"Drink with me?" Asked Martha to the person sitting opposite her whilst attempting to pour her a glass of wine. CW loved a drink and there was no way she would turn down an offer like that...or so Martha thought. Unusually, CW declined with a shake of her head and covered her glass with her hand. "Please?" Martha begged, but CW remained resolute. Although her comrade may be abstaining, she definitely wouldn't be. She needed to drink tonight. A lot to drink really after the day she'd had.

Nearly two bottles later and Martha looked at her watch. Eleven o'clock. She started to shake thinking about what was happening in the Caribbean at this precise time.

CW noticed Martha's unhappiness and poured the remaining remnants of the second bottle into Martha's glass. "Are you ok?" She asked as she poured.

"It's six o'clock in the Caribbean," Martha answered, which wasn't really the answer CW was expecting.

"Oof! To the Caribbean," Caroline toasted as she sipped from her glass. She had relented a little and had a bit more to drink with Martha, realising the younger woman had something on her mind, but was only drinking one glass to Martha's two.

Martha raised her glass in reply to CW's toast before taking a sip. Her eyes growing glassy with unshed tears as she thought about Florence Henderson and what that lovely lady and her family were going through.

"You have to laugh don't you," commented CW.

"Or what?" Asked Martha.

"Or you go home and sit there and cry your bloody heart out," the senior QC commented. Martha's tears hadn't gone unnoticed. "What is it?" She asked her friend.

"Nothing," replied Martha. She didn't know CW well enough yet to pour her heart out to.

"Tomorrow is another day," Caroline advised, thinking she was helping but it had the opposite effect. It reminded Martha of the deal she had made with the devil a little earlier in order to keep Fatima Ali out of prison.

"Tomorrow is Jody Farr," Martha replied cryptically, before downing her glass and ordering another bottle.

The phone rang just as Clive was leaving Shoe Lane. He'd put in a late night working on his next case, but home was calling quite strongly now. He was in half a mind to leave the phone ringing, but something made him pick it up.

"Hello?" He answered, wondering who would be phoning chambers at this late hour.

"Excellent. Just who I was looking for," he heard his caller down the phone reply, and he knew who it was immediately.

"Caroline?".

"Yes darling,".

"What do you want?".

"I need some help with one of our colleagues," she started to explain.

"Who?" Clive asked, wondering who she was talking about.

"Martha,".

"Martha?" Clive echoed. "What's happened?".

"Drunk herself into some kind of stupor this evening, and I'm having trouble helping her home,".

"Where are you?" Clive asked and Caroline gave him the name of the pub they were in. "Give me ten minutes," he replied before heading out the door and to the pub.

Martha was fast asleep, slumped over a table when Clive reached the two women. On the table were six empty bottles of red wine. Clive raised an eyebrow at Caroline when he saw how much they had had to drink.

"Don't look at me like that Darling," Caroline had said offended. "I'm only responsible for two of those. Martha had the rest,".

"Why would she do something like that?" Clive asked aloud, although he didn't really expect an answer. Yes, Martha liked a drink like all the barristers he knew. Work hard, play hard was their philosophy. But she didn't drink herself into oblivion like she obviously had done tonight.

"I don't know," replied Caroline. "Kept muttering about the Caribbean and looking at her watch most of the night," she went on.

"Oh, Marth," sighed Clive after Caroline's observation revealed the reason for Martha's drunken escapade. He knew her death row appeal had failed and that the sentence was being carried out today. Trust her to take it so badly. "Right, let's get her home," Clive stated as he put one of Martha's arms around the back of his neck whilst one of his arms went around her waist, and tried lifting her to her feet, before guiding her out of the pub.

Half an hour later the cab was pulling up in front of Clive's apartment block. He had decided half way into the journey to take Martha to his place rather than take Martha to hers. His flat was bigger and had a spare bedroom so he would be able to keep an eye on her overnight and tomorrow as well if needed, which was looking increasingly likely.

"Come on," he encouraged as he roused Martha to get out of the cab before guiding her into his apartment.

"This isn't my place," Martha observed slurring her speech as he led her inside.

"No, it's mine," Clive responded, "but well done for noticing," he continued as he led her into his kitchen and sat her on a chair. He poured her a glass of cold water and placed it in front of her with some paracetamol tablets. "Drink that," he instructed.

"I don't wanna. Not thirsty," Martha retorted.

"Drink it," he said a little more forcefully. "You'll thank me in the morning believe me," he continued. Martha still defiantly refused to touch the drink. "We're not moving from here until you drink it all, Marth," he stated as he sat down and leant back against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles preparing to get comfortable for what might be a long battle of wills. He knew how stubborn she could be at times. "The choice is yours," he challenged her.

Martha thought about her options. She really wanted to lie down somewhere comfortable and wasn't in any state to really argue with him, so begrudgingly drank the water and tablets.

"Good girl," Clive praised once the water had disappeared. "And for your reward, you get to go to bed," he said as he helped her up and led her into his bedroom and sat her on the bed. He then went over to the wardrobe before finding a t-shirt she could change into before leading her into the en-suite bathroom and sitting her on the closed toilet whilst he found her a spare toothbrush.

"Right," he instructed as he handed her the two items. "Do you think you'll be able to clean your teeth and change into that?" He asked his friend who took the items and stared vacantly at them. "Or are you going to make my night and let me help you?" He asked with a leer, knowing it would wind her up.

"I can manage thank you," she slurred as she rose from the toilet still quite unsteady on her feet.

"Excellent," Clive replied. "I'll just go sort out the spare room," he continued as he departed, hearing the bathroom door close behind him.

It was fifteen minutes later when he re-entered the main bedroom after having changed the sheets on his spare bed. He stopped dead in his tracks as he found Martha fully stretched out across his bed, fast asleep. "That's my bed, Marth!" He said quietly as he caught sight of her. Not counting Nottingham where he had bedded her in a hotel room, he had always dreamed about getting her into his own bed, and he'd finally succeeded although the circumstances were a little different to how he had imagined. She did look gorgeous though, lying there on her back with her arms curled up near her head, his T-shirt falling to her mid thigh. He tried not to let his mind focus on the fact that could tell she wasn't wearing her bra either.

Not wanting to disturb her, he covered her with the quilt before placing another glass of water and some more paracetamol on the bedside table beside her. He leant down and gave her the gentlest kiss to her forehead before leaving her alone.

Not surprisingly Clive was the first to wake the next morning. It was a lovely day which was perfect for a morning run. He was in his final preparations for the New York marathon and had to get a good ten miles in that day.

Going into his bedroom to find some running clothes, he found Martha still dead to the world. She was in much the same position as he had left her last night and the water remained untouched. After changing, he refreshed the drink just in case she woke whilst he was out and left her a quick note before letting himself out the flat.

It was a little later that Martha woke up. Sunlight was streaming through the curtains and caused her to shut her eyes again immediately. Her head was pounding, and her mouth was like sandpaper. She felt absolutely awful. It took her a while to remember why. The previous day came back to her in scattered fragments- Florence and Jackson Henderson, Fatima Ali, Mickey Joy, Jody Farr. She remembered she had decided to get drunk to block everything out of her mind. She had obviously succeeded, although in the cold light of day it really didn't seem that it had been a good idea. She was never drinking again...ever...well red wine anyway.

She needed water and quickly. Sitting up to get out of bed the room started to spin quite violently and the nausea set in. This was going to be much more difficult than she thought. She quickly lowered herself back on the pillows, but not before catching sight of a glass of water beside her. She congratulated herself on the previous nights preparation. She had obviously been aware how bad she would feel this morning and had made sure she had something available for when she woke. She had never done that before, but hey, she was older and much more sensible now. When she felt able, she opened her eyes again and reached for the drink. She spied the pain killers as well and took a couple which slipped down with the delicious water.

It was when she couldn't see her alarm clock on the bedside table that she became aware she wasn't in her own bedroom. She looked around frantically, not recognising anything. Where the hell was she? Perhaps she wasn't as old and wise as she thought. She hadn't done anything this stupid in a really long time, although a quick check beneath the quilt revealed she hadn't been completely reckless as she wasn't naked and she was still wearing her knickers. There was also something keeping her from completely freaking out, but she wasn't sure what it was until she rolled over in bed. The pillows and quilt smelt very familiar. She searched her mind as best she could in her hungover state. Suddenly she realised what the smell was. Clive! She must be in his flat. That thought relaxed her and she fell back to sleep quickly.

Clive returned from his run and headed for the shower in his en-suite. Martha was still asleep but it looked like she had roused herself a bit as the water had gone and she was now sleeping on her side. Leaving her to it, he showered before heading off to do some more work on his trial.

It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon and Martha still hadn't surfaced. He was going to make himself a spot of lunch and decided to check in on Martha to see if she fancied anything. She was still on her side sleeping peacefully. When he entered the bedroom.

Climbing gently on the bed beside her, he gently stroked her cheek, trying to wake her. "Hey Sleeping Beauty," he said as he did so. Martha wasn't deeply asleep as she batted his hand away with a grunt, like she was trying to get rid of a pestering fly buzzing around her head. Her eyes remained closed. Recalling the fairy tale of the same name, Clive leant down and kissed Martha on the lips, keen to see if she would wake like the character did when she had received a kiss. He felt her eyelids flutter open and when he pulled away, she was awake, although not very happy at being disturbed by the looks of it.

"Good Afternoon, Sunshine," he greeted her cheerfully. He always liked being extra cheerful when Martha was in a mood. It was the best way to try and get her mood to shift, although sometimes it did require a bit of patience.

"Piss off!" Was her reply as she promptly turned over so her back was to him, before making herself comfortable again and trying to get back to sleep.

Clive watched her amused. "That's no way to talk to your Prince Charming, is it?" He questioned. Martha ignored him and didn't reply. "Oi!" He said as he poked her in the shoulder blade. "I said that's no way to treat your Prince Charming, is it?" He repeated.

"I don't need a Prince Charming thank you very much," Martha replied, although she didn't turn back around. "I would have thought you would have finally got that in the sixteen years we have been friends!". Hopefully he'd get the message she didn't want to be disturbed and leave her alone...but it wasn't to be.

"Oh really?" He enquired in a teasing tone. "You could have got yourself home last night could you?". Martha remained silent. "If I'd have known, I wouldn't have bothered answering CW's distress call or taken a detour on my way home," he continued. That caught her attention and Martha opened her eyes before rolling onto her back and looking in Clive's direction.

"Why did CW phone you?" She asked confused. She couldn't remember a lot about the night before, and his answer might help her piece a few things together. Namely how she ended up being at Clive's place.

"You were a mess, Marth," Clive explained. "I think you were trying to drink CW under the table which wasn't a particularly clever thing to do. That woman can drink for England if you didn't know. She called me to help her get you home, although I thought I could look after you better here which is why you are in my apartment,". Martha stayed quiet whilst thinking about everything she had just been told.

"Billy's right. No more death row cases for you," Clive warned, "because I hate seeing you like that, in such a state when it doesn't go your way. Next time you ever feel like that, please talk to me, or Billy, or whoever," he scolded gently.

Clive only knew half of what was going on with her. If he only knew what she had agreed to yesterday in order to help Fatima out. He was going to be really disappointed in her when he found out. Before she could help it she found herself starting to cry.

"Come here, Marth," soothed Clive as he shifted himself so he could gather her into his side and give her a hug. "Or at least choose me for your drinking partner," he teased whilst rubbing her arm, trying to ease her tears. "I hold my drink only slightly better than you. We'd have given up long before you did last night," he continued and she smiled a bit. "I am trying not to take offence that you chose CW over me by the way,".

"Sorry," she sniffed. "I didn't know if you'd be busy with George,".

"Ah...no," replied Clive. "She dumped me over Fatima Ali. Any ideas why that might be?" He asked, knowing the answer already. He watched Martha bite on her lip guiltily. He loved the way she did that.

"Sorry," she said again with another sniff.

"It's ok," Clive revealed. "To be honest, it was getting a bit tricky hiding the prosecution work from her. If I do make the swap, which I am thinking seriously about, it would never have worked out,".

They lay in contented silence for a bit, Martha dozing a bit until they were disturbed by the grumbling of Clive's stomach.

"That reminds me," said Clive. "Are you up for eating anything? I came in here to ask before I made myself anything,".

Martha curled her lip up at the suggestion, her stomach roiling with the mention of food.

"I take that as a no," Clive confirmed and Martha nodded her head. "Ok. Are you going to get up at all?" He wanted to know and got a shake of her head this time. "You can't stay in bed all day, Marth!" He said slightly appalled.

"Well you shouldn't have such a comfy guest bed," retorted Martha.

"Actually this is my bed," Clive admitted. "You fell asleep on it last night, so I let you stay in it,".

"Oh God, Clive," Martha replied, feeling really guilty at that last comment. "You should have woken me up and moved me,".

"You looked too comfortable to be disturbed," he revealed as he moved to get up. "You need anything?" He asked.

"Some more water would be great," she replied as she handed him her glass. "If you don't mind,".

"Anytime," Clive said as he took the glass and headed out the room.

It was nearly five when Martha finally got up. Wrapping herself in the warm quilt she waddled to the living room and flopped onto the sofa, making herself comfortable resting her head on the arm of the sofa.

"Oh my God, it's alive," Clive said as Martha entered the room. "That your exercise for the day is it?" He asked as he saw her lying down again. "Don't exert yourself too much," he continued, which earned him a stuck out tongue from Martha.

"Fancied a change of scenery," she replied. "What you working on?" She asked him. He was sat at his desk obviously doing some preparation for a case.

"Jody Farr trial," Clive replied. He was busy concentrating on his paperwork, so didn't see Martha's facial expression change to one of worry. "I'm helping CW with the prosecution,".

"Are you?" Asked Martha. This was going to be worse than she thought. She was going to have to face Clive in court everyday.

"Yep. It's going to be a big trial Marth, and I'm determined to work hard on it,".

"Are you?"

"I'm going to apply for silk again," Clive revealed, "and this case could help me get it,".

"Right," Martha replied vacantly.

"And I want to see the bastard go down," Clive continued, finally looking at his friend. "Make him pay for what he did to Brendan,". Martha had taken his death quite hard, and blamed herself for his grizzly demise. He wanted to let her know part of the reason he was doing this trial was for her.

"Can we talk about something else?" Martha ordered, not keen on discussing this subject any more. Inside she was feeling terrible, wondering how he would react when he found out she would be defending Jody Farr.

"Ok," agreed Clive thinking she didn't want to discuss Brendan anymore. "How about dinner? You up for eating yet?".

Martha thought about it and realised she could perhaps manage something. They ordered a take away and had a nice evening before Clive revealed he wanted to get some more work done.

He didn't see her leave the room, but did notice when she returned.

"You're going home?" He asked when he saw her in her clothes from yesterday.

"I think I should. Leave you to your work and let you have your bed back," she replied.

"You don't have to Marth. I don't mind," he argued.

"I know, but I should," Martha replied. They might get into murky waters if Clive started talking any more about the trial, and the prosecutions case.

"Ok, if you're sure,".

"Yep," Martha replied. She wouldn't be swayed, despite wanting to stay longer. He got up to walk her to the door.

"See you Monday then," Clive said as he opened the door. "Hope you feel a lot better tomorrow,".

"Me too," Martha said before giving her friend a hug. She hoped it wouldn't be the last one, and that he would still be her friend after their next case. "Thank you for looking after me," she admitted whilst they were embracing.

"You're welcome," Clive responded a little surprised at her outburst.

"Maybe I do need a Prince Charming every now and then," she conceded.

"Just give me a call," Clive reminded her. He had the feeling something else was going on with her. He only hoped she wouldn't keep it bottled up this time, and let him in. Whilst he knew she liked to be independent, sometimes you needed to lean on someone. He really wished she would see that and that she would turn to him.

"See you Monday then," she said as she finally released him and stepped out the door.