TITLE:           Reality Dreaming
AUTHOR:          Claire
RATING:          PG-13
DISCLAIMERS:     Yeah, yeah...Thames Television and BBC...
THANKS TO:       Kel and Helen for their wonderful entries in the challenge and
                 subsequent inspiration for this... (I do hope that they don't
                 mind my *borrowing*...)
COMMENTS:        This is just a piece of *fluff* to 'Farewell to the Alistair
                 Challenge'.
FEEDBACK TO:     charlton@cobweb.com.au

=================== REALITY DREAMING ===================

// Christmas...being looked over for promotion...stake-out...desk - Meadows'
desk!...fire escape...car...mistletoe...cool night
air...ice...Jim...Jack...Steve... //

"Oi!  Oi Sarge!  Wake up.  The DCI wants to see you."

Rod's voice, breaking into his increasingly peculiar dream, was almost enough to
make Alistair fall off his chair.

"Wha?"

Alistair was still half asleep and certainly not thinking straight. Sitting up
in his chair he rubbed his eyes and tried to quash the dream he had been having.
The same dream that he appeared to have been having a lot of lately.

Rod sighed and repeated his statement as if he were talking to a five year old -
with Downs Syndrome.

"The...DCI...wants...to...see...you.  In his office.  Now."

"Okay, okay...I'm going.  There is no need to sound so patronising
Robi...er...Rod."

As Alistair got out of his chair and walked out of the office he missed the
sight of Rod's face scowling at him -- Robin indeed!  Stupid Scottish git.  He
was *never* Robin...always Batman.  The question of how Alistair may have made
this slip never entered Rod's mind -- he was too busy thinking lovingly of his
costume hanging in the wardrobe at home...

There were a couple of reasons that Alistair did not want to see the DCI. The
part of the dream on the fire escape was part of it, but that paled in
comparison to the bit that took place on the DCI's desk.  He didn't know whether
he would be able to keep a straight face.  He made a quick mental note to keep
his eyes fixed just above Jack's head.

Unfortunately just as Jack answered his tentative knock on the door, Jim
happened to walk past and grin at Alistair...

Leaving Alistair all flustered.

"I said, come in..."

Ignoring the urge to bolt, Alistair gritted his teeth and entered the DCI's
office.  His mental note died a quick death as he traitorous mind flashed an
image of what happened on the desk in his dream...

Alistair felt like he was having a panic attack.  His pulse rate quickened and
he felt as though he couldn't breathe.

"Are you all right?  Here, take a seat...that's better...let me loosen your
tie.."

"No!"

Alistair had allowed himself to be manoeuvred into a chair but he drew the line
at Jack actually having physical contact with him..

Not now.  Not after that dream.  Dreaming reality - never.

The DCI stood back from Alistair and eyed him curiously.  It wasn't as though
Jack had needed any more proof...this just sealed it, really.

"Look, Alistair, please don't take this the wrong way...it's just that in the
last few months you have been acting rather strangely.  You look like you have
lost weight and you appear not to be able to make eye contact with a lot of your
fellow officers... Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Damn.  Alistair thought he had kept all this under control.  However, listening
to the DCI proved that this obviously wasn't the case.

"Is it stress?"

Alistair could only nod forlornly at the DCI.  It wasn't exactly the truth but
it was all he felt like admitting to.  Admitting that he had been having lurid
dreams about Jim Carver and Meadows' office wasn't really an option.  It would
probably only result in getting himself sectioned.

"Okay.  I thought as much.  So I am giving you a fortnight's leave.  Get your
coat, go home and relax.  I am hoping that when you return you will be able to
return my eye contact."

"Yes Sir.  I'm sure I'll be better then."

With that Alistair got up and walked back to the CID office.  Once there he
grabbed his coat and without saying anything to anyone, turned around and
hurried off.  Just missing a collision with Don Beech as he entered the office
in good cheer (his two o'clock dead cert had actually turned out to be just
that...).

"What's up with Alistair?  He looked like death warmed up."

Jim looked up from his mountain of paper work and shrugged his shoulders.

"I dunno, but I walked past him  just before he went into see the DCI and I
thought he was gonna faint as he looked at me.

Don laughed, "You just must have that affect on him..."

~*~*~*~

Alistair hurried through the station hoping against hope that he didn't run into
any other officers. This hope particularly applied to Steve Loxt...

Oh shite.

Why does this have to happen to me, Alistair thought as he desperately searched
for an escape route.  No joy.  He had no choice but to walk directly between
Steve and Dave Quinnan as they made their way down the corridor towards him.

The best plan he could come up with in the short expanse of time was to keep his
eyes firmly fixed to the ground.  No temptation that way because Alistair knew
from experience that if he were to look at Steve he wouldn't be seeing him in
uniform...and he'd probably lose it...

"Hi Sarge..."

// Oh God.  Please don't speak to me. //

Alistair could only mumble something unintelligible as he pushed his way through
the two uniformed officers.  Leaving them to stare blankly after him as they
watched how he picked up speed until he was all but jogging out of the office.

"What's his problem?"

"I have no idea, Dave.  He was fine the other night on the stake-out..."

"Must be stress..."

Seemingly out of nowhere another officer appeared and joined up with Steve and
Dave.

"Who's stressed?"

Without a seconds hesitation the pair of them chorused in unison, "Sod off Reg."

With Dave adding, "It's nothing to do with you..."

Reg didn't even blink an eyelid at the rudeness of his colleagues.  He'd
expected nothing less.

"It has so got something to do with me...and you should be concerned too. If an
officer is stressed it could have a detrimental effect on all of us. Imagine
if..."

"Okay, Reg.  You're right - as always - we should be concerned, and it is for
that reason that I am going to tell you that it is Nick Slater.  Nick's feeling
very stressed at the moment, so why don't you go and counsel him?"

Reg was too busy heading off to find Nick that he missed both the deadpan
expression on Steve's face as he shared this piece of fiction, and the smirk on
Dave's face.

"You're a bastard aren't you?"

"Aaah, Reg deserves it..."

"And Nick?"

"What do you think?"

The pair continued on their way to the canteen.  Alistair's strange behaviour
already forgotten.

~*~*~*~

Alistair sighed as he searched through his pockets for his front door keys. He
was thankful to be finally home.  It had felt as though he was never going to
get out of the station in one piece.

He had only just located the keys when the door opened before him and Alistair
found himself staring at the pyjama clad vision of his lover.

What an unexpected surprise.  A pleasant surprise.  A *glorious* surprise.

Shutting the door behind him, Alistair smiled for the first time in ages.

"I thought I heard somebody at the front door.  What are you doing home?"

"I've been given a fortnight's leave...it's a long story.  What are *you* doing
here?"

"I've decided to leave Cambridge and just happened to hear of a DI position at
Barton Street.  The interview was today and I thought I'd surprise you...  Come
on...come back to bed with me and tell me the long story...I've missed you, you
know..."

Michael Connor smiled happily at Alistair, before kissing him quickly on the
lips.  He picked up Alistair's left arm and started to lead him up the stairs.

"I've missed you too.  Two months is a long time to be apart.  You would not
believe the dreams I've been having..."

"Try me.  Better still, *demonstrate* for me..."

Alistair had already decided that was a perfect idea before they even reached
the bedroom...

~end~