Disclaimer: I do not owe the rights to the situations or characters of "Law and Order: Criminal Intent", and acknowledge the legal rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.

Author's Note:

Yup, this is the long-delayed second part to "Loyalty and Betrayal", written for this year's NaNoWriMo challenge. I really enjoyed writing it once I got over my performance anxiety. I wanted to find out what happened to Bobby, Sienna and Alex as much as everyone else.

One warning: I'm not kidding with the rating and warnings, though I will post a warning for chapters that are a bit stronger than those I've written in the past.

Also, I'm writing another fic in parallel with this, "What Happened At Glastonbury". It's my first work to feature only my own original characters: Sienna, Jack, Tanya and Drew. The chapters are being posted occasionally at the bottom of chapters of this fic, as they tie in with the events in "Betrayal's End". It's not essential that you read them together if "Glastonbury" is not your thing and you just want to read "Betrayal's End", but it does fill in a lot of the background (including what REALLY happened between Sienna and a certain British agent...).

As ever, if you are able to let me know what you think of the fic / fics by review, I would really appreciate it. Thanks, and buckle your seatbelts now!

***

"Uh, excuse me? Excuse me?"

Startled, I turned in my seat to face the man sat next to me on the plane. His eyes widened, and I realised I was glaring.

"I need to… put my…"

"Of course." I smiled as sweetly as I could manage, which at this moment in time, wasn't very. I sidled past the snoring guy beside me and stood in the aisle. My fellow traveller stumbled into the aisle, quickly stowed his coat in the overhead locket, then sat back down again quickly. I followed suit.

He nervously smiled at me. "Uh… thanks."

I forced myself to reply appropriately, even though what I really wanted to say was Shut up, I'm trying to think. "You're welcome. I'm sorry if I seemed a little… distracted."

"Uh, no problem. We all get days like that, right?"

Well, let's see now. "We all" are not Sienna Tovitz. I am Sienna Tovitz. I am thirty years old, I work for Interpol, and I have a psychotic ex-boyfriend who two days ago escaped from prison back in Britain, where I used to live. I am on a flight from New York back to Britain, supposedly so that the security services there can question me about my involvement in the attempt to foil a terrorist attack on a football stadium there this summer. In reality, probably so that they can dangle me out there as bait in the hope that said psychotic ex-boyfriend will come out of hiding so that he can even the score with me for my helping to put him in prison.

Oh, and my current boyfriend, Bobby Goren, at least I hope he's my current boyfriend, is also coming over. Which would make me happy, since he's a gold-shield detective with the NYPD Major Case Squad, and so is his partner, Alex Eames, who's also coming over.

Except that yesterday, just before I had to catch this flight, he and I had an almighty row about the fact that whilst we were separated, I slept with someone he absolutely hates. Who also lives in Britain. And who we're almost certainly going to meet in the next few days, since about the one person John Durham – that's the psycho ex, keep up – hates more than me, is Drew Davenport, who actually put him in prison, and whom I slept with once, that's once, well, once in the sense of "on one day"… and whom Bobby loathes with a vengeance.

And it's nearly Christmas, and instead of spending time with my beloved Bobby and my family, I'm contemplating the small but very real chance that myself, himself, and our friends might all be dead in the next few days.

So, no. "We all" do not have days like this.

I smiled, though it probably looked more like I was baring my teeth. "Yes. I suppose we do."

"Well, you know what…"

I cut him off. "Listen. I don't mean to be rude, but right now I'm not very good company and I would prefer not to talk. Thank you."

"Uh… okay." He smiled nervously. As he turned away to fumble in his briefcase, he looked at me warily out of the corners of his eyes.

The hell with it, I didn't care. Let him think me a crazy psycho bitch. Right now I had every right to be angry.

In fact, I was not just angry. I was furious. Had I been British, I would have been bloody furious, which was just as well, because the alternative was being scared shitless.

Actually, I thought, I'm both.

I was angry, I was scared, and I was all on my own.

I closed my eyes briefly; it didn't help. When I opened them again, it was still as if I was the only real person on the plane, and everything, everyone else, was just a backdrop, just extras in the scene I was playing. The fact that it was an insanely happy flight didn't help. Christmas was only a few days away, All around me were people heading for home, leaving behind the US to rejoin their families on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

I should be doing that too.

The thought was like a physical pain. If the world were the right way up, then I should be happy, too. I should be looking forward to seeing my friends again. I had missed Jack and Tanya so much, and the thought that I was going to travel 5000 miles, all the way to their home, their country, and not see them, was too bitter even to contemplate.

That's the way it has to be. Tanya would tell you that herself, if you asked her.

But I couldn't ask her. Right now, it was dangerous to be anywhere near me, and the thought of anyone harming Jack, Tanya or their unborn baby was too horrible to contemplate; I was almost more afraid for them than I was for myself.

That anyone might harm them… You mean John. You mean that John might try to harm either Jack or Tanya, to get to you.

I shivered all over at the thought, a horrible, skin-crawling feeling creeping over me, as, once again, the image of a handsome face forced itself into my consciousness.

There had been a time, only too briefly, when I had kissed that face. Kissed it, and done more. I shuddered again in revulsion. No-one, apart from my therapist (whom I was thinking of changing, if, when, I got back to New York) knew just how much I hated that. Normally, if you have a relationship with someone who turns out not to be who you thought they were, you can ditch them and move on, and the memories fade.

John, however, had been so much worse than I'd ever imagined. A senior police officer in the London Metropolitan Police, he'd been corrupt. On the payroll of one of the Eastern European mafias, supplying them with information and putting his fellow police officers' lives at risk. I was stuck with the miserable knowledge that for six months I – Sienna Tovitz, dedicated Interpol officer – had been sleeping with that man. That my judgement had been that bad… well, I hadn't been judging at all. I'd been looking for anything, anyone, to numb the pain of breaking up with the love of my life, and what better way to do it than by trying to fuck it out of my system by throwing myself headfirst into a relationship with someone I barely knew?

And whose fault was that?

Another face floated before me, and I winced in pain. This pain was deep, sickeningly so. Why did you do that to me, Drew? I thought silently, as Drew's face came to the forefront of my thoughts.

Bobby, Drew, John… All brilliant. All clever, all determined, and all with that streak of bastard in them that you like so much, Sienna, a little voice in my head muttered.

I couldn't deny it. What did it say about me, that the three men I'd been involved with in the last four years all had that same characteristic, that urge to use their intelligence to dominate others? How many times had I seen Bobby, or Drew, or John, size up a person within a few minutes, and then ruthlessly take them apart with a few well-chosen words? They even had similar professions; Bobby and John, senior detectives; Drew, a intelligence officer with MI5, Britain's domestic security agency, and if there was one thing that marked out people in that line of work from the rest of us, it was that on one level, they didn't consider themselves to be part of the rest of us.

They were set-aside, special, the defenders of law and order… right up to the point where John decided that he wanted some of the money and the lifestyle that the gang leaders he saw breaking the law every day and getting away with it had, and sold out his own side, his own people, to get it. He must have gone into work every day, looked at the people around him who trusted him, and laughed himself half to death on the inside, to think that he was cleverer than them.

But Bobby is different, I thought miserably. For the past few months, I had been able to take some comfort in that. Bobby was the only one of the three I had truly loved, and he was, by far, the better man. When he and I had parted, I had felt as though part of me had gone missing. When we had reunited, it had been like the sun coming back into my life. Finally, back in New York City with the man I loved, I had begun to feel happy again.

Until things changed. Until a horrible case at work and the revelation that Alex Eames, his partner and the only woman who understood him better than I did, had once secretly asked to be assigned a new partner, had caused him to sink into the black moods that sometimes afflicted him. It made him remote from all of us who loved him and I had tried so hard to get close, but in the end, only Bobby could break that wall down.

And then the two of us had had a screaming row. It had started stupidly with one of those slightly drunken disagreements over one of us wanting sex (him) and the other not wanting it (me – I was tired and had had two large glasses of wine), and degenerated into a row in which, furious at having to be the one always considering the other one's feeling, I'd flung the one hurtful fact I'd been trying to conceal from him for months at his head.

Just looking back, I winced. I could still hear my own words: How could I sleep with Drew? The usual way, since you ask. And then, even worse, in response to Bobby's nasty remark that he was surprised Drew had even managed to get it up, since he usually preferred men, Three times in one night, as it happens, and that's more than you're capable of right at this moment.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I thought miserably. I tried to look on the positive side. Bobby had come to find me at the airport, this time. He had hugged me and kissed me and said that he trusted me, and I sincerely hoped that things would be different…

But what if they aren't? What if he arrives in London having spent the hours since you said goodbye brooding on what you did? You need him right now, Sienna, and you might just have pushed him away for good with those manipulative last words of yours…

I shuddered to think of the consequences if I didn't have Bobby beside me, and another memory came into my head.

John and I, this time. John and I in the airport I was about to fly into, which was a thought I could do without, but the memory would not be denied. It had been a weekend. The two of us had rarely spent a weekend together. John's position as a senior detective and my new job at Interpol's London headquarters meant that free time was a rarity for both of us, with free time that coincided with the other's free time even rarer still. Our relationship had been largely conducted in the darkness of the city's evenings. Meals at some restaurant or other, a fashionable bar here or there, energetic sex at my apartment or his, followed usually by one of us leaving the other asleep to hurry off to some early-morning meeting or other.

That weekend, however, I had wanted to get out of the city, just for a little while. Surprisingly, John had agreed with me that it would be pleasant to get out of the city, even just a little way, and walk in some green fields. We had headed west out of the city and walked around for a little while, eaten at a pub, and had been heading back home when I had suddenly remembered that I needed to buy a gift for Tanya's birthday. Since we were near Heathrow Airport, it made sense to park there so that I could browse the shops and choose something.

After I'd bought a silk scarf with a vaguely Oriental-looking pattern that I hoped she would like, I looked for John and found him standing by one of the huge windows looking out onto the runways, watching as the planes lifted and lowered in the darkening sky beyond the glass.

I had smiled at him. "Wishing you were on one of those planes?"

He chuckled. "Not really. I like it here, Sienna. I like London. I have a good thing going here." He paused, and tipped his head on one side, appraising me. "What about you, now? How long have you been here?"

He knew the answer, but I supplied it anyway, to make conversation. "About… hmm. Four months now."

"Four months." He turned away and stared out of the window. "So, do you wish you were on one of those planes? Going back to New York, maybe?"

I clenched my teeth. John had an unerring instinct for uncovering truths that you wanted kept secret. A useful talent in a police officer; and a personality trait I was increasingly beginning to think was something you did not want in a boyfriend. "No. There's nothing left for me there."

"Well, yes. It wouldn't be much fun if you went back there and found that he'd replaced you, too, now, would it?"

I stared at him, open-mouthed. I couldn't deny the truth, but…

"I'm not stupid, Sienna," he said, very softly. Our eyes met, and locked. I shivered slightly, not from arousal, and thought briefly, No, John. No, you have not replaced Bobby, just before he lent in and kissed me, possessively, and I responded from instinct. We said no more, but left the airport, drove back to his apartment, and had sex for an hour before I left to get a cab back to my apartment to get ready for the following morning's work.

Two weeks later, Drew Davenport shattered my world to broken pieces with a few words and some photographs of John in the company of several notorious Russian gangsters that Interpol, the Metropolitan Police and MI5 had all been trying to put away for years. Of course, I agreed to pretend to John that I was still his girlfriend, even though the thought of what he'd done made me physically sick. It was the only way I could salvage some of my self-respect from the situation, and it cost me a bullet wound and several long months of therapy, both mental and physical.

Why had I been attracted to John? I'd wondered that a lot in the two years since that had happened, and I supposed it was partly because I'd always sensed that he was keeping some part of himself hidden… and I responded the way women often respond to men who hold something of themselves back, becoming fascinated by him, wanting to be the only one who got to know the real man on the inside.

That, and he looked like Bobby, except that he was younger and fitter, and you wanted to fuck, I thought viciously. How could I have acted like that?

Because you were manipulated. You trusted Drew, and he betrayed you.

That thought hurt, too. It hurt so much, and I would have given anything to be able to discuss my thoughts with Bobby, share what I was going through. Except that he didn't want to hear about it…

Except that he had tried, once. Once, before everything went to pieces in the aftermath of the Harold Garrett trial, when he and I had gone to one of our favourite bars, to relax and listen to music and enjoy a quiet drink in each other's company. We'd snuggled together on one of the battered comfortable sofas there, and I'd leant in against Bobby's large, comfortable shoulder, feeling his huge hand gently stroking my hip. I'd looked up into that broad, handsome face, those dark sleepy eyes I loved so much, so wise, and so caring, because although Bobby had a ruthless streak in him, he, unlike Drew or John, was wise enough to know it, and a good enough person to have chosen to use it to serve others.

Bobby's ruthless side came out only when he needed it to. The rest of the time, he could be amazingly gentle and a wonderful listener. He could also be a workaholic who forgot to wash the dishes and left his socks on the floor after he ran out in a hurry, having just had an sudden inspiration about a case he and Alex were working. Sometimes, he could be a typical American male who liked to drink beer and eat pastrami on rye and fix cars with his friend Lewis, then watch the football game at a bar afterwards. He was, in short, simply a man, with his own unique good traits, bad traits, and quirks, and I loved him immensely.

He'd smiled at me, and murmured "Sienna?"

"Yes?"

"I just…" He paused, thought for words, and began again. "Sienna, I just wanted to say… I know a lot happened to you whilst we were apart and maybe… Maybe I haven't been very good at listening. I just wanted to say … if you want to talk to me about it…"

I'd looked at him then, really looked at him, my eyes flickering past the stubble on his chin and his messy salt-and-pepper curls, and looking deep into his dark eyes, and I'd felt my heart contract with love. It was a feeling so elemental I was powerless to resist it. I'd had relationships before, but Bobby… Bobby was the one. The man I loved, and at that moment, I'd nearly done something crazy and proposed.

I had nearly said, Bobby, I love you and you love me. We understand each other, we're in the same line of work and we share the same values. We have great sex and the age difference doesn't matter, it doesn't mean anything except that sometimes you get admiring looks from other men wondering how you managed to bed the attractive young redhead. I can talk to you and you never think anything I say is dumb, and I always think everything you say is fascinating. Let's stop wasting our time and agree to spend the rest of our lives together, and we'll buy a large apartment together, and maybe in the fullness of time we'll need to buy a bigger place because we'll have little Gorens, and Alex will be Aunt Alex and spend Sunday afternoons in the park with us teaching the kids to play soccer and softball and throwing Frisbees, and we'll grow old together, and neither of us will ever, ever, have to feel alone again.

But I hadn't. Not because I feared Bobby's reaction, but because at the back of my mind, I didn't want to marry Bobby knowing that, sooner or later, John Durham would be released from prison. I couldn't give myself to him knowing that that lay in our future.

So I'd smiled, and said "Bobby, thank you so much for saying that. But right now I want to just spend time with you… I want to forget all the bad stuff and just enjoy being with you."

And he'd smiled and held me closer, and I'd nearly cried.

Later that night, back in my own apartment, I'd been unable to sleep for the thoughts racing through my head, one thought coming to dominate them all, Drew Davenport, you utter bastard, this is all your fault.

So I'd called him. Called him knowing perfectly well that England was five hours ahead of New York and that he would be asleep. He'd screwed up my life, the least he could do was to wake up and listen to me.

And Drew had answered, his voice surprisingly clear, and urgent. "SiSi, is everything all right?"

"No, Drew. No, everything is not alright."

"Huh?" His voice changed. "Why are you ringing me?"

"Because I want some answers. I want an apology."

He sighed heavily and for a few seconds I thought that he'd cut the call off, but then he replied: "Look, please can we not do this now. It's five in the morning, and I need to sleep."

"Did I wake Mike? Is that it?"

He sighed again, and spoke in slow, measured tones. "No, you didn't wake Mike. You didn't wake him because he's not here."

"Then you can fucking talk to me."

"And say what? What is it you want me to say that's so bloody urgent it can't wait til a better time?"

"A better time? You fucked up my life, Drew! You let me fall for someone you knew was corrupt, and you used me to put him in prison, and you never once told me the truth. You used me as bait."

"Yes. I did." He sighed. "Look, SiSi… You want me to apologise. You want me to apologise, and to say I wish I hadn't done it, and I can't, okay? I can't say that because I'd be lying. I did what I had to do to put a corrupt bastard in prison. Durham was putting people's lives at risk, and he betrayed everything he was supposed to protect. I was told to stop him, and I did. I'm sorry you got hurt, but I can't say I wish I hadn't done it, because that's not true. End of story."

"Not end of story! You used me, you bastard. You manipulated me into leaving Bobby. You waited til I was vulnerable and you used that. You used me." I thought of what had happened, or rather not happened, tonight, and nearly started crying. "You're a complete bastard, Drew, you know that? Everything that's gone to shit in my life, is that way because of you!"

Silence from the end of the phone. Then Drew's voice, angry at me for the first time ever.

"Okay, Sienna, so your life didn't work out perfectly? You want to put all your troubles with Goren on me?" He snorted derisively. "Fine, I don't care. I'm a bastard, and you knew that, you've always known that. Put it all on me if you like, Sienna, but here's the truth: you practically bit my hand off when I mentioned that job. You couldn't have applied for it faster, and when you met Durham, you couldn't get your pants off quickly enough. Face the facts; if you'd really wanted to stay in New York, I couldn't have stopped you. You chose to apply for that job and leave him, Sienna, and that's on you, not on me."

He cut the call before I could reply. I put the phone down, carefully, and then grabbed the glass I'd been drinking from and flung it at the wall, screaming incoherently, then started sobbing.

Just the memory of it made me want to start crying again, but I forced myself not to. Forced myself to hold on to the rage I'd felt. How dared Drew speak to me like that! I'd been his friend, his closest friend, and he'd betrayed me – how dare he turn his anger on me?

Because everyone who know him thinks he's a bastard. His boss encourages it and Tanya and Jack expect it of him because they've known him such a long time. You were the one person who liked him and thought he could be a better man. Now that that's gone, why should he treat you any differently to the rest?

Fuck that. Fuck that. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to think logically. If Drew and I were still on good terms, he would be the logical person to go to for help. He and I were in the same boat; we'd both been responsible for putting John behind bars, and John undoubtedly hated us both.

But… dear God, no. I could not even begin to contemplate what I'd feel like if I went to Drew for help and he used me for bait to catch John again. And let's face it, that's why they've called you back.

Even worse… I knew Drew was right. It was why his words had hurt so much. I'd chosen to leave Bobby and go to London of my own free will. Bobby had forgiven me for that, but I still hadn't forgiven myself, and I would never forgive myself if, through my own stupidity in trusting Drew, harm came to Bobby. I had no doubt at all that John wouldn't stop at hurting him to get to me.

So, what did logic suggest?

I took a deep breath and shivered. I felt faintly ill at what I was contemplating doing.

What did it say about me, that the three men I'd been involved with were so similar in some ways? Was I attracted to them because (horrible thought) part of me was like that?

Or was I just a coward? Too afraid to risk my own life, so I was willing to risk someone else's, someone I'd once called a friend?

If you do this, Sienna, you're as bad as Drew, I thought blackly.

No, I'm not. No, I am not as bad as Drew. I'm not doing this because I want to earn plaudits at work, or because I can't think of a better way to catch a criminal.

I'm doing this because I want myself, and Bobby, and Alex, and Tanya and Jack, and their baby, to live.

I ran over what I was going to say in my head, the arguments I was going to put to MI5. I might not be as devious as they were – that I'd never once suspected Drew had betrayed me demonstrated that only too well – but I could give any of them a run for their money in terms of stubbornness.

I needed to sleep, so I took a deep breath and visualised a box, a solid pine box, in my head. I pictured the box lid opening, and mentally placed all my worries inside it, then firmly closed and locked the box. My thoughts could keep in there for a while.

My last thought before I passed into sleep was one that should have gone in the box too…

…and besides, he really deserves a taste of his own medicine.

***

Interlude: "What Happened At Glastonbury"

Chapter 1: Tattoos, Wine and Beer

London, England.

June 2004.

House of Tanya and Jack Simmons-McAllister.

"So, what do you think - dragons or lions?"

I contemplated the designs Tanya was holding up thoughtfully. It was the day before we were due to catch the train to the Glastonbury Festival, where I'd agreed to join her, her husband Jack, our mutual friend (sort of) Drew Davenport, plus two others from the martial arts club she ran in her spare time, in help to run a bar to raise funds for a local women's shelter.

The deal was that the six of us would work for six hours behind the bar on each day of the festival, and the charity would get paid for our labour. What we got out of it, other than the warm glow of helping a good cause, was free festival entry, free camping, free showers, free beer, free food, and time off to see the bands and drink. This was considered by all to be a good deal.

"Hmm…. well… dragons are a bit of a cliché."

Having booked the leave from work, packed the camping gear, and stocked up on Wellington boots and sunscreen, Tanya and I were just getting around to the important things, such as deciding which tattoo Tanya wanted to wear for the festival. She did in fact have several permanent ink tattoos, but these were mostly on her back and concealed by her clothing, since in her day job as a police self-defence instructor she had to at least try to look respectable.

This meant that on pretty much any occasion where she would be away from work for long enough, Tanya would design and paint on herself a really spectacular henna tattoo, somewhere that would be visible to everyone. The first time I'd met her at the club's training rooms, she'd just returned from Japan, and I'd spent most of my time in the changing room afterwards - when I wasn't rubbing my bruises - trying not to gape at the six-foot-two, 170-pound-plus woman with a Chinese dragon undulating up each calf, and two spectacular dragons fighting painted onto her belly, with the tail of one going all the way up to her neck, wrapping around it so that the point of the tail ended up on her cheek.

"Yep, I agree. Lions it is." Tanya nodded decisively, and began to flip through the book of designs. She drew them herself, and I was always amazed by the delicacy of the lines. (Amazed since this was also the same woman who could, and did, throw men outweighing her by fifty pounds over her shoulder with ease. )

I peered over her shoulder. "I like that one," I said, pointing to an image with a rather Egyptian look to it, an armoured woman with a lion's head.

"Sekhmet, goddess of the noontime sun?" Tanya grinned. "One of my favourites, too, that's why I have her permanently on my back, but she's a vengeful warrior goddess, and that doesn't really fit with the whole Glastonbury thing."

"Peace and love, man?" I made the peace sign, we chuckled and swigged some more wine. Both of us had finished work that day, and were decidedly On Vacation (or in Tanya's case, On Holiday).

I had spent the day ignoring the jibes of some of my more staid colleagues at Interpol, who kept making cracks about hippies and swimming in mud, and was greatly looking forward to spending some time with my friends, away from the same old grind of crime, human misery, difficult cases and office politics. I liked my job, but it was exhausting.

I admit, I wasn't completely sold on the whole Glastonbury Festival thing myself, not yet, but I needed a break from work and Jack had practically forced me into agreeing to come. He himself had been bouncing around like Tigger since we'd had our places confirmed, and was currently downstairs fussing over whether we had everything packed.

I hadn't seen Drew much lately - he'd been in Moscow for the past week, working with the police force over there - but his emails for the past week or so had talked about little else. Then again, Drew often gave the impression that part of him was eternally seventeen, so it probably wasn't surprising he was looking forward to the festival too.

Well, if nothing else, the opportunity to sit in a field and slurp free beer should not be passed up. It had been far too long - over three years, in fact - since I'd cheerfully cast off my business suit and usual responsibilities and hit the open road. I'd travelled a lot when I was younger, but since I'd decided to change career and move from translating for Interpol into management, I'd just never managed to find the time.

And now, my tent, clothes and the rest of the gear I'd need for four days' camping in a field was packed into my newly-purchased backpack, which was downstairs resting by Tanya and Jack's front door, all ready for us to set off in the morning to go get the workers' coach to the festival. My outfit was laid out ready for the morning, my own apartment was locked up with everything turned off, I was ready to go. Ready to leave real life behind for a few days…

"Ooh, I like that." I pointed to the design next to it, which showed a sinuous lioness stepping down from a rock, with the beast's head and forelegs in the foreground of the picture and an expression of elegant disdain on its beautiful face.

"Mmm yes… I'm having this one," Tanya decided, and selected one from over the page, labelled 'Lioness Rampant'. She sat up and picked up the stencil, applicator brush and henna paste. "Where do you want yours?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll do you. You should have one too. That one will suit you just nicely."

"We're back at work in five days' time; I don't want anything visible." I objected.

"Hmm." She cast a critical eye over my body; I was sprawled on my front on her bed. "Roll over." I obliged. She traced a finger thoughtfully up my belly and pursued her lips, looking at the design. "Yes, it will fit nicely there. You can have it visible if you want, and cover it up with a shirt whilst it fades."

"Where are you having yours?"

"My left shoulder and arm, if you don't mind helping out. Now get your kit off."

We partially stripped, Tanya shedding the top half of her clothes, me shedding the bottom half of mine. Since both of us had seen the other naked in the changing rooms more often than I could remember, this wasn't a big deal. She flopped forward onto her belly, exposing the broad muscled expanse of her back, pitted here and there with the scars and bumps of a lifetime spent fighting.

As ever, her skin was lightly tanned. Tanya's skin was always pale gold, a legacy from her father, along with her height and build. (Or so we assumed; that her father had been black was the one thing she did know about him. Since her last attempt to find anything out from her mother had met with the response: "Look, I wish I'd never shagged him, alright?", she'd pretty much given up.) I applied the stencil and began to paint, carefully.

Ten minutes later, I'd done painting her back, and she and I had very carefully manoeuvred ourselves, trying to avoid dislodging the paste from Tanya's back, into a position where she could paint me. She was halfway through painting the tail, and I was trying not to giggle, because the brush was tickling like mad.

"Stop moving. If you move it'll go all messy, then we'll have to wash it off and start again."

"I'm not sure I want it there anyway."

"Well, it's a bit late to be saying that now. What's wrong with there, anyway? They won't be able to see much more than the tail unless you wear hipsters or something. Men like that, it gets 'em thinking."

"What's wrong with there is that I'm going to be plagued with guys asking if they can see my…"

Suddenly, the door flew open, followed by six feet of lanky blond British secret agent, clad in jeans and T-shirt and looking like he hadn't slept in days, which was normal. I jumped, knocking the henna pot across the bedding.

"Drew, for fuck's sake, LEARN TO KNOCK!" Tanya yelled, more out of habit than anything else, since she was grinning hugely, whilst at the same time trying to help me mop up the henna.

"Why?" Drew grinned. His eyes were sparkling, an expression I'd come to know and be slightly apprehensive about.

"Because I could be in here shagging Jack. This is my bedroom, you know."

"Jack's downstairs fannying around with the backpacks and repacking stuff. Are we ready?" Drew paused and took in the scene, grinning widely at the sight of the two of us, half-naked, drunk, and covered in sticky black paste. "Hey, have the two of you been up to something?" He favoured me with a lecherous wink. I grinned back and shoved a wineglass in his direction.

"Well, if we had, it wouldn't be anything that would interest you," I pointed out. Drew's sexual appetite was healthy, to the point of voracious, but limited strictly to his own sex.

"This is true." He nodded and perched on the end of the bed, watching with interest as Tanya finished painting on the henna. Normally I would object to having a man I wasn't actually sleeping with see me in nothing but my bra, but since Drew wasn't interested in women (and I'd had two glasses of wine already), I didn't much care.

"You know, it's kind of rude to stare," I remarked.

Drew shrugged, then smiled evilly at me over the rim of the wineglass. "Hey, I've seen it all before…"

I gave him my best Evil Glare of Doom, which left Drew unfazed, as eleven years of having Tanya glower at him on a regular basis had left him immune. "You said you weren't looking."

"I wasn't looking at you, but you were kind of in my field of vision at the time. People who go around shagging other people in store cupboards shouldn't go standing on their dignity… Are we going down the pub?"

"Shouldn't you be packing or something?"

"I am packed. I'm always packed. Are we off down the pub?"

"Okay, yeah. In a few minutes." Tanya packed up the tattoo kit, then went hunting for a towel.

"Need to get the henna off, huh?"

"No, Drew, we were thinking we'd carry on the lesbian experimentation part of the evening somewhere you're not."

"Fair enough… hi, Jack. You finished?"

Wandering in through the door, Jack waved hello, politely averted his gaze from my nearly-naked form, and pulled a mournful face at the sight of the empty bottle. "No, I just heard the words 'lesbian experimentation' and thought it sounded like more fun than packing tents."

"We're off down the pub."

"Nearly as good."

***

We'd intended to only go for a quick one at the Red Lion. Just one for the road to celebrate the start of the holiday, the start of the Festival. Whilst Tanya and I got the henna off ourselves, Drew disappeared downstairs to help Jack pack up the tents. From what I could tell, this had mainly involved the two of them shoving things into backpacks any old how, but it didn't really matter, since we'd only have to carry things from the coach to the camping village away. It couldn't be that far, I told myself as I lifted my first beer and toasted my three friends. It was tasty beer, and somehow it went down a lot more quickly than I'd intended it to. I must have been more thirsty than I thought.

"I shouldn't mix my drinks," I told Drew sincerely, as he put the second beer down in front of me.

"Well, in that case, you must stick to beer for the rest of the evening," he replied, and nodded sagely whilst downing half of his in one swallow.

The second beer went down nicely as well. And the third. And possibly the fourth, although things got hazy at that point.

The next thing I knew, I was wandering happily back down the street in the warm evening moonlight from the Red Lion back to Tanya and Jack's house, with my arm round Tanya's waist and her arm around my shoulders, whilst behind us Jack and Drew had their arms slung round each other's shoulders, and had apparently decided to treat the entire street to an a cappella rendition of "Me and My Shadow". It actually wasn't that bad; both of them could sing quite well. Neither Tanya or I, however, could, as she put it, "carry a tune in a bucket", so we were content to let the boys enjoy themselves.

"Me, and my shadow…"

"…strolling down the a-ven-ue…"

Tanya and I got the giggles for no particular reason, and held on to each other more tightly. "Where am I sleeping again?" I asked her.

"On the sofa at this rate, sweetheart," Tanya giggled, a sweeter sound than you'd normally hear from her. "So long as you don't end up wrapped round the toilet like last time."

"I was not wrapped around the toilet…"

"Not a soul can bust this team in two, we stick together like glue…"

"…I was just looking for my earring."

"Yeah, for half an hour." Tanya giggled again.

"Oh yeah? What about that time Drew and I and found you and Jack asleep on the sofa stark naked?"

"It's my damn sofa and my damn husband."

"Yeah, well, he's not my husband, and I don't need to see that first thing in the morning on an empty stomach."

"Don't be mean about my beloved," Tanya playfully nudged me in the ribs with her elbow, and nearly knocked the wind out of my lungs. "Jack's a fine specimen of man."

Behind us, the mentioned one carolled at the top of his lungs, "You'd need a large crowbar, to pry us apart…" We giggled again for no reason.

"Ah, Tanni," I murmured sentimentally, and hugged her one-armed. "I'm so glad I met you guys."

"Yeah? Well, we're really glad you met us, SiSi. I mean it," Tanya said, and smiled. "Drew says you're like the catalyst. You bring all of us together and make us work better."

I wasn't sure that was what a catalyst actually did, but I was absurdly touched to hear it. That Drew had said something like that made me feel good, feel like something good had come out of the last horrible year. I fought the urge to rub my leg and instead glanced back at the boys. Jack was looking happily around him at the street in the moonlight with the interested gaze of the more than slightly drunk, but Drew was looking at us.

He caught my eye, and smiled, and I felt a warm rush of happiness inside me. My three friends were around me, and I was going to spend the next four days just enjoying myself. What more could I ask?