It was so late, her eyes were becoming tired at heavy, her mouth was dry and her head was so confused. Everything was so strange in 1981, everything worked differently and the people… well, the people were complete Neanderthals. Everything was significant though, that was something Alex had said to herself every night since she had bee blasted back to this weird place. Anything that happened had to be connected to her in someway, a piece to the puzzle she needed to solve, the key to getting back home to Molly. Thinking about Molly made her stomach ache, her head split, every amount of terrible pain. The thought of being away from her daughter for so long filled her mind with such sorrow, how could she live without her? She had to get back to Molly, get to that birthday party, and blow out those candles. Determination would set her on her course back to 2008, where the people loved her and her job was completely secure. Back to Evan and all the other little things she missed.

But how would Alex cope if she ever did get back home? Would she ever forget those faces, those people, the time and places she'd visited? Sam hadn't coped very well at all, his mind had been weak. He'd committed suicide… he'd not been able to confront his fears. Alex knew that she was stronger than that. She would be strong enough to get back, strong enough to return to normal life, strong enough to leave those people behind…

She would miss them, even if they were figments. Ray could be so obnoxious, but also sweet on the inside. Chris was funny, kind, caring, really sensitive. Shaz was almost like a sister, so daring and imaginative, full of hidden intelligence. And Gene… well, Gene was simply that. Gene Hunt. The Sheriff. The most insane constrict of them all, and yet the one that Alex feared she would miss the most. Just his face made her fall into a pit of different emotions, happiness, sorrow, anger, deep regret…

She would not be able to live without them either.

Maybe they would say with her, in her dreams, when she fell asleep. After all, they were her imagination, even if she'd stolen them. They were her bloody figments, and she would keep them forever.

*****

"Murder?" Alex looked for confirmation.

Although, she really didn't need it. The photos placed under her nose by Ray sort of gave away that it wasn't some elaborate hoax her mind was kidding her with. It never was.

The photo showed a man in his late twenties or so, sort of ordinary looking, a stab wound aching into his chest. There was also a blow to the head, a blunt object maybe? A hammer, candleholder, vase… Alex tried not to sting her mind with too much analysis. Her own situation was enough to kill her.

"Looks like a mugging." Ray pointed out, dropping the ash of his cigarette onto them insensitively.

"Has the body been identified?" Alex asked, putting the pictures onto her desk. "Any relatives, or…"

"Yeah, his mam dropped by the morgue," Chris put in with an air of calm. "Said he was called Lewis Trafford, worked up at old factory grounds. Salesman."

"Salesman?"

"That's what she said."

"Okay." Alex sighed and circled round her desk. "Nice and precise, then."

She exhaled loudly whilst fiddling with the buttons of her jacket, her heels clacking against the shiny CID floors.

"Where are you going?" Ray asked, frowning.

"To see the body. Mr Trafford." She called back over her shoulder.

"Why would you wanna see that?"

"Because…" She turned slightly, rolling her eyes. "I want to see if there's anything you might have missed – I'm not saying you lot are incompetent, but I need to see him for myself."

"Incompetent?" Ray repeated slowly.

"It means," Alex's voice was almost incoherent by now. "That you're bloody rubbish!"

*****

Alex was in the morgue, staring down at the dead man in front of her, the stab wound screaming out at her, the head injury asking to be analysed. It was so difficult to think right now, her head was hurting so much. The bullet. Aching, pain, agony. Dying.

Alex refused to believe that she could possibly die after all of this pointless journey. How could she? It wasn't impossible for people to survive a shot to the head (although highly unlikely). She might soon wake up, perhaps when she least suspects it, and find her beautiful daughter smiling down at her, the candles ready, still burning like her soul, her passion for freedom…

"What are you doing here, Bolly-Knickers?"

The gruff tone and emotionless croak was definitely that that belonged to Gene Hunt, her boss. She looked up, her train of thought heading into a wreck as his face entered her eye line.

"Um…" She suddenly didn't know what to say, he always did that to her. "Uh… just, checking up on this poor victim. Lewis, I believe."

"And I believe," Gene sniped back. "That you told Ray he was, what was it… oh, that's right. 'Bloody rubbish'."

"No, I said that was what incompetent meant…"

"And you called him incomp… incom… bloody rubbish."

"No!" Alex breathed out to calm herself. "No, I said that I wasn't calling him rubbish, I was… I was just trying to explain my reasons for coming here, and… oh, whatever."
"What?" Gene narrowed his eyes. It was only when Alex didn't answer that he softened slightly in his features.

"So, uh…" He began. "What can you see that we can't?"

"Nothing, yet." She creased her forehead. "I'm not saying that I even will see something, I just wanted to look for myself. Is that allowed in this messed up place, or is it banned by the Big Book of Bad Bolly? Top ten things you can never do!"

"You're getting mouthy." He didn't raise his voice once.

Alex didn't notice this. She wasn't paying much attention to him anymore, just trying to figure out why the man may have died. After all, that was what was most important right now, wasn't it? But who exactly was Lewis Trafford? Why was he killed? Did this have any significance to her return to 2008? I certainly didn't seem so right now. It just seemed… normal. A normal CID day. No parents, no bombs, no blast from the past. No clown. This, she thought, was very strange. Usually by now, that damn awful clown would pop up from no where and tell her that she was dead, tell her that she would never see her daughter again. Sometimes, the most scary thing it would do was simply nothing at all. Just stand there, staring. Doing nothing. No emotion. No life. Almost… dead.

"You still here?" Gene asked suddenly.

"God…" Alex jumped at his voice. "I wonder how Sam put up with you…"

"Sam Tyler?"

"Who else!"

Gene grunted. He didn't speak much of Tyler, only that he was a bit insane. A good copper. But all that had been left behind in Manchester, everything to do with Sam. Including this mysterious Annie, who Alex had never gotten the pleasure to meet yet. Why did they never mention her…?

"What are you thinking?" Gene asked her.

"Nothing." She covered her tracks quickly. "Nothing at all. Come on, let's get back to the station."

*****

The station was in complete and utter pandemonium. CID staff were rushing in and out, papers flying everywhere and everyone looking like something had just died.

"What the bloody hell's going on in here?" Gene yelled.

The office fell silent and one piece of paper glided to a halt near Chris's feet.

"Uh…" He stuttered. "Just, um…"

"PC Terrance has been murdered, Guv." Shaz said slowly. "We just got the news."

Alex didn't know who the hell he was, but Gene didn't look too happy. Shaz burst into tears.