Thanks to AshGurl2897 for beta-ing this once more

Chapter 12.

That morning, when Alex awoke, part of her expected to wake up in 1981, but she soon came to terms with the fact that she was indeed in 2008 when Molly had come running in her room and plonked herself onto her bed. Molly gave her the biggest hug any mother could ask for. She loved having her mum back, even if she was a little distant. Molly couldn’t understand such a difference a week in a coma could make.

“Molls, as much as I would love to crawl back under my duvet and spend the rest of the day with you, I have to get to work.”

“You don’t go to work mummy. You’re not allowed to any more,” Molly said.

“I need to do this, Molly. I am going to go and get my job back if it’s the last thing I do. I am a police officer, Molls. I always will be,” Alex stated, determined as ever. Seeing the worry in her daughter’s eyes, she asked, “what do you want for breakfast? There’s Cheerios or Coco Pops. I have to go, but Evan will be here and he’ll take you to school,” she said, getting up and walking over to her wardrobe. She had decided that 1981 was all in her head and that Evan wasn’t a murderer, and the love of her life was just a figment of her overactive imagination. She didn’t want to, but she had too. Giving a deep sigh, Molly left her mother to get ready while she went downstairs to wait for Evan arriving. Looking into her wardrobe, there was no sign of jumpsuits, off-the-shoulder tops, her leather jacket or tight jeans. All that was there were black trousers with suit jackets and shirts with sensible shoes. No bold colours or chunky jewellery, just plain drab clothes that she usually wore to work. In 2008, Alex never wore make-up, but in 1981, her blue eye shadow never left her eyelids, nor did the blusher ever leave her cheeks. She came to the conclusion that she was a boring individual in the present day. She had no social life, no friends, and nothing but her daughter and career to live for. In reality, Alex wasn’t living at all but Molly’s needs were more important to her than her own.

--

Once she had seen Molly go off to school with Evan, she went downstairs for some breakfast. In 2008, Alex didn’t bother with breakfast, but in 1981, Gene had practically bullied her into it, always commenting on how she never ate, and when she did, it was rabbit food. So now, it was second nature. While waiting for her toast, she made a cup of tea. She almost considered eating Garibaldi’s or pink wafers with it.

After breakfast, Alex made her way to the station. Upon arriving, she noticed several significant differences. Gone were the smoke filled corridors, the checkerboard ceiling, and the door that read ‘Manc Lion’. Instead, she was faced with plain grey flooring, harsh fluorescent lighting, and noisy photocopying machines. There was no sense of comradery, no joking around as seemingly sullen detectives sat at immaculate desks, each with their own computers. She’d garnered several raised eyebrows as she bee-lined for the Superintendents office to the top floor.

“Alex Drake, how may I help you? We haven’t made much progress with this case, I can’t seem to find the name Arthur Layton in any of our records.”

“It’s DI Alex Drake sir. I am more than competent at this job. I can do this, sir. Just give me the chance. I am, and always will be a police officer. Yes I may have had an accident, but that doesn’t make me incapable of doing my job. Please let me prove it to you?” Alex asked. She was not the kind of person that begged, but it seemed her only option. Without access to their records, she had no chance whatsoever of finding Arthur sodding Layton.

“Right, this is what I am going to do. I will have a word with your DCI, and he will assign you a case. If you succeed, you can have your job back. Do not fail me DI Drake,” the Super said.

“You wont be disappointed, sir. I can do this,” Alex said, closing the door behind her as a smile played across her lips.

By the time Alex reached her floor, the files had arrived on her desk. It seems she was given a small case to investigate a break-in on Sycamore Road, just a few blocks from the station. It was only a small case, but a case nonetheless. She could prove to everyone that she was fit for the job. Once she got outside, she felt the sun on her skin and decided to walk. She had after all, spent most of her time since the accident sat down. It would do her good to stretch her legs.

As she walked through the streets of London, she found herself staring at just about everything that crossed her path. Watching as gangs of teenagers wearing hooded tops were walking around while Vauxhall Corsa’s and Ford Mondeo’s drove past. Oh, and the opening of yet another Starbucks. Walking down Oxford Street, she passed shops like Topshop and Primark and she realised just how the world of London had changed. Even the charity shops had improved. Everything had changed for the better – well almost everything. Some things could never be replaced. It would be hard to find an improvement of Gene Hunt. Even a replacement seemed impossible. He was truly unique.

Once she reached the address, she was struck with a familiar building. A building that was once one of the biggest clubs of 1981. She was staring at the Blitz Club.

--

Once she was inside, her memories were awoken as she was reminded of just how magical the place was. It was just how she remembered it, only with the additions of cobwebs and graffiti. It seemed that a group of youths had broke in, and vandalised almost everything in sight. There was graffiti up the walls, cigarettes stubbed on the burgundy carpet. They had even managed to burn a huge mark on the once pristine dance floor where they had made a fire using the only remaining furniture. She remembered the times she had spent there with CID. When she bumped into Shaz dancing to Visage and Chris wearing make-up. Together, they were the perfect example of new romantics. It made her realise that it was not only her DCI that she had missed. She had missed her Shazza. Alex had certainly taken a great likening to WPC Shaz Granger. She often reminded Alex of herself when she was younger. Shaz was a free spirit. A bright, happy-go-lucky kind of girl. She was always full of life, and her loyalty ran deep. Shaz was the one person in CID that she could talk too. She was also the only person that knew about herself and Gene. It seemed Shaz felt a true connection with Alex, almost like her guardian angel. But Alex wasn’t looking over her now. Alex had left them in a potentially fatal situation; Gene was tied to a chair, Chris and Ray had been beaten and left for dead, and she doubted that no one would even know they were there, or that anyone would miss them. In a way, she had abandoned them. If she hadn’t mouthed off to Layton, she might still be there. Whether that was a good thing, she wasn’t sure. Alex was needed here, with Molly. Gene could get some of his control back, with her gone. She was doing him a favour. So why didn’t she feel good about it?

Even though The Blitz was tarnished and bare, she still felt the need dance, just for a few minutes to be free of the world she now inhabited. It was her one and only connection between her two worlds, 1981 and 2008, both authentic, tangible experiences. People may fade, their features become blurred, but the buildings that formed such memories, would remain for much longer. With this thought in mind, Alex struck a sudden interest in another building, a place where she spent almost every night with a man she adored, driving him up the wall, and endlessly flirting with him. It was somewhere that Chris had made constant fun of, a place where Ray could always find another tart to sleep with, the place where Alex had found love. During her time in 1981, it had been a refuge to the CID team.

It was a place called Luigi’s.

God, she missed it. What Alex wouldn’t give to sit there at their corner table by the mural, to be able to drink bottles of the house rubbish while listening to the insane ramblings and sexist viewpoints of her team. They had been more than just a team. They were a family, a family she missed far too much. Alex’s mind was made up; she had to be there. To sit at the bar in the little basement restaurant would feel completely surreal in 2008, but it was the best that she could think to do. Hearing the Italian music and drinking red wine would reawaken her soul, ignite the flames that had long disappeared since her return. She just hoped it was still there. Twenty-seven years was a long time for a restaurant to stay open, but in 1981, the CID team would spend almost all of their wages in there, bleeding Luigi dry of any kind of alcoholic beverage. Luigi would have gained a hell of a lot of profit from those days, but was it enough for the upkeep of the restaurant? There was only one way to find out. The Blitz case could wait. It was fairly simple afterall, nowhere near the complexity of things she had tackled in the past. Right now, she had to find Luigi’s.

--

When Alex arrived at Luigi’s, it was as though she had never left. That big gap that was missing in her life had suddenly gotten smaller, making her feel just a little bit better, that all was not lost. It still had the cheesy stereotypical Italian writing on its red canopy and the rusty banister leading down into the basement bar. It was like a whole new world down there. As much as Alex wanted to be sat by the bar, she still hesitated, afraid that it would tarnish her memories. It was the one place that she felt safe. So much had gone on in Luigi’s: endless flirting with Gene, fingers on fire, that thatcherite, steak and chips pizza, paralytic moments, and priceless advice. Just being here made them seem closer somehow. At Luigi’s everyone got on, regardless of what had happened earlier that day. They had the best and strangest conversations including cup sizes, your last moments on earth, and talks about homosexuality - to name just a few. At the station, they were colleagues, but at Luigi’s, they were friends. The best. Inhaling a deep breath, she pressed on, down the steps into the magical kingdom of all things good in the world. The place where worries and troubles were left at its entrance and nothing but good humour and alcohol resided inside. All that was important was who bought the next round. Opening the door, her eyes sparkled.

Dont forget to R&R