fic: no stranger to you and me (ashes to ashes)
Posting fic on a Friday, because that's how I roll.
TITLE: no stranger to you and me
FANDOM: Ashes to Ashes
SPOILERS: Brief mention of something from 2x01.
RATING: G, *sigh*.
SUMMARY: Here's the thing, they're kind of going crazy.
Notes: Comment fic for daygloparker that got a little bit long. Read the one she wrote for me first, since it IS BRILLIANT AND ATE MY BRAIN, and this is a continuation of it. The unofficial sequel, IF YOU WILL. Even then, I'm not guaranteeing the making of sense here, really.
Alex stands in front of her mirror.
“Go home,” she whispers.
Nothing.
~
Red bird in the morning, copper take warning?
No, that isn’t right, thinks Alex. Her dreams are remarkably lucid of late.
Ironic.
Alex parts leaves with her hands as the sky turns from crimson to blue, from blue to black. She comes to a clearing as the moon rises.
Black sky, white moon. Red bird flies away.
Alex wakes to birdsong outside her window.
~
Here’s the thing: they’re kind of going crazy.
CID hums with activity. She and Gene are in his office, staring at the spot where Sam Tyler was standing not two seconds ago.
Gene mops his forehead, Alex pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Luigi’s?”
“Haven’t you got anything here?”
Alex slumps over the ancient computer, banging her head softly on her crossed arms.
“Why?” she begins, and realizes there’s nowhere lucid that question can go. “Why. God--”
Gene pulls a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer and slams it down so hard the blinds shake, ripple in the sunlight.
~
Molly this time, racing through the trees.
Leaves and branches blur as Alex runs, calling out. Her jacket snags and she staggers, mud splattering her white boots as she falls on her hands and knees.
“Mum?”
Alex looks up. Molly, in her nightdress, holds a red balloon.
“Please don’t let go,” Alex whispers, dread lacing her heart. “Please, Molls.”
The balloon flies into the sky. When Alex looks back down, her daughter is gone.
She wakes sobbing, and late for work.
~
“The thing is, Gene,” she says, “if I have to go, I--”
He grabs her by the collar and kisses her so hard she sees flares of white light behind her eyelids from lack of oxygen.
~
Autumn comes to London in torrents of red leaves and a chill in the air.
Alex hasn’t dreamt in weeks.
~
Tuesday morning briefing, DCI Hunt and DI Drake are pointedly ignoring the same corner of the room.
“Anyone see the lights flicker just then?” asks Chris.
“No, baby,” says Shaz. “Do you think we should get your eyes checked?”
Ray snorts. “This place is going to pieces. Did anyone ever sort out what happened to the photocopier?”
Gene has the effrontery to look smug. Alex blushes. No one notices.
No one notices anything. Isn’t that why they’re stuck together like two shipwrecked victims in a sinking lifeboat?
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, shut up,” Alex snaps, and the room goes awkwardly quiet.
~
On her way home, Alex nearly collides with a woman. She mumbles an apology, keeps her eyes lowered, not in the mood for reassurances of no harm done.
Red dress, she registers two steps later, and something wordless clicks in her mind. She whirls around, but the woman vanishes around a corner before Alex can do anything.
Great, she thinks. Two bloody stalkers.
~
“You’re not taking her.”
“You’re pissed, Gene.”
“You’re not.”
“Do you see me moving? Oh, don’t answer that. Pass the bottle.”
~
A man dies in front of them.
Except he doesn’t.
A flash of white light, the sound of sirens. Alex remembers, feels it like a twinge under her skin. She screams, “Get down!” and the bullets fly over their heads.
Alex rises shakily, stumbles out of the alleyway. Gene pulls the man off the ground from where he’d tackled him and shoves him away.
“Bolly!” She doesn’t turn around. He grabs her arm. “Bolly!”
I’m in control, she thinks, but the confusion in his eyes nearly breaks her into pieces.
~
The hem of a red dress, disappearing around a corner. Sam’s face in her mirror. She used to think Gene had answers for her; she will satisfy herself with knowing she isn’t the only one with questions. They circle round and round, get absolutely nowhere, work their jobs like their lives depend on it. Which is to say: not much changes at all.
He leaves his coat in her flat and she wraps herself up in it, waiting.
~
One bad day in a continuing series of bad days. In a pub as far away from Luigi’s, from CID, from Gene as she can manage, Alex clinks the ice in her glass, trying to make it chip.
A woman walks in, wearing red.
Alex levels her eyes at her, then looks away, slugging down the rest of her drink. “Oh, go away, Annie,” she mutters.
The woman in the red dress pauses, and then Alex hears a low chuckle. “He’s such a stubborn man, the Guv.”
Alex’s eyes widen as she turns to stare at this figment of hers, which isn’t running away, or vanishing, or doing anything but standing there, smiling. All of a sudden, Alex is finding it difficult to breathe. “Wh-what?”
Annie Cartwright laughs musically, shakes her head. “Nothing. Just. Figures you’d be the same. Always thinking it's only about you.”
“You…you’re…”
Annie takes Alex’s hand, presses her trembling fingers to the inside of her wrist. “Proof enough?”
Alex sighs. “Annie--”
She squeezes her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Alex. Psychologist’s honor.”
Alex wishes she could believe her.
Annie tugs her up from her stool. “Come on,” she says, finally letting go of her hand. “You’re needed.” She pulls Alex’s jacket from the stool and hands it to her, then moves towards the door.
“You coming?”
Alex shrugs on her jacket, because, really, what else can she do?
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”
~
The pavement outside is cramped with people, loud. Annie tugs Alex closer to shout-speak into her ear, then smiles, and vanishes into the crowd.
Alex pauses, looking after her.
Then she turns, and heads for home.
~
Alex leans in the doorway to Gene's office.
He looks up. "What?"
"Annie sends her love."
He blinks.
"And she said to tell you: Sam says hello."
***
TITLE: no stranger to you and me
FANDOM: Ashes to Ashes
SPOILERS: Brief mention of something from 2x01.
RATING: G, *sigh*.
SUMMARY: Here's the thing, they're kind of going crazy.
Notes: Comment fic for daygloparker that got a little bit long. Read the one she wrote for me first, since it IS BRILLIANT AND ATE MY BRAIN, and this is a continuation of it. The unofficial sequel, IF YOU WILL. Even then, I'm not guaranteeing the making of sense here, really.
Alex stands in front of her mirror.
“Go home,” she whispers.
Nothing.
~
Red bird in the morning, copper take warning?
No, that isn’t right, thinks Alex. Her dreams are remarkably lucid of late.
Ironic.
Alex parts leaves with her hands as the sky turns from crimson to blue, from blue to black. She comes to a clearing as the moon rises.
Black sky, white moon. Red bird flies away.
Alex wakes to birdsong outside her window.
~
Here’s the thing: they’re kind of going crazy.
CID hums with activity. She and Gene are in his office, staring at the spot where Sam Tyler was standing not two seconds ago.
Gene mops his forehead, Alex pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Luigi’s?”
“Haven’t you got anything here?”
Alex slumps over the ancient computer, banging her head softly on her crossed arms.
“Why?” she begins, and realizes there’s nowhere lucid that question can go. “Why. God--”
Gene pulls a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer and slams it down so hard the blinds shake, ripple in the sunlight.
~
Molly this time, racing through the trees.
Leaves and branches blur as Alex runs, calling out. Her jacket snags and she staggers, mud splattering her white boots as she falls on her hands and knees.
“Mum?”
Alex looks up. Molly, in her nightdress, holds a red balloon.
“Please don’t let go,” Alex whispers, dread lacing her heart. “Please, Molls.”
The balloon flies into the sky. When Alex looks back down, her daughter is gone.
She wakes sobbing, and late for work.
~
“The thing is, Gene,” she says, “if I have to go, I--”
He grabs her by the collar and kisses her so hard she sees flares of white light behind her eyelids from lack of oxygen.
~
Autumn comes to London in torrents of red leaves and a chill in the air.
Alex hasn’t dreamt in weeks.
~
Tuesday morning briefing, DCI Hunt and DI Drake are pointedly ignoring the same corner of the room.
“Anyone see the lights flicker just then?” asks Chris.
“No, baby,” says Shaz. “Do you think we should get your eyes checked?”
Ray snorts. “This place is going to pieces. Did anyone ever sort out what happened to the photocopier?”
Gene has the effrontery to look smug. Alex blushes. No one notices.
No one notices anything. Isn’t that why they’re stuck together like two shipwrecked victims in a sinking lifeboat?
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, shut up,” Alex snaps, and the room goes awkwardly quiet.
~
On her way home, Alex nearly collides with a woman. She mumbles an apology, keeps her eyes lowered, not in the mood for reassurances of no harm done.
Red dress, she registers two steps later, and something wordless clicks in her mind. She whirls around, but the woman vanishes around a corner before Alex can do anything.
Great, she thinks. Two bloody stalkers.
~
“You’re not taking her.”
“You’re pissed, Gene.”
“You’re not.”
“Do you see me moving? Oh, don’t answer that. Pass the bottle.”
~
A man dies in front of them.
Except he doesn’t.
A flash of white light, the sound of sirens. Alex remembers, feels it like a twinge under her skin. She screams, “Get down!” and the bullets fly over their heads.
Alex rises shakily, stumbles out of the alleyway. Gene pulls the man off the ground from where he’d tackled him and shoves him away.
“Bolly!” She doesn’t turn around. He grabs her arm. “Bolly!”
I’m in control, she thinks, but the confusion in his eyes nearly breaks her into pieces.
~
The hem of a red dress, disappearing around a corner. Sam’s face in her mirror. She used to think Gene had answers for her; she will satisfy herself with knowing she isn’t the only one with questions. They circle round and round, get absolutely nowhere, work their jobs like their lives depend on it. Which is to say: not much changes at all.
He leaves his coat in her flat and she wraps herself up in it, waiting.
~
One bad day in a continuing series of bad days. In a pub as far away from Luigi’s, from CID, from Gene as she can manage, Alex clinks the ice in her glass, trying to make it chip.
A woman walks in, wearing red.
Alex levels her eyes at her, then looks away, slugging down the rest of her drink. “Oh, go away, Annie,” she mutters.
The woman in the red dress pauses, and then Alex hears a low chuckle. “He’s such a stubborn man, the Guv.”
Alex’s eyes widen as she turns to stare at this figment of hers, which isn’t running away, or vanishing, or doing anything but standing there, smiling. All of a sudden, Alex is finding it difficult to breathe. “Wh-what?”
Annie Cartwright laughs musically, shakes her head. “Nothing. Just. Figures you’d be the same. Always thinking it's only about you.”
“You…you’re…”
Annie takes Alex’s hand, presses her trembling fingers to the inside of her wrist. “Proof enough?”
Alex sighs. “Annie--”
She squeezes her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Alex. Psychologist’s honor.”
Alex wishes she could believe her.
Annie tugs her up from her stool. “Come on,” she says, finally letting go of her hand. “You’re needed.” She pulls Alex’s jacket from the stool and hands it to her, then moves towards the door.
“You coming?”
Alex shrugs on her jacket, because, really, what else can she do?
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”
~
The pavement outside is cramped with people, loud. Annie tugs Alex closer to shout-speak into her ear, then smiles, and vanishes into the crowd.
Alex pauses, looking after her.
Then she turns, and heads for home.
~
Alex leans in the doorway to Gene's office.
He looks up. "What?"
"Annie sends her love."
He blinks.
"And she said to tell you: Sam says hello."
***