Ashes to mars

We meet again

Bolly.

It was the last thing she'd heard. She fell back on to the cold ground; the pain exploded in her gut, felt it speed through her body tangling her in a aurora of discomfort and strain.

All he said was Bolly and all she could think was, moron. And he was a moron for not believing her, for not trusting her, for falling for that Irish tart and most of all for shooting without having a clear shot.

She supposed they'd call an ambulance, but as she drifted in and out of consciousness and the darkness began to clutch her in tighter grips. Finally it took over, Alex couldn't help but wish it hadn't ended quite like this.
With she and Gene at each other's throats, with her dying in this world, that stupid bastard.

Opening her eyes, she wasn't sure what she was going to see.
But to Alex's disappointment, it wasn't Molly standing over her, nor even a doctor, and she was still on cold ground. However it didn't seem normal, not that anything was round here.

Blinking against the light that obnoxiously shone down on her, there was definitely a breeze in the air.

"You alright, love?" A tramp was next to her on a bench.

Swallowed, blinking again, her hands flying down to her stomach. She looked down to find nothing, no blood, the pain gone.
"I've just been..."
What? Shot? She closed her eyes as the déjà vu almost overwhelmed her. "God." She muttered hands now holding her head.

The tramp smiled at her, as he hovered awkwardly. He seemed friendly enough. "If you insist, but most people call me Michael." He said with a small chuckle at his own joke.

Alex licked her lips thoughtfully, frowning at his accent. "Do you know where I am, Michael?

"In a park." Michael's chuckles went on. "Though why you're lying down I don't know." Shaking his head and looking up to the sky "looks like rain" he remarked.

She blinked, suddenly taking in her surroundings, - grass, trees, it certainly looked like a park. She smiled grimly, accepting the hand up he offered her. "It's not as if my day could get any worse. Do you know what park this might be?"

"Albert Park."

"Right." She looked around again, hoping to suddenly recognise something. "Albert Park in..."

"Salford."

"Salford." She repeated dumbly, before her eyes widened. " - Salford, Manchester?!"

"Did you bash your head?" Michael asked, his smile starting to wane to concern. "Would explain why you're on the ground."

"Yes, it would explain that, wouldn't it?" Alex as she laughed nervously. She wasn't really paying attention to Michael, she couldn't believe it; she didn't understand any of it.
"It would explain why I'm asking for the year, too." Taking the idea of a head injury to the next level, but not making it in anyway believable, still looking round.

This time Michael barked a laugh, but he quickly frowned at the expectant expression on the barmy woman in front of him. "You're not joking." She shook her head. He sniffed, puzzled. "It's 1975, March 3rd. A Monday, if you really want to know."

"1975." Alex whispered, swallowing the bile that was beginning to rise in her throat.
She closed her eyes again, willing herself not to panic. 1975, Manchester. What the hell was going on? Shot again and flung somewhere else in time? Surely that's against that whole time space implode in algae
"Perhaps if I get myself shot for a third time, I'll be able to go back to the swinging sixties," She joked aloud, even as her eyes filled with tears. "- could be fun."