All characters and situations belong to the BBC, I'm just borrowing them for a while.

I know the ending to Shadows was 'cute' but I never really felt it resolved the episode properly. I found the episode quite disturbing, maybe because I'm in education, or maybe because it was supposed to be. But I needed Harry and Nikki to confront each other at the end of the day and here's how I thought it could play out. Understandably it's a little dark at first, we're also trapped inside Harry's head, so sorry Nikki purists. I promise it gets lighter towards the end... don't mind if you hate it but feedback would be great.

Second Chance

Harry continued to stare at the red light on the bomb and slipped slowly to the floor. He pressed his back up against the wall, drew his knees in and stared at the wall opposite. There was a red brown smudge on the wall that his eyes fixated on. He tried to focus every ounce of his brain to determine what or where the splatter had come from, but he knew he was just trying to block out the relentless shaking of his limbs and the fact that he should be dead.

How could someone? Why? He was just a kid, a scared little kid. His brain rambled through the scenes of the day. No matter how much he drank he wasn't going to erase the memory of Detective Sage having his brains blown out in front of him, nor the look on Nikki's face when he had convinced her to stay and help him. Or how he had led her out of that classroom and into the hallways of death. Why had he done it? He wasn't thinking about Scott this time, but himself. Why had he purposely put her in danger. It was enough that he had the death wish, but to bring her along with him? He could have let her leave with the others. And she was so scared. Even with just their fingers touching he could feel the fear emanating from her body and those shoes, those shoes, why did she have to wear such loud shoes?

He could feel his brain swimming again and pulled his focus back to the smudge, brain matter he pondered? It was a better topic than Nikki's footwear. Did she just wear the heels so she felt she could measure up to him somehow? To stop him using his height advantage in their little power plays. Is that why she had stayed and helped him? Please. He couldn't bear that on his conscience as well, the idea that she had to be seen to be as good as him.. didn't she know, nothing would ever make him belittle her.

'Think smudge think smudge' his brain chanted.

Maybe she just liked the heels and liked the effect they had on him? But that was an even more dangerous direction to go in today. Today, everything had changed today. Fourteen or more dead and the hour or so he spent patching up Scott Weston, championing a cause that everyone else disagreed with. He ran his hand roughly over his face. Why was he such an idiot?

He gave into the trembling for a while. He was vaguely aware of a police officer coming in and telling him that the building needed to be cleared and it was time to leave. He wasn't entirely sure what his response had been, but the man had left quickly, and closed the door behind him. He had probably gone for the reinforcements. There would probably be another apology letter he'd have to write after all this was over. He'd have to leave soon but what would he say?

"Hi, I'm Harry Cunningham and I wished I was dead," it sounded like a bad introduction at an AA meeting. He was going to need to think of something to get through this. There was no way the usual rules applied on a day like today.

He'd worked the rules out very scientifically during a very slow week one summer. It was a based on terrorist threat levels. All listed and ranked according to severity, tidy and neat and easily controllable, just as he liked it. It had been working wonders for him and stopped the embarrassing moments where he had found himself staring across the office or lab open mouthed just watching her. It was true she hadn't taken off any underwear in front of him recently but all the same they were a welcome safety net. It was all about Nikki of course and how to keep himself sane.

Threat Level Low, boring day - dodgy joke, happy smiles

Threat Level Moderate, normal day - happy smiles, a quick whiff of her perfume, or carefully timed entrance into the locker room, so that she had already left but everything around smelt of her.

Threat Level Substantial, more gruesome day, difficult case, bit of an argument etc. - allowed an invasion of personal space and full on sniff of the hair.

Threat Level Substantial, element of danger, or personal issues - warranted some hand holding and prolonged eye contact.

Threat Level Critical, trauma, personal and real danger, Nikki crying etc. - full on hug and chaste forehead kiss plus any of the above.

He'd assumed 5 levels would be enough, he hadn't banked on being holed up with a gun toting maniac with a sideline in bombing. Or on the fact that it was he who had put her life in more danger. No chaste kiss on the top of the head was going to come close to burying these memories. Why wasn't he dead?

He started to bang his head methodically against the wall, it was soothing in an odd kind of way. Pounding along with the thumping of his headache. When had he last slept? Or drank? Or eaten anything? He made an effort to stand but found himself distracted by that red smudge. Maybe it was Scott Weston's cheek bone. He shuddered and slipped down to the floor again.

It had been a while since he had seen the policeman, he must have found someone by now. There must be a few people alive out there. Someone surely could come and help him. Hadn't he spent most of the day helping that sorry bastard? But then his blood ran cold, what if she came to help? What if they sent Nikki? It wasn't that he minded her seeing him in this state. He'd broken down in front of her before, but not today. Today he couldn't trust himself. His code finished at Level 5 and this was way beyond that. He couldn't trust himself to hold her today because today he would not be able to let go.

That would just finish the day off perfectly. Blowing the best friend he ever had, because the memories couldn't be removed until he'd lost himself entirely. Was he really fool enough to believe that, that would make a difference to the horror of the day. No he would just be using her like Scott Weston had used him. They were both sick bastards.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back again the wall. He heard the door open, but stayed where he was, impressed that finally his legs had seemed to stop shaking. He knew it was her, he could feel her, smell her but he couldn't touch her, he just couldn't. He willed with all his might that she would stay away from him.