He sat at the table, quietly waiting, his cuffed wrists on the table in front of him. He knew Ross had left the cuffs on in an attempt at intimidation. He was past intimidation, these kinds of cheap tricks. He was fighting for his existence now, and his partner's existence. If he makes it...

His arm and side ached. He felt light-headed and dizzy, but Ross had decided that he was up to answering questions. Presumably Ross hoped he would be vulnerable and easy to beat down. Well, that wasn't going to happen. They had been left out there in harm's way. The moment he'd laid eyes on her, he knew the answer to the riddle: they were expendable.

He'd survived his first encounter with Kirsten Shaw, both personally and professionally, by the skin of his teeth. He'd come back to the team, had somehow weathered the storm of resentment, had brought himself back from the brink. He was just starting to regain his old life when DCI Adrian Ross had walked into the station.

Ross had had a plan, an undercover job. Arms dealer Avram Yanis and his lover, Jack Reece, had been killed in a car crash. Zain bore a passing resemblance to Yanis, and DS Stuart Turner was the same height, build and colouring as Jack Reece. Neither of them had really wanted the job, but they were put in a position where it was almost impossible to say no.

Zain shifted on the chair. The cuffs were bothering him now. The bullet which had creased his upper arm had dug a furrow in his flesh. Beneath the dressing, he could feel every inch of the gash. He needed to flex his arm, move it to a different position. His side was throbbing where the second bullet had deflected across his ribs, its force spent...after ploughing through Stu's body.

Zain closed his eyes. It had all happened so fast. The door opened, Stu rolling to protect Zain with his body. The first bullet punched high, taking him in the back by his shoulder blade; the second hit slightly lower, punching through Stu's body beneath his arm, wrapped tight around Zain. It was that second which had creased Zain's ribs, but he didn't care about that. Stu's blood was flowing over Zain's hands; the pounding of feet sounded on the stairs as the gunman fired for the last time. Shouting and noise all around them. Zain, unable to make any of it out, concentrated on stemming the bleeding, stopping Stu's lifeforce from ebbing away.

They were naked beneath the worn greyish sheet, tangled loosely around their bodies. Stu had acted to save Zain's life; Zain was not going to lose him now. What had started out as an assignment had become intensely personal and real.

They had been separated at the hospital, Stu taken to where Zain was not allowed to follow. Zain had been patched up quickly, then dragged away at Ross's command.

This was the Shaw case all over again. But this time, Zain had something to fight for. Something unanticipated, but as necessary to Zain as breathing. And he had something to fight with: the knowledge that he and Stu had been set up.

He concentrated his anger, clamping down on the pain from his arm and side, remembering the day they'd been handed the assignment. Going undercover as a gay couple, everything was guesswork, the files on Avram Yanis and Jack Reece almost non-existent. Deliberately so?

Eight days. That was all they had before their little drama came crashing down around them. It hadn't felt right from the start, their parts were set, and they played their roles carefully, feeling their way.

The weird part was the physical closeness they had to assume to keep their covers going. They had no back up so they had to rely on each other.

Zain closed his eyes, remembering. His first thoughts when he heard he was going undercover with Stuart, that his glory-boy sergeant would step aside and let Zain dangle.

It hadn't happened like that. If anything Stuart had sought to protect him. Zain wasn't used to that, especially coming from Stuart Turner.

They were alone. Flying blind in a situation which became more hazardous every day, yet when they had expressed their concerns, they were both told they were imagining it.

"Hello, Zain." He'd frozen to the spot. Just caught himself in time, to spin round and show surprise would be bad, there was a chance in a million he could tough it out. He turned slowly to face her, aware that Stu had stepped across, inserting himself between Zain and Kirsten Shaw. The woman who had so nearly destroyed Zain's life before.

Only now Zain and Stuart were both at risk. In a flash of insight, Zain realised that they had been set up. That this was what was supposed happen.

Too late. They were staring down the barrel of a gun. Stripped of anything that might be useful they were shoved into the tiny attic room, with its miniature skylight and locked in.

Kirsten and her dealers would take care of business and then Zain and Stu would die. They knew that. Zain had turned to his partner defeated.

"They're going to kill us."

"I know."

"I'm... sorry."

"Sorry? Why?"

Zain made a confused gesture. "This." His hand brushed Stu's – accident or something else? He didn't know. Their eyes met, that electric touch as their fingers brushed, entwined, and suddenly they were in each other's arms.

"I'm not." Stu's whisper slid across Zain's senses, teasing.

"Not what..." Zain's whisper more of a gasp as Stu's teeth nipped his lower lip.

"Sorry" Stu breathed.

One narrow mattress and a couple of grey sheets. Not much for their last night of life. They were going to die, hope of rescue was mostly futile, whatever this was, it was going to end in the morning.

By mutual assent they came together. Words were redundant, they melted into each other, pulling their clothes off. Skin to skin, they felt alive.

Alive. Zain bent over the table in the interview room, fighting the pain, holding his distress inside. He had to fight for both of them now, Kirsten Shaw was not going to destroy his life a second time.

The door opened, and Zain looked up. Banking the pain down, he summoned his anger.

"DC Nadir..." Ross managed to make it sound like an insult. "We have so much to talk about."