile sewn onto his face.

"Hello, Alex."

That voice, the one that haunted her every thought.

She almost believed that the ability to speak had been stolen from her, until she pushed herself against her barriers.

"Who are you?" The question she'd asked the faceless illusion over and over in her mind, so many times that she had lost count.

Several tick-tocks, filled in with sickeningly slow heartbeats, passed until he answered.

"My name is Martin Summers."

A/N: Bloody Summers...!

Lyrics from Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper and Rob Hyman.

If you enjoyed / are intrigued / would like to venture a guess at what the hell might happen, I'd love to hear it :)