A Darkness Within…
An A2A fic

Okay, this one just came to me in the early hours of this morning. No, I hadn't had a cheese sandwich before I went to bed, neither had I been drinking. I'm very nearly tee-total, but only because two alcoholic drinks makes me sleepy and have a tendency to fall asleep on the shoulders of good friends and the occasional complete stranger.
Ahem.
So, moving on - obviously the man this fic is talking about first is up to no good. I don't know and can't figure out his motives just quite yet, but please, it's only been two episodes into the final season - give a girl time!
This story is a bit, well, earthier than I usually write, but I appear to be a guest of the Dark Gothic/Film Noir Froggy Muse at the moment (see 'Your Guess Is As Good As Mine' for further evidence), so I'm just going with it.
Disclaimer time: I don't own Ashes To Ashes, any of the characters, sets, plots or actors. I have no intention of profiting by the writing of this fic, and receive no financial reward for doing so.
Oooh - reviews would be nice. Thanks for stopping by and reading. I hope you like it.
Cue A2A theme tune, aaaaaaaaaaand roll:

A DARKNESS WITHIN.....

She'd been working up to this all evening.

It had started quite subtly at first, then becoming more blatant the more red wine she imbibed.

At least, that's the way it seemed to him.

A casual conversation when he sat a chair over from her at the bar had started it.

She had proved to be witty, amusing, and more astute than he first had reckoned.

The brains of the operation.

The time passed and he realised that, flatteringly enough, he had had her attention throughout most of the evening.

She leaned over to him not long after he had arrived, invited him to sit next to her.

'No use sitting in the dark over there, join me.'

'Would that be appropriate. DI Drake?' part hesitant, part hope in his voice.

'Surely you're the best person to say that…' she had told him, giving him a wide eyed pseudo-innocent look that clashed badly with the painted on jeans and silk shirt gaping at the neck.

So he'd moved over a seat, Luigi taking his long dark coat, and then offering him a drink.

She'd smiled at him, encouraging him to open up to her, advising him on how to handle the team better.

Little tips, thoughtfully given by an attractive, clever and beguiling woman.

And perhaps he did drink a little more than usual.

But nothing he couldn't handle.

And perhaps he made oblique references to past events that he perhaps shouldn't have.

But nothing concrete.

Nothing quotable.

Time passed by, oh so pleasantly, in her company.

Soon they were sitting opposite each other in the more secluded part of the bar.

Knees practically touching, leaning forward, mirroring each other.

She, touching at an earring.

He, checking his watch strap.

She leaning forward, her shirt now unbuttoned slightly more than a casual drink with a colleague would warrant.

He couldn't help but stare, and she noticed.

She didn't say anything, but she smiled, knowing he knew that she knew, and ordered more wine.

The rest of the bar emptied, leaving just them and Luigi tidying up.

'Time to go…' she said.

'Is that really the time?' he replied, surprised that the witching hour was almost upon them.

'Past my bedtime..' she said softly, and laying a hand on his arm, slid off the bar stool to stand beside him.

The contact made his skin burn, even through his shirt sleeve.

He looked down at her hand, clean, cool and manicured.

He looked up again, into her flashing green eyes.

He coughed.

'May I walk you home?' he asked, feeling amazed at his own bravery.

'You may. How courteous.' She told him.

He went to fetch their coats, slipping hers over her shoulders and feeling her lean against his hands.

Turning, she walked up the stairs of the bar and stood at street level, beckoning him with an enticing finger.

Like a man in a dream, he walked up the same stairs towards her.

Behind him, he heard the door slam, and the flick of the lights in Luigi's go off.

They stood looking at each other.

Then she took his hand and led him to a small quiet alley, out of sight of the street.

She leaned against the wall, and pulled him close to her.

'Alex? Is this…?' he didn't know what to do.

A lie.

He did.

But he couldn't believe this was happening.

To him.

With her.

She lifted her hand and placed a silencing finger on his lips, then traced the line of his jaw.

She leaned and whispered in his ear.

'Its whatever you want it to be.'

He was intoxicated by her perfume, her closeness, the press of her body against his.

He hesitatingly pressed his lips to her cheek, and pulled back.

She turned to face him and raised her face slightly, closing her eyes and inviting him.

Their lips met, gently at first, then more energetically.

Her mouth opened against his, and her arms went behind his head, pulling him to her, like she couldn't breathe without him.

His hands, which had been lightly around her waist, slipped into her coat and pulled her body even closer to him.

She moved, almost indecently, up against him, making his body respond in a way he couldn't control.

They stood, entwined in the dark alley as the church clocks struck midnight.

Eventually, he broke from her embrace, panting for air, and unable to think straight.

'Alex, I, er, I, well, I don't know what to say…' he tailed off.

'You don't have to say anything.' She told him.

'I'm surprised, really, I am. I had no idea…'

'Oh surely you can't have been that blind?' she told him, stroking his face and smiling at him.

'I had hoped, that in time, I mean, in the fullness of time, with the investigation over...'

'I couldn't wait that long,' she said.

'It won't go on much longer – the investigation I mean,' he said, feeling her lean against him once again, the press of her lips against his neck making him dizzy and reckless.

'I didn't think it would take you long, you are so much more clever than he knows,' she told him softly, stroking his chest and smiling at him.

'He'll be gone very soon, I promise you.' He had closed his eyes as her fingers loosened his tie and top shirt buttons, her lips moving slowing across his jawline.

'Really?' she murmured, as though she had much more important things on her mind.

'Oh yes, really. I've enough power at my hands to sway anyone to believe what I want them too.' He became breathless as she kissed him again, deeply and slowly.

'You really are so much more clever than he bargained for, that's why I've been drawn to you…' she told him.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he kissed her, pushing her back against the rough surface of the wall, inserting a knee between her legs.

She clung to him, making noises to encourage him.

'So, can I take you home?' he asked, once again gasping for breath.

She leaned against him, and told him that she'd love him to, there's nothing better she could have had in mind, but that it was too soon, too much so soon.

Another time, next time.

She didn't want to alert anyone to anything that could harm the outcome of the investigation.

She was right, he knew that.

He wished she wasn't, wished with every atom in his body.

But she was.

He kissed her again, and, straightening his shirt and tie, re-buttoning his coat against the night chill, he walked away from the alley without a backwards glance.

She watched him go, as she too straightened her clothes.

She counted to a hundred.

He wasn't coming back.

She walked the length of the alley, grateful he didn't know her exact route.

At the end of the darkness, another man waited in a car.

She smiled when she saw the vehicle, parked mostly in the dark, the bonnet catching the streetlight's feeble illumination.

The passenger door opened, and she climbed in like a cat returning home from a midnight escapade.

'So?' he asked in a rough voice, cigarette unlit in his hand.

'As we thought,' she told him, pulling down the sun visor and fixing her hair, applying a new layer of lipstick.

'He went for it then?' the voice had a note of surprise in it, barely there, but obvious to her.

She knew him too well.

'Oh yes, he did indeed. And I'm going to have some pretty bruises tomorrow morning as a result!'

The lighter flicked, lighting up the face of a man with eyes that have seen pretty much the worst a man can do to his fellow human being.

He coughed slightly, and tapped the ash into the car's ashtray, which showed signs of a long, tense wait for her.

'Never mind, Bols, I'll get you some Savlon. Can't have you marked for life, now can we?' Gene told her as he started the Audi's engine.

Alex ruefully touched the mark on her left abdomen where the bullet had struck her scant months ago.

'No, Gene, we can't. Not know we know what he intends.'

'Too bloody right.' He moved the car off, without bothering to check for other traffic.

'So, fancy a drink?'