She sat on the floor next to the sofa and held his hand. The paramedics had retreated a bit, and the room was full of their colleagues, but she paid no attention to them.

They'd lifted him to the sofa so he would be a little more comfortable, but now there was nothing they could do for him. The bullet had ripped through his liver, and he was dying. She felt detached from the world, remembering the moment he'd stepped between her and the gun and had tried to move her out of the way. A loud bang, his whole body had jerked, and she had taken a step back as he collapsed forward onto his knees.

"STUART!" she'd howled in fear, dimly aware that the gunman was walking calmly past her and getting away, as she fell to the floor beside him.

He was on his side, scrunched up, bent forward, his hands pressed against the exit wound, his breathing coming in gasps and shudders. As she scrabbled for her radio, she could see the treacle-dark blood seeping between his fingers. She'd known straightaway it was bad. Blood that colour was most definitely bad news: it said the bullet had hit vital organs.

"Stevie...." His voice was somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and she recalled herself to the terrible present.

"Ssssh...don't try to talk." She cuddled him as best as she could, desperately wanting to believe they could save him but knowing they couldn't. Knowing too, that for all his faults, something special was leaving her life, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

"Jo's on her way," she told him, managing a shaky smile. Gently she sponged his forehead with the damp cloth they'd given her, even though it did nothing really to ease his pain. But the ritual kept her busy and it seemed to soothe him a little. His breathing was ragged, and from time to time he shifted slightly.

He was getting weaker, and she prayed he would last until Jo got there. His closest friend would want the chance to say goodbye.

She could hear the sound of feet in the hallway announcing Jo's arrival. Stevie shifted aside as Jo came round the sofa and knelt down next to Stuart. "Oh, hun." Silent tears slid down Stevie's cheeks as he managed a smile for his closest friend.

"Jo…." Her name was a sigh on his lips, and Stevie huddled a little closer, clinging to his hand. The end was very near.

Jo took hold of his other hand, moving up against the sofa. Stu's eyes were fixed on her face, his lips framing the words "take care..."

Stevie wrapped both her hands round his as Jo bent over him. He gave her his last smile, and with a little shudder he slipped away.

Jo's free arm slid round Stevie's shoulders as the younger woman dissolved into silent tears.

~*~*~*~*~

She made them both drinks and padded out to the balcony. Handed one drink to Jo, and huddled down with the other on the free chair.

"Are you alright?"

Stevie put her head on one side and thought about it.

"Are you going to be alright?" Jo tried again.

She put the drink down onto the table and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She rocked ever so gently. "Honestly... I don't know. Oh, I can get through my days, and I can still do the job... but I don't know."

Jo looked across at her young friend. Stevie looked more like a small waif than ever: bare feet, soft cotton shorts and a little tee shirt, the navy-blue cotton jumper far too big for her, swamping her petite form.

"Is that Stu's jumper?"

Nodding, Stevie huddled into it a little more, cuddling the garment close to her. She raised her right arm to her nostrils. "I can still smell his soap and aftershave... sometimes I like to make believe he's still with us. That he didn't die so horribly, whilst saving me."

"Oh, Stevie..."

"I make believe that he's going to come through that door, that he's going to give me one of those patented Stuart Turner megawatt grins and tell me that he's a genius." She reached out for the glass and took a sip. "And I can make believe that all the reasons I didn't act on the feelings that I had when we were together, didn't actually happen. That I'd taken that chance."

"Stu wasn't a saint."

"No, he wasn't... but he did love me."

"Stevie...!"

She looked down at the glass in her hand. "Before you arrived, he was so scared, he didn't want to die... and it...sort of slipped out. Do you think we're more honest with each other when we know there isn't going to be a happy ending?"

"I don't know..."

"Stu gave me a happy ending... he packaged it up and made it all over to me. Why did he do that, Jo? Why did he give it all to me?"

"Because you needed it."

"But you were his closest friend?"

And you were the girl he loved in his own, awkward, confused Stu sort-of way... "I didn't need it," Jo pointed out. "Look, if staying in his place is that bad, sell it. Buy somewhere else."

"I can't... and I don't want to. He gave me two lives: his and mine."