Resurrection Part 2 Phoenix Rising from the Ashe, a taggart fanfic

Resurrection 2 – Phoenix Rising from the Ashes

(Set roughly 12 months after Resurrection 1)

London

The ministerial adviser to the Home Secretary closed the confidential file on his desk. Another file, which had arrived by his special courier last night, had brought to his attention a matter that he thought finished with 12 months ago. He deeply regretted the death of his contact in Australia, the man had been useful in providing very viable information about undercover agents and police officers that could be bought both here and in Australia. But the man had been careless, someone had seen him killing that cop. The Australian Federal Police drug task force had followed the man's record back to the UK and with the help of the Met Special Task Force, had come close to discovering the man's controller, only one level below him. For some time he had shut down the network and it had cost him dearly in control and money. He had no choice, he could not afford to jeopardize his position when there was still so much to do, still someone he had to protect.

The man was supposed to have been digging out undercover cops and had struck a lead with a couple, purportedly antique importers. Their stories had minute holes, holes that he had been able to crack open a little wider here in the UK. His man had been ordered to "arrange" their exposure, preferably a murder charge for killing a cop, something that would go world wide and expose them as undercover cops when they were "rescued" from their fate, throwing the whole undercover operation wide open to public exposure. But the stupid idiot had killed the cops himself and before he could plant sufficient evidence he had been seen. So he died. Dead men tell no tales.

The file had brought confirmation that at least one of the undercover agents that his man had been tracking in Australia was still alive and back in the UK. His original information had said that both agents had been killed by a rival syndicate in an "accident", but it had now been confirmed that one agent, Mikey Stevenson, alias DCI Michael Jardine, had survived and was being held "incommunicado" by the Met Special Task Force.

He pondered who he would have to apply pressure to, to flush out this hiding place. He didn't know if Jardine knew anything about his network but he could not afford to wait and find out. All loose ends had to be eliminated, regardless of their innocence or not.

Glasgow

DI Jackie Reid breathed a huge sigh of relief. The guilty verdict handed down today had seen the successful culmination of six months of hard work. Another serial killer was off the streets of Glasgow for the rest of his natural life.

Glancing round the office she noticed that almost everyone else had called it a day and headed for the pub. Only Stuart still toiled on, tidying up the paperwork and making sure that everything was filed away properly. Good old Stuart, always reliable, always understanding that being at the bottom of the pecking order meant that the dirty jobs fell to him. She really needed to speak to Robbie and Burke about Stuart, it was about time he was made DS. He'd earned his stripes many times over, particularly when she and Rob had been in Australia last year. He'd handled himself really well on the murder case that had arisen while they were away. Burke had been very complimentary, even acknowledging that his training under Michael had obviously stood him in good stead.

Jackie and Rob had got a good laugh out of that one. Michael would be pleased for Stuart, if only they could let him know, but any contact was too risky. Even thinking like this was risky, Jackie reminded herself.

She and Rob still visited the gravesite on a regular basis, they knew that any change in their routine on their return from Sydney may be marked. Michael had inferred that they too might be subject to surveillance checks occasionally and that any change might be picked up and may start questions being asked in the wrong place. Putting both Michael and Shelley at risk.

Stuart looked up from his filing, 'You not joining them Ma'am?'

'Don't Ma'am me Stuart, not when everyone else is gone. Makes me feel a hundred years old.'

'Sorry Jackie, I guess since your promotion to DI, I sort of feel that I should be more respectful, you know.'

Jackie smiled at him. 'Rubbish, we've known each other too long for that nonsense Stuart.

Oh aye, fine maybe when Burke is around, keeps him happy if he thinks we play the game, but between you and me, my promotion changes nothin'. We been through too much together Stuart for that sort of crap.'

'Jackie, can I ask a question?'

'Sure, what's on your mind?'

'Do you think there is an afterlife, I mean ….do you think maybe that Michael is watching over us or something?'

'Why do you ask that Stuart?' Jackie's face became wary.

'I don't really know…except that last year when you and Ross were away in Australia and I was stuck in the middle of that murder case, I sort of felt like someone was there behind me, helping me the way Michael used to push us along to follow the clues and draw the conclusions. Does that make sense?'

'Aye, it does to me. I know what you're saying Stuart, but whether it's Michael helping out from the afterlife, or just you using that as a basis for acknowledging your own talent for this game, does it matter? What matters is that you're good at what you do.'

Jackie smiled at him, receiving a wide smile in return. Stuart stood up, 'Thanks Jackie, I knew you wouldn't laugh at me. Coming to the pub?'

'Aye, I'll be along soon, just need to finish off this memo. Oh and Stuart?'

Stuart looked back at her as he shrugged his coat on, 'I'll be speaking to Burke and Ross about your promotion too, we need to push it along, you should've got it long ago.'

Stuart blushed and stammered, 'Thanks Jackie, I didn't like to ask, you know.'

'I know Stuart…and you know that Michael would be proud of you, don't you?' Jackie locked eyes with him.

'Aye…he'd be proud of you too Jackie.'

'Go on, get out of here before you reduce both of us to tears!'

'Night'

'Aye, good night Stuart, sweet dreams.'

The next morning Jackie came into the office late. She had overslept after lying awake for hours thinking of Stuart and his afterlife comments and wondering, as usual, how Michael was. If she was honest with herself she also worried about Shelley. She wasn't stupid, she realized that Michael had made his decision and that part of his decision was his commitment to Shelley, and Michael had always been big on commitment. Often the reason why many of his relationships failed, the women he fell for were not the commitment types. But Shelley was different. It was obvious to a even a blind man that she loved Michael and that Michael returned that love.

Ah well, at least she could console herself with the knowledge that he wasn't alone anymore. She firmly pushed the thought out of her mind that although he wasn't alone, he certainly wasn't out of danger. She knew that a part of her mind would never rest until she knew he was safe.

Burke stuck his head out of his office door and waved her over.

'Jackie, I've just received advice about the Forensic Psychology course that you've been wanting to do for a while?'

At her look of enquiry he continued,

'Aye well there's been a late cancellation on the one starting in two days, so your on it okay?'

'Yes Sir, …thank you Sir. Where?'

'Some place about an hour out of London, some country house that's been turned into a police training venue or something. The details are coming through by email direct to you later today. You'll have to drive, no money for airfares.'

'That's fine Sir, I'll take my own car so you'll not be left short.'

Jackie walked back to her desk, bemused at the sudden turn of events, she could do with a break, that last case had been tough going.

'So, you're off to play with the psych boys eh?' Robbie asked.

'Aye, seems like. Five days if I remember properly. Should be good, been wanting to do it for sometime, but always something else got in the way.'

'Work you mean? Has a habit of gettin' in the way of the good things in life although, I wouldn't exactly call Forensic Psychology the good things in life. So when's the off?'

'I might head down tomorrow, course starts the next day, so gives me time to drive down, find the place and settle in.'

'Have fun, don't do anythin' I wouldn't do.' Robbie smirked at her.

'Which of course leaves the field wide open really, doesn't it?' She smiled sweetly in return.

Outside London

Jackie finally found her way off the motorway and onto the right exit. She's nearly missed it, diving across lanes at the last minute, not exactly responsible police behaviour! Still five days away from the office had lightened her mood and she was looking forward to some interesting times. Suddenly she laughed. How dull must her life be if five days talking about Forensic Psychology was something to look forward too.

She followed the signs, referring to her copy of the email with the directions. Funny about that email, she was sure she hadn't trashed it after printing it, but she couldn't find it again. Oh well at least she had the printed copy. She would have to phone the office and give them the contact number when she got there. Whoever had sent the email had forgotten to include it.

She spotted the sign with the name of the house pointing off the main road, down a rutted laneway. Seemed a bit shoddy for the Met, still maybe they didn't want too many people to know what was here, locals sometimes got a bit funny about having too many coppers around.

She parked her car in the driveway, noticing that there were no other cars parked yet, she must be the first. Good, give her time to have a look around. She went to the front door, placing her hand on the door handle, which turned abruptly on her and suddenly the door was swung open.

'DI Reid? Welcome. I'm DCI Spencer, I'm looking after things here. Come this way please.'

Jackie stepped into the foyer of the house looking around with interest,

'I'm first am I Sir?' She queried.

'Yes, you could say that.' Spencer replied not meeting her eyes. 'Please come this way through to the office, there is someone who needs to speak to you first.'

Jackie followed Spencer, her face a mixture of curiosity and wariness, this wasn't exactly what she had been expecting.

Spencer led her to a room at the back of the house that had been done up as an office, computer, fax, phones etc. He indicated that she should take a seat then left the room. She waited for maybe two minutes when the door opened to admit a tall distinguished looking man in his fifties, three piece suit, old school tie, the lot.

'DI Reid? Hello, my name is Chief Superintendent Graham Wallace, I'm head of a special task force in the Met. May I call you Jackie, DI Reid seems so formal.'

He smiled deprecatingly.

'To be honest Sir, you can call me whatever you like as long as you explain what's going on.'

'Ah, refreshingly frank I see, no nonsense about you is there Jackie. Well, I will come straight to the point. We've brought you here today to help us with a problem we're having with a mutual friend. Michael Jardine.'

Jackie had dreaded this day, a day when she might have to decide whether someone was friend or foe. Was this man really Michael's friend or simply one of the bent ones trying to break his cover.

'Sir? Michael Jardine is dead. He's been dead for two years now.' She replied with no emotion in her voice.

'Well done Jackie, exactly the right answer from a true and loyal friend. But I'm going to say two words that I hope will reassure you that I'm on yours, and I might add, his side, though you wouldn't credit it the way he has been treating me lately.'

He paused, focusing on Jackie's eyes with a slight smile twisting his mouth, 'Ta, Sunshine.'

Jackie froze, now she would have to decide, friend or foe. Her brain seethed with choices, she prayed that her face wasn't betraying her inner dilemma.

'Jackie?' She looked up at him, 'Michael's here, he needs you help.'

Here? Oh god, so close, but was it a trap?

'Jackie?' Again he drew her gaze, 'Shelley's dead.'

She blinked, too shocked to react in any other way,

'He needs help, help we think you can supply. Will you?'

She drew a shuddering breath, not releasing his look but trying to tell from his eyes if he was telling the truth. Decide, come on, decide for god's sake her mind screamed.

'Okay.'

'Just okay Jackie…nothing else?…no questions? You show such trust and faith for him. I hope he understands how much you care for him, how much you are prepared to give for him. Yes, I know a lot about him Jackie, and a lot about you.'

Here Wallace stood up, indicating that Jackie should follow him. 'Shall we go to him?'

They walked along the hall and went up the main stairs to the first level. Wallace spoke as they walked along the hallway, rooms going off on both sides.

'He's changed Jackie, changed both physically and mentally. He survived something pretty horrific before we could get him out and it has changed him as a person. The doctors of course, call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but you and I both know that something pretty bad must have happened to cause this level of trauma. Sorry, getting a little a head of myself here. I must leave you to judge for yourself.'

Wallace stopped in front of a double door that obviously led through to what was a suite of rooms. Wallace opened one door,

'Michael? You have a visitor.'

Wallace then let Jackie in, leaving her alone in the room with Michael.

The room was quite dim, little light coming through the large windows as the day was drawing to a close outside.

'Michael?'

Silence, then, 'So, they've brought in the cavalry have they?'

Jackie saw a figure slumped in a large armchair facing the windows.

'It's okay Jackie, you're not seeing a ghost, just someone who wishes they were.'

With that he rose slowly from the chair and, bracing himself on the walking stick held tight against his left leg, he turned with some difficulty.

Jackie somehow suppressed the gasp of dismay that nearly burst from her at the shock of seeing Michael's face and thin, obviously pain racked body. A raw jagged scar ran down the right side of his face from almost the hairline to his jaw. His right arm hung limply at his side, his left leg obviously had difficulty bearing his weight, weight considerably less than when she had last seen him in Sydney, looking the picture of health from his life in the warmer Australian climate. His skin showed the grayish pallor of a prolonged battle with the pain of severe injuries and a long recuperation away from prying eyes.

His eyes were the worst. The blueness faded to gray, no response, no life in them, dead eyes that seemed not to see the world outside, eyes that focused inwards on some inner torment.

'Pretty isn't it?'

Michael lifted his right hand slowly, and with effort, to indicate the scar on his face.

'A bit of steel reinforcing rod protruding from a slab of concrete did it. I never saw it coming but I see the result everyday now.'

His voice was devoid of emotion except for a tinge of bitterness at this daily reminder of the unspoken trauma.

'The plastic surgeon assures me that it will fade with time, not that it matters anymore.' Michael lifted his right hand and indicated a chair adjacent to his, 'Come in, sit down, take a load off as they say.'

With that he swung around and lowered himself into the chair again.

'Sorry, still can't stand for too long, leg starts shaking and I fall over. Now that's a sight, the crippled lying on the floor, no strength in his arms or legs to get up again. Still, gives these bloody nursemaids I'm surrounded with something to do with their time.'

His gaze returned to the world outside, or so it seemed. Jackie walked forward to stand in front of him, what little light coming through the window showing up his ravaged face. Once again the eyes were focused inwards, not even seeing her.

'Michael, I don't know… …...'

'Don't know what? Why I'm here…why I'm all smashed up like Humpty Dumpty…why I told them not to bother bringing you here? Is that what you want to know?'

'Yes, I want to know everything. Everything you can tell me.'

'There's nothing to tell. Shelley's dead, I'm alive, just, end of story. Okay?'

'No, not okay. How, why, when. Don't freeze me out Michael, this is me Jackie, not the zoo keepers outside.'

'Why should I tell you anything, you're nothing to me, a work colleague, a friend from the past. Sorry, I forgot, I have no past.'

'Michael….wallowing in self pity is not like you. You should….' She got no further.

For a man with his injuries he still managed to move with incredible speed, anger the motivation. He surged to his feet, grabbing her around the throat and forced her back against the windows, holding her there with the weight of his body, pain wracked as it was, it was still strong enough to hold her still. Aware that his body was starting to tremble with the strain of standing unaided she braced herself to support him if he started to fall. Staring into her eyes with a look that froze her completely he snarled,

'I should what Jackie? What should I do? Just snap out of it. Get over it like a man? ….How do you know what I'm like, you don't know me anymore, no-one does. You know nothing about what I've lived through, you know nothing about anything that's happened so don't pass judgment on how I should feel, understand?'

With that he let go of her throat and turning, collapsed back into the chair, returning to that dead eyed stare out the window.

'Get out, get out now before I say or do something else you might live to regret.'

As Jackie left the room, the horror of that confrontation still showing in her eyes, she almost collided with DCI Spencer who had obviously been waiting in the hall.

'So, not too successful I assume?' Spencer guessed by the look on Jackie's face.

'Sir? What happened to him? He …he wont talk about it.'

'Not surprising really, the little that we have been able to piece together is bad enough but we know that there is much he simply will not speak of. That's one of the reasons you were brought here. We had hoped that seeing you might break through the wall he's built around himself and hopefully, get him talking. The psych boys tell us that until he talks about it, the nightmares, the fits of manic depression and the physical harm he inflicts on himself won't ease off.'

'Physical harm? Christ! what does that mean?'

'He won't allow the doctors to treat his injuries anymore. In his physically weakened state he deliberately places himself in danger of further injury, forgets his walking stick and tries to go downstairs, cuts himself with his razor and does nothing to stop the bleeding.'

Here Spencer paused as if considering his next words. 'Actually he seems fascinated by blood. The first few weeks here he was always cutting himself, sometimes deliberately, sometimes by accident but he never did anything to stop the bleeding. He would simply sit and watch himself bleed. We had to watch him like a hawk, even got to taking away his cutlery, his razor, anything he could cut himself on. Fortunately that little quirk seems to have eased off.'

Spencer glanced at Reid to see how she was responding to this side of Michael's character, a side she had obviously never seen before. Jackie simply stood there, not able to think or move. Spencer touched her arm, bringing her back from that dark place.

'He will mend physically, we managed to repair all the major injuries. Of course he would heal faster if he would let us help, more food, exercise, physiotherapy and so on. But for now he simply does enough to continue existing that's all. It's his mental state that is our major concern. That's the reason you're here. Not a very auspicious start mind.'

Spencer led the way down the hall to another bedroom.

'This is yours, I hope you will be comfortable enough.'

Jackie noted that her case had been brought up for her from the car. She might as well unpack what little clothes she had brought.

Spencer touched her arm, again breaking in on her thoughts. 'Dinner is at seven. Do you want to eat with Michael or join us downstairs?'

'With Michael please, maybe I can try and make him eat a little more.'

'I'll let downstairs know. Feel free to roam the grounds, just don't go outside the perimeter fence please. I'll leave you to unpack. The phone is an intercom, just press 1.'

'I need to call the station, let them know I'm here and okay.'

'Sorry, no can do, no calls outside. I'll arrange an email to your boss, that should cover everything.'

'Thank you.'

'No problem. Look Jackie, if this is too much, say so now and you can go home, no one would blame you.'

'Except me. I couldn't leave him like this without trying to help.'

Spencer nodded, accepting her decision. He left her to her unpacking.

Dinner was not very successful. Michael simply ignored her. He ate a little from his plate then returned to the contemplation of the darkness outside the window. Jackie tried several times to get him to speak, talking over old times, sharing memories of Jim Taggart, bringing him up to date on things at Mary Hill but to no avail. It was if she spoke to an empty room. After finishing her dinner she sat in the chair beside him and simply looked at him, following the new lines carved in his face by the pain and the trauma. Her hands twitched with longing to run her fingers through his hair, to brush back that errant lock that always fell forward when he needed a hair cut.

After what seemed like hours of silence Michael suddenly spoke,

'Go to bed Jackie.'

It came out as an order, voice completely devoid of emotion. Jackie rose from her chair, admitting to herself that she might as well go to bed as sit here staring at his motionless figure. As she walked past his chair she leaned down to brush her lips on his hair to say goodnight. He jerked away from her, as if burned by her touch. Tears threatening Jackie left the room, stumbling blindly down the hall into her room and falling on the bed with the tears flowing freely now, soaking the pillow.

At some stage she must have fallen asleep, exhaustion, physical and emotional, taking its toll. Suddenly she was jerked from sleep by the heart-rending sound of a human scream of agony. Jumping up from the bed she ran out into the hall, the scream was repeated, weaker, more heart-rending. It was coming from Michael's room. Jackie raced down the hall, quickly entering, searching for the cause of the scream. Her first thought had been he was being attacked, but there was no-one else in the room.

Michael lay curled in the foetal position in the centre of the bed. Tearing sobs racked his body, as he fought with internal demons in his dreams. Jackie quickly moved to the bed, gently lowering herself onto the bed beside him. She reached out cautiously to touch his arm, the sobbing stopped, his body seemed frozen with fright.

'Michael, its Jackie…Michael?'

He didn't move. He barely seemed to be breathing. Slowly she put her arm around his shoulders, stroking his hair as you would when calming a child waking from a nightmare. Still he seemed frozen in place. Then suddenly he flung himself over, grabbing her with both arms and wrapped himself around her as if by holding on as tight as possible to her, he could drive the demons away.

'Michael, its okay, its Jackie, I'm here.'

She continued stroking his hair, his face, running her fingers gently down the scar, and back up to gently grasp his neck and hug him to her breast.

He started trembling, reaction to the nightmare. She simply held him, murmuring soft words of endearment to try and calm him. After a few minutes the trembling slowed, then stopped.

'Jackie?' he whispered.

'Yes Michael?'

'Stay?'

'Yes Michael, always.'…

'Thank you.' Was the whispered reply.

Slowly she felt him relax against her but when she tried to move slightly to get more comfortable his gripped tightened again,

'Its okay Michael, I'm not going anywhere.'

Sometime later, when she was sure he was asleep she moved further onto the bed, adjusted her hold on him to allow him to relax in his sleep but still maintained a light hold on him in case he woke again.

She slowly came awake, still in that half dozing half waking state, to the feel of light, sensuous kisses being mouthed on her neck. She lay there enjoying that glorious feeling of waking to the weight and smell of a man draped across her body obviously in the first stages of arousal. Suddenly memory returned, and she came fully awake when those kisses were accompanied by feather light caresses that moved from her stomach, up to her breasts and then trailed down to her thigh.

'Michael?'

'Mmmm' was the murmured reply,

'Michael, its me Jackie.' Then more urgently,

'Michael, its Jackie, wake up.'

All movement stopped on the bed. Jackie eased herself a little away so she could see his face. His eyes were open and staring at her, the pain in them tearing at her heart. He had thought she was Shelley, that much was obvious. In an attempt to ease his pain she reached up to stroke his face but the look he fixed on her stopped her hand mid way.

'Michael, I'm sorry, you had a nightmare, I came in to help you settle back to sleep. I must have fallen asleep myself.'

'Convenient for you. Or should I say convenient for me perhaps. Was this part of the master plan? Get me to sleep with you so I would forget Shelley eh? Is that what the shrinks think will help? Well I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in trying out their theories, so get out of my bed.' He snarled.

'Michael, don't be so stupid. Do you really think that I would be a party to that type of deception, I thought you knew me better that that.' She threw at him scornfully.

He continued to look at her, his eyes narrowed in speculation and with a hint of madness lurking in the background. Jackie returned his look unsure where to go from here, not really trusting him in this mood. Suddenly Michael rolled completely on top of her, letting his full weight pin her to the bed, holding himself up on his elbows so he could continue to watch her face, her reactions.

'So if you're not playing their tricks Jackie, whose tricks are you playing?' He asked casually, bringing his hand up to gently stroke the side of her face, letting his fingers trail down her jaw and throat to the hollow where her pulse beat rapidly. Jackie tried not to react, tried not to let him see that she was responding to his touch.

Michael continued to stare at her in a calculating manner, a slightly feral smile slowly spreading across his face as his eyes followed the path of his fingers to the pulse in her throat. He slowly lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on that pulse, laughing softly as the pulse responded to the kiss even if her face still showed no reaction. He shifted slightly so he could use his hands more freely, slowly undoing the buttons of her top and folding the sides back to reveal an expanse of bare skin, cut in half by her bra.

'Michael, don't do this…it's not me you'll hurt, but yourself.' Jackie told him quietly, desperately trying to control her heartbeat and reactions so as not to push him any further.

'Hurt? How can what's dead be hurt? You know, dead, gone, empty, devoid of anything worth living for. So how can I be hurt Jackie, tell me that.'

'Maybe not now, but when you're better and you look back on this it will hurt you. You can't consciously inflict hurt on others Michael, I know enough about you to know that that part of you is still intact.'

'Do you think so? Maybe, maybe not…shall we find out?' He asked rhetorically.

And with that he lent down and kissed her roughly, bruising her lips with the pressure from his mouth, invading her mouth with his tongue. Jackie lay quiescent, her brain screaming at her to push him away, to stop him. But from the depths a small voice echoed through her mind, let him do it, just this once with the justification that it may help him, but then her mind immediately acknowledged that this was rubbish, she would let him do it because she wanted him, had always wanted him.

Michael raised his mouth from hers, looking into her eyes for an answer, she simply looked back at him with every ounce of love for him on show, honest, unstinting and unselfish love. He snarled, looked away as if not liking what he saw. His mouth then ravaged her throat, the rise and fall of her breasts and trailed on down to where his hands fumbled at the waistband of her trousers.

'Michael, stop…stop now, if not for your own sake, then for mine.'

Returning sanity made her try and stop him before it was too late. He didn't seem to hear her plea. He had her trousers undone and had dragged them down past her knees. He looked up at her face then, not smiling, simply gauging her reaction as he forced his leg between hers pushing her knees apart. Realising this was the pivotal moment she simply refused to respond to his goading, never breaking eye contact, never flinching. She was back in control now, the choice must be his, she must not push him either way.

She saw hesitation in his eyes, a moment of fleeting sanity, but still he continued to try and stimulate a reaction from her, running the tips of his fingers down her stomach, tracing a feather light touch down the inside of her thigh and into her groin. Instinctively she shivered, a simple physical reaction but it broke his hold. Something seemed to snap, his whole body went rigid. He closed his eyes slowly, then, opening them, he glanced around as if only now really aware of his surroundings. He looked down at her half naked body, looked into her eyes, saw love, tenderness and god forgive him, an element of fear. His own expression changed to one of self-loathing and horror. Turning his head away from the look of pity he saw filling her eyes he made a noise like a groan, tainted with despair, and rolled off her onto the other side of the bed. He curled into the foetal position again,

'Go away Jackie, go as far away from me as possible…please?'

'No Michael, I told you last night that I wouldn't leave you, and I meant it. This hasn't change anything. I don't desert the people I love Michael.'

Michael flinched as if struck. But he didn't answer. Jackie straightened her clothes and slid off the bed. She moved a chair closer to the bed and simply sat there waiting for him to make the next move. After about ten minutes she realised that he had drifted off to sleep, exhaustion taking its toll. But somehow this sleep seemed different to last night, it seemed somehow more natural, more relaxed. So, maybe this confrontation had helped, maybe it had broken through some of the barricades around his mind. But at what cost she wondered, to him and, she had to admit to herself. To deny him what he had wanted, and she confessed, what she had wanted too, might have broken some barriers but it might also have erected others between. She could only wait.

He woke slowly about an hour later. His eyes, once they were able to focus, rested on the figure waiting patiently in the chair by the bed, he quickly looked away, not able to meet her eyes.

'Michael, I'm going to have a shower and get changed, okay? Then we can have some breakfast.'

Jackie told him, her voice even, as if she addressed a child that needed the reassurance of normality to steady his nerves.

'You'll come back?' Was the whispered question. So there was a change, a break in the barricades.

'Aye, always…you know that.' Jackie stood up, stretched to ease muscles cramped from sitting too long in one position. She noticed that Michael's eyes followed her every movement.

'Okay?' she queried. He didn't answer but the expression on his face relaxed, she took this for a yes.

She quickly left the room, walking down the hallway to her room. As she approached the door, another door across the way opened and Spencer stepped out, closing it quietly behind him.

'Rough night?' Spencer casually asked. 'Aye, you could say that.' She replied ruefully.

'Jackie?' She looked around at him, 'You need to know that you were safe at all times.'

'Sorry? What do you mean?' She stared at him.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, 'Ah, well…his room is bugged. We heard everything. We would have intervened if you had been in real danger.' Spencer had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

'And you don't think that rape constituted real danger? I see, well it seems that you and I have a different opinion on that subject.'

'But he didn't go ahead with it, did he?' He looked at her, trying to reassure her,

'Aye, no thanks to you lot.' She snapped. 'Look if you want me to try to get him to talk, and believe me I'm only doing it for his sake, not for you bastards who put him here in the first place. You get those bugs out of his room, and leave him in peace. Aye, and for that matter you can take any bugs out of my room, I assume it's bugged too?' She stared at him fixedly.

Spencer nodded. 'I'll have to get approval from Wallace, we really need to know what Michael knows.'

'Well you're getting nowhere, maybe I am, but I leave now unless those bugs are removed, Superintendent or no Superintendent. Got it?' She glared at him. Spencer held up his hands in submission and walked away down the hall and downstairs.

Jackie showered and changed as quickly as possible, speeding back to Michael's room, loath to leave him alone for too long now that she felt some breakthrough had been made. He hadn't moved, he remained curled up on the side of the bed seemingly asleep. She crossed the room to the phone, picked it up and dialed 1. Someone answered and she quietly asked for breakfast to be brought up to the room as soon as possible. Hanging up the phone she turned around to find his eyes watching her. She smiled and received a glimmer of an answering smile.

'Room service? Must be some posh hotel.' He said.

'Aye but the service could be better.' She replied,

'Are you going to get out of that bed today or do I have to come over and drag you out?'

She asked him casually. He looked away then, as if the mention of the word bed and her in one sentence brought back the memories of their early morning confrontation. Kicking herself for her lack of subtlety she moved around the room tidying up a few things, straightening curtains, adjusting chairs trying to give him time to recover his equilibrium. She heard the rustling of bedclothes and glancing over saw him trying to rise without the aid of his walking stick. She spotted it by his chair and quickly grabbed it and brought it over to him. He took it, curtly nodding his thanks. Once he was steady on his feet she backed off, not wanting to press him too much.

'It's okay, I promise not to bite.' Michael grimaced, realising his gaffe as he glanced quickly at her face seeing the pale bruising starting to show on her lips and throat. He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath,

'Jackie?'

'Yes Michael?'

'I 'm sorry, you know that don't you?'

Jackie looked at him, she smiled, 'Sorry for what?

Nothing happened Michael, nothing that isn't okay between friends.'

'Friends?'

'Friends, first and always. Go have a shower, you'll feel better for it you know. By the time you're done, breakfast should be here.'

'Okay.' He nodded briefly then set off across the room to the bathroom.

About 30 minutes later he came out, clean shaven, clean clothes, and damp hair. He looked younger but still so fragile. During the time he was in the shower, three men had come into the room and stripped it of all the bugs. Jackie watched their every move, asking to check their readout machine before they left to make sure they hadn't missed any. Satisfied that they all were gone she shooed them out just as Michael opened the bathroom door.

Surprising her he asked, 'How'd you manage that?'

At her look he said, 'Getting them to remove the bugs. I asked but they ignored me. Seems like a DS has more clout down here than I thought. Dead DCIs obviously carry no weight.'

To get over her surprise at him knowing about the bugs she said, 'It's DI now, I got promotion last month.' She said and smiled to see the startled reaction in his face to this news,

'Speaking of weight, time for you to eat, put some flesh on that frame of yours. Christ Michael, what have you been living on, bird food or something.'

'Living? No not living, existing. Food…doesn't really hold much interest for me.' He said.

As if to refute this he moved slowly across to the table she had set up and sat down, taking some toast and munching on it abstractedly. She sat down at the table with him, not talking but eating her own breakfast and subtlety sliding more food on to his plate little by little. He took it and ate it without seeming to realise.

'Enough Jackie, you can stop mothering me now.' He glanced sideways at her, letting her know he had been awake to her tricks.

'Well it worked, you ate more this morning than I think you've eaten in days, am I right?' She asked.

'To be honest, I couldn't tell you. I don't remember eating at all before this.'

'Aye and it looks like it too, impersonating a stick insect an all.' She smiled at him to soften the severity of her words.

They sat for hours that day either in silence or in desultory conversation about nothing in particular. He asked some brief questions about Mary Hill, smiled briefly at her description of her martyrdom under Burke, congratulated her on her recent promotion, but they talked of nothing of any significance. At lunch he barely ate at all, no matter how hard she pressed or cajoled him. After lunch she moved across to a stereo set up in a corner and turning it on found some classical music, thinking this might distract him, he had always loved classical music, particularly choral music, a hangover from his days in the Festival Choir.

'Turn it off.' He snapped. 'But Michael I…' she started to reply,

'Turn it off now.' His voice was rising in volume. 'No music you understand, I want no music.'

'Okay Michael, keep your shirt on.' She snapped back, not understanding why a little music should provoke such a violent reaction.

As silence once again filled the room,

'No music…Shelley loved music.' He whispered.

Suddenly Jackie understood. He wanted nothing to remind him of Shelley, so no music. Though how the hell he thought he could live the rest of his life without music was beyond her. Then the thought followed, of course he didn't want to live the rest of his life, he wanted to die. She had lost him once, so she was damned if she was going to lose him again, he might want to die but she wasn't going to let him.

'What about books, are we allowed books Sir?' She queried, trying to break his mood.

He looked at her, his face twisted with bitter memories, then, as if switching off a light inside, his eyes glazed, 'What ever you want, just no music.'

She passed the rest of the day between reading a book she had found on the shelves in her room and just sitting in silence with him. Towards the dinner hour she stood up and said,

'I need some fresh air Michael, I'm going for a wee walk in the gardens, do you want to come?' She asked.

He glanced at her, registering her presence for the first time in a couple of hours. 'No…no.'

He seemed to pause between the no's as if momentarily considering it, but then his face shut down again. She left him to it, needing to get out and clear her head, to let go of façade she was holding in place for his sake.

She grabbed a light jacket from her room and set out to stroll around the extensive gardens, first advising Spencer of her progress, or lack of it. He nodded, 'We need to talk to him briefly Jackie and to be honest, you can't be there when we do, so we'll do it now.'

'Go easy on him.' She warned, scared that they would shatter what little strength he had gained.

'We will, its nothing really, just housekeeping things.' Spencer advised.

On entering the house again through a side door she heard some shouting coming from upstairs, quickly throwing off her jacket and sprinting up the stairs she pinpointed the noise as coming from Michael's room. Not his voice though she noticed, but Spencer shouting orders to someone else. Quickly pushing through the door she came on a scene from some nightmare. Michael lying prone on the floor, rigid with spasms that seemed to rack his whole body, Spencer poised over him with a syringe, preparing to inject something into Michael's arm, another man standing ready with another syringe.

Jackie flew to Michael's side, throwing herself on the floor beside his body, grabbing Spencer's arm before he could inject the syringe. They locked eyes. Spencer drew breath, 'It's not what you think, he's had a seizure, a result of his head injury. This is Dilantin to stop the seizure, the other is Diazapam to sedate him for a while to help him recover.'

Spencer stared straight into her eyes.' Believe me Jackie, I have no wish to harm him, I'm simply trying to help.'

Jackie held Spencer's arm for a moment longer, then Michael's body spasmed again,

'If I don't get this into him soon he may re-injure himself. Please Jackie….let me help him.'

Spencer pleaded.

Jackie released his arm slowly. Spencer found the muscle on Michael's arm, injected the Dilantin slowly, threw the syringe across the floor and grabbed the other one from the waiting man, pausing briefly to make sure the first injection was taking effect, then injecting the seond one. Almost immediately Michael's body began to relax from the rigid spasms. Jackie lifted his head gently and placed it in her lap, stroking the hair away from his eyes and wiping the blood and spittle from his mouth, he had split his lip with his teeth during the seizure.

'He will be disoriented for a few minutes when he comes around. Just speak calmly and softly until he realises who you are.' Spencer instructed her. 'He'll be okay now, physically, so we'll leave you in peace, he'll be better if we're not around.' Jackie looked up at him, reading the sympathy in his face, she nodded.

Jackie shifted slightly, dragging a chair behind her to support her back, moving Michael into a slightly more comfortable position, his head pillowed in her lap, lying on his side as if in sleep. She waited patiently for signs of returning consciousness. Michael groaned, made as if to roll over but then stopped and drew his knees up into the foetal position.

'Michael love, its Jackie, you're okay. Michael?'

She stroked his forehead, caressing his face. His eyes fluttered open, unfocussed and pain racked.

'Jackie? Oh god, not again.' He groaned. He seemed to understand what had happened to him, a good sign Jackie thought. 'You're okay Michael, you're safe.'

'Seizure?' he muttered,

'Aye but you're okay now.' Jackie felt moisture on her hands, thinking that he might be bleeding worse than she thought she turned his head slightly and saw the tears silently running down his cheeks.

'Michael? It's okay, I'm here, you're safe.' She repeated.

'She's dead Jackie, they're both dead.' He whispered.

'Both? Who Michael?' Leaning down, straining to catch his words,

'Shelley….and our baby. Their both dead and I couldn't save them, couldn't get to them, my fault, both dead.' Came the anguished whisper.

Jackie was stunned to silence. Shelley? Pregnant with Michael's child. Oh god, no wonder he had withdrawn completely, no wonder he wanted to die. Michael had always yearned for a child, marriage and a child, children of his own. Now both had been torn from him in one instant. Jackie found her own tears were streaming down her cheeks, dropping unnoticed onto Michael's face, mingling with his tears. He gave a shudder, curled tighter and drew a deep breath as if preparing for some assault on his body. Jackie realised that now was the time to press him for details, now while the drugs controlled his mind and he felt safe.

'Michael? Tell me about it.' She calmly asked the loaded question, waiting for his denial, his withdrawal.

The story spilled out of him, as if a wellspring had been tapped and was too strong to cap. She listened in growing horror.

Their actual exposure had been accidental. A drug war between syndicates had seen hits on targets on both sides. They had got caught up in it because a new shipment had arrived and been earmarked by the rival syndicate for 'lifting'. One day they had gone to their shop front as usual to take delivery of the shipment. To be met be armed youths who tied them up and bundled them into a van, driving for sometime before dragging them out and into a multi-storied warehouse marked for demolition. The fact that they were allowed to see their attackers, who didn't wear masks, was not a good sign.

After a beating, administered with some pleasure by two of the gang members, Michael had 'caved in' knowing that their lives were more important than any drugs or undercover operation. Shelley had taken a few hits but was otherwise okay. The youths had then received a call on a mobile. They tied both Michael and Shelley up to separate girders some three metres apart so they couldn't reach each other, couldn't help each other get free.

As the youths left, their leader had leaned down into Michael's face and had said, 'Nighty Night, sleep tight, no time for the bed bugs to bite. This place should make a good tomb. Lots of concrete and steel. Once it blows there won't be enough of you left to bury properly anyway.' With that he had taped their mouths shut, checked their bindings and run laughing out of the building.

Here Michael stopped, as if he couldn't go on. Jackie simply continued stroking his head and face, her other arm draped around his shoulders offering physical comfort. He drew a shuddering breath again and went on.

They had sat there for three or four hours, struggling with their bonds but unable to break free or remove the tape on their mouths. Then the silence had been broken by voices below, movement of several people. Michael had struggled harder, trying to make a noise to attract their attention, to no avail. But what he had overheard from the conversion made his mind freeze. Workmen were setting explosives around the base of the building, and intended to cave the building in on itself to help with the demolition.

Their struggles had become frantic as the demolition team moved around downstairs laying their explosives. Then suddenly all had gone quiet. Michael had looked across at Shelley, their gazes locked knowing now that it was too late, that this was the end of the line for them both, for the baby. The baby who should never had happened but when discovered had caused them both so much joy that the wrongness of it had been forgotten.

A warning siren had sounded nearby. Michael prayed that it would be quick, that Shelley (and the baby) would not suffer. The muffled puff of explosives had heralded the major explosion, and then all hell had broken loose.

What seemed like hours later Michael had regained consciousness to find himself wedged between two layers of concrete, protected by the girder he had been tied to. He was covered in blood from the wound on his face, his legs had little feeling, one of his arms had also been trapped. In the silence he had thought he could discern breathing. He called out for Shelley, trying to distinguish any signs of life around him. She had been trapped several metres away from him, still breathing but not conscious. He had desperately called out to her, trying to wake her. As the hours passed he realised that her breathing was getting weaker. He had discovered what he thought was a trickle of water dripping down onto his chest, but reaching down had found it was blood. Shelley's blood, dripping on his heart slowly draining away her life. He had screamed himself hoarse, cried until no more tears would come, cursed at a world that had let him find a woman he could love and cherish, one who loved him back and who had gifted him with the child he had secretly so long desired.

Twenty-seven hours he had lain there, wandering in and out of consciousness, begging Shelley to answer him until in the early hours of the next morning her ragged breathing had finally ceased. He had then ceased to care if he lived, prayed that he too would die there, with her.

The workmen coming to start clearing the site the next day had found his unconscious body and that of Shelley, dead for many hours. He had been whisked off to hospital, briefly regaining consciousness long enough to ask for the one man in Australia he could contact in just such an emergency who had then simply organised everything. Including his removal from the hospital, deletion of all records referring to his admission and the disposal of Shelley's body, no fuss, no questions.

He had spent weeks in critical care in a very private clinic outside Sydney, before weeks more in physical rehabilitation before being flown to London and brought here where the shrinks had started in. That's when he had shut down, shut them out, not wanting to deal with any of it no matter how important to them. Everything that had been important to him had been stripped from him in one night. Let them wait, maybe forever. He was in no mind to talk to them.

'And that's when they brought you in. I guess they thought you could turn it around for them.' He finished.

Jackie was simply unable to speak, her mind shattered by what he had recited. What he had lived through. Knowing that she had to break this silence somehow, she struggled for the words to help ease his pain and lessen her horror.

'Oh Michael, I'm so sorry.' Such inane words, useless, but what else could she say?

'Jackie...thank you.'

'For what? Making you go through all that again, Jesus Michael, I never meant to hurt you by doing this.' She shook her head, still trying to cope with what he had told her. He reached up, touching her face, finding tears there.

'Don't cry, I've cried enough for both of us. It's over now, no more eh?' He forced a wry twisted smile to his face. She bowed her head, but as he struggled to sit up she grabbed his arms and helped him upright. Standing, both of them were trembling, him from the effort of standing, she from the storm of emotions she had unleashed.

'I think we both better sit down before we fall down, don't you.' He smiled gently, the smile was one from the old Michael, the Michael she knew and loved so dearly. They helped each other across to the bed, both collapsing, too exhausted to worry about anything. They simply lay there, she with her arms around him, he with his head resting on her breast, listening to her breathing, neither of them speaking.

Jackie lay there praying that he would drift off to sleep and was rewarded a little later by the sound of some gentle but persistent snoring. She eased herself off the bed, draping a blanket gently over him before bending and lightly dropping a kiss on his brow. He stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep.

'It's okay Michael, I'm here.' she whispered. He settled again, curling up and dropping deeper into sleep.

Jackie went out and found Spencer and Wallace, deep in conversion with a third man who turned out to be a psychiatrist. She briefly outlined everything Michael had told her, feeling as if she was betraying his confidence, but knowing that if he was to get long term help these men needed to know. They agreed to leave her alone with him until tomorrow, giving him time to adjust to someone else knowing what had happened. But soon they needed to talk to him, soon they needed to press him further.

Jackie quickly went back to Michael's room, hoping he hadn't woken while she was gone. He still lay curled on his side, deeply asleep. She slid onto the bed beside him under the blanket, curling her body around his for warmth and comfort, not really sure if the comfort was for him or for her she acknowledged to herself ruefully. Finally sleep claimed her too.

She woke to the feeling of being watched, turning her head she saw that Michael too was awake and lying on the pillow beside her, watching her face. She smiled, happy to see some improvement from a night of restful sleep. Michael continued to simply look at her, tracing the line of her face with his eyes, resting on her lips, still bruised from their earlier encounter. He returned to her eyes, with a question in his, the age-old question between a man and woman who acknowledged a love for each other.

Jackie smiled in reply, knowing that the answering smile in his eyes was all she needed to allow herself to give what he so desperately needed, the physical comfort that only a woman can give a man whose soul has been shattered. She slid across the bed, into his arms, feeling them close around her as his mouth sought hers in the lightest of kisses. Opening herself to him she surrendered to his need, her need. As they lay there kissing and caressing each other, seeking out the places on each other's bodies that would heightened their shared passion, she knew that this time was tinged with sadness. Sadness for him that she was not the woman he truly loved, sadness for her that she could only offer her body and her heart to heal his soul.

Over the next few days Michael made giant steps forward, he was sleeping better, the nightmares were easing, he was eating and actually looked to have gained a little weight. Jackie knew that her time here was nearly over. She had to go back to her world tomorrow. Michael knew it too, but didn't seem to want to face it, to face going on without Jackie there to support him. The shrinks had arrived the day after the seizure. She had sat in on their sessions often simply holding Michael's hand, being there when he was forced to relive it all again, and again. She was excluded from his meetings with Wallace, Michael minded that but she told him she didn't want to know, didn't want that burden as well. He had understood and had not pressed again for her to be included.

Their lovemaking had not been repeated. Michael seemed content to simply sleep in the bed beside her, holding on to her when the nightmares threatened. She admitted to herself that she was glad in some ways. It was going to be hard enough to walk away without the physical attachment being stronger than it already was.

On the morning she was due to leave, she woke early, hoping to slide out of the bed, shower and dress before Michael woke. He lay beside her, curled in sleep, but as soon as she moved his hand came out and claimed hers.

'No, don't go yet.' He whispered.

'Michael, you know I have to go today.'

'Yes, today, but not yet.'

With that he drew her across the bed and into his arms. She lay there quietly, simply enjoying the feel of his arms around her. Gazing into his eyes she imprinted the memory of this moment on her mind, even down to the healing scar. He leant forward, brushing his lips over hers, trailing his mouth down her jaw line, to that telltale pulse in her throat. Here he lightly kissed the bruise, almost healed now, before tracing a line down her throat to her shoulder.

'Michael…you…you don't have to pretend. I understand.'

At that he glanced up at her, 'No, you don't understand. Not this time. I know you're not Shelley, I don't want to make love to Shelley. I want to make love to Jackie, my friend, who…rescued me from hell. The Jackie that loved me for ten years, the Jackie that I've loved for ten years. Understand?' He stared into her eyes, reinforcing his words with the intensity of his gaze.

Jackie returned his look, understanding that this time it was her, Jackie, he would make love to, not the ghost of Shelley. She drew his face up to hers, placing her mouth over his she breathed against his lips, 'Yes, I understand….I love you Michael.' With that they both abandoned themselves to their shared passion, reaching a physical and emotional climax that held no sadness, only joy at two souls, one healing and one healed, joined in love.

Glasgow

Two days later she walked into the office to be met by Robbie and Stuart buried deep in paperwork.

'What's all this then?' she asked. 'The boss decided we needed to get up to date on our paperwork, all our paperwork.' Robbie drawled. 'How was the course? Interesting?' he asked.

'Oh you could say that I think.' She replied and chuckled to herself.

She would have to tell Robbie some day soon about Michael, but not just yet. She still needed to savour the time spent with Michael, time she wasn't ready to share with anyone, yet.

'Hey, have you seen the papers today?' Stuart called over.

'No, why? Anything unusual?' Jackie replied. 'Aye, big case down in London, seems some undercover cop has blown the whistle big time, it's gone right to the top of the Home Office, some ministerial adviser has blown his brains out before the cops could get to him. Looks like drugs, some big network between here and Australia.'

Stuart read on, 'Lots of stuff about collaboration between international police forces pulling down the big guys thanks to this undercover cop. Wouldn't want to be in his shoes if they didn't get the big bosses right?'

'No…I wouldn't want to be in his shoes either.' Jackie whispered. Robbie struck by her look of frozen dismay looked at her quizzically. 'Later.' She mouthed.

Burke came out of his office, 'Jackie, welcome back…got a job for you. A body's just been dragged out of the river. You three better get down there fast.'

'Yes Sir.' She replied, and burying her fears, she looked at Robbie and Stuart, nodded that they better be off, situation normal again.

The end.