Rebound

by rosera

A short story that follows on from the episode Gingerbread, 6 years have gone by and Gemma comes back into Michael's life

Rebound

(A short story set six years after the episode 'Gingerbread')

by

rosera

Synopsis of the episode 'Gingerbread' – While involved in the case of the disappearance of several men Michael meets up with an old flame from his teenage years. They had been together for years in school and had almost got engaged at 17. Gemma Normanton had gone off to University to study journalism and Michael had joined the police force.

Their meeting at the launch Gemma's book sets off a chain of events that sees her move into his flat and his life and the resumption of their relationship. Distracted from the case by Gemma, Michael incurs the wrath of his superior, Jim Taggart, but his attitude softens when Michael reveals he is going to ask Gemma to marry him.

After a long day chasing suspects and dead end leads Michael finally heads home with the ring in his pocket. Surprising Gemma with the ring he is in turn surprised and horrified when she tells him that she is already engaged to Derek, another journalist in London, and that they are having a trial separation before committing to marriage.

Devastated Michael orders Gemma out of his flat and his life. Facing the embarrassment of his colleague's knowledge of his failed relationship makes life difficult for Michael and it is not helped by Jim Taggart's unfeeling remarks. Jackie is his mainstay and provides him with the support and friendship he needs to get through this time.

Six years later the story continues……..

The desk sergeant looked up at the sound of laughter and raised voices echoing through the main entrance of the Maryhill Police Station. DCI Jardine and his team had returned from their day in court and obviously things had gone well if the smiles and laughter shared amongst the team were anything to go by. The DCI looked particularly happy so the sentence must have been a good one. The sergeant hoped the woman who had been waiting most of the day to see him wasn't going to ruin the mood. By the look of her she wasn't bringing good news. Still, not his problem he thought to himself, he stayed well out of CID business.

Jardine walked up to the front counter and smiling across at the desk sergeant said,

'Any messages Allan? Not that anything could dampen my day now. As you've probably guessed he went down, got 15 years thank God.'

'Aye Sir, I guessed as much. A good result for you no doubt. No messages, but there's a lady waiting to see you Sir. She wouldn't see anyone else, asked for you by name. Said it was personal?'

The desk sergeant pointed to the waiting area off to the side of the foyer.

'She's been waiting most of the day.'

Michael paused, the smile fading from his face and the laughter dying in his eyes. He swung around towards the waiting area and focussed on the woman sitting there. The first thing that caught his eye was that she had a small suitcase beside her.

'She says her name's Normanton Sir, Gemma Normanton.' The desk sergeant read the name from his notebook.

At the sound of that name Jackie's attention was caught and breaking off her laughing conversation with Robbie and Stuart she too stared at the woman in the waiting area her eyes darkening with anger.

Michael started forward, the shock registering on his face,

'Gemma?'

At the sound of her name the woman's head snapped up and seeing Michael she rose shakily to her feet.

'What are you doin' here? I thought….I thought you were still in London?'

Michael walked forward slowly seeing her face clearly for the first time and noting the tiredness, the lines of strain and recent signs of crying.

'What's wrong?'

'Oh Michael, I'm sorry. I just didn't know where else to go.'

At this she ran forward and threw herself at Michael, wrapping her arms around his neck and bursting into tears on his shoulder.

A shocked silence filled the foyer area. The only sound was the muffled sobs coming from Michael's shoulder where Gemma struggled to control the tears. After the initial shock Michael's arms had gone around her, holding her lightly, gently stroking her back and shoulders, trying to make sense of the garbled words coming out between sobs.

'Gemma, what is it love? What the hell's happened?'

At the sound of that endearment Jackie struggled to hold on to her anger. She knew all to well how much pain this woman had caused Michael six years ago. She had been around then and had tried to pick up the pieces but she knew that deep down Michael had taken a deep and lasting wound to his heart when Gemma had used him and then walked away. A blow he had never really recovered from and one that had affected his ability to really trust women in any relationship ever since.

Jackie felt a light touch on her arm. Robbie had stepped up beside her and whispered quietly,

'Hey Jackie, what's goin' on? Who's that with the boss?'

'Her name's Gemma Normanton. She's….an old friend of Michael's.'

'An old friend eh? Maybe a special friend? So what's the story, and why is she crying all over him?'

'Oh aye, a special friend.' Jackie's voice took on a harshness that revealed her suppressed anger at the situation.

Robbie was watching the scene before him but a glance at Jackie's face caught his interest.

'And why are you so pissed off to see her here again? What did she do to him?'

Robbie was well and truly hooked now. Jackie's reaction meant there was something here that went deeper than just an old friend.

'Robbie Ross, for once in your life control your curiosity about other people's lives. It's none of your business okay? Let's get back to the office and leave them to it.'

Jackie walked over to where Michael still stood holding a weeping Gemma in his arms. She touched his arm to get his attention and with a flick of her head let him know they were going up to the office. Michael gave a rueful smile in acknowledgement, his eyes reflecting his mixed emotions about the situation.

Jackie walked away, dragging a still curious Robbie with her. As her anger bubbled over she muttered to herself.

'Don't let her do it again, please don't let her hurt him again.'

As the rest of the team walked off Michael eased Gemma away and held her gently, one hand bringing her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

'Gemma? Look…. this is not the best place for us to talk. Sit down for minute and I'll see if one of the interview rooms is free, okay?' Michael ran his hands up and down her arms in a gesture of comfort as he eased her back down into one of the chairs.

He walked quickly across to the front desk,

'Allan, is one the interview rooms free?' Glancing away to check on Gemma he didn't see the look the desk sergeant gave him, a look that said 'be careful son, don't get involved with crying women with suitcases, they only bring trouble', but all he said was,

'Oh aye, room 3's empty Sir.'

'Cheers.'

Michael went back to Gemma and, helping her stand, he grabbed her case and led her gently across the foyer and into interview room 3.

Placing her case just inside the door Michael led her gently around the table and helped her into the chair. Grabbing the other chair he dragged it around and sat beside her taking her hand in his.

'Okay. Do you want to start from the beginning and tell me why you're here and, what's happened to upset you so much?'

At first Gemma seemed unable to answer him, her chin slumped on her chest as she tried desperately to regain some level of composure. The shock of finally finding Michael had overset her hard won control. Taking a deep breath she raised her eyes to his.

'Michael, I've left him. I've left Derek in London and I'm not going back. Ever.' The words were whispered, the anguished tone revealing much.

'Gemma I…….'

Michael paused, his thoughts and emotions a confusion of questions all searching for answers,

'But why here, why me, why not your parents?'

'Because he'll never think to look for me here. He doesn't know about you. He… doesn't know about what happened….last time. I never told him about you.'

Her head dropped again, the last words whispered so low that Michael almost didn't hear them. He smiled ruefully to himself, so she had twisted the truth to her husband as easily as she had to him. 'Leopards and their spots' he thought.

'But Gemma, why run so far? If you want to leave him fine but did you need to come all the way to Glasgow to make a point?'

At this she looked up, her eyes drenched in tears. She stood up slowly and shrugged her coat off onto the back of the chair, then, slowly removing the light jacket she wore, she revealed her bare arms.

Michael froze in shock. Her arms were covered in bruises. Bruises on bruises, judging by the colours ranging from the purple of new bruises through to the yellowing of old ones.

'He did this? He did this to you?'

Michael's questions came out in a rasping hiss. His eyes sought hers, his blazing with anger. She flinched back. Her reaction startled him, making him realise he had to get his anger under control for her sake.

'I'm sorry Gemma, I didn't mean…..I wasn't angry with you, okay? But those bruises, not all of them are new are they? How long has this been going on?'

Her head dropped again, the words were forced out, the voice flat and unemotional.

'About a year….since I lost the first baby. He wanted a child so much. He blamed me. Blamed me because I kept working. I wouldn't stay home and play housewife and mother like he thought I should.'

'But why did you stay with him? Why didn't you leave after the first time? Why did you let this go on?' Michael had his anger under control now but his lack of understanding of the situation shone through.

'I thought it would be okay once I fell pregnant again. I was going to give up work this time, but he'd changed. It was like something had snapped and he couldn't stop. Every little thing that went wrong at home or at work it was all my fault and then…..he'd hit me. Oh, he was clever though, he never hit me where it would show, never the face. No… never the face.'

Gemma had gotten up and was pacing around the room. The words seemed to tumble out of her, the dam holding it all back had broken.

'Who else have you told, who else knows about this? Did you report it to the police?' Michael snapped out the questions, his mind spinning through the avenues open to her to lay charges of assault.

'No one, I told no one. I couldn't go to the police….he would've killed me Michael. So I ran. And you….you were the only friend I could think of who could protect me from him. Please Michael don't make me go back, I can't take it any more.'

Michael stood up and gently grasped her shoulders forcing her to stop her pacing and face him.

'I'm not going to make you go back Gemma but you must do something about this. You have to press charges. I'll help you.'

'No, I don't want to press charges, it's his word against mine and he can be very persuasive when he puts his mind to it. No, I don't want to do it. I just want to be free of him. Can you understand that Michael?'

'To be free of him yes, but to be honest not to press charges, no, but it's your decision. Have you got somewhere safe to stay?'

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew the answer. The pleading look in her eyes was answer enough.

'No Gemma, you can't stay with me. It wouldn't be right. What about with your parents? Surely he won't try to get to you there?'

'He already has. I phoned them and they said he had called them as soon as I left London two days ago. He showed up on their doorstep last night. Michael I can't stay with them, I can't take the risk that he'll hurt them as well. Please Michael…..please can I stay with you? He won't find me there.'

Michael stared into her eyes, seeing the genuine fear there. Knowing he was making the wrong decision but unable to think of a better one he slowly nodded agreement.

'But only for a few days until we can work something out all right?'

'Okay.' The relief in her face quieted his inner voice that was screaming out that this was wrong, very wrong.

Jackie waited for about an hour and then tired of glancing up whenever anyone entered the office in the hope it was Michael, alone, she went downstairs to find out what was going on. There was no sign of Michael or Gemma so she asked Allan at the front desk.

'The DCI? Where is he?'

'Didn't he call upstairs? Said he would. He shot through about half an hour ago with that woman who'd been crying all over him. He was going to leave a message but then said he would call you to explain Jackie. Mind you I don't think there was any need for an explanation for that one eh?' The desk sergeant nodded knowingly. 'Trouble with a capital T is my guess.'

'No….he didn't call. Did he say where he was going?' Jackie tried hard to hide her disquiet at this turn of events and to ignore Allan's comments that rang too close to home for her.

'Oh aye, he said he was going home but if anyone needed him to call him on his mobile.'

Jackie smiled her thanks and knowing she needed privacy for the call she was about to make she made her way out into the street. Pulling her mobile from her pocket she called up Michael's home number.

'Yes Jackie?.' Michael's voice sounded strained.

'HI Michael…I..'

'Jackie, what's wrong? Do you need me?'

'No….Michael what's going on? Why has Gemma shown up again? Where is she?' Jackie's questions came out rapidly before he had the chance to cut her off.

'Jackie…..I…..look, don't ask for explanations just yet. I can't really talk about it at the moment.'

'Why not Michael? Oh for god's sake! Is she there? Have you taken her home to your flat is that it? Jesus Michael, are you mad? Haven't you learned your lesson after last time?' Jackie's voice rose in volume as her anger took hold again.

'Jackie, she's a friend and she needs help okay? So just stay out of it. It's nothing to do with you, it's my problem. When and if I need your advice I'll ask for it okay?' Michael snapped out, just holding on to the ends of his own temper.

There was silence at the other end of the phone and Michael began to think she had hung up on him. Then came her voice, dropped to an anguished whisper, as she pleaded with him.

'Oh god Michael, don't do this again. Don't let her do this to you again….. please?' Jackie's hold on her mobile was so tight her fingers hurt.

'Look Jackie……' Michael's tone was resigned, almost regretful. 'I know what you're saying but it's not what you think okay? So just leave it…for now. I'll……I'll see you tomorrow okay? Don't worry.'

He rang off before she could say anything else. Jackie stared at her phone wondering if it was worth ringing again. No, he would just think she was interfering, which she was, for his own good. She would talk to him tomorrow. Give him time to sort things out, she hoped.

As Michael replaced the receiver, his hand stayed resting on it, head bowed in thought. He couldn't blame Jackie for calling and rousing on him like that. After all, she had had to bear the brunt of his emotional roller coaster when Gemma left last time. Jim Taggart had been unforgiving as usual and had made his life hell for weeks afterwards. Jackie had been there for him, listening to his woeful attempts to justify Gemma's behaviour and then his angry outbursts at Gemma and women in general as he worked his way through the full gamut of emotions of a rejected male. Like the good friend she was she had put up with it all and had helped him get through it and get on with life.

But for now he just wished she would stay out of it. Leave him to sort out this mess and deal with whatever consequences came along.

Movement out of the corner of his eye dragged him back to the here and now. Gemma stood in the doorway poised for flight, fear in her eyes.

'Who was it? Was it him? Has he found me?'

Michael moved forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly stroking his hands up and down her arms to calm her.

'No Gemma it's okay, it was only Jackie. She…..she just needed to check on something on the case we're working on, okay?' Michael tried to reassure her but found he couldn't quite meet her eyes, Jackie's words still ringing in his ears.

'Oh….well okay. I was just worried that he'd found me.' Gemma's agitation was obvious in the constant wringing of her hands. Michael took her hands in his and bringing them up pressed them against his chest to still their movement.

'He's not going to find you here. You have to believe that and try to relax. Look, why don't I make you a coffee? You go through to the lounge and I'll bring it in, okay?' As he spoke Michael gently pushed her back through the door and guided her towards the sofa.

'Sit down and put you feet up. I'll make some coffee.'

'No Michael! Don't leave me!' Her voice rose in fear and she grabbed at his hands.

'For god's sake Gemma I'm just goin' to the kitchen, I'm not leaving okay?' Michael couldn't hide his exasperation.

'Sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have dragged you into this. I'm sorry Michael.'

'Gemma, stop it! Stop beating yourself up for something that's not your fault. Now just sit down and try to relax.'

As the evening progressed Gemma told Michael more details about the last year. The more he heard, the angrier and more horrified he got. He tried to control his anger and not let Gemma see it. When once his control slipped and he let his anger show she flinched back and withdrew into herself as if frightened that Michael too would lash out and hit her.

Finally when exhaustion had taken its toll and Gemma could no longer stay awake he forced her to go to bed in his spare room. This was only after many reassurances that he would not leave for work in the morning without telling her. For hours after Gemma had finally fallen asleep Michael sat on the sofa, thoughts circling in his head. The topmost thought was how to get Gemma to press charges against her husband so that he could be locked up and she could feel safe again.

Michael had finally fallen asleep himself on the sofa. He woke to the stabbing pain of a crick in his neck and the sound of muffled crying coming from the spare bedroom. Padding silently down the hall in his socks he paused in the doorway,

'Gemma? Are you okay?' The crying halted abruptly. 'Gemma, its Michael, are you okay?'

'Michael?' Gemma's tear stained face appeared above the duvet. 'I'm sorry…for a moment I forgot where I was and thought you were Derek. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.'

Moving quietly into the room Michael sat on the edge of the bed and took the trembling hand held out to him. Suddenly Gemma lent forward and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. Without even thinking of the consequences Michael's arms came around her and crushed her against his chest. His thoughts spinning and emotions all over the place all he could focus on was how good it felt to hold her again. How familiar her body was, the smell of her, the taste of her hair when he dropped a light kiss on it. She still wore the same fragrance as six years ago and this only added to the confusion of his emotions.

He had loved this woman enough to ask her to marry him. For him she had been the one he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with. To hold her again now seemed as if he had come full circle, home to where his heart had been until she had broken it.

As if sensing his thoughts Gemma raised her face to his and staring into his eyes she whispered,

'Forgive me? I never had the chance to say that back then. I never meant to hurt you then I….I just wanted to be with you one more time, to prove that what we had as teenagers hadn't been real. But I was wrong…..it was real what we had, very real. I understand that, now that it's too late. It is too late isn't it Michael?'

Michael gazed into her eyes seeing the pain there. Unable to answer her, his thoughts and emotions so chaotic, his eyes wandered over her beloved face and came to rest on her mouth. One of the things he had loved most about her was her face, heart shaped with eyes that sparkled with the joy of life and a mouth that always seemed to be smiling. That sparkle was missing from her eyes now, shadows lurked there, but her mouth still bravely curved up in a quirky half smile.

He leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers. Her lips parted under his giving way to the light pressure and drawing him further into the embrace. Her tongue clashed with his as the kiss deepened. Scraping her tongue over the roof of his mouth she moaned deep in her throat. Sliding her hands down his back and burrowing under his loosened shirt she slid her hands up digging her nails into his shoulder blades and dragging them down over the soft, smooth skin of his back to the waistband of his trousers.

Michael was lost in the feel, the touch and smell of her. One hand was buried deep in her soft hair holding her head to deepen their kiss, the other hand had traced a familiar path across her ribcage and was curved gently around her breast stroking the nipple through the light material of her nightdress. It was as if the pain of rejection six years ago had never happened. Just the touch of her mouth and hands had been enough to arouse him, to bring him almost to the point of no return.

He felt her hands at his belt, struggling to undo the buckle. Laughing softly against her mouth he remembered then that she had always had trouble with belts. Breaking away only to mouth light kisses down her jaw and throat he reached down to help her untangle the buckle.

The movement away from their embrace broke the moment and, realising what they had been about to do, sanity and reality flooded back. Michael drew a ragged breath and grabbing her shoulders held her away from him.

'Gemma….no. We can't do this. Not now.' Fighting for every ounce of willpower he had he caught and held her gaze, willing her to realise that this was wrong. So very wrong.

'Why not? I don't love him anymore, I love you! Dear god haven't I suffered enough. Don't I deserve some real love, some comfort. Why is it so wrong? Tell me Michael, tell me why it's so wrong. I love you!' Gemma fought his hold on her, catching at his shirt and trying to undo the buttons. In the process she scratched his neck and chest, drawing small beads of blood.

Still holding her off Michael shook her gently,

'Gemma, stop! You must see that this is wrong. Not now. Not while you're still married to him. Not with this whole abuse thing hanging over you. Can't you see how wrong it would be?'

Her voice rose, bordering on hysteria.

'No, I can't see. God Michael, since when were you such a stickler for the rules. The boy I knew didn't care about anything or anyone else's opinion.'

Grabbing her chin he forced her eyes up to meet his,

'That's just it Gemma, I'm not that boy anymore. I've changed, I've grown up. What happened six years ago saw to that.' He paused, trying to find the right words to make her understand. 'Gemma…..I can't. I ….just can't. If I did, it would be against everything I believe in now. Can you understand? Try to understand….please?'

'Just can't?' She laughed harshly, 'You're a liar Michael. Your body is making a liar of you. Can you really tell me that you can't make love to me now?' Her hand dropped to his groin, stroking the physical sign of his arousal through the material of his trousers. At the same time she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his, her tongue searching to gain entry to his mouth once more.

Grabbing her wrist he stilled her hand and, lifting it gently away from his groin, he released her and stood up.

'Maybe not 'can't' Gemma, but won't. I won't do this now….not now.' He turned away and walked towards the bedroom door.

Her voice dropped to a whisper,

'Yes, I understand. You don't love me anymore. I hurt you too much for you to love me now.'

Michael paused in the door, his hands gripping the frame, with his back to her and shoulders slumped he gave her the only answer he could.

'Believe that if it makes it easier for you Gemma. Believe what you must. Try to get some sleep. Goodnight.'

Breakfast was very subdued with little said beyond the absolute necessaries. As Michael shrugged on his coat and grabbed his keys Gemma suddenly appeared behind him.

'Michael, I'm sorry. I was wrong last night. You do love me, that's why you stopped. I understand now. I…..I just couldn't see past my own needs last night and I'm sorry. Forgive me…please?'

Turning, his hand came up to cup her face. Stroking her cheek with his thumb he smiled gently at her.

'There's nothing to forgive. Okay?' At her nod of assent he dropped his hand. 'I have to go. My number's beside the phone, call me if you need anything. I'll try to get home early. Take it easy, rest up if you can. We'll talk again tonight.'

He let himself out the door and, pausing on the pavement, he glanced back to see her tired face in the window, he waved and got into the car.

Jackie looked at the clock again. He was late, he was never late, first in, last out, always. Something must have gone wrong. She just wished he would call or something. Her hand went to the phone for the umpteenth time but before she could commit to the call he walked slowly through the office door.

Her first thought was he looked exhausted, completely drained. The last time she had seen that look had been after Jim Taggart's funeral and she had hoped never to see it again. Unconsciously scrubbing at his forehead with his middle finger, a habit when he was tired and worried, he glanced up and saw her watching him.

A shadow of a smile crossed his face. He held up his hand in submission.

'I know I know, I'm late. Sorry. So we better have a briefing to bring everyone up to date on the current cases. We've let things slip a little with the court case.'

He glanced around the room catching everyone's eye,

'Give me five minutes okay? Get your paperwork together and we'll go through everything on the books at the moment. Heather? I could do with a large strong black coffee if you can spare the time.'

At Heather's nod, he smiled his thanks and walked through into his office shrugging off his coat.

Jackie headed Heather off and took the mug of coffee from her with a smile and a murmured comment,

'Just need a word with him in private okay?' As Heather handed the mug over she smiled,

'Cheers Heather.'

Closing the door behind her she placed the mug of coffee on his desk and watched as he stood with his back to the door, hands in pockets, gazing out the window obviously lost in thought.

'Are you okay?' She spoke quietly, her concern for him obvious in her tone of voice.

He didn't respond to her question. Didn't even acknowledge her presence.

'Michael?'

'I'm fine Jackie. And….before you say anything else, yes I do know what I'm doing and I will deal with it. Okay? So just leave it alone.'

He still hadn't turned to look at her. His voice was flat, drained of all emotion.

'Michael I just want….'

Michael swung around, eyes blazing.

'For god's sake woman will you just leave it!' He roared at her. Stepping quickly up to her, his face inches from hers, he hissed at her,

'You know, I think Jim did me a favour all those years ago when he warned me off you. You just won't give up will you. You think you can run my life for me because we've been friends for so long. Well guess what I don't need you running my life. I don't need your interference. I don't need anything from you but to be left alone. Understand?'

As he spat out each sentence she had backed up to the door and he had followed her every step of the way. He grabbed the handle and flung the door open pointing to the outer office.

'Now Sergeant, get out of my office and get back to work. That's an order.'

Jackie stared at him, his face a frozen mask and almost unrecognisable as the Michael Jardine she knew and loved. She turned and walked out, the door slamming behind her with such force it rocked the wall. Coming face to face with the frozen tableau in the outer office she blushed and dropped her gaze, all too aware that they too had heard every word he had said. She walked to her desk and dropped into her chair, head down, fighting the tears of frustration and anger that threatened to overwhelm her. She felt a gentle hand drop on her shoulder, Robbie's. He squeezed gently and stepping around her settled himself on the edge of her desk. His hand still on her shoulder he glanced around the room. His look telling everyone to get on with it and act as normally as possible.

To give her breathing space he talked about inconsequential things, the weather, the latest station gossip, anything to give her time to get back control. A quick nod to Stuart saw him grabbing a coffee and placing the mug gently in front of Jackie. At this she lifted her head and smiled her thanks at Stuart. Reaching up she squeezed Robbie's hand where it rested on her shoulder and turned her smile to him. She was back in control even if Michael wasn't.

'Thanks.'

'No need. I've faced the same and know what it does to you.' Dropping his hand from her shoulder he leaned down and whispered, 'So what's his problem. Didn't get his leg over with the old girlfriend or something?'

Jackie couldn't help but chuckle, for once glad of Robbie's simplistic look on life.

'Ah Robbie. You never change, do you? It's always the simple answers for you. Unfortunately it's not that simple…and noooo, I'm not going to explain it to you. It's Michael's business and no one else's.'

'You included?'

'Ouch! Yes, me included.'

'So what you really mean is you can't tell me here so a drink in the pub tonight and you can tell Uncle Robbie all. Yes?' Robbie's ingenuous smile drew another chuckle from her.

'Yes to the drink but no to telling you all. I've been warned remember?'

'Oh aye, but you can tell me the background maybe? The rest you can leave up to me and my imagination.'

Late in the afternoon Michael leaned over his desk to answer his phone. He had been going through some old paperwork on the recently completed case, making sure that all the i's were dotted and the t's were crossed.

'Jardine'

'Sir, it's the front desk here. There's a gentleman here who says he wants to see you. Says his name is Derek Ludlow. Insists he wants to speak only to you.' It was the front desk sergeant.

'Derek Ludlow, I don't recognise the name…..wait a minute. Yes, ….okay. I'll be right down. Ask him to wait.'

'Oh I will Sir although…. I don't think he's going anywhere until he's seen you.' Was the desk sergeant's ironic comment before he ended the call.

Michael held the phone for a full minute before hanging it up. So Gemma's husband had tracked him down somehow. At least he had come here and not to the flat, which might mean he doesn't know where Gemma really is. Michael could only hope so for Gemma's sake.

Walking slowly down the stairs trying to get his thoughts and emotions under control he saw the distant figure of Derek Ludlow through the double glass doors. The man was pacing, anger and frustration evident in every move. Pausing with his hand on the door Michael took a deep breath and forced the mask of control across his face, it was DCI Jardine who stepped into the foyer area, and not Gemma Normanton's friend Michael.

'Mr Ludlow, DCI Michael Jardine. What can I do for you.' Michael held out his hand although what he really wanted to do was to punch the man's lights out once and for all.

Ludlow ignored the outstretched hand and stepped right up to Michael, right in his face. His voice throbbed with suppressed anger.

'For starters you can tell me where my wife is. And…just how the hell you got involved in this in the first place?'

'Mr Ludlow. Perhaps you would prefer to step into one of the interview rooms where we can discuss this in private.' Michael glanced at the desk sergeant.

'No. 1's free Sir.' The desk sergeant checked his roster board.

Ludlow sneered,

'Oh no, I want witnesses to what I'm going to say to you. You may think that because you're some copper with rank that you can wriggle out of this but you know where my wife is and I want to know how and why you're involved in hiding her from me.'

Moving even closer he stopped an inch from Michael's face. 'Why did she run to you? Are you having an affair? Are you sleeping with her? Are you? I know you're hiding her. I've wrung the truth out of her parents but they couldn't or wouldn't give me the full story so here I am….and I want the truth. Where is she?'

Michael was barely holding onto his anger. His breathing was rapid and shallow as he strove for calm. Clamping his teeth together he ground out,

'Mr Ludlow, in answer to your questions I'm not 'hiding' Gemma. She's in protective custody while we investigate her claims of physical abuse. And no, I'm not having an affair with her, nor am I sleeping with her. You're not helping yourself with these wild claims Mr Ludlow. I suggest that we calm down and try to talk rationally about this situation.'

'Claims of physical abuse? That's rich. Gemma would never say that about me, she knows better. It's you! You've trumped up these charges to take her away from me haven't you, haven't you?'

By this time Ludlow was shouting, attracting the attention of other officers in the stairwell, including Jackie and Robbie on their way to the pub.

Michael's hands were clenched so tight his nails were digging into his palms, deep enough to draw blood. The years of experience dealing with recalcitrant suspects was the only thing keeping him in check. For maybe the first time in his adult life he really wanted to resort to violence to solve this.

'Mr Ludlow, again I have to say that you're not helping yourself with these comments. I think we should end this conversation now and you should leave the station and take some time to try and calm down and think this through. We can meet tomorrow and hopefully work through this rationally.'

The desk sergeant was amazed at Michael's control, he had been waiting for the explosion right from the first word and expected that at any minute the DCI was either going to punch this guy or throttle him.

Suddenly Ludlow surged forwarded and head butted Michael, hitting the bridge of his nose, which spurted blood over both of them. Officers came from everywhere and wrestled Ludlow to the ground. Michael was searching for a handkerchief to stem the flow of blood when suddenly one was thrust into his hands from behind and a laconic voice rang in his ears.

'Here Boss, stop bleeding all over the floor will ya. If you're gonna pick a fight you might have invited me to join in.'

Looking up, Michael saw Robbie's smiling face, an eyebrow raised at the state of affairs he found his boss in.

'Looks like he got you a good one. I'd say you'll have a decent shiner by the morning. Do you want us to lock him up for assaulting a police officer?'

'No, let him go.' Came the reply, muffled by the handkerchief clamped around Michael's bleeding nose.

'Sorry what?' Robbie was enjoying the discomfort of his senior officer and was milking the situation for all it was worth.

Michael raised his head and, looking Robbie in the eye, enunciated clearly,

'I said, let him go. I don't want to press charges. Escort him outside and get rid of him. Understood?'

'Oh aye, understood Boss. Come on boys, the boss wants him thrown out, but gently mind, we don't want any cause for complaint.' The scrum of uniformed officers hustled Ludlow away out the main doors.

Michael turned around, intending to go back to the office and clean up. He was brought up short by the sight of Jackie still standing on the bottom step just staring at him. The 'I told you so' look on her face saying it all. He had the grace to blush when he remembered his comments to her that morning. Holding up his free hand he cut her off before she could say a word.

'Don't say it! Just…. don't say it. Go. I'll see you tomorrow. Oh and for god's sake take the Cheshire Cat with you, his smug looks are more than I can stand right now.'

Michael dreaded going home. He knew that Gemma would guess what had happened from the black eye and the blood stains on his shirt. For a while he thought he might be able to bend the truth and tell her that a suspect had got violent but he knew that he couldn't lie to her. He delayed the inevitable as long as possible but eventually he stood facing his own front door, hand poised with the key in the lock. Not really wanting to go in but knowing that the sooner he did the sooner the confrontation would be over.

Letting himself in and closing the door behind him he called out quietly.

'Gemma, it's only me.' Stupid thing to say, who else could it be, but he felt he had to say something.

Gemma came out of the kitchen a small towel tucked into her waistband to make an apron and a wooden spoon waving in her hand.

'Oh Michael, I thought you were never going to get home. I've cooked us some dinner but it's nearly ruined. You said you were going to try to be home…..' Her voice trailed off as she took in the black eye and bloodstains. Her hands flew to her mouth to suppress the scream building there.

'Oh god. He's found me. No….. oh god is he here? Michael, he hurt you. I never meant you to get hurt too.' Tears were streaming down her face as she walked slowly forward. She raised her hand and gently touched the bruising around Michael's eye and nose. Her hand trailed down to his bloodied shirt where she clutched at his coat, stark terror in her eyes. Michael drew her into his arms and cradled her head gently running his other hand up and down her back in an effort to soothe her fears and stave off the rising hysteria.

'It's okay. He's not here Gemma. I made sure no one followed me home. He came to the station and…well he lost it and hit me but I should've stopped it before it began. I'm sorry Gemma but he knows you're with me and it's probably only a matter of time before he finds the flat.'

'Oh Michael, I'm so sorry. I'll leave now. I don't know where I'll go but I have to leave so he won't hurt you anymore.'

'Gemma! Listen to me. You don't have to leave. You're safe here. I'll arrange for a patrol car to stay in the area and watch the flat while I'm at work. You can ring me at any time, you know that.'

Michael eased her hands away and led her through to the lounge and pushed her gently down onto the sofa. Sitting beside her he took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hands, a soothing tactile gesture. Speaking to her bowed head he said quietly,

'Gemma. You have to make a decision. You have to press charges against him. It's the only way you can be free of him. Do you understand. This can't go on any longer. Gemma? Are you listening to me?'

'Yes. I hear you Michael.' The whispered reply tore at his heart. 'But not tonight…please? Tomorrow I'll…….I'll think about it tomorrow, okay?'

'Not just think about it Gemma, do something about it.' Michael felt he had to push her, push her to a decision he knew she had to make.

Gemma drew her hands away and got up from the sofa. 'I need to lie down. I need to rest. Goodnight Michael.'

Standing up Michael reached for her hand to restrain her but she evaded him.

'Goodnight Michael. We'll talk in the morning.'

Michael was first up the next morning and had made coffee and toast before Gemma emerged from the spare bedroom. Neither looked like they had had much sleep.

'Gemma…'

Holding up her hand she stopped him. 'No Michael, I don't want to talk about it yet. Give me time to think this through. I need time. Don't pressure me please.' The look of strain on her face stopped him from pursuing the argument.

'Okay. I have to go to work. I've already arranged for a car to call by regularly. They have Derek's description but call me if you need to. You will call me won't you Gemma?'

Her nod of assent was all the reply he got.

By lunchtime the covert looks from other officers every time he ventured out of his office and the icy manner projected from Jackie whenever he went near her or asked her a question had frayed his nerves to breaking point. The one thing Michael had always hated was to have his private life exposed. In his book private meant private, not for public airing.

Walking through the outer office he bypassed Jackie's desk and brusquely announced to anyone listening that he was going out and didn't know when or if he would be back today.

'But Sir, if we need you?' Heather braved the chance of a scathing reply.

Michael stopped, his back to her. He took a deep breath before replying, knowing that she didn't deserve to have him take his anger out on her. Turning, he summoned up a slight smile.

'I'll leave my mobile switched on, okay?' And before any more questions could be raised he quickly left the office.

Several hours later, in a calmer and more settled frame of mind but still feeling unable to return to the office, he made his way to the flat hoping that Gemma had had enough time to make a decision, the right decision.

As he parked his car he recognised Robbie's car parked on the other side of the road with two people in it. Wondering what had brought them here to his flat he got out of his car and pressed the remote lock. As he approached the other detective's car both Robbie and Stuart got out. Their faces wore that shuttered look that said bad news.

'Robbie, Stuart. What brings you here?' Michael looked from one to the other, waiting for some reaction.

Robbie glanced at Stuart. That glance told Michael that whatever it was neither of them wanted to tell him.

'Is it Gemma? Has something happened to Gemma?' Michael moved back towards the front door, his hand searching in his pocket for his front door keys. Robbie put out a hand to restrain him.

'Mike. It's not Gemma.' Robbie paused and again that glance at Stuart completely shattered Michael's fragile calm.

'For god's sake Robbie. If it's not Gemma then what the hell is it?' Michael was practically shouting. It was Stuart who broke the ensuing silence.

'It's…..Derek Ludlow, Sir. They found his body in one of the canals about an hour ago. He's….he's been beaten to death. It looks like he hasn't been dead more than a couple of hours.' Stuart couldn't quite meet Michael's eyes.

'Christ! Does Gemma know?' At Robbie's shake of the head Michael again made towards his front door and again Robbie restrained him with a hand on his arm. Still holding his arm Robbie put the question both he and Stuart had been dreading.

'Mike. Where have you been for the last four hours?'

Michael spun round and locked eyes with him.

'Sorry?' Michael's eyes registered shock and a dawning anger at the question.

'I said, where have you been for the last four hours since you left the office?' Robbie's voice was icy calm.

'That's none of your business Ross.' Michael snapped out and stared him down. Robbie's eyes dropped. Lowering his own eyes to the hand on his arm Michael ground out through clenched teeth,

'And you can take your hand off my arm Inspector….now.' Robbie's hand dropped away as if burnt.

Michael drew a ragged breath, fighting for control.

'Now I'm going inside to break the news to Gemma. Either you two can come in with me, and keep your mouths shut.' Here Michael paused and swept them both with a look of utter contempt at which Stuart had the grace to lower his eyes but Robbie held the gaze unflinchingly, 'or, you can stay out here and wait for me to bring her out. Which is it?' Before either could reply Michael also snapped out,

'This is, of course, assuming that you need her for a formal identification of the body?'

At Stuart's sheepish nod Michael spun around and headed for the door not really caring if they followed or not. They followed.

Gemma's reaction was all Michael had feared, horror and hysteria, tinged with little relief that she was free, free from the abuse of the past year. After the formal identification was made Michael organised a car to take Gemma back to her parents home explaining that as this was a murder investigation he would need to stay in the office. She clung to him, not wanting to be away from him. His gentle persuasion finally had some effect and she agreed to go to her parents only with the promise that he would come there later. After seeing her off in the police car accompanied by a female officer he walked slowly back into the building only then really becoming aware that he had had a shadow all the time. Ross. Continuing slowly up the stairs back to the office he drawled,

'So Robbie, are you planning to follow me everywhere or are you just hanging around to soak up the overflow of real emotions to bring some reality into your shallow life.' Michael had not intended to lash out at Robbie but the anger and frustration inside him was building and Robbie was the nearest target to let some of it out.

'Mike, you know you can't run this investigation.' Robbie stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop.

'Why not? I'm the senior investigating officer on this team unless something has happened that I don't know about?'

Robbie's control broke and he grabbed Michael's shoulders.

'For god's sake man! How can you investigate a murder when you're a bloody suspect!'

'A suspect! Don't be daft, how can I be a suspect? Why on earth would I want to kill him?' Michael laughed derisively.

Robbie let loose,

'Listen to yourself man. How can you not be suspect for Christ's sake. She's been staying at your flat since she left her husband. You publicly accuse him of abusing her and that you're investigating the claims. He accuses you of sleeping with her. He practically threatens you in front of dozens of witnesses and, you get into a fight with the man and…..' Here Robbie paused to emphasise his next words, 'You come out bruised, bloodied and with your precious pride in tatters. If it were anyone else but you in the frame, who would you list as the prime suspect eh? Who Michael, who would be your prime suspect?'

Michael stared into Robbie's eyes seeing the truth there and, the growing doubts.

'Oh god, dear god…..' He managed to force out. His shoulders slumped and he seemed to lose all direction and confidence.

Robbie grabbed his shoulders again and gently shook him, trying to get him to listen, to focus on reality.

'Michael, listen to me. I know you didn't do it. We all know you couldn't do it but we have to prove it. And…we're going to have to report this to C & D, you know that don't you. We can't do this alone. Because if we're going to clear your name it has to be by the book. And you know that's gonna be hard for me to work with.'

At this Michael raised his eyes and a ghost of a smile crossed his face.

'Aye, I know….and Robbie? Thanks.'

Without speaking another word Michael let Robbie escort him upstairs to his office where he sat at his desk unable to focus on anything, unable even to think clearly. The only coherent thought that kept spinning around in his head was that if Jim Taggart was still alive he would have his head on a platter for getting himself into a mess like this.

A knock at the door broke in on his chaotic thoughts. Robbie stuck his head around the door then stepped into the office. Another officer followed him. Michael got to his feet, prepared for the worst.

'Sir, this is Chief Superintendent Brian Holmes from C & D. He's here to lead the investigation into Derek Ludlow's murder.'

'DCI Jardine. I wish this meeting could be in better circumstances.' CS Holmes held his hand out and briefly shook Michael's. 'But I hope we can clear this up as quickly as possible.' The look on his face was one of genuine regret.

'Sir, I would appreciate that. I don't like being under suspicion for something I didn't do.' Michael tried to keep his voice level but the strain was showing and his voice cracked at the end.

'Perhaps we can go through to the interview room and get started? Oh and by the way can we have the keys to your flat please.' At Michael's raised eyebrows he continued,

'I take it you don't require us to get a warrant to search your flat and remove anything that could be considered physical evidence? Although if you prefer we can wait for a warrant?' At the brief shake of Michael's head he went on,

'So we'll just get down to it shall we? The sooner we start the sooner we can clear this mess up.'

Leading the way out of Michael's office he headed across the outer office area. As Michael stepped out of his office he became aware that there were several members of his team just standing there, Stuart, Heather, Jackie and several others. The looks on their faces ranged from shock to disbelief. Except Jackie's, hers showed belief and trust, trust in him and a belief that passed beyond friendship. She stepped towards him as he passed through the office. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

'Michael. I know you didn't..' Jackie's strained words carried across the room.

'Sergeant!' CS Holmes snapped out. 'Please don't speak to the suspect. You're not part of the interview team. And when I want your opinions I'll ask for them.'

Putting his hand behind Michael's back Holmes hustled him out of the office and down the corridor to the interview room.

'This is a taped interview with Detective Chief Inspector Michael Jardine of Strathclyde Police. Interviewing officers are Chief Superintendent Brian Holmes, Complaints and Discipline Division and…

'Detective Inspector Robbie Ross, Maryhill CID.'

'Chief Inspector Jardine, you have waived the right to have a solicitor present and have agreed to be questioned tonight about the murder of a Mr Derek Ludlow. You are not under arrest at this time but are simply helping us with our enquiries into the murder. Is this correct?' CS Holmes' flat statement drew the required response.

'Yes.'

'The first and most obvious question has to be…did you kill him?' CS Holmes looked up then, focussing on Michael for the first time.

'No.'

He waited for Michael to continue, when he didn't Holmes' frown deepened.

'All right, lets get some background down and then we can return to that question again. I understand that Mrs Gemma Ludlow, the wife of the murdered man, has been staying at your flat? Since Monday of this week I believe?' Is that true?'

'Yes.'

'I understand that she has made claims to you that her husband had been physically abusing her and that because of this she had left him. Is this correct?'

'Yes.'

'What proof do you have of these claims by Mrs Ludlow of physical abuse by her husband?'

'No direct proof….but she showed me extensive bruising on her arms and legs, some bruises were obviously inflicted sometime ago, some more recent. I……I have only her word that Ludlow inflicted the bruises.' Michael's voice was flat and unemotional.

'So you have no direct proof, only her word. Yet you chose to announce in public, and I quote, 'while we investigate her claims of physical abuse'. Where was her official complaint lodged Chief Inspector? Where are the records indicating that Strathclyde Police are investigating a case of domestic violence?'

'There aren't any records. Not yet. She still hasn't….hadn't decided to formally press charges. I was still trying to convince her..' Holmes cut him off.

'You were still trying to convince her? Did she need convincing Chief Inspector? I would have thought that with the level of abuse she claims that she wouldn't need much convincing?'

'You don't understand the situation. Gemma was afraid of him. She didn't think anyone would believe her word against his.'

'But you did, didn't you Jardine. You believed her story. Because of your past history with this woman? Although from what I've heard I don't know why you would believe anything she said.'

At this comment Michael's head came up and he stared at Holmes then looked across at Robbie. How could Holmes know about him and Gemma. Who could have told him the events of six years ago….Jackie, it could only be Jackie. But the guilty look on Robbie's face arrested his gaze. So, Jackie had spilled the story to Robbie and Robbie had supplied Holmes with the details. The betrayal on both counts was just too hard to deal with now. Realising that Holmes was still talking he focussed on the words again.

'Or is it because you want to believe her so you had an excuse to get rid of her husband? So you can take up where you left off six years ago. She's living at your flat again Jardine. Are you sleeping with her?'

'No.'

'Okay, I'll ask that first question again Jardine. Did you kill him?'

'No, I didn't kill him.'

From then on the questions came thick and fast.

'Six years ago you shared your flat with this woman, you resumed a sexual relationship with her, you helped her with stories about old murder cases, then you proposed to this woman and she rejected you. Correct?'

'Yes.'

'Why did she reject you? Was it because she was already engaged to Ludlow? Then why propose marriage to an engaged woman?'

'I didn't know she was engaged. She….she didn't tell me until…. until I asked her to marry me.'

'So she lied to you then. So can you be sure she isn't lying to you now? Lying about the abuse. Lying about the pregnancy?'

'She lost the baby. That's how the abuse started.'

'She lost that baby but what about the one she's carrying now?'

Michael's head snapped up, his eyes reflecting the confusion and pain this comment had caused. Holmes saw the reaction and pressed on.

'I would hazard its Ludlows baby but that can be checked. I don't suppose it can be yours unless you're not telling us the truth about last Monday being the first time you've seen Gemma Ludlow in six years? Is it yours Jardine? Is the baby yours and you had to get rid of her husband so you could claim the child as yours?'

Michael still stared at Holmes as if not quite believing what he had heard.

'She's pregnant? Oh Sweet Jesus why didn't she tell me?' Michael dropped his head into his hands, raking his fingers through his hair as if he could tear all the confusing thoughts out of his head.

'So she lied to you again Jardine. It seems that she makes a habit of it with you. I have to wonder if some of it has rubbed off on you and your lying to us now. Where were you between 1.00 and 2.00 p.m. today Jardine?'

The sudden change of direction threw Michael and for a moment he couldn't gather his thoughts to answer. The delay must have seemed damning.

'I'll repeat the question shall I? Where were you between 1.00 and 2.00 p.m. today?'

For the first time Robbie spoke.

'Michael! For god's sake man, answer the question.'

Michael looked at Robbie, saw the worry and grief in his eyes and realised that although Robbie might have betrayed his trust to Holmes he had done it for the best and in the belief that Michael was innocent, and could prove it. But he couldn't prove it.

'I…..I was alone. No witnesses to prove it. I was alone…. in a manner of speaking.' Michael uttered the damning words knowing that as he watched Robbie's eyes glaze over he might have lost that moment of belief in his innocence.

'That doesn't really answer my question Jardine. Where were you?' Holmes' frustration was beginning to show through.

'Does it matter? I was alone so I can't prove it. I have no proof of where I was.' Michael's voice faded away to a whisper, exhaustion both physical and emotional winning the battle.

'Interview suspended at 22.15.' Robbie snapped out hitting the stop button on the tape machine.

'Ross! What the hell do you think your doing?' Holmes was on his feet and practically shouting. 'I'm in charge of this interview and I say it continues now.'

'With respect Sir, no. It stops now. He needs a break. Jesus, he's one of us for god's sake, give the man a break.'

'That's exactly why he doesn't get a break. He of all people knows the rules and I will not bend or break them just because he's a copper.' Holmes spat the words out, his angry gaze resting on Michael's figure slumped on the desk in utter despair.

'It's all right Robbie, he's only doing his job. I don't expect any special treatment.' Michael's voice came out muffled, his forehead still resting on his crossed arms on the desk.

Holmes continued to stare at the slumped figure, then, as if aware of the hostile regard Michael straightened up and, flexing his shoulders and rubbing his neck to relieve the stiffness, he faced up to Holmes again.

'All right. One hour, that's all. But I posting officers outside the door and he speaks to no one. Is that clear Ross? No one.' Holmes walked out of the room slamming the door behind him.

'Michael?' Robbie's whisper brought Michael's gaze to his face.

'He said no one Robbie. That means you too. Go on, leave me alone….please?'

'Michael, just tell me where you were. Maybe someone saw you, someone you didn't know was there. For god's sake man, give me something to work with here?'

Michael stood up and began to pace the room. He seemed to battle with himself but finally came face to face with Robbie.

'No one saw me, I'm sure. But for what it's worth check if you want.' He looked away, unable to face the look in Robbie's eyes when he told him.

'I was at the Cemetery. I was…..I was at Jim Taggart's grave. I needed some time and space to think. I….I sometimes find that I can think more clearly there.' Looking up and expecting to see derision in Robbie's eyes he only saw guarded relief. 'So, now you know. No witnesses unless suddenly the dead can speak.'

'No the dead can't speak, but maybe the living can.' With that Robbie walked out of the room.

An hour later Holmes came back into the room with Robbie. He switched the tape back on. Watching Michael for any reaction he said,

'Interview resumed at 23.14. Same officers present as listed earlier. Chief Inspector Jardine, we've found some forensic evidence both in your flat and on the body of the victim that may have a bearing on this case. Also I must ask you to submit to a physical examination and the taking of samples for DNA analysis. Do you agree?'

'Evidence? What evidence?' Michael couldn't stop the question coming out.

'Once all the results are in you'll have the chance to discuss that at interview. Do you agree to the examination and the taking of samples, yes or no?'

Michael continued to stare at Holmes his mind spinning. What possible evidence could they have found?

'Yes or no Jardine?'

'Yes, of course.'

'This interview is suspended until the morning. The time now is 23.20.' Holmes flicked off the machine.

'Seal those tapes please Inspector. If you would sign both copies please, and you too Jardine. The doctor is downstairs now and ready to carryout the examination immediately.'

Two uniformed officers escorted Michael through the darkened corridors. Holmes and Robbie trailed behind in silence. At the forensic examiners room the uniformed officers took up position either side of the door. Holmes motioned Michael in. He would have excluded Robbie but Rob simply pushed past him, his determined look silencing any protest from Holmes.

Dr Stephen Andrews stood by the examination table looking very ill at ease.

'Michael, I'm sorry. But I have to do this.'

'It's okay Stephen. I would rather it was you than anyone else. At least I know you'll be thorough.'

'Please don't discuss this Dr Andrews, just get on with the examination.'

Stephen cast Holmes a look full of loathing.

'Michael I need to take a buccal swab first for a DNA sample, you understand?'

Michael just nodded, trying to remain as detached as possible. Opening his mouth he simply stood there as Stephen thoroughly rubbed the swab around the inside of his cheek.

'Please remove your shirt Michael. I need to examine your chest and back area for any marks or injuries.'

Michael shrugged off his jacket and pulled at his loosened tie. Holmes placed both in an evidence bag. As Michael unbuttoned his shirt a memory flashed through his mind, Gemma raking her nails down his back and the scratch marks on his neck and chest when she had fought with him when he had put at stop to their lovemaking. Well he didn't have to make any comment now, but it would all have to come out in the interview.

As he peeled off his shirt and handed it to Holmes he heard the hiss of in-drawn breath from Robbie when he saw the scratches.

Holmes went to the door and had a whispered conversation with one of the uniformed officers. He came back into the room and, looking first at Michael and then at Stephen, he spoke quietly.

'Doctor, if you would just wait until the photographer gets here please, before you proceed. We will need photographic evidence of these scratches. If you could also prepare your handheld recording device we will need your voice description as well.'

Stephen nodded and glancing at Michael he met his eyes, the look of compassion for Michael caught in this situation was uppermost and was nearly Michael's undoing.

'You might as well finish stripping off Jardine. We're going to need all the clothes you've worn today. Ross, you better get his overcoat from the office too.' Holmes for once was looking uncomfortable with the situation.

A few minutes later the police photographer knocked and entered the room. The next few minutes were occupied with photos being taken of the scratches on Michael's back and chest. Photos of his hands, palms up and palms down, were also taken and Stephen's comments that the cuts in his palms could be construed as defensive marks made Michael shudder slightly. But once again Stephen was thorough and made Michael close his hands in a fist and had more photos taken to indicate that Michael's fingernails matched exactly with the marks.

Stephen then started his verbal description of the scratch marks speaking directly into the handheld recorder he normally used at murder scenes. The unreality of the situation struck Michael and he battled with rising hysteria not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all.

When the examination was finally finished and Stephen had left, once again apologising to him, Michael simply stood in the middle of the room naked, except for his boxer shorts. The room was cold and he was covered in gooseflesh but he refused to shiver or react in any way. Robbie took pity on him and quickly passed him jeans, T-shirt and sweater.

'Wait a minute. Where did they come from? Not his flat I trust?' Holmes narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

'No Sir. The DCI keeps them in a locker here at the station for emergencies. I….didn't think it was necessary to get him to wear a papersuit.' Robbie looked Holmes squarely in the eye.

Michael covered a brief smile behind a cough. He didn't keep clothes like this in his locker, another suit maybe and spare shirt but not jeans and T-shirt and certainly not his favourite sweater that Jackie had given him last Christmas. The clothes had come from his flat courtesy of Jackie he guessed. Still he wasn't going to argue, it saved him the further embarrassment of being seen in one of the infamous papersuits worn by suspects when their clothes were confiscated for forensic testing.

'Sir? I know its normal for suspects to spend the night in the cells but I think in this situation that we can waive that and allow the DCI to go home? Under escort of course Sir. The SOCOs have finished at his flat.' Robbie's bland question and statement caught Holmes out. He hadn't even considered where Jardine would spend the night.

Holmes thought through Ross's request. In all fairness he knew Jardine wasn't a risk and if he were cleared it would be better all round if he was treated as fairly as possible for the sake of his career or what was left of it after this mess.

'All right. But I want a car outside, front and back and two officers inside with him. No phone calls unless approved by me. Understood?'

'Thank you Sir. I'll organise it right now.'

'Oh and Ross? You better not be one of those officers okay? And not DS Reid either, understood?'

'Yes Sir, understood Sir.'

Holmes left the room taking the evidence bag and the tape of Dr Andrew's comments with him.

It was a little after 2.00 a.m. when Michael finally walked through the front door of his flat. He had expected to find the chaos the SOCOs usually left but everything was neat and tidy as if the flat had never been searched. Walking through to the lounge he surprised two uniformed officers deep in conversation.

'Jackie? Stuart? What the hell are you two doing here? And where in hell did you get those uniforms?' Michael looked from one to the other.

'Michael, we couldn't leave it to anyone else. Holmes need never know. He saw two uniforms leaving the station, and that's what he was expecting to see.

'Christ, what are you trying to do, ruin your careers as well? Isn't it enough that mine is shot to all hell without dragging you both down with me? Get out of here, now, and send someone else.'

'No Sir, sorry Sir, but no.' Stuart held Michael's glare even though it left him shaken. 'If we leave now and call for more officers the ones in the car outside will know what's happened.'

Jackie took up the argument,

'In the morning Heather and Allan are going to replace us before you have to go back to the station but we just couldn't leave you with strangers tonight. Michael, please understand. It's the only thing we can do to help you. Holmes won't even let us help with the investigation. We've been sidelined because we can't be objective.' The harshness of her voice on this last phrase highlighted her anger and distress at being excluded from helping him.

Holding his hands up in submission Michael said,

'Okay, okay. To be honest I'm too tired to argue. I need my bed and sleep. Although god knows, I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight or what's left of tonight.'

Michael spun around and walked out of the lounge, down the hall and into his bedroom. He closed the door quietly and leaning back against it he finally let go of the mask of control he had been hanging on too for hours.

Sliding down the door he rested his head on his bent knees and drawing them in to his chest he let go of the sobs that had been threatening to choke him. How long he remained like that he wasn't sure. His jeans were wet with tears where his head had rested and his arms were numb from the pressure of holding his knees to his chest, holding in the pain. Relaxing slightly he uncurled his arms and let them fall at his side. They throbbed with returning blood flow but the pain seemed inconsequential to the pain in his heart.

His thoughts went round and round in circles. She had lied to him again. And again he had believed her without question, believed with all his heart everything she had told him. Oh god he was such a fool. This time it was more than just his heart that was broken, it was his career, his life destroyed because he believed her. How Jim Taggart would laugh at him now. How he would rail at him for his stupidity, his naivete. Too dejected to move he rested his head back against the door.

'Michael?' The whisper came through the door. 'Michael, are you still awake?'

Jackie. He wasn't sure he could face her now. Didn't know whether he could take the pity that would be in her eyes. Couldn't face the blind faith that she still showed in him.

'Michael, I know you're awake. Let me in please.'

'Go away Jackie. Just leave me alone…for both our sakes.'

'Michael I'm not going away now or ever so you might as well let me in.'

Resigned to the fact that she wouldn't take no for an answer and that somehow he had to face her he got up slowly and moved across to sit on the end of the bed.

Jackie opened the door slowly. Stepping through, she closed it behind her.

'Michael? Are you okay?'

Michael laughed quietly. 'Christ Jackie! That has got to be one of the stupidest questions you could ask me at the moment. No, I'm not okay. I feel like shit. I'm probably going to be charged with murder tomorrow, my career's in tatters, my life, everything I've lived for and believed in is trashed beyond repair and you ask am I okay?'

'Michael, I…… I heard you crying. That's all I meant. I didn't mean….'

Michael cut her off mid sentence.

'Well don't worry, the floor shows over so you can just get out and leave me alone.'

Jackie walked forward and sat on the bed beside him.

'No Michael, I'm not leaving you alone tonight. I know you don't want me here but this time I'm not obeying orders. I staying whether you like it or not.'

Michael looked at her and saw the determination there, the friendship and yes, the love for him gazing out of her eyes. After the way he had treated her in the last few days that she could still love and care for him shook him to the core. Suddenly the fight drained out of him.

'Oh god Jackie. What a bloody mess.'

He rested his head in his trembling hands as the tears threatened to return. Sliding an arm around his shoulders she drew his head down onto her breast and cradled him in her arms like a child, rocking him and crooning soothing endearments to try and calm the trembling. Some time later, when the trembling had ceased, she realised that exhaustion had won the battle and he had fallen asleep. Gently sliding herself backwards and drawing his body with her she leaned against the head of the bed and eased his head and shoulders down onto her lap managing to stretch him out into a more comfortable position on his side without waking him. He stirred briefly but sank back into a deep sleep, as if he knew he was safe with her arms wrapped around him.

A shaft of light from a chink in the curtains woke her. The bedside clock showed 6.46 a.m. Michael hadn't stirred again and still lay with his head pillowed in her lap. He had thrown his arm out across her legs effectively pinning her down. Slowly she raised a hand and massaged the ache in her neck and shoulders as best she could. As she gazed down at him she noticed the added lines of strain around his eyes and mouth. Even in sleep they had not faded. As usual the errant strand of blonde hair had fallen across his brow and she gently reached down to brush it back from his eyes. The feather light touch was enough to wake him.

Sitting up abruptly he took a moment to register where he was. Scrubbing his face with his hands he at first didn't seem to know she was there.

'Michael?'

He slewed around to face her.

'Jackie? What are you….no, I remember I……you shouldn't be here.' Sliding off the bed he stood up slowly and stretched tight muscles. Jackie slid off the bed and nearly fell when she tried to stand. Michael lunged forward and grabbed her just before she hit the floor. Holding her upright with both hands around her waist he was inches from her face.

'Sorry. Been in the one position too long, legs wouldn't work.' Jackie looked up at him with a brief smile.

Michael continued to gaze at her face, at her eyes as if really seeing her for the first time. His eyes, shadowed with pain, nearly broke her heart. Leaning forward she meant only to lightly kiss his cheek in a platonic gesture but at the last minute he turned into the kiss and their lips met. The electric shock of contact pushed them both apart. Then, as if drawn by an invisible string, Michael leaned in again and met her lips in an open-mouthed kiss that shook them both with the intensity and passion that sprang up.

Without thinking Jackie slid both arms up and around his neck to caress and stroke his neck and hair, loving the feel of it like silk between her fingers. Michael's arms completed the circle around her waist and drew her body into his and, using his hands, molded her form to his. For an endless moment both forgot the world and all its troubles existed.

Suddenly Michael's hands were on her shoulders, forcing her away.

'God Jackie, I'm sorry. I can't do this. I just can't….not now. I just……I can't.' His voice shook and he seemed unable to complete any explanation.

Jackie placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

'It's okay. I understand, wrong timing again. I'm sorry too.' She hung her head. 'It shouldn't have happened. I only wanted you to know that I…'

This time it was Michael's turn to silence her with a hand to cup her face and a thumb to draw a brief caress across her lips.

'No, no more. Not now.' He leaned forward and brushed a light kiss on her brow then stepped away just as a quiet knock sounded at the door.

'Jackie? Heather and Allan are here. We have to go.' Stuart's disembodied voice sounded through the door.

Michael walked over and opened the door to Stuart. Stuart's rumpled uniform was evidence of an uncomfortable night spent on the sofa. Stuart glanced from face to face aware of the tension in the air but unsure of the cause.

'Stuart, thank you for being here. I appreciate it believe me. But you better go, both of you. I don't want either of you to get into any more trouble because of me.' He stepped back to allow Jackie to go past him. As Stuart turned away and headed down the hall Michael grabbed at Jackie's hand as she passed and giving it a squeeze he mouthed,

'Thank you.'

She nodded, her eyes locked on his, then turned and followed Stuart.

Michael had been sitting on the interview room alone for two hours when Robbie and Brian Holmes finally came in. Assuming that the delay had been because they were waiting on forensic results, he had been a little worried at first but as the time dragged on he had begun to tense up and a confusion of thoughts and possibilities had been circling in his brain.

Holmes broke the security seals on both copies of the interview tapes after showing him the signatures from the night before and placed them back in the tape machine, a procedure Michael was all too familiar with.

'Interview with Detective Chief Inspector Michael Jardine resumed at 11.12 a.m. Officers present are again Detective Chief Superintendent Brian Holmes, C & D and...'

'DI Robbie Ross, Maryhill.'

Holmes shuffled a sheaf of papers and looking up at Michael said,

'My apologies for the delay Jardine but we have been concluding our interview with another witness, Mrs Gemma Ludlow. As a result of her interview and matters that arose from the medical examination last night there are some questions that we would like to put to you again and….some new questions we have to ask. And, just for the record, do you still agree to waive your right to a solicitor being present on your behalf?'

Michael glanced at Robbie but his face was closed, unreadable, no hint of what was coming.

'Yes.'

'Okay, lets get started shall we? In your taped interview last night Chief Inspector you said that although Mrs Ludlow was sharing your flat you were not sleeping together, is that right?'

'Yes.'

'And you still maintain that this morning?'

Michael knew where this was heading, the explanation for the scratches. 'Yes.'

'I have to say at this time that Mrs Ludlow's interview contradicts that statement and she has indicated to us that you had resumed a sexual relationship as soon as she moved in to your flat, in fact before that. Do you still deny that?'

Michael again glanced at Robbie but still nothing could be read from his face.

'Yes, I do still deny it. We have not slept together..since we…separated six years ago.'

'So you have another explanation for the scratches on your back which to quote Mrs Ludlow 'I inflicted on Michael at the height of our mutual passion.' A poetic turn of phase perhaps but then she is a journalist isn't she?'

Michael's brain was on fire, why, why would she say that? Why would she lie about that?

'Well Jardine? No explanation? Or is it simply that you haven't really told us the truth? Have you resumed a sexual relationship with Mrs Gemma Ludlow?'

'No.' Michael managed to get the one word out.

'Mrs Ludlow informs us that this episode, where she inflicted the scratches, was but one of many recent sexual experiences with you. In fact she claims that sex even took place in the interview room downstairs when she first arrived and that you were the instigator. Is this also true?'

Suddenly Michael started to laugh. The absurdity of Gemma's claims struck him as so funny. He began to wonder about her mental stability. But of course this wasn't going to get him out of this mess, he had to think, had to work through this and reason out why this was happening.

'I'm glad you find this so funny Jardine but I'm still waiting for an answer.' Holmes drawled out his request.

'No, none of what she says is true. We have not … had sex. Yes she scratched my back when….'

Michael hesitated, unsure how to make this believable. Focussing on Robbie, knowing that he of all people knew Michael well enough to believe what he was about to say.

'The first night Gemma was at the flat she was very emotionally distressed and I had finally convinced her to go to bed in the spare room. I'd fallen asleep on the sofa. We'd had a long day in court and then with Gemma's arrival I was exhausted. I woke sometime around 3.00 a.m. and could hear her crying. I went into the spare room to see if I could help her, comfort her in some way. She was nearly hysterical and I sat on the bed and put my arms around her.'

Michael got up and began to pace the room still throwing glances at Robbie, praying for that spark in his eyes that said he believed what he was hearing.

'Look, I admit it was stupid and with hindsight I should never had taken her to my flat but nothing happened that night or any other night. Yes, I wanted to make love to her. Yes, we kissed and….yes she scratched my back while we were kissing but something stopped me taking it any further. I just couldn't take advantage of her in that state. I couldn't……she's a married woman and, although you may find this hard to believe, I have beliefs that won't allow me to….break up a marriage in that way.'

'And the scratches on your neck and chest? We're supposed to believe that they were accidental and not as a result of any enthusiastic lovemaking session? Oh come on Jardine, do you take me for a fool?' Holmes' disbelief and derision was obvious on both his face and in the tone of his voice.

'Those scratches were an accident. I was trying to stop Gemma. She wanted to go on…she was trying to get my shirt undone and in the struggle she scratched me. Look you have to believe that's what happened. I don't know why Gemma is lying about this. I don't know why she would say that we made love when we didn't. I couldn't do it…I couldn't do that to her, not now, not…..'

'Not what Jardine? Not while her husband was still alive? Is that what you were going to say? Or not while she was pregnant to another man maybe? Which is it Jardine? What stopped you, if you did stop?'

'His principles stopped him.' Robbie's quiet, rueful comment cut the air. 'His bloody Christian principles, that's what stopped him.'

Michael stared at Robbie seeing the belief and understanding reflected there. Relief flooded over him and he slumped back into the chair.

'Yes. Thank you.' This last was directed straight at Robbie who nodded once in acknowledgment.

Holmes looked from one to the other aware that somehow the atmosphere in the room had discharged and that Jardine felt he was no longer under pressure to prove anything. For some reason because Ross believed him, Jardine felt that he had proved his innocence.

'Okay.' Holmes drawled the word. '….leaving that little piece of dramatic license for now we will move on to the forensic evidence. Care to explain how we found bloodstains on Derek Ludlow's shirt, your blood Jardine?'

Before Michael could answer Robbie broke in,

'Look Sir, I told you those bloodstains could have come from the fight downstairs. Ludlow head butted Michael and his nose bled all over the place including Ludlow's shirt, his own shirt, my handkerchief and quite a bit on the floor. There are dozens of witnesses to that fight and all will testify that Michael did his best to control the situation. It was Ludlow that started it. Those bloodstains won't stand up in court and you know it.'

Holmes glared at Robbie.

'In case you hadn't noticed Inspector, you're here to interview the suspect not act as his legal counsel.' Holmes spun round to face Michael again.

'There is still the matter of your absence for over four hours covering the time of the murder. You say there are no witnesses and refuse to divulge where you were. As you well know that omission on your part is damning. Care to offer any further explanation on where you were Jardine?'

Michael glanced at Robbie who shook his head slightly. Robbie obviously hadn't been able to find any witnesses so there was no point in airing any more of his 'peculiar' personal habits any further. Better to leave himself with some dignity.

'No.'

Holmes made a show of shuffling his papers as if searching for more evidence to throw at Michael. There was a discrete knock at the door.

'Interview suspended, 12.22 in response to an interruption.' Holmes flicked off the tape machine and got up to open the door. The excited and flushed face of Stuart Fraser was revealed.

'Fraser, what do you want? We're in the middle of an interview. This better be important.'

'Sir! It is, very important and I think Mike…DCI Jardine should hear it as well.' In his excitement Stuart was almost bouncing up and down. Before Holmes could stop him he brushed past Holmes and burst out,

'Sir! They found him. The guy that killed Ludlow. Well actually, he found us!'

Michael sat frozen in place. Robbie reacted first. Grabbing Stuart by the shoulders Robbie swung him around to face him.

'Again Stuart, say it again, but calm down okay?'

'But Robbie!…..I'

'Stuart!'

Stuart took a deep breath and turned back to Michael.

'A man came into the station this morning with his solicitor. He has admitted to beating Ludlow to death. Ludlow picked a fight with him in a pub and they took the fight outside. This guy's an ex boxer and he lost control and beat Ludlow to death. He and couple of mates dumped Ludlow in the canal. He's admitted to it all. You're in the clear Mike! Sorry Sir!'

'Thank you Stuart. Thank you.' Michael's whisper could hardly be heard.

Holmes flipped the tape machine on again.

'This interview with Detective Chief Inspector Michael Jardine is terminated at 12.25 in light of further evidence and the full admission to the murder of Derek Ludlow by another suspect.'

Holmes flipped both tapes out and threw them on the desk.

'Destroy them if you want. You don't want them coming back and haunting your career. If you've still got one that is.' With that Holmes glanced at Robbie and half smiled,

'By the book eh Ross? You wouldn't know that rule book if you fell over it.' He walked out of the room.

Michael sat on the sofa in his flat nursing a mug of strong black coffee. At times like this he wished he were a drinking man so he could wipe himself out for a few hours, a few days and forget the last week, forget Gemma.

The doorbell rang but he ignored it. It rang again and then a third time. Resigned to responding to another unwanted visitor he dragged himself up off the sofa and walked barefoot through to the front door.

Jackie stood on the doormat, hands in pockets and the lines of worry etched in her face.

'Can I come in?' She asked quietly.

Michael waved his arm down the hall.

'Why not? Half the office has been here today, just to check that I'm okay.'

'They care about you Michael.' She paused, 'I care about you.'

By this time they had walked through to the lounge. Michael stopped and moving slowly he put the mug of coffee down on the coffee table. As he swung slowly round to face her, Jackie jumped in.

'Michael there's something you need to know. Gemma' Michael flinched at that name, '… has agreed to get some help. The doctor believes that she may be suffering some sort of delayed reaction to the loss of the first baby and that's what's causing the delusions and the depression. She's returning to London for treatment. She has friends there that are willing to help….and Ludlow's family.'

'Thanks, thanks for letting me know. Jackie?' Michael paused, unsure of how to go on, 'I know…..I know that you care but…'

'But what Michael?'

'I can't do this right now. I can't deal with any emotional….any…thing…..not now, not for a while, maybe not ever between us. It would be just to….' His voice trailed off.

'Too what Michael, to hard, to messy. It's out in the open now Michael, maybe you can bury it again but I don't know if I can.'

'I don't want to bury it….I just can't…..I just can't be hurt again, not now.' He held up his hand to cut her reply off.

'I know, it may not come to hurting each other but right now I can't take that risk. I don't know if I can survive that type of hurt again, maybe not ever. Can you understand? Please Jackie?'

'No I can't understand, but ….I can live with it for now. I lived with it for a long time, maybe I can last a little while longer.' Michael saw the pain in her face but knew that right now he couldn't help her. He could barely help himself.

Not knowing what other comfort he could offer, he simply held open his arms and she stepped into them, resting her head on his chest as his arms closed around her. After a few moments he felt the tears soaking through his shirt but could do nothing but hold her and pray that they could both survive this as friends if nothing else. Everything else would have to wait for the future.

The end.