This is my first fic. It is completely AU, taking place about 8 years after series 4 ended. Three of the main scenes for this story popped into my head and would not let me go until I wrote them down. That led to more, and well, for better or worse, here we go.

I don't own Skins. Wish I did, though, especially series 3 and 4.

Chapter 1 – The Beginning

Naomi

I am tired. So bloody tired I can hardly think, let alone move.

I am crashed on my bunk with a bottle of vodka. I haven't even managed to get my boots off. I haven't slept properly in days, and today has been total shit. It started out fairly well – waking up in an actual bed, in relative safety. But that didn't last long.

We got tossed a mission on short-notice. Someone spotted an old factory that looked promising and we were the only team available to check it out to see if it could be brought back online. It wasn't something that we would normally get tasked to do, but what the hell, it broke the boredom.

The mission started out fine. It was nice to be moving again to be honest. We've been base-bound for a little while, mostly because of me. Command is a bit pissed at me right now - something to do with too much alcohol and not enough sleep. Blah, blah, di fucking blah.

Anyway, twenty minutes into the first recon foray all hell broke loose. My team walked right into a guerrilla patrol and we found ourselves in the middle of a complete shit storm. We were in real trouble right away, out-gunned and out-numbered. Again. It was the first time we caught fire since… the first time in a while. We got out of it by the skin of our teeth but not without casualties. Freddy, our Comms Tech, got hit and went down hard. Cook did his hero thing and threw Freds over his shoulder, getting him out of the line of fire. Effy dove right in after them and did her wizard-like medic routine and probably saved Feddy's leg. JJ started laying down cover fire. And me? I froze. Yup, for a good 5 seconds. I snapped out of it before it cost us, but still. Fuck.

Once I could move again I did what I always do: calculated the options, developed a plan, fired with precision, and took out the bad guys. Just like usual. Just like every time but once. I try not to think about that day, so of course I think about it all the time. The more I try to forget it the more I remember every detail. So now, even though I haven't had more than a few minutes sleep at a time for more than a week, I still can't close my eyes. Because if I close my eyes I am right back there, living it all over again, and I can't take that. So, here I lie with my bottle of vodka.

Fact: Oblivion is my friend, and right now finding it is the only thing that matters. Fact: If I drink enough I will eventually find oblivion. Ergo ipso facto: It's time to get munted. I take a deep, hard pull on the bottle and settle in for another long night.

XXX

Emily

Everything changed about 8 years ago. I was in college then, second form. I don't really understand what happened - something about solar flares, geomagnetic storms and whatever-the-fuck. Whatever caused it, communications and electronics were knocked out for about 6 months all over the world: no radio, no internet, no t.v., not even twitter. Banking systems, power grids, water filtration – none of it worked anymore. GPS and phone systems were all gone in a matter of days. With almost no warning at all, we were living in a world where nothing worked. All the fancy IPads and Blackberries that people had thought were so important to each and every waking minute were basically turned into really expensive paperweights. Katie, my twin sister and wanna-be WAG pretty much lost her shit over that.

We went from being the most technologically advanced society in history to total chaos. Rioting, looting, and violence were everywhere. Borders stopped meaning anything because they couldn't be enforced. I had always thought that would be a good thing, you know - John Lennon, "Imagine there's no countries… nothing to kill or die for" and all that. But it turned out that the lost borders just meant that the bloodshed had no bounds. The killing and dying were endless, not ended.

By the time the electronics systems started coming back online bit by bit the world had changed almost completely. I think of it in terms of Before and After, now. The old boundaries and borders no longer apply. The old rules and laws no longer apply.

Katie and I are part of the Bristol militia. The militias work along-side the organized military, or at least what's left of it. It's an uneasy alliance, but it's better than no alliance at all. We help protect the outer edge of the British buffer zone, below the Liverpool-Sheffield line. Being on an island, we are safe from the worst of the mainland conflicts. But we still have to battle the guerrillas - mostly ex drug lords and gang leaders who started carving out fiefdoms as soon as the old government fell. And we still have to fight against attacks from what used to be Europe. Things are better now than they were just after the Crash, but nothing like they were Before.

Bristol is almost empty now. A lot of the buildings are destroyed. There was a huge fire here in the first months after the Crash. It burned for days. With no fire services left, and no pumping stations to fill the water lines, there was no way to put it out. Other buildings, especially stores, warehouses and other places that used to hold useful supplies look like the battle fields they turned into. Some walls are down completely, some are riddled with bullet holes. The glass is shattered out of most of the storefronts. Even the neighbourhood where I grew up is almost unrecognizable to me now.

Not every city in England looks like this. A lot have been abandoned because it is just too hard to try get enough food to feed a lot of people in one place. But some actually made it through pretty well, especially farther North. Others have been partly rebuilt with whatever supplies could be found. Bristol wasn't so lucky. Most people who lived here Before have moved North, beyond the buffer line, so that they are more protected from raids and attacks from across the Channel. That's where my parents and brother are now. At least I hope it is. They set out for there over a year ago, and we haven't heard from them since. I think about them every day. It's killing Katie, the not knowing. Still, we're luckier than most. We all survived the first years of the Crash. A lot of people didn't.

"Will you hurry up, Bitch! I'm going to be late."

Ah, Katie. Could you possibly be more of a cow? Yes, we are running late, but no, it's not my fucking fault. We just arrived at the new base. Katie is joining the decryption and strategic analysis team here, and I'll be working Comms on one of the recon teams. Nothing in our life from Before could have predicted any of this. I mean, the thought of Katie doing anything more strategic than planning a shopping trip used to be hard to imagine. But it turns out that she has a knack for decryption. She really is good at it, and she takes it more seriously than anything she ever did before. I'm proud of her. And better yet, I think she's finally proud of herself.

When my family was on the run during the early days of the Crash, I discovered that have a natural feel for surveillance and I can pull signals out of pretty much anything that will transmit and receive. The surveillance bit isn't that surprising, really. I grew up watching everyone and everything, and trying to move around without being noticed. That's how I survived being Katie's sister after all. It's also how I was able to watch girls once I realized I was gay. Yes, I like girls. I like their rosy lips, their hard nipples, bums, soft eyes... I like tits and fanny. A lot, if I'm honest, like, obsessively.

I used to hide that part of myself. It was just easier that way especially with how Katie reacted the first time I tried to tell her. "You're not gay, you're just stupid." I mean, seriously, who says shit like that? She's come around since then, but she really was a bitch about it for a while. Anyway, I don't hide that part of me any more. Life is too short, and I like women way too much to bother holding back.

Katie found out about her new assignment a while back, but I just got my orders a couple of days ago. One of the communications guys got shot, and since Katie was coming here anyway, the powers that be decided that it made sense to send me here to replace him. Katie has been doing my head in complaining ever since we first hit the road. The driver wouldn't let her load more than two bags on the Rover because we needed the space for the extra gas cans. That meant she had to leave three behind – three suitcases full of clothes that she will probably never see again. She just about went ballistic over it, a classic Katie Fucking Fitch freak-out. If the situation had been different it would have been really funny. Actually, scratch that, it was really funny. I don't know what she thinks goes on at this base, but I don't think that many changes of clothes or shoes are really going to be necessary.

Because of all the arguing with the driver that she did we got a late start, and we had to take it slow on what's left of the roads. It's amazing how fast a road will fall apart when there is no way to try to repair it. Between the craters, the crumbling shoulders and the detours around downed trees and buildings, the trip, which would have taken all of an hour Before, took us almost six today - six uncomfortable and very nerve-wracking hours. Even though this area is under Militia control now, you never know when you might run into a guerilla patrol. And it's not like they stop and say Hi before opening fire, either. I rode shotgun, and I can promise you that I kept the Rover's L7 machine gun ready to fire the whole time.

Anyway, we finally made it, but Katie is running late to her first meeting and she is not happy about it. We are still at the clearance gate, getting vetted for access to the main part of the base. This may not be a "regular army", but they still love paperwork. No matter how much else has changed since before the Crash, there is always paperwork.

Finally we get through to the main access area. A good looking guy with an African French accent greets Katie. "Hello, I am Thomas. I am so happy to meet you." I hear him tell her that he is part of her new team and he is there to show her to her room so she can drop her bags, after which he will escort her to the meeting. He's quite charming, even takes a moment to smile warmly at me and nod his head in greeting. I can tell Katie thinks he's cute because she takes off after him without even saying good-bye to me, hips swaying so hard from side to side that it's hard to believe she can actually get any forward motion going at all.

Just as I'm collecting my bags, and trying to figure out where I am supposed to go next, I hear a quiet voice next to me: "Interesting." I look around and see a tall, slender brunette with steel-blue eyes looking at me. She is wearing undone shin-high combat boots, and the most skin tight fatigues I have ever seen under a black tee shirt that looks like it could double as the world's shortest dress. She is gorgeous. Sex on two legs-type gorgeous, and my first impression is that she could be very, very dangerous.

"Emily Fitch?" she says.

"That's me."

"Sweet. Follow me."

And with that she turns on her heel and starts walking down the hallway to my left. She doesn't even look back to see if I am following her, but of course I do. After a few minutes, she stops in front of a door and enters the room. The room is small, but neat. It has a bed, and night stand and not much else. The walls are a pretty gross green, and the paint is peeling like it is everywhere these days, but there is a little window and the glass is still in one piece, so I'm happy. "This is your room. Washrooms are down the hall to the left. Communal. If you have your own soap you should bring it. I'm Effy. I'm on your new team. I'm supposed to give you a tour."

And with that, she walks out of the room. Once again, she doesn't check to see if I am following, she just assumes. But if she's my tour guide, I need to catch up. I've never been to this base before and have no idea where anything is. I would really rather not get lost on my first day.

The tour is an odd experience. I have never met anyone who uses as few words as Effy does. She just walks along in silence, and then occasionally points and says, "your sister's room" (it's across the hall from mine), "kitchen", or "mess hall", or "briefing room". "Garden". Now that one interests me. I used to love to garden. I know this one will be for veggies for the kitchens and not flowers, but it would be great if I can get my hands into some dirt again. Effy carries on to show me the armoury, electronics repair lab, laundry, and various other important places. By the end of the tour I am completely confused. I must look it, too.

"Don't worry. You'll figure it out in a couple of days. In the meantime, stick with me. My room is beside yours. Dinner is at 18:00. There is a team meeting tomorrow morning at 10. Do you drink?" The question takes me completely by surprise. I stumble for a second trying to make sense of the change in subject before saying yes. I mean, obviously I drink.

"Good. 10 pm. Be ready." We are back at my room. She walks away from me and goes through the next door up the hall without looking back or saying good-bye. Well, okay then.

I realize a few minutes later as I'm starting to unpack that other than her first name I don't know anything about Effy, and she hasn't told me anything about anyone else on the team either. I don't know what we are doing at 10, or what I should wear. I really don't know much more than I did when I arrived except that it is going to take me for fucking ever to learn my way around this base. Fuck me. This is shaping up to be an interesting ride.

XXX

I hope no one is too attached to Freddie, because that is it for him. Major thanks go out to Blue Eyed Frog and Miss Maurauder, who gave me some great feedback and encouragement. The Latin is for BE F. She did it first and better, but still, it's the thought, etc. To be clear, all mistakes are mine. Happy to receive constructive feedback, so if you feel so inclined, please review.