Still Broken

by Brindabella

The last in the Amy trilogy. Can the plight of an innocent 17 year old girl help Amy shed her broken tag? Or will she need to rely on Alex like never before? Please read and review!

Date begun: March 3rd, 2006

Date finished: May 1st, 2006

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to the writer. They remain property of Channel 7 and Southern Star.

Dedication: For Mads – here's hoping I continue to inspire you to write!

Song credits: Seether, Phil Collins, John Farnham, Maroon 5, Limp Bizkit, Goo Goo Dolls, Aerosmith, The Veronica's, The Killers, Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, P.Y.T, Tracey Chapman

© Riss 2006

'Still Broken'

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel light when you're gone away

I wake up suddenly, soaked in sweat, my pajamas stuck to me. I put my head in my hands and pull my knees up to my chest to rest my elbows on. I can't quite get my elbows to find my knees though as they tremble with fright in the darkness. My shaking hands try to cover my face from the monstrous feeling of it all, but it doesn't help at all and I can't stop the tears from falling down my face in a silent river. "Alex?" I whimper, calling out into the darkness. I try to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the room, searching for him, but just a second later it clicks and I remember he isn't here.

Well that's it, I can't go back to sleep. Maybe if Alex was here lying beside me I could, but he's not, and so my eyes aren't going to close again anytime soon. I wipe at my eyes with the backs of my hands and unstick the sheets from my legs before hurling myself into a standing position, fumbling around in the dark towards my bedroom door. I need something – anything - to cool me down and stop this bloody trembling. I walk unsteadily towards the door, that jelly feeling back in my legs again, and out into the kitchen. I reach the sink and lean heavily on it, placing my hands out flat on the cool metal of the surface where my drying bowls and plates normally rest. My head feels heavy, and I let it drop and my eyes stay closed as I take in a few deep breaths. This keeps happening and it's starting to make me weak. I thought I was over this. I thought I had moved on. I thought that door had firmly closed and that I was now free to be happy at last, with Alex, with my work, with my past. But obviously not. It hurts to realise that it's not over yet, even though, more than anything, I want it to be.

I grab for a glass that's resting on the sink and pull the tap on to fill it with water. As I do I look out the kitchen window at the night sky and its stars. My mother used to tell me to wish on a star every night before I went to bed, so that one day my dreams would all come true. I've never stopped doing it in the hope that one day she'll be right. They're twinkling really brightly tonight – must be the summer weather coming. Winter is finally wearing off and the days are getting warmer and the nights are not being so bitterly cold. I reckon tomorrow will be nice and warm, and the clear skies tonight are an indication of that.

I stand here and watch the stars twinkle for a little while, before refilling my glass and settling down on the couch with a sigh. My pulse is starting to lessen and I don't feel so hot anymore, but that fear in me is still there. Why do I have to keep dreaming of that period in my life? It's beginning to exhaust me and I know it's showing at work. I spend so much time thinking about how frightening these dreams are and then dreading having them again the next night that I get hardly any sleep. Anytime I close my eyes I dream of it, and so I've taken to just trying to rest in my bed, rather than sleep. Still, rest isn't the same as sleep.

Some nights are ok, because Alex is there. It's so comforting to have him sleeping beside me, so comforting that I can't even find the right words to tell him so, but he seems to understand anyway, and on those nights the dreams aren't as frequent and aren't as frightening which gives me a little reprieve from the ongoing nightmare of it all. During the day I feel as though I should be able to handle the night time because during the day I am an adult, and sleep doesn't come into it. I have my work to concentrate on and I am around people I trust and respect. But at night it's as if I slip into child mode again and I can hear the creaking floorboards with startling clarity.

Alex knows that I dream like this I think. Countless times I've woken up in a sweat, breathing heavily and with my eyes wide and he has been there with a soothing hug and a whispered reassurance, coaxing me back into normal sleep. Still, he can't know what the dreams are about because I haven't told him. I can't even say it aloud to myself, let alone to him! It makes it seem all the more…there. And I'd give anything to have it not there.

But yes, I feel safer with Alex there beside me. I always imagined myself the independent woman, able to fight her own battles and able to care for herself. But over the last few months Alex has taught me that I don't need to be like that 24/7. Everybody has off days he says, and everybody has their little weaknesses. I didn't used to allow myself to have off days because then I felt like I wouldn't be able to hold it together at all, but he's taught me that it's ok. I guess you could say he's taught me a lot over the past few months. I thought I knew it all about myself, but turns out I'm the one who knows the least. Of course no one else can say what I'm feeling – only I can do that, but others do know how to help. Alex especially.

If you'd asked me six months ago if Alex and I would be together right now I would've slapped you one for being so ridiculous. But in the last six months a lot has happened. We met in the middle of the road and started helping each other. He was there for me when Garth was killed and I was there for him – or so he says (I certainly don't think so – I was such a mess then!) – when he was shot getting Thai for our dinner. I needed him in a big way when Garth was killed and he came through strong and ready. I didn't realise just how much I did need him, but he did, and he made sure I was ok. It was then that we became closer, and, in a way, I haven't looked back. It's just too good – I love it.

We're not keeping 'us' a state secret or anything, but we're being discrete. We are just Alex and Amy when we're at the office or on the job, and we don't often go to the pub after work so that's covered nicely. But when he's at my place – which is what the plans are 99 of the time because Alex shares a house with Scruffy – we're just us. We are free to talk and sit on the couch and watch tv and eat dinner together. It's a peaceful sort of thing – nothing too heavy - no dirty weekends, no meeting the folks, no dinner parties to attend – just….us. How we like it. And after a hard day at the office, where my head's been throbbing and I've been yelling at loonies in the interview room for hours, nothing makes me feel better than to just lie with Alex on the couch and just chat. When I lie with him I can feel his body unwinding too, and I know that if he had a headache before, or if his throat's sore from speaking too much that day, it's starting to go away.

We'll be lucky if we get nights like this twice a week though. I stay at work later and later it seems, or Alex is on the early shift in the morning. But it's ok. It's suiting us for now. Sometimes I still shake my head at what has evolved since winter though. I've totally changed my demeanour without my even realising it. It's nice though – I'm not complaining. Being with Alex is such a… new experience. So different to anything I've ever had before, and he can still send chills up my spine and make my heart race in an instant. And I'd just be lying to myself if I said I didn't like it. He can smile and it'll change my mood totally. Some days, and some nights, are so bad that I live to see that smile.

Still, I feel bad for not revealing to him what I dream though. He doesn't ask when he sends me back to sleep, and I just curl up into a ball beside him, thankful just that he's there to make sure it's ok in reality. My whole life I bottled up the bad things, just silently wishing they would go away and I'd come out of it one day, able to step away from it and never look back, but I never can. You'd think I would've learnt that lesson by now, but no. Alex being there helps.

I hate having to seem like the weak one – the person in the relationship who just cannot hold herself together at all – and it sort of makes me want to bottle it up more. I don't want to be a burden to him. I don't want to always be relying on him to kiss it better. It makes me feel….like a burden. What if he gets nothing out of this relationship because I'm just a crying, sobby mess who has nightmares all the time? He doesn't deserve to be in a relationship like that. I want him to get some enjoyment and happiness out of it too. What if he doesn't? I'm too afraid to ask him though.

Wow it is getting warmer. I've walked out of bed without a pair of socks on for the first time in months and I'm actually not very cold as I sit here. Still, the darkness and the fact I'm alone in my flat tonight makes me give a little shiver. The water from my glass is cooling me down a little, but I can't head back to bed. Not tonight. I reach over and put the glass on the coffee table and curl up, alone, on the couch, sinking down into the cushions and slithering so far down that the beam of moonlight that is streaming through the window goes right over the top of me and hits the side of the tv cabinet, lighting it up brightly.

I fold my hands under my head and just close my eyes, trying to sleep without dreaming, trying not to think of how I relive my childhood every time I close my eyes. I shuffle in my position. This so isn't working. I sit up again and grab the tv guide, ready to try my hand at the crossword. Jesus, I don't know any of these answers. Shows how much tv I watch. I get up and walk back into the kitchen, rinsing my glass and placing it on the drying rack. I stand there for a moment, just staring at my hands, trying to remember what they look like when they're laced in Alex's so that I can take my mind off everything else. Why can't it be morning already?

"Are you all right Amy?" I shake my head and wake myself up quickly when I hear Jonesy speak. He's looking at me so strangely that I get a bit apprehensive with my answer because of it. I sit up straighter in my chair and shake back my hair so that it hangs behind my shoulders, instead of annoyingly flitting around my face.

"I'm fine," I answer, sounding everything but. He sits down opposite me, and rests back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and looking back at me.

He raises his eyebrows at me and gets his papers in order as he continues to watch me. He neatens his desk for once and asks me what I was hoping he wouldn't. "You look like you haven't slept at all Amy," he sounds so genuinely worried that it makes me really pleased he and I are friends.

"Really?" I ask innocently, trying to fob it off and have him not notice so much.

"Yeah," he nods strongly, studying my face critically. It makes me look away with embarrassment. "I can see it on your face and in your eyes," he says quietly, as if I shouldn't be shocked by that. I snap my head back to look at him very fast. He's getting right onto work, as if his comment didn't just hit me like a cold shower.

You can tell from the lines on her face

You can tell that she's been there

But I am so shocked I can't say anything in reply. He's not watching me anymore anyway, so I shrink away, amazingly embarrassed, and so unsure of what to do. I pick up my pen, but can't move my hand across the page to write anything so I get up quickly and exit the office, leaving Jonesy to his own devices. I wander listlessly into the mess room and find Alex there. I smile when he looks up and sees me and to my pleasure, he smiles back. I walk over silently and just stand beside him, leaning with my back to the bench as he is. We just stand there for a while, not speaking and suddenly the pressure becomes too great and I can't think about being a burden any longer. I just have to let the tears fall. I look at him with my eyes filled with tears and he pulls me into a hug. I rest my head against his chest and cry silently before pulling away and looking back into his eyes. "Sorry," I apologise, pathetically.

"Don't be sorry Amy," he soothes. He looks up and past me for the briefest of seconds, and I know he is checking the room for anyone else coming in. We have both done it so many times in the mess room these last few months. And in my office at the end of the day. And in the CI car. The thought perks me up somewhat, and the tears stop for a moment. He looks back into my eyes and brushes the back of his fingers against my cheek before letting his hand run the full length of my jacketed arm. I exhale heavily, allowing him to send the electricity up my spine again. I give in totally just for a second, revelling in this extraordinary feeling Alex can always produce in me. We find each others lips swiftly before parting and unwillingly tearing our lips apart, knowing we can't be doing such a thing at work. I stand here with my eyes closed as he scurries back to work, wishing so much I could just stay in his arms.

I sigh and make myself a coffee as I hear him telling the rest of the troops the schedule for the morning. I stir it thoughtfully and soon head back to Jonesy, trying to prompt my mind into work mode. It isn't hard – I am so used to doing this everyday, especially lately. I work steadily through the day, without looking at the clock every five minutes and it's not til 5 o'clock that I get to see Alex again. He knocks gently on the door to the office, and steps inside quietly, watching Jonesy and I finish up our reports.

Jonesy seems to be hurrying to complete his, and before I know it he is waving us goodbye quickly and on his way home. I look at Alex, asking him a million questions with my eyes. But he doesn't answer, just continues smiling and watches me pack up. I think I know anyway – Jonesy isn't dumb. He must wonder where Alex is on the nights he doesn't sleep at their place. Even though we've been discrete and not breathed a word to anyone but each other, I guess something always slips through. Funnily enough it doesn't faze me as much as I expect it to – it's a bit more thrilling in a way, knowing the secret's out.

Alex and I still leave the station separately though, and he walks out first, waiting for me in the carpark. God he looks good leaning against the car. It almost makes me forget what has been plaguing my thoughts. It's only just after five, so obviously neither of us will be working late tonight if we're heading home now. Without speaking we mutually agree to head back to my flat – our little haven away from the office. It's funny how we have slipped so easily into this normal routine. Like we've been doing it forever.

We pick up some Thai on the way back – it's become a favourite of mine, and not for the taste – and I notice Alex has an odd look on his face as we drive back to my flat. It's a look I have seen before, but I can't quite place it. I think I saw it maybe when Alex came to the hospital to meet me after Garth was killed.

When something is wrong with my baby

Something is wrong with me

When we get home at last we sprawl on the couch with the boxes and chopsticks. As we eat I remember back to what Jonesy said this morning and an insecure feeling washes over me.

"Alex," I start, unsure of how to put it.

"Yeah?" he looks up, smiling.

"Jonesy said that I look like I haven't had any sleep today," I say with my eyes staring at the food.

"Did he?" Alex is a bit taken aback, and I am pleased. He doesn't seem too happy about Jonesy saying such a thing to me. But I still feel insecure as I nod. "Well…" he licks his chopsticks and looks intently at me. "Have you?"

"Have I had any sleep?" I almost scoff at his question, trying to pump up my confidence a bit and make myself look a bit tougher. It's not working. Dammit. "No," I whisper quietly.

Alex looks at me, concerned, and puts his hand on top of mine as we sit here. "What's wrong Amy?" he whispers, shuffling closer.

I do all that I can not to crack, and so I sit still beside him looking at my squiggles of noodles in the box in my lap. "I've been…dreaming."

"Dreaming?" he tries to coax it out of me.

"About when I was little," I am speaking so quietly that he has his head bent down to hear me properly. "About when I lived with Uncle John and Aunt Sally," I shudder and the room suddenly feels so small and closed in, and I long to get out.

Alex sits back and puts his arm around my shoulders, dwarfing my stature as we sit on the couch. But I feel uncomfortable revealing what I have to him, and I get up quickly, shrugging out of his hold. "But it's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about it," I say in an unconvincing rush, just wanting him to go away so that I can be alone.

Alex's eyes open wide. "Amy," he says in shock, standing up to be in front of me. He reaches down to hold my hands at my sides and looks me in the eye. "You're not ok, that's obvious," he says quietly.

I want him so badly, just to have him hold me and make everything all right and just to be there, but it's all getting on top of me and I can't handle it. With tears in my eyes I wrench myself out of his hold yet again and walk into the hallway towards the front door. "I'm fine ok?" I say, my voice wobbling. "Just go, you can't do anything now," my voice creaks and cracks as I speak, not able to meet his eyes. My hair falls in front of my face and he comes up to me and brushes it out of my eyes as always.

"I can help Amy," he whispers, not at all deterred by my rudeness. "You just have to let me," he says. "I want to help," he says it so sincerely and with such earnest that my heart hurts hearing it.

I want to make you feel beautiful

How can you help me when you don't know what I'm thinking? I scream silently inside my head. I look at him again, a bit of me wanting to acknowledge his offer but most of me not. I hold open the door. "You can't help Alex, you just can't. It's never gonna go away," tears spill down my cheeks and I hold open the door. With sadness in his eyes and one last long look at me, he walks out, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging with every step further away from my door.

Later I lie in bed, huddled under the covers in the darkness, thinking about everything I said to Alex earlier. I know I'm right. Nobody can help me, not even Alex. This is never going to leave me – it's never going to go away. Nobody can help me because nobody else went through what I did, so they don't know how it felt and how it still feels.

No one knows what it's like

To feel these feelings

Like I do

Thinking over it is getting me nowhere, but then that's not unusual. It's forever on my mind and I'm scared it will never leave my thoughts. How do you erase something like that? I feel like it's going to be there forever, and I'll never be able to live a normal life because it will always be holding me back and making me afraid. I want to have someone who can sleep beside me to make me feel safe, and someone to tell me everything's going to be all right, and I know Alex tries to do that, but tonight I just couldn't explain to him how I felt. That's unfortunate too, because right now I'd give anything to have him sleeping next to me. But he's not. I made him leave, and so I can't have him right here.

He probably hates me now anyway, for chucking him out. I was rude, I'll admit it, but when I get like that I need to do what I need to do. And tonight I couldn't let anyone touch me. But now, in a bed that feels far too big for just me, I'm longing for that touch. It's funny. The whole root of this problem is the element of touch and yet I long for Alex's.

It's 11:30pm and I'm still wide awake. I try to clear my thoughts so that I can actually get some sleep, but it doesn't work. Does it ever? I look at the digital clock beside my bed and watch the glowing read numbers change from 11:30 to 11:45 and then to 12:00. This is not working. I heave a sigh and get out of bed and pad to the window. My hands on my hips I stare out at the sky and then think more about it and drag the armchair over to the window. I throw the clothes that are draped on it onto the floor and settle in, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

The thoughts are running through my head at a million miles an hour, swimming a race that can't be won. I feel awful for having shut Alex out, but it's been done now and I can't turn back time. One day maybe he'll understand. I can't expect him to understand straight away. I feel trapped inside though, wanting so badly to get out and live in a new Amy body, a body that hasn't been through any of this shit. I sigh and keep looking out the window, counting the stars because, hey, there's nothing else to do.

Six hours later I'm at work, actually enjoying the quietness of the station. I know everyone else is still pushing up zeds in their beds and I'm grateful. I need to get some work done and so I settle in, already on my third cup of coffee, in an effort to stay awake and get these reports done and actually do what I'm paid for.

By 7am the rest of the team begins to straggle in, the first being the Boss and then Jonesy. As Jonesy joins me in here he gives me a smug smile as if to say 'You and Alex woohoo'. I roll my eyes at him and look back down to my work, hoping that he won't notice the puffiness and rings under my eyes for a second morning in a row. I hear him settle down to work and breathe a silent breath of relief when he doesn't say anything. Perhaps he knows better by now. Thank God. I don't want to have to explain myself again.

I work steadily through my reports and actually have something to show for all my brain strain by 9am when Alex begins his shift. I look through the blinds and out into the office at him and feel sad all over again. Then I look back at Jonesy and see him working so studiously that I force myself to do the same and take my mind off Alex. It's difficult, I can't stop thinking about how rude I was last night and how I've screwed things up again. One day he'll stop forgiving me, and it'll probably be today.

Not much later Jonesy gets up, picking up my coffee mug along with his. "Refill?" he asks. I nod in an appreciative reply and keep writing as he heads to the mess room. God, I need a coffee to finish off this brief, don't be long Jonesy!

'The search found no evidence of any drugs of dependence…' my hand trails off the page as I look up, expecting Jonesy to be coming back through the door with my coffee. He's been gone for five minutes now, Jesus, how long does it take to boil a kettle? I tap my foot against the bin as I put the final flourishes on the report, slip it into its folder, and shove it over to the very small 'finished' pile on the left side of my desk. I lean forward, hoping to hear footsteps coming with my coffee, and when I don't I get too impatient and throw my pen down softly and head towards the mess room to hurry Jonesy along.

As I get closer I can hear he and Alex talking earnestly to each other. I cock my head, interested. I don't get too close though, it's bad enough that I'm eavesdropping like this. But my curiosity wins out and I get just close enough to hear what they're saying.

"Love changes everything mate," I hear Jonesy. He says it so light heartedly and honestly and I realise I must be human because it even makes me heart feel warm.

"It's just so…hard!" Alex replies, sounding pained. I open my mouth in shock, knowing this must be about he and I. "I want to help her so bad, but she just turns me away," he sounds so deflated and I get that feeling of being so awful back again.

"Is that why you were home so early last night?" I hear Jonesy ask. He is such a mate to Alex; it makes me smile for a moment.

"Yeah," Alex replies. "I just wanted to be there for her you know? But it's not coming across the way I want it to."

"Why not?" Jonesy asks, confused.

"I don't know mate!" Alex sounds upset and I cringe at the thought. "You know Amy, she's a tough one to figure out, but I just want to be with her and help her," I can hear the kettle clicking off, boiled and ready.

"You do?" you can nearly hear the smile on Jonesy's face. "That's fantastic mate, I'm pleased for you."

"Every moment I don't spend with her is a moment wasted, you know?" Alex whispers. "But it's hard, I just can't get through to her sometimes. I mean I just know last night she wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all, that's how well I know how she works!" he sighs and I listen on in earnest, my face blushing pink as I stand and eavesdrop. "And neither did I! But if she'd let me stay it would've been different Jonesy," he sounds so genuinely sad that I have to walk away. I can't bear to hear anymore. My heart is breaking just hearing his words repeat over and over in my head and I walk down the hallway back to my office in a daze.

Just as I go to open the door back to safety and normalcy Susie stops me by grabbing my wrist urgently. "Amy?" she asks quietly but in such a way that demands my attention. I look up at her, taking a deep breath to calm myself and I mentally put my detective mask on again.

"What's up?" I ask, taking my hand off the door handle and turning around to face Susie and the rest of the muster area.

"There's a girl in the interview room…" she says quietly, her eyes darting around checking that none of the others are hanging onto what she is saying to me.

"Yeah? So?" I reply.

"I think you better talk to her…" she says softly giving me a look I recognise immediately. Christ, not another one. Why does this still go on? Why can't I just have a magic wand to make it all go away? I sigh a quiet sigh and nod at Susie before following her into the interview room. As Susie holds the door open for me I am confronted with a little pixie of a girl with straight blonde hair and a smattering of freckles on her face. She looks up at me with deep blue eyes, mirroring the colour of the ocean in the middle of the day. She smiles an unsure smile at me and I walk in, sit down in the chair opposite her and put my elbows on the table.

I have to switch into the detective who helps people mode, rather than the scarred individual that surfaces in my dreams and who feels powerless. But I've gotta start off gently. Don't want to scare her off. God knows it's probably taken everything she's got just to come here today.

"Hi," I smile warmly at her. Or at least I hope it's warmly. I'm starting to get the shakes just thinking about what she might say and why Susie wanted me to be the one to speak to her.

She seems to relax instantly just in my presence and I can see her hands unclench and her shoulders relax from the hunched state they were in when I first entered. She self consciously neatens up her clothing as I look at her, hoping she will say something. When she doesn't I speak up again, trying to be as kind sounding as possible.

"Senior Constable Raynor thought that I might be a good person for you to talk to," I say softly. I try to get her eyes to meet mine. "I'm Amy."

She looks up at last and smiles a little smile, cautious and scared. "Hollie," she whispers, barely audible. Yes! One hurdle jumped. I have a name.

"Why did you come in today Hollie?" I ask.

She gets that horrified look in her eyes again, and her hands clench up as she moves them under the table, trying not to let me see. She shuffles uncomfortably in the chair and squirms almost right out of it for a second, eyeing the door fleetingly. "I can't do this," she breathes and makes a run for it. Susie stands in front of the door, not allowing her to leave, something that annoys me because it's just going to make Hollie feel worse. She stands helplessly in front of Susie and I stand up and take her hand to guide her back to the seat. She resists, but only for a moment.

I smile again at her, and then turn to speak to Susie. "Would you mind leaving us alone Senior Constable?" I ask politely of Susie, hoping she will get my hint. Thankfully she does, and exits the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Hollie," I begin. "It's ok," I rub her hand reassuringly and they unclench again. "Whatever you want to talk about today, you can tell me, I won't judge you or make you feel bad, and no one else has to hear but me."

She looks up at me. "I've been meaning to come in for ages," she whispers, leaning on the table with her elbow and staring at the wooden finish. "He's got away with it for too long, and I thought maybe I just shouldn't bother," she looked frightened.

"It always matters Hollie," I urge her quietly.

"It's my Dad…" she finally opens up and looks me in the eye and I prepare my mental notebook.

Two hours later I emerge from the interview room, leaving Hollie in there to hopefully not stew too much for a couple of minutes. I get on the phone to her mother and organise for her to be picked up and taken home. I assure her that when she arrives I will explain the situation, something I am not looking forward to.

With the phonecall over, I go back into the interview room to find Hollie exactly where I left her. She looks like a little lost soul and my heart bleeds for her. "Your Mum's coming," I say, hoping to lift her spirits. "Feel like a coffee?" she looks up at me and nods, getting up and following me down the hall to the mess room. I'm glad I seem to have won her trust.

In the mess room she stands beside me as I boil the kettle and make us our hot drinks. As she watches me, I look at her out of the corner of my eye and notice immediately a trait in her that seems so familiar, and it's not til several seconds later that I realise why that is. She is asking me questions about the station, the other members, my training and my arrest record, almost as if she is here for a school excursion rather than to report her abusive past. It's like she has stepped out of the body I encountered in the interview room and into another one – the everyday use one – and I realise I do exactly the same thing, day after day, even after all I've been through to have Uncle John put away and all the progress I've made with my personal life. I still can't escape it or let all of me show. From the looks of things, Hollie is exactly the same. We're still broken.

She continues to chat like any other 17 year old as we sit together eating tim tams and drinking coffee, alone in the mess room. The more she talks the more she opens up and the more I see of her. It saddens me to realise that without her father abusing her the way he does when she sees him every weekend, she could be leading the perfect life. The life we all want, but can never have.

Not much later, her mother arrives at reception and Susie summons me to speak to her. I expect Hollie to follow me, but she stays where she is, reaching for another tim tam. And so I walk down the hallway, into the muster area and then into reception alone, wondering how I am going to tell her mother the news.

She is waiting nervously, sitting on the edge of one of the seats, gripping her handbag in her lap. When she hears me open the door she springs up immediately, almost losing her footing. She launches herself over to the desk and looks at me with horrified eyes. "What's wrong with my daughter? What's happened?" she asks, frantic.

I try to put my reassuring mask back on, but I know it's not working the way I want it to. I come out from behind the counter and encourage her to sit back down again, and I take a seat beside her, trying to ignore the fact that all the missing and wanted posters in our reception area are of men.

"Hollie came here today to report the abuse by her father," I begin, getting right to the point. My words are met with a blank stare as she tries to take it in. "Hollie told me that every weekend, when she goes to stay with her father in Melbourne, he sexually abuses her," it is getting harder and harder as I explain what Hollie told me.

"What?" her mother breathes, the shock evident on her face.

"He's been doing it since she was 13," I add.

She is speechless, understandably. I can't think of anything to say, and so we sit silently for several moments before she finally speaks. "Since she was 13?" she asks disbelievingly. I nod and she shakes her head in amazement. "I just thought it was the teenager in her coming out," she sounds ashamed and guilty all at once at the realisation that she has been sending her daughter to her abuser for 4 years without even realising it, instead blaming it on teenage sullenness.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you the news," I state quietly, staring at my hands before looking back up at her. "Hollie's waiting inside for you. We were having a cup of coffee together," her mother shakes her head, as if trying to gather her marbles. She stands up and waits for me to show her the way, before following me through the quiet station and into the mess room. She stands at the door way when we reach it, seeming unsure of whether to enter, or perhaps of what she should say to Hollie. Neither of them move, so I leave the doorway and approach Hollie, digging out my business card from my inner jacket pocket.

"You can call me anytime ok?" I say, handing it to her. "Anytime," I smile reassuringly. "We're going to get this sorted Hollie," I give her hand a squeeze and she nods and smiles solemnly back at me before heading over to embrace her mother. Together they leave the station arm in arm.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding as I slump back into one of the chairs, exhausted and it's only lunchtime. Suddenly Jonesy bursts into the room. "Amy! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere," he sounds harried.

"Why?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"The local dealer's agreed to help us out, he's gonna spill his guts, and we need to talk to him," he's hopping from foot to foot, almost gleefully. I agree, it is a break through. I push myself up to standing and follow him out to the car via my office to grab my coat and case folder. Jonesy hops into the drivers seat and on the way tells me the details. It is so involved and really is such a break through that I am able to forget for a little while about Hollie and about all this shit I have caused with Alex and how shit it is making me feel.

Within minutes we are at the squat where this generations Benny Matthews resides. He greets us at the door – if you could call an archway with a ratty cotton sheet hanging from the top of it a door – and we pick our way inside. I look around for somewhere to sit, but see nowhere and when I see the mess on the floor I decide I'd prefer to stand anyway.

Johnno Sacramone is nervous. He flits around the squat, picking things up and putting them back down as he speaks with us. "I thought you said he was going to spill his guts," I whisper to Jonesy. Jonesy opens his eyes wide at me, astonished that I have said such a thing when Johnno is in such close proximity. I roll my eyes and decide to take the lead because he is crapping on about nonsense right now and I want some straight answers from him so that he doesn't waste any more of my time.

"Johnno," I begin, leaning in close to him and clutching my clipboard to my chest. "I don't have a lot of time today, or patience," I look at him wearily. "When's the deal happening?"

But it's almost like I haven't even spoken. He keeps on picking up his grotty possessions and placing them back down and milling around the small perimeter of the squat. Jonesy can sense how fed up I am and grabs Johnno by the shoulders, shaking some sense into him. "Mate! Wake up! Detective Fox asked you a question."

He looks over at me with slightly glazed eyes. "I shouldn't even be speaking to you," he mutters, slurring his words. I try to control my annoyance as I pull Jonesy aside.

"Is this guy going to be of any help to us or am I wasting my time with a spaced out druggie Evan?" I whisper angrily to his face.

"He is, he is, don't worry Amy," Jonesy replies, looking pressured. He walks over to Johnno and speaks quietly to him. I am actually surprised at how much Johnno listens to what he has to say – Jonesy must have a knack that I don't, because two seconds ago I was ready to walk out of this place and leave Johnno Sacramone to rot in his drug induced haze.

Moments later Jonesy walks back over to me, takes my arm and leads me back out to the car. "What are you doing Evan!" I ask sharply. "Did he tell you anything? When's the deal?" I am not leaving here without having accomplished something.

"3 days," he replies simply, and walks back to the drivers side before sliding stealthily into it. Irritated but happy we have a result, I get into the car as well and as I put on my seat belt and go to throw my clip board over into the back seat he stops me. "But we can't shaft him Amy," he insists, looking me dead in the eye.

"What?" I scoff, acting maybe a little too high and mighty for my own good.

"He's helping us out here, I won't let you shaft him at the end of it and put him away, when he was really doing us a favour," he turns the keys in the ignition and presses his foot against the accelerator, leaving the squat in a cloud of dust.

By 6pm I have had enough of today in general, and I start packing up my reports and papers to take home. As I do, I see Alex doing the same at his desk and I quickly turn my head away, not wanting to make eye contact. I'm too ashamed right now. Too fragile. Too unwilling to discuss with Alex what I know needs to be discussed. So I gather my things and escape out the side entrance, using the shadows of the section of the car park that's covered to hide myself from anyone and anything, especially Alex. I hop into my car and drive back to my flat, trying hard not to think about how I left Alex behind, having not spoken a single word to him today.

Soon I am climbing the stairs to my flat, and unlocking the front door. I sigh as I step inside, suddenly feeling hugely lazy and tired. Habit makes me walk straight to my bedroom and place my briefcase at the end of the bed and my shoes in the closet. I give my hair a brush, coaxing out the knots that have formed during the day. Unable to muster up the effort to do much more than that, I pad slowly out of the room and back into the kitchen and pick up the cordless phone, dialling my local pizza joint.

I can barely keep my eyes open as I wait for my ham and pineapple to be delivered but eventually the bell rings and I pay the delivery boy before taking the steaming hot box inside and heading for the kitchen. Half way there I stop and turn around, heading back to the lounge – I can't be bothered with plates tonight – and plonk myself down dejectedly on the couch. It feels weird being by myself for a second night in a row. Once upon a time I used to not mind my own company, but then I got to spending time with Alex and I probably became too used to the luxury of having him want to spend every waking moment with me. And now, after just two nights without him eating dinner with me, or sitting beside me on the couch, I feel so unbelievably alone.

I pick up a slice of pizza out of the box and devour half of it before I lose my appetite. This being alone thing is really becoming a problem, I think to myself. I lie back on the couch and close my eyes for a second, thinking about Alex…

Ahhh my eyelids are so heavy! I reach up and rub at them, trying to get my vision clear again after having napped without meaning to. I turn my head in the direction of the kitchen, just able to see over the back of the couch the clock on the wall in there. It's already 9pm, bugger me.

I sit up and look at the pizza box. The slices are now cold and greasy looking, staining the cardboard pizza box and the magazines I placed it on top of. I pick it and myself up, wander to the kitchen and shove the entire box into the fridge, not even bothering to put the slices in a container. Jeez, there's nothing else to do, I might as well go to bed. I know if I got out my reports now I'd never get anything done so bed it is. I set a quick pace to the bathroom, needing to brush my teeth to get the greasy pizza taste out of my mouth, even though I barely had one slice, and then change into my pyjamas for bed.

Sliding under the covers gratefully my mind slips back to Hollie. I hope she's all right. I hope her Mum takes care of her and she sleeps easier tonight after having at last reported her abuse. I settle into my pillows and blankets and try to not think about anything but sleep, willing it to come to me as easily as it did when I was on the couch earlier. Slowly sleep comes, after I count sheep a hundred times over.

"Amy," he says, smiling in my direction. "Aunt Sally's gone to craft class this afternoon, so it's just you and me. Why don't we go and rent out a movie?"

I nod happily at him and slide my hand into his, holding it the whole way to the video library, only feeling a little bit embarrassed when I see some kids from school hanging out near the milk bar down the road. But I don't care, I'm a princess and they don't matter.

"The Wizard of Oz?" Uncle John asks me as we go inside and browse the titles on the shelves. "How about The Wizard of Oz Princess Amy?" It's settled. He pays for our rental and we make the trip back home. I get comfy on the couch as Uncle John pops the popcorn on the stove before coming to sit beside me. There's not much room here...what are you sitting so close for…there are other seats, I think to myself.

"It's just like a date isn't it?" he grins, holding my hand.

"Uncle John! What are you doin….!" I screech into the darkness as I sit bolt upright in bed. I can't breathe…my throat…blocked…I need some air in my lungs…oh my God. I put my head in my hands, feeling my sweaty forehead as I gasp out hiccuppy sobs and let the tears fall down my face. Slowly, after an eternity of trying to gain control, my breathing steadies and I no longer feel starved of air. The tears keep rolling down my cheeks though, making the sleeves of my pyjamas damp and I can't seem to stop the sobs from escaping from my throat. I don't know if I am sobbing out of fear or out of relief that it was only a dream. I lay back down, trying to calm myself, hugging my arms around me sadly. This is awful, it just won't go away dammit! Make it go away…or at least let me be able to pull myself together enough so that no one ever suspects I am frightened of falling asleep now.

And I don't want the world to see me

Cos I don't think that they'd understand

I turn over in bed so that I can look out my window at the night sky. This isn't working, I can't do this anymore. I need some help. "Oh Alex, why did I let you go?" I say into the darkness.

Again I get to the station before 7am, because if anything, work can take my mind off anything. It's my opportunity to step into my other Amy body like Hollie stepped into hers yesterday, and just pretend everything is ok. Funny though, it was a struggle today. I don't think I fit into that body very well anymore. I hope it doesn't show.

Jonesy and I spend the day organising the deal for 2 days time. When it comes time to speak to Johnno again though, I send Jonesy out alone. I need some time to myself to think. Confused but accepting, he agrees and heads out to the squat by himself. I remain at my desk and stare off into space for at least 15 minutes, noticing nothing around me, even the bickering of Joss and Kelly or the boom of the Boss's voice asking where his tim tams have disappeared to. I finally snap out of it long enough to head to the kitchen and make myself a coffee, not intending at all to speak to Alex, but of course he wonders in just as I am pulling the coffee jar off the shelf.

"Hey Amy," he says quietly, walking up to me and hoisting himself up onto the bench to be beside me as my shaking hand pours the boiling water into my mug.

"Hey", I whisper back, sounding just as nervous.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" he asks timidly, watching me stir my coffee.

"Hmmm no," I reply, wondering where this is going.

"Would it be all right…." he starts. "If I came over for a bit? I need to tell you something," he looks uncomfortable as he speaks to me and all of a sudden I yearn for the brief time when I rolled my ankle and we were like an old married couple, because right now I feel like we're strangers.

I nod and manage a smile at him – I've got to give him credit for never giving up. Maybe we can work something out. He gives me the thumbs up in return and jumps off the counter and walks out of the room, leaving me to stir my coffee even more.

He'll be here any minute, and he's been here before, so I don't get why I'm so jittery! I am pacing the hallway, just waiting for the bell to ring, and for him to tell me that he's had enough of my dramatic ways and that it's over….not that it was ever really on anyway, but yeah.

But of course, ever the surpriser, he knocks gently, doesn't ring the bell. I take a deep breath and open the door to let him in. He enters, his hands dug deep into his pockets and a concerned look on his usually pleasant face. We stand in front of each other awkwardly for four unbearable seconds before we both head for the couch to sit down.

He gets right to the point, and I am almost glad. "Amy," he begins, still sounding a little hesitant. "I know something's bothering you, and I know you feel frightened and I don't know…alone?" I find myself nodding at that alone part. "And I understand why you chucked me out the other night. I understand that it wasn't the right time to have a deep and meaningful," he continues. "But I just don't know how to get it through to you."

"Get what through to me?" I ask, afraid.

"That you don't have to face this alone," he raises an eyebrow at me. He knows he is right. "I want to be here for you. You get it? I WANT to be. It's not an obligation thing, I don't feel like I have to just because of what we've been through in the past…I want to," I smile, tears forming in my eyes. "You mean so much to me Amy, I want you to be happy, and not dogged down by this. And if I can help you not be dogged down then that's what I'm gonna do," he finishes defiantly, looking me in the eye.

I bow my head, embarrassed and overjoyed at the same time. "Thankyou Alex," is all I can manage as a tear – perhaps of relief – slips off my eyelash. He envelopes me in his arms and I relax in them, breathing steadily. "I don't know if I can do it, or if you being here will help, but it's great to know you've offered," I whisper and he nods.

Later we lie together in my bed, it finally feeling the right size. It sure makes a difference when you have someone beside you. I lift my head up just slightly and look at his rested face as we sleep with our arms around each other. Oh! He's not asleep. He smiles as me as he meets my eyes and kisses me on the forehead as we both drift into sleep again.

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating,
And I wondering what you are dreaming,
Wondering if it's me you are seeing

"The Wizard of Oz is a good movie isn't it?" he asks, running his hand down my thigh. I give a terrified nod, not able to take my eyes off that hand.

"Get off!" I yell jolting myself awake. I can't get myself up to sitting and I finally realise it's because a sleeping Alex has his arm draped across me, almost pinning me down to the bed. My yell has woken him though and he sits up the same time that I manage to.

"Amy!" he brings both his hands to my face, cupping it and turning me to face him in the semi darkness. "Hey..." he soothes, stroking my cheek with the thumb of his right hand. I weep right in front of him, letting him see for the first time ever what my dreams have the ability to do to me.

"Hey…" he pulls me into him, holding me tightly as I try to kick the tangle of sheets off my legs. "It's ok," he breathes, stroking my hair softly. "It's ok Amy," I lean like a lead weight against him as I try to recover from the recurring nightmare, my eyes closed and my head all fuzzy, and I try to control my breathing.

"Remember Amy," Jonesy turns to me in the car on the way to Johnno Sacramone's. He raises an eyebrow at me. "You're not shafting him after this is all over. He's doing us a favour," he sounds so stern I almost giggle.

"I know," I reply, rolling my eyes slightly at him. Once upon a time I never would've given any crim a chance, especially one zonked out on drugs, but something in Jonesy's tone, and the passion he seems to carry to save Johnno makes me trust his judgement and be rest assured that everything will be ok.

Only seconds later we are at the squat, parking quite a length down the road, behind a dense clump of trees. We walk quietly towards the run down weatherboard shed, standing close together and letting the pre operation jitters run back and forth between us. "You know what you've gotta do?" I ask him for the thousandth time, stopping him right before we enter through the blanketed doorway.

Jonesy just nods in reply, walking with meaning into Johnno's hideaway. I follow closely behind, taking a deep breath as I enter and rechecking my pistol is still safely where it's supposed to be. Jonesy is less than 2 metres in front of me, speaking with his head down to Johnno, giving him instructions for our bust. I so badly want to butt in and tell Johnno exactly what it is we need him to do, but something inside makes me stay back and give Jonesy a chance to pull off an operation almost entirely himself.

He heads back over to me, not speaking, and grabs my hand to take me into another 'room'. I look down at his hand holding onto mine and allow myself to be led, knowing he knows what he's doing. We hover by a dirty broken window that shines dusty afternoon sunlight into the small sleeping area. Jonesy has his shoulder against the door frame, ready to pounce when our culprit gets close enough, and because he's still got a hold of my hand, I can do nothing but stand beside him, feeling his heart in his throat as much as mine is. Every operation seems to do this to me. I know I love the feeling of living on the edge that policing gives me, but every time I'm crouched in an awkward, cramped hiding space waiting for some crim to show his face, I wonder what possesses me to do something so scary.

But no time to think about it now. Concentration is the key at times like this. I can hear Johnno pacing nervously around the room, waiting for doped out man number 2 to arrive – number one being Johnno himself of course. As I listen to his footsteps going backwards and forwards in the next room, I realise my hands are sweating with anticipation and suddenly my hand slips out of Jonesy's. He notices and turns to me for a split second and smiles a reassuring smile in my direction. He turns back and we continue to wait for our target.

It's not until another 15 agonising minutes have gone slowly by that I finally hear the sound of tyres on the gravel outside. They crunch and slither beneath the heavy tyres of a truck similar to Evan's which I have heard countless mornings screeching into the station car park, seconds before his shift is due to begin. I can hear him take a sharp breath in, gearing himself up. Seconds later what sounds like a heavy set guy trundles through Johnno's doorway and into the squat, speaking hoarsely and quickly. Evan sticks his neck out a little bit further to hear the words, but then half a second later decides to not bother to hear what this guy has to say and just pounces anyway, emerging from our hiding spot with his pistol drawn and his gruff 'I'm a cop' voice on.

The guys eyes dart over to us, terrified and wild. It's a look I've seen in so many addicts eyes that it no longer fazes me. Still, it's sad when you see another person has succumbed to drugs. This guys eyes are really wild. After he sees Evan with his gun, his eyes dart to Johnno, to the door and back to Johnno and then finally down to the plastic packet of heroin he has in his grubby calloused hands. He reels his arm back behind him and ditches the packet in our direction, probably intending to hit Evan in the face but fortunately for us, his aim is shocking and it ends up hitting me in the face instead, surprising me so much that I stumble backwards a little bit from the force of the throw. He may have bad aim, but he's got a powerful throw.

My brain squeals – we can't let him get away! I don't even crouch down to retrieve the bag off the floor – it can wait. But in the time it took to think about whether or not to pick it up Jonesy has already tackled drugged out man number two to the ground and is yelling at me for my handcuffs whilst Johnno stares upon the whole situation in disbelief. I finally get my bearings back and whip my handcuffs out and kneel down beside our target and wrap them around his wrists securely.

Evan pulls him to his feet and shoves him outside into the sunlight as I follow. Behind me Johnno sits down and exhales loudly and as I look at him over my shoulder, he puts his head in his hands and his shoulders give a bit of a shake. Maybe Jonesy was right – maybe Johnno Sacramone is human after all. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe I should've trusted Jonesy. Whatever I should've done, Jonesy is the hero of the hour. Mental note: Buy Evan Jones a drink tonight.

Back at the office later I sit at my desk trying to organise the massive amount of paperwork Johnno and his drongo friend have created. My desk lamp is providing the only light in here as it's well after 7pm and because our cells are occupied, I have one ear trained in the direction of our overnight guest. Susie is scheduled to arrive soon to take over the guard duty and until she does so, I am alone here as Jonesy escapes the paperwork by standing guard over mister drugged out drongo.

God paperwork bores me! This is useless – I am getting nothing done. I close down my lap top and lean back in my chair, linking my hands behind my head and thinking over todays events. Hmmm Jonesy is shaping up to be a pretty good detective – I admit it. I'll never have another PJ Hasham on my hands, but an Evan Jones might not be a bad thing either.

Here he comes, thinking he's weasled out of the paperwork for tonight. He has a stupid grin on his face, because he knows he has, and for once I'll let him get away with it. Tomorrow we can do the paperwork. His hands shoved in his pockets he saunters over to me, knowing he can knock off any minute now.

I roll my eyes at him as I stand up, pushing my chair back on its wheels towards the wall. I turn to the filing cabinet, the sheaf of papers in my hand from this afternoon and speak. "Our guest all ready for bed in there?" I joke. As soon as I finish my sentence though, something rips through me as I stand with my back to him. What the hell? I try to shrug it off, but it's still there. I shove the papers in the cabinet, finding it difficult to find any space for them. We really need a new one of these. It's not like you can throw out case notes when they reach a certain date. Bloody police force keeps everything forever. I think this filing cabinet is from the 17th century the way it creaks and moans when I shove the paperwork inside.

As I turn around I suddenly find Evan right in front of me, leaning against my desk, his arms folded across his chest. He chuckles and answers me with a laugh, the relief that the operation is over evident on his face. "Yeah, well and truly," he replies. He looks so exhausted that I give him a friendly pat on the knee as I search for the incident report that is somewhere around here and still needs to be filed away. "You did well today Evan," I reassure him quietly, peering beyond him searching in vain for the report so that I can get home into a nice warm bath.

I peer around to the other side of him and he shuffles uncomfortably. "Thanks….what are you looking for?" he asks me, thoroughly confused. I peer further behind him wondering where in the world I put this report…how could it just disappear? I had it two seconds ago!

"The incident report," I reply. "It was right here!" As I peer back around to the other side of him again, and him not moving out of my way at all helpfully, he turns his head with mine to search the desk. I lean a little too far and we almost bump heads, but instead his cheek hits mine and I get a harsh scraping of his wiry whiskers on my cheek. I come back up to standing and put my hand to my cheek and as I do so Jonesy stares at me so intensely that I cannot take my eyes away from his and so when he moves closer so do I and suddenly we are locking lips. I am horrified but I don't make any move to stop it. What are you doing Amy! God I could kill this stupid unscarred Amy that always seems to come out at all the wrong times! Like right now! What am I doing! WHAT AM I DOING!

Oh my God…oh my God…uh oh this is getting steamier. Why am I not stopping this! Are those my hands helping him undo his vest! Are they MINE! Oh dear…now my buttons are being undone too. Jesus, this other Amy is wild! She loves this – how is that possible! I'm with Alex. Alex! Alex Kirby! Not Evan Jones! What am I doingggggggggg! Oh my God but I keep on kissing him.

Just as my shirt goes to slip off my shoulders, the door to the muster room opens. Evan hears it too and pulls me to him, the hot skin of his stomach connecting with the hot skin of mine, and we both snap our heads in the direction of the noise. And even though the blinds are almost completely shut to this office, I can still see Susie staring at us as we stare back at her, horrified beyond belief and realising what a massive mistake we have both just made.

It feels like we're staring at each other for ages before she blinks, bows her head and hurries away towards the cells where she's supposed to be doing her watch house duty. I turn my head back to Evan and suddenly all that heat is gone and my skin is clammy and icy cold, so much so that I almost feel dizzy. I cannot believe I am still up against him – what have we done? He stares right back at me, but can't seem to think of anything to say. He lets go of me and I rush to pull my shirt up, back onto my shoulders, and as I back away I fumble with the buttons, feeling amazingly self conscious. How is it that at this moment I can't believe he can see so much of my skin and two seconds ago I was pulling this same shirt off to reveal it? Work is never going to be the same.

I run toward the door, stumbling the whole way, a new fear rushing through me. "We never did this," I whisper, not making eye contact with him. He can hear me though. "This never happened," and with that I'm out of there like a shot, down the hallway and out the back entrance. I grab my keys out of my pocket as I run and shove them into the ignition as soon as I get into the drivers seat of my car. What have I done?

I am never going to be able to sleep. Not after this. I locked myself into my bedroom the moment I got home, and that's where I am right now. I cannot stop thinking about what I just did. How could I have done that? What possessed me? How could I have let it happen? How could it have happened when this subject is the whole reason my life is the way it is? The whole root of this problem that is my life is the subject of men, and suddenly I've been with two in less than 5 days! This isn't me!

I feel so guilty as well. How could I have done that to Alex? How could I have done that to myself? I betrayed myself for just a few fleeting moments with a workmate and now I'm in a whole new ballgame. And I regret it so badly. Why did I do it? I can't stop questioning myself, and this is getting me nowhere. I move numbly from the armchair by the window to my bed and crawl under the covers even though it's not really that late. I haven't gotten changed out of my work gear and crisp linen pants and buttoned shirts feel odd to sleep in, but I shuffle around and soon I don't even notice. I lie on my side with my hands under my head and suddenly feel the wetness of my tears seeping between my fingers. But I can't feel them slipping down my cheeks. This has left me dumbfounded. Dumbfounded that I did such a thing – that I let it happen. It should never have happened. What is going to happen to me and Alex now? What if he finds out!

I turn over; it's uncomfortable on that side. Now I am facing the wardrobe again and can see my alarm clock on my bedside table. 3am and not a wink of sleep. I knew it. I'm just gonna lay here and stare into the darkness and try not to think about how much I've screwed everything up. Maybe sleep will is what people who love each other do," he whispers in my ear, so close it's unbearable. His hot breath reeks as it laces my ear drum, making me squirm away from his touch, further and further over to the other side of the bed. "Don't be scared Princess Amy," he breathes.

"Mummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" I sit bolt up right, expecting to have Alex's arm slung across me, holding me down. I put my hand to my forehead, feeling the sweat there, and suddenly it all comes rushing back. Jonesy, the office, Susie, the fact I locked lips with my colleague, the fact I didn't stop it. Oh Christ, as if my dreams weren't bad enough – now reality is proving annoying too. How I wish Mum was still alive so I could turn to her, knowing she would never hurt me and she would always be there. But she's not, and there's no one here for me. Not that I deserve it. Oh why can't I just go back to sleep and not dream!

This is useless, it's practically dawn, I might as well get up. As I hurl myself to my feet, something poking out from underneath the bed catches my eye and I bend over to take a closer look, unable to make out what in the world it is in the dark. I have to get down on my hands and knees and scarily reach under the bed and into the unknown to pull it out, but as soon as I do and can see it closer up I realise that it's a pair of Alex's boots. I run my fingertips over the shiny leather, feeling the dusting of dirt that sits like a layer of silt over the whole shoe, laces and all, built up after shifts upon shifts and days upon days chasing crooks or trudging through the land. Gosh even dirt reminds me of Alex. I sit against the side of the bed, bring my knees up to my chest and let my forehead rest against them, letting my emotions – my crazy, crazy emotions – just come out.

By 7am though I've had enough of being depressed. Too much more of this and I'll never get up again, so it's time to get out of the house. I can't face work today – I just can't. Poor Alex is going to be so confused, and I can just picture him storming over here to have it out with me if Susie blabs about what she saw. Or else just storm over here to find out why I'm not at work if Susie has kept her mouth shut. Why can't my work just be about work and not relationships?

I stand up and look at myself in the mirror, frowning at my crumpled attire. Where's my purple coat? I head out of the room to the entry way and to my front door, grabbing the coat from the hook in the kitchen before closing the front door behind me as I exit. I jog down the cold cement steps, stairwell after stairwell, until I reach the bottom. As I walk briskly through the carpark, not at all sure where I am going, I shove my keys back into my pocket, deciding to walk.

I never really get outside at this time of the morning. It's just from my front door to the car and then back again at night. Sad really, I'm such a recluse. Because wow, there are so many people out at 7am! People walking their dogs, people jogging, people walking, people watering their gardens. It's like a picture of the perfect life. Go for a run, walk the dog, water the garden, day after day, normal and simple as can be. My life is not at all like theirs.

I shuffle down the street, my hands in the pockets of my coat because folding my arms across my chest makes everyone give me weird looks. I jump out of the way of cyclists on the footpaths and dodge the sprinklers that water the football oval, but strangely enough it's peaceful, and I feel peaceful all of a sudden. Maybe all I need is to be in a 'normal' environment – cos any cop will tell you the life in the force is anything but normal – so that things can work out. Instead of asking myself questions, maybe I should come up with some answers. Can I do that though? Are the answers there for me to see? Hmmmph, probably. I roll my eyes as I continue walking.

Maybe being with Alex is normal…is that why I seem to have so much trouble with it? I feel so bad, he's like my tissue, not my boyfriend. I've dumped so much on him. But then he does say that he wants to help me, and that he does want to be with me. Oh but dammit I've ruined all that now by going and getting hot and heavy with Jonesy! How could I have done that! You're such an idiot Amy!

And I probably need to sort out my 'life' problems by myself. It was nice of Alex to offer, it really was, but I'm the only one who can help me I think. Pity I keep dreaming about my abuse and even seeing things and people in real life – Hollie for example – that remind me so much of it. I just can't seem to escape it. Someone hand me some tape so that I can escape my 'broken' tag! Christ, this is making my head hurt. I scrunch up my eyes, closing them fully for a second as I sit down on a bench by the entrance to the botanic gardens, trying to relax and ease the tension in my head. Breathing steadily through my nose, my head begins to feel normal again until suddenly I forget the ache was ever there when I hear a familiar voice screeching not too far away.

It's Hollie. Pleading to be let loose. My eyes spring open and search for where her voice is coming from. With just a small turn of my head over to the right I can see a man – it must be her father the bastard – grabbing her around the waist and trying to shove her into his car. He is grabbing her so much and has his arms around her stomach so hard that it looks like it's cutting her in half as she doubles over, struggling in his hold and thrashing her head around furiously.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Oh please don't let me lose it like I did when Alex was shot. But no, thank goodness, I jump up from the bench immediately and bolt over towards them, my arms pumping at my sides, my hair blowing in my face. Time to forget your own dramas now Amy, he's going to hurt Hollie. I can feel my brain switching into nerves of steel detective as I near them, and luckily, as a boost to my confidence I guess, his back is to me as I approach so I am able to surprise him when I push myself in between the two of them, intervening as best I can.

"Get your hands off her!" I yell, the anger coming out sooner than I expected. Hollie's eyes open wide for a split second, and both her and her father stop struggling for a full moment, so surprised that I have butted in. Surprisingly, he drops Hollie out of his hold the instant he sees me, knowing he's done wrong, but the look is still in his eyes.

"And who are you?" he's got a grotty, back streets of London accent and the look of total disrespect and disgust he gives me is unbelievably unnerving – I nearly take a step away it shakes me up so much. But no, stand tall Amy. Hero time.

"Are you Hollie's father?" I ask sternly, reaching out to bring Hollie closer to me, and away from him and his ugly low slung trousers and pot belly.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes I am, so piss off," he snarls at me like a riled up dog in a fight.

This is the part I love. I reach into my pocket and pull out my Freddie, flashing the badge in front of his eyes. "I'm Senior Detective Fox and you're wanted for questioning," it's satisfying beating him down like this. "So it is my business."

"Over what?" he rolls his eyes at me and makes an attempt to grab Hollie back. I see her horrified expression as he goes to grab her, and I notice for the first time the prettiness of her freckles and her porcelain skin. Ordinarily they would look gorgeous paired with her smile and her fine, choppy blonde hair, but not right now. She squeals and leaps back, whipping her arms away from his reach. Almost like a frightened child on their first day of school, she cowers behind me.

"Over the sexual abuse of your daughter," I go to take a step closer, in an effort to perhaps push him against his car and pull his hands behind his back before calling the station and having one of them collect him for me. But he's half a second too fast for me and instead grabs my wrist, pulling so hard I do almost an entire 360 on the spot. Now facing away from him, and so startled I haven't even reacted yet, he shoves me hard into the back of his ancient van and I fall into its darkness, followed closely by a petrified Hollie. As he slams the door shut he mumbles something about feeding us both to the dogs.

I fall head first onto the floor of the car, giving my temple a really hard knock, and Hollie lands with a thud beside me. For a moment I can't even move - the pain in my temple is extraordinary and I'm still too shocked that he has overpowered me. Shit. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. I wasn't wrong when I said police work is moment by moment and every moment you hope will turn out ok. Well – sometimes it doesn't. Like right now.

I struggle onto my knees, the right side of my face scrunched up in pain from hitting my temple, and I let my eyes adjust quickly to the light. He's already in the front seat and revving the engine. Suddenly we're off, zooming down the street and out the back window I see it disappear before my eyes. Beside me Hollie sits in a ball and whimpers and I ease myself to be down next to her. As I do she lifts her head.

"Thanks for trying," she says, sounding unnecessarily apologetic.

I stare back at her, at first not knowing what to say. "What was he doing Hollie?" I try to keep my voice rational and calm, not hysterical like it wants to be.

"Taking me to Melbourne," she answers simply.

"What? Is it like this every weekend?" I ask, horrified, disbelieving in myself that I let it happen for so long.

As if reading my mind, Hollie answers. "Yeah," she says. "But at least you were here today," I feel horribly guilty that I wasn't there sooner.

"So we're going to Melbourne?" I ask her, as I look back out the back window for a second. She nods as I look back at her, tears in her eyes, and I bet not for the first time. I put my arms around her, and she cries into them as we trundle further away from Mt Thomas and I try and think of what to do. Think Amy, think. And fast!

My first thought is of course, how do we get out of here and away from Hollie's father? The first thought after that is making a run for it, and when no other thoughts enter my frazzled brain, I decide instantly that that's what we should do. From somewhere deep inside I've got to have the courage to do this, and I've got to make sure Hollie can find it to. I turn to her, sweeping her hair out of her eyes and lifting her eyes to meet mine.

"You've been in this car before," I start, hoping she'll catch on. She nods, wanting to hear more, and we continue to keep our voices down in fear her father will hear us, even though a solid panel of Perspex separates the back from the front of this car. "Haven't you ever tried to get out?" I ask her, dumbfounded. A split second later I realise what a ridiculous question that is. Of course she's wanted to get out, but she's never had the courage to try. "We're going to make a run for it," I say it in such a way that she can't argue. Looking frightened but determined, she nods and squeezes my hand. I smile, trying to reassure her, take a deep breath, and head over to the door. It's like the back of an ambulance almost, with two doors that open outwards, away from each other. Thankfully, there is a handle on the inside, and I grip it, trying to press it in enough to open the doors, but to no avail. It's stuck hard and fast. I can't help but think if Hollie had escaped more often this latch would be a lot looser.

Hollie shuffles over on her hands and knees and grabs the latch too, straining to move it. With every second we are trying, the further away we are from town and the further away we are from safety. I squeeze the latch harder. It still won't budge. Hollie grunts as she tries with me and I look at her face, finally seeing determination and courage in her eyes. She wants to get away. I was just the excuse – the helping hand – she was looking for. I bump her shoulder with mine, our hands still on the latch.

"Sit back," I tell her, and she obliges immediately. Used to it I suppose. Poor darling. Anyway, come on Amy. Time is distance. "When I say go, you kick at the door with your feet ok? Hard as you can," I whisper, knowing we are either going to fail terribly, or get away.

Hollie nods in a firm reply and I take a deep breath. I count silently in my head…one…two…three. "Go!" I squeeze the latch so hard I think I bruise my fingernails and Hollie gives one hell of a kick and suddenly, almost bowling me over, a huge gust of air and a blaring ray of sunlight is before our eyes. I grab Hollie's wrist and we jump from the back of the van, slamming painfully into the pavement and rolling across the gravel of the main drag of Mt Thomas. My shoulder jolts as we hit the hard surface and I squeal out in pain, but not too loud, in fear still that he might hear us.

Hollie thuds against the curb first and I thud up against her not even a moment later, smushing her into the grey cement of the side of the road. Knowing we need to keep going, I struggle to my feet, ignoring the looks of the joggers and the dog walkers and the shop owners and pick Hollie up around her waist, trying to get her to stand. I see her face for a second – just long enough to see her eyes wide and looking as though her brains have well and truly been knocked around. She's like a rag doll, and can't stand for a full three excruciating seconds. She's winded. As I pull her along, she stumbles beside me, tripping over her own feet – she's lost those brown thongs she was wearing – and I try to ignore the pain in my shoulder and the graze on my cheek as we run down the alley between the butchers and the post office.

By the time we reach the back of the butcher I can hear the tires of his van screeching to a halt as he realises we have escaped. My legs run faster. I can hear his tyres squealing as he does a massive u turn – I've been in enough pursuits to know what sort of sounds tyres make when they do these things – and comes back towards our direction. I pull Hollie through the back of the shopping precinct that backs onto the community centre and the church. As we run, Hollie finally coming back to life, I see the pictures in the stained glass windows of the church and resist the temptation to roll my eyes. Not even God can help people like us.

I can hear him getting closer. It's still only 7:45am and so not many cars are out yet, so his driving is as clear as a bell. We can't just keep on running, where the hell are we going to go? Out of the corner of my eye I see the back door of Sam's Patisserie open and Sam sitting out the back on a chair having a fag, his eyes closed and his feet propped up on a crate. His apron is covered with strawberry jam and pink icing and when I nearly knock him over as I fly past him to hide behind his bins with Hollie, he almost falls off that chair. "What the…?" his cigarette falls from his lips and onto the ground and he stands up, startled.

"Don't say a word," I guess I must have my official voice on, because he doesn't speak again. Hollie and I crouch by the smelly bins, hiding in their shadows and try to get our breaths back. I listen intently, straining my ears to hear the tyres and where they are. After just a few seconds I hear them screech past. I have chosen our hiding spot well – lucky I went down that alley so that we could be behind the shops instead of in front of them. Hollie's father knows we are here, but we could be anywhere – there are only half a million shops along this main drag.

But we can't sit here for too long, just letting him think more about trying to find us. I grab at Hollie's wrist again, it occurring to me for the first time that I might be hurting her wrenching her around like I am, and I yell a rushed thanks to Sam, leaving him still staring in disbelief at us as we run away, this time in the opposite direction. Back towards the post office we go, stepping in pot holes full of dirty water and having stones flick up and hit us in the legs – gosh Hollie's feet must be so cut up by now – but not noticing any of it. All we know is that we have to keep running. Away from men like Hollie's father. Men that break girls.

My mind races as we get closer to the roundabout at the end of the main drag. I remember suddenly that I've just led Hollie, and myself, in the opposite direction from the cop shop, and that's the place we need to go most of all. Even before we think about hospitals and doctors and trying to catch our breaths. As I try to think of an alternate route to the station, Hollie finally speaks up, again reading my mind.

"I know a way," she says, and all of a sudden she is leading me. Together we run around the back of the primary school and along the fence that goes around the basketball courts. Hollie must be a runner or a gymnast or something, because I notice for the first time the muscles in her legs. They are long and smooth, and so defined, and as we run they bulge and pull, making it hard for me to keep up with her speed. But something inside, that little something I always pull out when I'm in danger, makes me able to keep running.

Soon we are in the suburbs and running across lawns. I see this mornings gazette on the lawns of those who have yet to get up, but before I can think any more about it, we're on the street of the station. I am amazed. How did we get here? And so quickly? I don't know my home town as well as I would like to say I do. It's not until I stop to think about this that suddenly my lungs start yelling at me for giving them such a work out. As we approach, I notice no cars parked out front, and for a second I panic, because I don't know what we're going to do if no one's showed up for shift yet. I don't have my key to the station on me.

I lunge at the reception door, knowing I will either hit my face against yet another hard surface, or it will open and we'll be inside – safe. It opens, thank Christ. I barrel through the reception area and behind the front desk. Funny how I wasn't going to come in today. I open the door to the muster room. I was hoping someone like the Boss would be here, but he's not. It's Alex.

"Amy!" he jumps up from his chair, shocked. "What happened?" I don't even know how to answer him or what to say, because of both what happened last night and because of this situation I have myself in. I just lean breathless on the desk, remembering that Hollie is right behind me.

"Who's this?" he asks. Stop asking questions for goodness sake, my head screams. I try to get my breath back after running the furtherest I have since I did the Weetbix marathon when I was 6, and point with a trembling hand at the computer. "7SD 459 – check it," I can't believe I've been able to remember the rego of the van – go me. Alex types it in, a confused look still on his face and while I notice that look I remember how I have betrayed him. With none other than his best friend.

But no time to think about that now. Hollie. Where is she? I turn around and find her standing behind me, her arms hanging limply at her sides and her chest heaving up and down as she tries to get her breath back too. I pull her in for a hug and she just holds me silently, a grateful wave radiating from her.

Alex looks up from the screen and back at me. "Will Barnes," he states. Finally a name to the awful face. "What's he done?" he still looks so terribly confused and I don't blame him a single bit.

"Get out some road blocks and put every one on the beat. We need to get this guy," I instruct Alex. He doesn't question me, thank goodness, and heads straight for the radio, repeating my instructions into it. I lead Hollie out the back and as we walk away, I call over my shoulder to Alex. "Give us a lift to the hospital would ya?" I know I'm being demanding, but the situation calls for it I reckon. Alex nods as he finishes his spiel into the radio and I walk outside with my hand on Hollie's shoulder. All of a sudden she seems very small. Her shoulders are hunched and her hands are in fists gripping the sides of her shirt, just like that day when I first met her in the interview room.

Minutes later Alex is cruising through the still asleep streets of town – it is Sunday after all – and keeping a very close eye on Hollie and I in the back seat. Hollie has suddenly become immobile, not moving from my side. Not moving at all actually. I keep my arms around her and soon we are at the hospital. I don't want to scare Hollie anymore, so we don't go to the emergency entrance. Instead we enter through another door, and I sit with her in a small visitors lounge while Alex goes to get a doctor – and hopefully some drugs so she doesn't have to suffer – from her injuries and her real pain.

He comes back pretty fast with a doctor. I don't know how he found one, because this place seems to be devoid of anyone right now, but he did, and even though I've never met her, she looks nice. Her concerned but friendly face that smiles at me as she approaches us puts me immediately at ease, and I feel ok getting up, following her into the examination room and handing over Hollie.

The doctor introduces herself as simply Kate before closing the door in Alex's face. I cringe, feeling guilty, but I know he will just stay out there, standing guard and not asking questions. We all have to just do that sometimes. Kate speaks in earnest to Hollie, seeming to be able to read her mind. She coaxes her gently closer to her so that she can pick out the bits of gravel stuck in Hollie's arm from our rolly polly jump out of the back of the van less than an hour earlier and examine Hollie's side, just above her waist, where she whispers that it hurts.

I sit in the chair across the tiny room, just 2 metres away from her and the doctor and remember suddenly my own injuries. But I keep quiet, allowing Hollie to be treated. I finally breath easy, knowing that one, we are finally safe, two, Barnes does not know where we are and the hospital is probably the last place he would come looking with all these cops around, and three that Alex is right outside the door.

15 minutes later, with Hollie caringly tended to, Kate turns to me, her eyes question marks. "What?" I ask.

"I can see just by the way you're holding that arm that your shoulder is dislocated," she smiles knowingly. She walks over to me and stands behind the chair. "Lean forward and grit your teeth when I say 3," she instructs, straight to the point. Oh my God she isn't going to shove it back into place is she…? Oh far out! My eyes roll to the roof in excruciating pain as my shoulder is popped back into place and I try not to squeal. Hollie scurries over and holds my good hand as I try to recover from the doctors actions.

An hour later, Hollie is lying down in another room after having spoken with a social worker and her family doctor. I am standing pathetically in front of the Coke machine wondering when the last time was that I had soft drink. Just as my mind floats away from Coke and onto Alex, he appears beside me, snaking an arm around my waist. It takes me by surprise and I shudder in his touch, uncomfortable for so many reasons. I turn to look at him and he gives me a funny look.

"Susie told me," he whispers.

Fear hits me smack bang in between the eyes. Susie told him what! "Susie told you what?" I ask, terrified.

He gives me an odd look again. "That Hollie was being abused by her father. Will Barnes?" he says it as if I should've already caught on. I nod as I wiggle out of his hold and away from him, back out into the hallway and towards Hollie's room. "Amy," he calls out after me, not following. "Amy! What's the matter? Tell me what's going on! What happened?" his voice gets softer as I walk further away from him. I can't talk to him right now. I can't explain. I can't pretend in front of him that what I did with his best friend didn't happen.

I don't wanna pretend

So this is the end

Of you and me

I walk as fast as I can to Hollie's room, darting through the door and closing it behind me, resting my back against it in relief, my eyes closed. Hollie stirs in bed, and shuffles over to face me. "Amy?" she asks groggily.

My eyes spring open – I thought she would be asleep. I walk over to her bedside and sit down, taking her hand and switching back into my caring detective mode. "How are you feeling?" I ask softly, smiling kindly at her.

She nods and tries to smile, but I can see right through her. "I'm ok," she lies. She shuffles further under the blankets, which seems a bit odd as she's in normal clothes and not pyjamas, so it just doesn't look right. "Have you caught Dad yet?"

It's the question I was hoping she wouldn't ask, because I really can't answer it. "My colleagues are on to it Hollie, don't worry," I try to reassure her, but she just looks more frightened.

She screws up her face as she partly pushes her cheek into the starched white pillow, it becoming damp from all her tears. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the trouble you know?" she whispers, looking me straight in the eye. I cock my head in semi understanding, urging her to go on. "I just think…."she pauses for a moment. "I just think, he's done it, I've survived, why don't I away?" she closes her eyes, as if thinking about what it would be like to do such a thing. "Why don't I just run, and then I would never have to put up with it again. Couldn't I just do that?" It's not so much a question aimed at me, but a question she's asking herself.

I sit back in the chair and cross my right leg over my left before placing my hands in my lap, trying to stop the slight tremble that still vibrates from them after the morning I've had. Of course you could do it, my mind screams silently. I did it. Or, rather, Aunt Sally made me do it. But after a bit it was what I wanted anyway.

She shoves the small suitcase roughly into my hand, the look on her face saying it all. "Now you're going to get on that train and you're never going to come back, you hear me?" she snarls and growls, like a dog getting revved up, and I stand in front of her like a small child, dwarfed by her powerful stance and angry glares. I've never seen anyone so mad.

I open my mouth to speak but she holds her hand up, stopping me before I even get out a single syllable. "You're a man eating little tart, do you know that?" she whispers, the growl still deep within her throat. "It's disgusting the way you conducted yourself in my house. Absolutely disgusting," she spits out her words, still staring furiously down at me.

It's hard to take. I'm still gripping that suitcase for dear life purely because I don't know what else to do. She won't let me speak, and I certainly can't move after what they just did to me. My breath flows unsteadily out of my nose and back in again because I am gritting my teeth in pain so my mouth is closed. I have to look away. If I could, I'd clamp my hands over my ears so that I couldn't hear her voice. Just as I am about to drop the suitcase at my feet to do just that, I hear the train as it trundles into the station. Aunt Sally looks up, noticing its arrival too and suddenly gives me a hard shove in the back in the direction of the open carriage door. "You deserve nothing Amy Fox. Nothing!" she spits out before turning sharply on her heal and walking hurriedly away.

I blink and shake my head out of its usual daze. My eyes focus on Hollie lying in front of me, her cheek still pushed into the pillow, looking up at me, waiting for an answer, some words of advice…something.

"Of course you could do it," I whisper, trying hard to stop my face from crumbling completely. "But you'd never feel any different." She nods sombrely in response, I suppose understanding. She and I are so similar, it's frightening. How is it that people like Hollie still exist? I joined the force to stop it, and yet here's an innocent victim, a mirror image of me, and she's going through almost exactly what I did. Even having the same bloody thoughts. Why is it like this? I wanted to stop it. I wanted to be the hero. I wanted to save the world. The first day I stepped into the academy I wanted to save the world. Why haven't I done that?

Because I'm still broken and I deserve nothing. Nothing.

A knock sounds softly at the door just an hour later. Hollie has finally fallen asleep again and I feel the urge to nod off myself. I've totally lost track of the time – it could be 11am or it could be 6pm, I have little idea. Despite this, I leave Hollie's side to get up and open the door. Please let it not be Alex, please let it not be Alex, please let it not be Alex.

Shit it's Jonesy. I can't decide which is worse. And I can't think of what to say so I just stand blankly in front of him like a dummy, expressionless.

He raises his eyebrows at me, obviously surprised at my lack of…anything. "We got him Amy," he states simply, probably knowing it's all I want to hear. I nod in a solemn reply before deciding that like just about everything else, I really can't handle him right now. If it means I'm weak then so be it, but I just can't handle it right now. I turn my head quickly for a lasting glance at Hollie which calms my madness for just a second, and then brush quickly past Jonesy and out into the hallway. He grabs at my wrist though, not allowing me to run away.

"Ahh," I grunt in defeat. I try to twist my wrist out of his grasp as he speaks.

"Amy," he seems alarmed slightly. "We need to talk," I think he's noticed my frown as I wrestle in his hold. My breathing becomes rapid and uneven as I struggle, upset, now just wanting to run away, like I did the moment I stepped off the train Aunt Sally had put me on.

Starting to wail slightly now, I finally wrench my wrist away from him, free at last. He doesn't realise how hard he was holding me. Nobody realises anything about me. Or maybe they do and I choose not to see it or acknowledge it. Maybe I'm too broken I can't make anything out.

Jonesy looks at me, understandably confused. I want to blurt out everything, to make everyone understand why I am the way I am and why I do the things I do and say the things I say, but it never makes it into the real speaking world. Sometimes I feel like the words and thoughts will never see daylight. I'm betting that's how Hollie has always felt too. Bugger me, her and I really are one and the same, and I could only speak to her the way I just did because we're both the same. Broken. How many times do I have to say it before something changes? Before it gets better?

"Amy?" he asks me again, and I shrink away from his probing, stumbling backwards down the brightly lit up hallway. I turn around and run, leaving behind his alarmed look and make my legs work harder and harder so that I can get to where I want to be. Which is…? Hmmm, as my hair flies in my face as I reach the outside grounds of the hospital I force my brain into gear. Get a grip Amy, if only just for a little while.

There's a taxi. Hop in. Belt on. Driver directions. Start breathing normally. I stare blankly out the window as we drive along. It feels funny being chauffeured home by a taxi driver and not by myself or by a colleague. Or by Alex. My head's starting to hurt again, like it did this morning. I lean it against the window pane as we cruise the streets, briefly closing my eyes before opening them again because I have too much on my mind and closing my eyes isn't going to just make it go away. On the other side of the window rain drops start to slide down, slippery and wet with intentions all of their own. What are my intentions? Did I intend to get myself in so deep with Alex that I feel roped into being faithful? Did I intend to cross that line between colleague and something else with Evan? Did I intend to use Hollie as my stepping stone into recovery? Did I intend to remain broken forever?

"Seventeen sixty thanks," the little Indian man has turned in his seat and waiting for me to give him his money. I dig deep within the pockets of my purple coat, hoping to find a spare note or two in there. Right down the bottom, I can feel it. I pull out twenty dollars and place it in his hand. "Keep it," I say as I climb out of the car into the rain. "Thanks," I slam the door and jog to the stairwell where the rain cannot get me.

I trudge dejectedly up stairwell after stairwell until I reach my floor. All the energy seems to have been zapped from me all of a sudden, and it is a real effort to make it up to my door. But I stop dead when I find Alex waiting there, sitting against the wall outside my front door, his knees bent and his elbows dangling uselessly off them, a bored but worried look on his face. I step back down a step in shock, bumping my just knocked back into place shoulder painfully against the wall. I cringe, my opposite hand travelling to my shoulder to hold it pathetically.

But I step back up the step I missed. "Alex," I say, heading for the door, pulling the keys out of the inner pocket of my coat, wondering how they managed to stay in there with all the running and tumbling I've done today.

"Hey Amy," his tone is monotonous, and it's one I haven't heard before. I look at him oddly, and when I get the door open and he follows closely behind me as I walk inside, I get an unpleasant feeling up and down my back just from being in such close proximity to him. Yet again what happened with Evan all comes rushing back with the speed of a freight train. I shudder under my coat, which thankfully hides it.

He starts speaking before I have the chance to. Probably a good thing, cos I don't know what to say. "I'm a little pissed off Amy," he begins, not stroking my arm or holding my hand as he has in the past when he's spoken to me in the privacy of my flat.

I don't answer, just peel off my coat and hang it back on the hook in the kitchen. I walk towards my bedroom, not knowing if he's going to follow me or not. But I suppose he hasn't finished saying what he wants to, so he probably will. Oh yep, he is. I sit down on the bed, not wanting to lie down but not wanting to sit upright either, so I just stay sitting, not caring or feeling what I'm doing.

He sits down beside me, and that unpleasant feeling washes over me again. I guess it's guilt. Of course it is. I have a lot to feel guilty about. I don't deserve to feel anything but guilt after what I did. I stare down at my hands. "I'm pissed off Amy, because you won't talk to me!" he nudges my knee with his knee to make me sit up and take notice. I reluctantly lift my head and look into his eyes, my own eyes probably giving me away instantly.

"Sorry," I mumble in reply, not wanting to go any further.

"I know what you did," he whispers, half angry, half devastated probably. When I hear this devastation in his voice I know my secret is out. He knows. Shit. Well that's it then. But he goes on, prolonging the agony. "And I hate you for it," he whispers harshly. He sounds like he wants to cry but the anger is still present in his voice.

I finally look up and meet his eyes. "How did you find out?"

"I obviously have a better relationship with my colleagues than you do Amy," he replies. "Susie told me," he knees my knee again, harder this time. "How could she ever keep something like that secret? A friend wouldn't do that."

"I know," I'm mumbling again.

"But you were going to keep a secret from me weren't you?" he's getting angrier, and I don't blame him. "Keeping a secret from someone like me, someone who thought they meant something to you, is even worse," he stands up.

A tear slips down my face. I can feel the end coming on. I should've seen it coming really. Stupid of me to think it would never come out. Alex takes a deep breath and I know he's going to raise his voice, but something in the way he stands in front of me makes me want to speak up, not to defend myself, just to explain, the way I should've done with Aunt Sally.

"You don't understand me Alex," my voice is barely above a whisper, and it sounds so pathetic in comparison to his voice. "No one can," I look up at him finally.

"No!" he yells. "That's where you're wrong Amy," steam might as well be coming out of his ears. "I do understand you, better than you think. You're a cop, I'm a cop, so there's your first clue. We're like a little religion Amy, we're all in it together! So as a cop I know more often than not how you feel," he paces in front of me. "And secondly, everything else about you, the side of you that isn't a cop, the side of you that's just Amy, I know that too, because for a few fleeting moments when we've been together these last few months, you've let me see the real you."

He kneels down to be on my level all of a sudden. "When I see you lying next to me at night, I get to see the real you. And you're so beautiful Amy," his eyes look softer for a moment. "When you let me hold your hand, I see the real you. When you cry, I see the real you. No matter how much you think you're hiding it, I can see it, because without you realising it, you've let me into your world. And god damn it, I don't want to leave." My hopes soar for a second as I look him in the eye. "But what you did…I don't know if I can forgive it. I know it wasn't much, but it was still something," my brain slurs around inside my head, punishing me for ever having got so close to Alex's best mate.

It was only a kiss

It was only a kiss

He stands up then and stares down at me. I don't want to see the brightness of the tears in his eyes, but it's there, and I see it. I can't look away. "We never seem to work Amy," he says. "I want us to, I really do, but I don't know, it never seems to go smoothly," he walks to the door. "It's not your fault you are the way you are, but I want to help you and you won't let me. And I think that's stopping us. And then you go and do something so unforgivable that you've stopped us even more. Is this what you want?" he asks incrediously.

When I don't answer he walks out of my room and out of my flat. "No," I whisper to nobody, knowing there's a good chance I have lost Alex for good.

The phone rings, jolting me awake. How long has it been ringing? I shuffle over to the other side of the bed to pick up the receiver groggily. "Hello?" as soon as I say it I realise I didn't do my automatic phone answer of 'Fox'. I must really be losing it.

"Amy?" It's Hollie. I sit up straighter and press the receiver to my ear a little harder because her voice is so soft.

"What's the matter? Are you ok?" I ask urgently, feeling myself slipping ever so slightly back into the hero detective mode. My concern needs to be for Hollie right now, not myself.

"Can you pick me up?" she asks, timid. "I'm ready to leave this place…"she pauses. "They say I can go," she says it like she's not expecting me to believe her.

"Sure," I reply, knowing it's my duty somewhat to be there for her. That and the fact she doesn't really have anyone else. "I'll be right there," she thanks me and we say goodbye and hang up, on autopilot again, like we have always lived our lives.

Fifteen minutes later I am back at the hospital, driving slowly around the carpark near the entrance looking for Hollie. After just a few minutes I find her and she hops into my car, saying nothing, just mumbling a quiet thanks as she does up her seatbelt. But I don't feel like speaking much either, so I'm fine with driving in silence.

When we pass the entrance to the national park, Hollie finally looks up and over at me. "Can we stop here?" she asks. "I like it here. I come here to think sometimes," I nod, shrug and turn into the shady dirt track that leads to the tiny car park near the lookout. I've never been up to the lookout before, but when I park, turn the car off and Hollie gets out, that's where she goes, so I undo my seatbelt, get out of the car and follow her.

It's lunchtime, but by the look of the sky it could be 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Ahead of me, Hollie sits down on a brick ledge about 2 metres away from the edge of the lookout – a nice safe distance, so I am not worried. She just stares out into the distance as she sits there, the wind blowing her hair. I look around, standing just a little bit away from her with my hands shoved into my pockets. I let the peaceful atmosphere of this place envelope me as I walk over to where Hollie sits and hoist myself up onto the brick ledge with her. We sit, facing away from each other, leaning up against each others backs. I let my hands flop in my lap as I stare off into space with Hollie, but in the opposite direction from her.

"In a perfect world, we wouldn't be like this, would we Amy?" she asks after more than twenty minutes of silence between us. Somehow she has unearthed my past without me even having to say it. Maybe she figured it out from day one when Susie had her speak to me over anyone else, or as recently as when I told her nothing would change if she ran away from it all.

I can't answer for a second because the lump has risen in my throat higher than I usually let it rise. I take a deep breath, trying to force it down, and it half works. My voice is still a little shaky when I finally speak up though. "No," I reply. "We wouldn't."

Hollie sighs behind me as she leans up against me. "I'd give anything to live a different life to the one I have lead," she whispers.

So would I, I think to myself. It's a game I have played in my head so many times I have lost count. The what if game. What if my parents had never been killed? What if I had never gone to live with Uncle John and Aunty Sally? What if I had been strong enough to fight him off? What if I had reported him to the right people instead of to Aunty Sally? What if I had never become pregnant? What if my life had never panned out the way it did? What if I had been happy? What if I had met Alex as an unscarred, unafraid woman looking for love and companionship?

Suddenly Hollie's whole life story comes pouring out. I guess there are some things you can only say to the wind. The wind will always keep your secrets. And only people like me and Hollie know that.

"He used to be the best Dad you know?" she's saying to me. "But then just before he and Mum split up something changed in him…I don't know what it was…but I was glad when he moved away, because it meant I didn't have to see that other side for a second longer…" it reminds me of why I joined the police force – I joined so that when I was helping others I wouldn't have to think of my childhood a second longer.

She continues to go into detail about what he did to her and when and how she felt the whole time. Even in the interview room she wasn't like this – the presence of tape recorders and cops always holds people back I think, even if it's one on one like it was with Hollie and I that day. It's difficult to listen to. It's bringing back so many memories. Unaware that the tears are slipping down my face, Hollie keeps on letting go – probably the first real chance she's had to do so – and her voice takes on an empowered, relieved sort of tone, because she has, for the first time, spoken about her troubles, even if it is just to me, someone who can understand the most, but also the least. And the wind. The wind always keeps your secrets.

My first night. Alone. How could my life have ever ended up this way? How can I ever tell anyone my secret? How can I ever move on?

I walk down the platform and to the station exit, fumbling down the stairs with my suitcase. I don't want to look down in case I'm still bleeding – even though I probably am, I'm in that much pain – so I just gaze straight ahead, trying not to let the tears in my eyes cloud my vision the way they did the day I first realised I was pregnant and the whole world came crashing down even more than it already had.

One hand on the dirty cold steel railing of the stairs and one hand clutching my suitcase, up ahead I saw a park, deserted and secluded – the perfect place for me to have a proper cry. I walk awkwardly across the road and onto the grass and set myself down gingerly on a graffiti covered wooden bench there. It hurts, but I bring my knees up to my chest and hug them too me, crying my eyes out and wailing into the night, knowing no one will hear me. I cry out my fears and my feelings and ask the wind over and over why this had to happen to me.

Sixteen and no where to go. What the hell am I going to do?

Soon she becomes quiet, as if she's let it all out and now needs to rest. I feel bad that I didn't say anything the whole time, but then again she probably didn't need me to. Just listening was enough. Like having Alex there to just hold me when I dreamt was enough.

Hollie gets up a little while later, noticing it becoming dark. I still don't know the time, but we probably should get going. She stands in front of me as I remain on the ledge and then takes my hand out of my lap, holding it in her own warm hands. "Come on Amy," she whispers. "We should go," she pulls me up to standing. She's being strong, something I noticed in her that day when I was making us coffee – an uncanny ability to block whatever we want out and put on a strong, invincible, normal façade. Just so that we can operate normally and actually try to live a life.

We walk towards the car park and as we do, something makes me put an arm around her shoulder. We're bound by what has happened to us – even if she's seventeen and I'm well…thirty something. I don't even want to think about my age right now because it makes me realise how long I've been this way. Hollie understands and slips her arm around my waist and together we walk back to the car.

I drive her home, and she farewells me sincerely, seeming to know I've helped her and she's helped me, and reassures me that she will explain all to her mother and that I'm not needed. Probably a good thing – I couldn't have gotten through it anyway, not like this. I drive off, scared to be leaving her, but confident deep inside that she will be ok because her father is now in the hands of the police.

Hearing Hollie's horrors has made me remember far too much of my own though, and I just can't concentrate on the road. It's slippery and wet, so that's already making it difficult. And now to my right is a park that reminds me all too much of that first night. But mostly the fact that way too many memories are swimming through my head right now, never ending, and driving me insane. I can't take it anymore. I held it in when I was with Hollie so that she felt safe and wouldn't lose it too, but I don't think I can do it anymore.

I pull off to the side of the road and turn off the ignition. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, wincing as I accidently bump the graze on my temple. I gingerly go to touch it with my right hand, but my fingers spring away from it with lightening speed because of the pain I feel there. I rest my head back against the back of the seat instead and close my eyes, hoping that will keep the tears away. It does, and they don't spill over my cheeks. My head throbs against the head cushion, and it makes me pull away after just a couple of seconds. In a rush I pull at the handle by my leg to open the door and fall out of the car, into the pouring rain. I look around, my hair instantly plastered to my head and see no where to run but straight ahead. My feet pound the pavement as I cross the deserted road and then I feel the softness of the grass of the park under my feet as I stop just before the towering trees at its entrance.

I stop, my head and my heart throbbing in painful memories of everything that's ever happened to me. Suddenly I fall onto my knees as they buckle and I turn my face up to the pouring rain. This is all too reminiscent of that first night in Melbourne. My tears mix with the rain that pelts my face and I struggle to keep my eyes open because of its force. At the same time as I cry with my heart in my mouth I feel so pathetic and useless and stupid here on the grass, getting my knees all muddy and stained. What good is this doing? The wind might be able to keep my secrets but it can't give me any answers. So as suddenly as I got out of the car, I struggle to my feet and cross the road and climb back in, wiping the wet hair from out of my eyes as I start the car up again. Slowly my little car and I trundle home, back to the flat that is as empty and as vacant as my life is.

Later, I struggle into bed, just so uncaring and so lonely. Why did I tell Alex he didn't understand me? Now I have nobody. At least he was trying. It was nice to have him here. But I pushed him away, and now I have to lie here by myself. Actually, anybody would be good right now – pretty much anybody. Just so that I don't feel so alone. At least I don't have to talk though if I'm alone, maybe sleep will come quicker this way.

"I have faith in you Amy Fox," the district inspector smiled at me as he shook my hand and welcomed me into the Victorian Police Force. I couldn't help but smile, and feel a little proud of myself. I've come from nothing four years ago to finally being something worthy today. I'm going to make a difference. We all are.

Two weeks later I've seen three overdoses, one suicide and a home invasion already, and I don't remember thinking it would be this hard on graduation day. But I can do it – I can make a difference. Even if I am fighting a lost cause.

Against the wind
We were runnin' against the wind
We were young and strong, we were runnin'
Against the wind

For once in my life I've actually slept in. I think it was the enormity of yesterday that made me sleep so long and heavily, but whichever it was, the throbbing in my shoulder prompts me awake just before 9am. I sit up, rubbing at my eyes and trying to clear my head. It's time to get my mind back on the job and stop letting everything interfere with work. Start afresh, no distractions. Good plan Amy. Oh, but haven't started so well by waking up late.

I quickly dress, awkwardly and painfully slipping my sore shoulder into my jacket as I rush out of the house, a shiny red apple in my mouth that's supposed to be breakfast. As I hurtle down the stairs, taking them two at a time, I try to put all the bad memories of the last few days out of my mind. As I do this, I power walk across the bitumen car park towards my car, concentrating on my apple and getting the keys out of my briefcase. Out of nowhere a horn blasts in my face as a black Range Rover wants me to get out of the way. I leap back to the side of the carpark, knocking the apple out of my hand. I watch it roll into the dirt of the near by flower garden. "Goodbye breakfast," I say to myself, sighing heavily. Things are not starting out well. The Range Rover speeds off, turning left out of the carpark with a squeal of tyres. I guess I'm not the only one late for work today.

Ten minutes later I am entering the station, not wanting to make eye contact with anybody really, but then not shying away either. I just want to get on with life. I just want to go back to the way things were, when I just worked day in day out and seemed to always come through, struggle on. Sure, I had my problems then, but nothing like what I have now it seems. I head for my office, accepting the Boss's sympathetic look as I pass. He gets up to speak to me, but rises halfway and then re thinks his decision and sits back down in his swivel chair, his glasses on his nose and his eyes quickly back to his paperwork. I know, sometimes it is easier just to stay out of things. I get the feeling Tom Croydon learnt that lesson a long time ago.

I open the door to my office, only to find it occupied. Jonesy sits at his desk opposite mine – an unfortunate furniture planning decision as it means I have to face him straight away. I sigh inwardly and settle myself at my desk, resting my bulging briefcase against the drawers of the desk at my right. I keep my eyes glued to the paperwork in front of me, busying myself with all the work that seems to have piled up, as always. This is why I'm a workaholic – I need to be married to the job to ever get everything done!

Evan shuffles uncomfortably opposite me, rustling his papers and squirming in his seat, making it squeak and moan, just like our filing cabinet. He sighs heavily, but it's not a restless sigh, or a 'man I could so use another hours sleep right now' sigh, it's a nervous sigh, as if he's trying to get my attention without having to actually speak. I close my eyes briefly for a second, trying to get up the strength to deal with whatever he has to say, and then finally open my eyes again and lift them to look at him. I give him a stone cold 'What?' with my eyes. Pretty mean of me but right now I'm not thinking about that.

"Amy," Evan leans forward in his seat, crossing his arms and leaning them on top of his own paperwork. He fiddles with the crease that he has neatly ironed into his shirt sleeve – or maybe Alex did it for him since he is the homemaker in their bachelor pad apparently – and stares persistently at me. I'm not going to be able to escape this, I can tell right now. Looks like I can't put the past behind me yet. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever been able to.

"What is it Evan?" I have on my 'listen to me because I'm head CI here' voice on and it intimidates him, making him lose himself for just a flicker of a second. But he shakes his head and looks at me again. Just as he goes to open his mouth, a stir erupts in the muster area, pulling our attention away from each other. Beyond the office blinds I can see Susie, Kelly and Joss trying to hold up Johnno Sacramone as his limbs flail everywhere, knocking papers off desks. His tongue hangs out of his mouth and I can hear him slurring his words as he mumbles to anyone who will listen. Maybe I will get out of this deep and meaningful after all. I rise from my seat and head towards the door, leaving Evan behind with his mouth still hanging open about to speak.

It was pretty bad to just see Johnno through the blinds, but now that I am out in the muster area and I can hear him – and smell him – it's much, much worse. I frown in his direction as the uniforms finally get a proper grip on him and for a fleeting second – as it always is with people like these – his eyes focus on me as I stand in front of him with my arms crossed and my jaw clenched. The next moment his eyes are away again, frantic and wild, and it is that that tells me straight away that he has just pushed something nasty up his arm.

"But we can't shaft him Amy," he insists, looking me dead in the eye.

"What?" I scoff, acting maybe a little too high and mighty for my own good.

"He's helping us out here, I won't let you shaft him at the end of it and put him away, when he was really doing us a favour," he turns the keys in the ignition and presses his foot against the accelerator, leaving the squat in a cloud of dust.

Hrmph…so much for him being reliable and not deserving to be shafted. I roll my eyes at the vision of societies lowest that is before me and point to the cells. He is useless to us like this – he needs to sober up. I walk up to Susie, who has stayed behind as Joss and Kelly push Johnno in the direction of the cells, and look at her questioningly, forgetting for a full second that she was the one who saw Evan and I and she was the one who told Alex about it. No wonder she gave me the evil eye when I approached.

"What is he doing here?" I ask her, trying to put it all behind me and just act professionally for the first time in a long time.

Susie turns back to her desk to gather her patrol file and grabs her jacket off the back of her chair as she does so. "Kelly and Joss found him dealing again behind the bike shed at the highschool," she answers without looking at me. "Looks like he's not as angelic as you two want him to be," she scoffs before brushing past me and towards the cells on her way out. Hmmmm bitchy, but I have to agree with her. Bloody Evan, he said we could trust him. Now all I want to do is shaft him from here to Rome.

Speaking of Evan, he's out the door at last, trying to figure out what has just happened. I shake my head, mad now, and brush past him like Susie did me, and out of the muster room and into the long corridor that branches off into our interview rooms. It's dark and cold out here, because there are no bodies to make it warm. My heels echo on the concrete floor and half way down I hear someone else's. Of course they are Evan's – I know the way he walks now.

"Amy," he starts running up behind me. "Wait," he reaches me and puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me. It's not my sore one, but I shudder, pull a face and shrug his hand immediately off all the same. I turn around, knowing I can't run away from him and this confrontation forever. But I can drag it out while we're here.

"You told me Johnno Sacramone was for real," I hiss angrily in his face. "You told me we would have no reason to shaft him Evan," to his credit I can see he's ready with a comeback.

"So I got it wrong," he spits angrily back at me. "He got for us what we needed at the time, and that was a dealer bigger than even him behind bars."

Suddenly he seems to become taller – and angrier I suppose - as he continues to chew me out. "Sometimes we get it wrong. It happens. I got it wrong with Johnno…" his voice suddenly lowers. "…And we both got it wrong the other night," he looks at me intently, so similar to how he looked at me that night.

A chill runs through me. "We did," I admit – I just want to forget about it now though. But he keeps speaking.

"I don't know what came over me," he blushes slightly. "You were just there," he steps closer to me and I stare at the floor, my head cocked slightly to the side hearing his words with frightened ears. "And we didn't make any move to stop it from happening…did we?" his breath is warm as it washes over me.

I can't look at him though. "No," I whisper, admitting what I never thought I'd say out loud. It's as much my fault as it is his. It takes two to tango.

"Will it ever happen again?" he's still whispering, not because we're not alone, because we are – as far as I know – but because this is not the sort of topic we as colleagues should be discussing. I take a step back though when he asks that though, shocked beyond comprehension.

"No!" I whisper indignantly. Will it? Will Evan and I be able to work the same way again? Will I be with Alex tomorrow? Or ever? I take another step away from him, wanting to escape this situation so badly. Suddenly though, it occurs to me that Alex isn't here. I didn't see him in the office just now. Where is he? I don't know why I want to know, but I do.

I walk around Evan and back in the direction I came. As I take my first steps away from him I hear Susie's boots at the other end of the hallway. When I turn my head back to check that it is her, I see the hurt in her face, like she is reliving what she saw the other night ten fold. Ohhh my groan echoes inside my head. Could things be any worse right now?

Just when I worked up the courage to try
Much to my surprise
You had somebody else

When I get back out to the muster room, my eyes scan the place quickly, and see that he is not here. Why do I care? We're finished, over, finito. But something makes me want to see him, just one more time, before it is over completely. Even if nothing can change, and even if I can't change myself, I still need to see him. With one final glance around the station, I head out. Leaving my car behind at the back of the station, I walk back to my place, hoping perhaps he is there. But when I crunch over the gravel of the buildings carpark and don't see his car, my heart sinks. I begin the ascent of the stairs anyway though…maybe he is waiting at my front door like yesterday? I can only hope. I trudge up the stairs, every step feeling harder than the one before.

Just two flights from my floor I see Alex coming down towards me. He has been here! Waiting. As always. "Alex," I whisper, not able to think of anything else to say but his name. And although he steps right down to the step above where I am standing, cups the side of my face that is grazed and brushes a thumb lightly across my cheek, his face remains frozen and distant, and he doesn't smile. I remember back to what he said yesterday how he hated me for kissing his best friend.

We stare so deeply into each others eyes for several moments that I get back that weak at the knees feeling I got that first time I closed the gap between us and kissed him after he had rescued me when I lost it in the kitchen at the station. His gaze holds me up though and when he sits down on the step, so do I, unable to tear my eyes away from his.

As we sit beside one another, not speaking, just staring out at the rain, I am forced to rethink what I did, and what I should've done, especially when he takes my hand and holds it in his own, still not saying anything. My lower lip trembles as I wish, not for the first time, that I'd never been so stupid as to kiss Evan and to throw away what I had with Alex. Now I have to live with what I have done, and I think that's what hurts the most. That and knowing Alex and I will never be the same.

"You said you didn't want to leave my world," I whispered, remembering suddenly, turning to look at his sorrowful face.

"I don't," he replied, whispering just as quietly as me.

"Really?" I can't believe it, so I just have to make sure.

"Really," he replies, still not showing off any expression whatsoever. We go back to staring at the rain, but I am increasingly aware that he is holding my hand tighter now.

Ten minutes later he drops it and shuffles away from me slightly to lean against the wall of the stairwell. He runs his hand tiredly through his hair, messing it up from its usual spiky, casual, set in place style. "How could you have done that to me Amy?" he asks sadly.

I know he is talking about Evan and I. But I can do nothing but shrug, even though I know it's not the answer he wants.

"I didn't think you would do something like that," he admits. But he doesn't sounds angry anymore, just sad. "I thought I meant something to you, because you certainly mean something to me!" he finally looks up, his expression now changed to a look of desperation.

My heart aches at his words. "If I only I could tell you how much Alex," I whisper back, doing my own bit of staring at the rain. The words will probably never come out of my mouth.

"Then why did you do it dammit!" he growls suddenly. It surprises me, because Alex Kirby is such a mild mannered guy, and he never loses his temper. He pounds his fist into his own thigh in frustration.

It makes me lose my temper a bit too, but to the opposite affect. He gets fired up and I get teary. Again. Christ, I'm so sick of crying! "I don't know ok?" I resist the temptation to screech. "I don't know! It just happened, and I wish it never had! I wish I had never even got up that morning!" Is it working? Am I getting through to him?

He's listening, because he shuffles back towards me, away from the wall, and picks up my hand again. He changes the subject slightly. "God you frustrate me! What can I do to wake you up Amy?" he asks, taking my other hand as well and gripping it tightly. "What can I do to make you realise you're wanted, that I care for you, that I want to help you, that you're not alone in this big bad world!" he's breathless after reciting that list.

My heart sinks again. What can he do? The answer is always nothing, and I tell him, uncomfortable and not wanting to say it. "I don't think there is anything you can do Alex," for once I don't avoid his eyes at a crucial moment like this. Don't give up on me Alex, please don't give up on me, I'm still broken, my brain pleads with the silence. Silence gets you nowhere though – I should know that by now. So I don't expect Alex to keep fighting for me, because I won't tell him how he can help. So when he gets up from his cold seat on the stairs, I'm expecting it. But I stand up to meet him anyway, for no other reason than to stand tall while he walks away.

He studies my pathetic face for several precious moments before placing his lips one last time on mine, drawing me so torturously close to him that he still manages to take my breath away. His brow is furrowed and creased in sadness as he kisses my lips and as soon as I notice this, I notice the tears falling down my cheeks. We're over. This is the last time.

"…Nothing's gonna change right away," Susie says. But I can't look at her.

I lean against the car, letting the cold wind bite at my face watching as he is driven away, finally dealt with and finally put away. Somehow it doesn't feel as good as I thought it would. Nothing feels different. I feel the same as I did yesterday, or last week. "Maybe nothing will change at all. Maybe this is as good as it gets," my heart sinks, perhaps finally accepting that life is never going to get any better.

Slowly, he walks away from me, staring at the ground in front of him. The skies above are grey and angry looking, but it isn't raining. Still, just the atmosphere is enough to make you want to hide away from the world. But something makes me fight against it. As he reaches his car, my feet spring to life and go into a jog, running after him. I reach him, put my hand on his shoulder and make him turn around. Half a second ago I didn't think he would ever turn around to look at me again, but now that we're closer again, he has.

He looks at me with sad eyes that say so much. I guess we are similar. Do my eyes say everything that I never say out loud? Maybe they do, and maybe that's why Alex is so persistent. Maybe he can see it in my eyes. "Where are you going?" I whisper.

He looks at me and then to the keys that dangle from his fingers. "I don't know," he answers me back. "Somewhere…away…for a while, even though I don't want to…" he pauses and looks back up at me. "…without you," he looks earnestly into my eyes.

"You make it sound like I need to choose," I whisper, my voice becoming choked up as the lump in my throat rises.

"Maybe you do Amy," he speaks a little louder. "Choose freedom," his tone is urgent and desperate and it makes me reconsider every life choice I have ever made. Suddenly images flash through my head. I can see Alex and I together, my eyes not crying, him holding my hand, us lying in bed, me with a ring on my finger, him carrying me over the threshold, me walking up the aisle, him kissing me good morning and goodnight every single day, us growing old by each others sides. It's like a movie. A perfect movie of everything I always wanted my life to be. Ever since I first kissed Alex.

You've got a fast car

But is it fast enough so we can fly away?

We gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way

Choose freedom. Choose freedom. Choose freedom. I want to choose freedom. If I choose freedom I can be free of everything I can't let go of. Everything I've held onto for so long that's always held me back in almost everything I do. This is so tempting. Do I want it enough? Do I care for Alex enough, and dare I say it, love him enough to choose freedom? The chance to be with him forever is one I hadn't ever let myself think I had a chance at. Do I have a chance right now? No big chances normally come up in my life – maybe I should take this.

Maybe I should, maybe I shouldn't. No wonder I've never made any choices – I can't decide! If Alex leaves now, I might always regret not going with him. If he leaves and I hop into the seat beside him who knows what will happen. I could be happy forever. But is that me?

"Three more seconds and I'm going to take it as a no Amy," he whispers, opening the door of his car, his eyes still on me. My mouth won't move because I still cannot decide, even though it should be the easiest decision in the world to make, and so Alex gets into the car, turns on the ignition and drives away, not looking back. As I watch the back of the car move further and further away from me, it begins to rain and I wish that I was sitting beside Alex in the passenger seat at this very moment. But at the same time I am quietly comforted, knowing that after all this, after all his efforts, Alex will always be here. Sometime soon I will choose freedom. I don't know when, but I will. I just can't choose it right now. So he goes one way and I go the other. How long for? I don't know. Will I be able to survive? I don't know.

Hmmm ok maybe not. It's nine o'clock the next night right now and I can't stop thinking about him. Last night was a nightmare, but with my eyes open. So was the whole day spent at work without Alex anywhere to be seen. I didn't think this would affect me so much, but seeing his face in my head constantly is making me think I maybe underestimated my strength. Seems I'm not as strong as I thought I could be, the moment he drove away from me.

Oh well, seems I can do nothing about it now. As I lay here in bed, I wish now that I'd said yes and hopped into the car with Alex and held his hand the whole way to wherever we were going. But I didn't. Why? Well, that's probably an unanswerable question. I just have to close my eyes, imagine that Alex is lying beside me, and hope against hope that I don't dream anything terrible, because if I do, no matter how much I imagine Alex lying beside me, he won't be there when I wake up. Nor will he be for a while….how long? I hope he doesn't stay away for too long.

OK nine-oh-five and I want to know even more now. Who knows how long he will be away? How do I hold out til her gets back? Wait – am I trying to tell myself something here? Hmmm. Maybe if I turn over in bed something new will enter my head. "Hrrmmmpphhh aarrrgghhh," ahh that's better. The pillow is so much softer on this side.

Oh stuff this, who am I kidding? I throw the sheets and blankets aside and hurl myself into standing. Lucky I didn't get changed. Funny, I seem to not often get changed into pyjamas anymore. Is that a bad sign? I think so…

I head out into the darkened car park and into my chilly car. As cold as it is, I don't bother with turning on the heater, I will be there soon enough. My brain turns over the whole way there. What will I say? How will I explain myself? What will he say?

Ahh there it is. Into driveway, park car, take off seat belt. I feel like a robot. Always seem to when Alex isn't around. It occurs to me suddenly that before I met Alex I wasn't much of a human being. I went through each day like a robot, just doing things to get them done, and them not really meaning a whole lot. But Alex, oh Alex, he taught me something different. I need him back. I haven't even been able to survive one day!

"Amy!" he sounds surprised. "What are you doing here?" I stand uselessly in front of him, trying to force a smile onto my face. It's not really working. He holds the door open a little wider and invites me in, a sympathetic look on his face, similar to the one I saw the other day.

I take a seat on the armchair opposite from the one he sits in. I can see the Gazette on the side table and his glasses and a cup of tea there too. It makes me feel awful for having intruded so late at night. "Sorry to ahhh…just come over unexpectedly like this Boss," I mumble, unable to look him in the eye for fear he might be able to read me like a book, just like Alex can.

"It's all right Amy," he assures me, settling back in his chair. The way he is so laid back and so un-work like really puts me quickly at ease. I notice immediately that he hasn't called me by my rank, instead just by my first name. Still, my hands fidget mercilessly in my lap as I try to gather up the courage to ask him my question.

"Do you know where Alex has gone Boss?" I finally manage to spit it out, after five minutes of mumblings and false starts.

It makes him lean forward in his chair, interested, although still with that reassuring smile on his face that makes me a little less afraid. "Why did you want to know?" he asks, curious.

"Just…" I stumble on my words again and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Wondered," I shrug my shoulders at him, trying not to give myself entirely away.

"He's gone to Melbourne to visit a friend he said," he lets slip the vital information at last. My eyes open wide, and I finally look at him.

"Melbourne?" I ask, although inside I'm not quite sure why I sound so shocked.

"Back tomorrow night," he sits back, as if telling me all he is prepared to reveal.

Melbourne! Back tomorrow night! The thoughts rush through my head, making me flustered and dizzy. I push myself up from the armchair and try to gather myself together, shaking my head to unrattle it and I push my hair back behind my ears. "Right, well, thanks Boss," I say in a rush. "That's all I wanted to know," I make my way to the door, embarrassed I even came over here at all.

I walk to the door and go to let myself out. As I walk down the verandah steps though I hear Tom's footsteps behind me at the front door. "Amy," he calls, grabbing for my attention. And it's grabbed all right. My head snaps around to look back over my shoulder. I can still see the kindness on his face in the semi darkness as he goes to speak. "It's still my station, after all this time, and I don't miss much," he gives me a smile and heads back inside where, through the window, I can see him settling back into his chair to read the rest of the paper.

I turn my head back and smile to myself. Even in the darkest of times, one can rely on Tom Croydon. So he knows about Alex and I…so what? Maybe that's a good thing. It's nice to know you have some good friends in this game. Some you can rely on to do the right thing by you. I walk back to the car feeling a little better. As I drive home again my mind flips back to Alex. Tomorrow night…sounds so pathetic, but I don't know if I can wait that long.

Well, as predicted, trying to get to sleep last night was yet another nightmare. I'm actually glad to be at work today, as tired as I do feel. Maybe the less I think about it all, the quicker time will go. Although I have no idea what will happen, or what I'll do, when Alex returns.

"Knock knock," calls Kelly on the other side of my office door. I look up from the lap top as she opens the door just enough to poke her head in. "Sorry to interrupt detective," she looks ready to run away from me. Am I really so horrible that I would bite her head off for needing to talk to me? I am shocked. I feel awful, so I turn away from the computer in my chair and face her full on, trying not to look menacing or scary.

"That's all right Kel," I smile at her. She immediately relaxes, stepping into the office fully.

"We just got a report of an illegal burial just out of town, and the Boss suggested that you might like to tag along," she tells me.

"Sure," I stand up and gather my things from the scattered mess they are in over not just my desk, but Evan's. "Lead the way," I smile. She grins back and bounces out of the office on her way to the car outside. She's quick on her feet ol' Kel, and after I stop for a second to shoot the Boss an appreciative look through the blinds to his office, she is already out of the muster area and probably waiting in the car already. I shake my head and marvel at her constable like eagerness. We were all like that once. Life was exciting and working with CI was the highlight of your day if it happened.

I walk at a much more leisurely pace out of the muster area and into the hallway, trying to juggle my coat, my file and the keys all at once, and not having much luck. As I open the back door that leads out into the sunshine, I hear an interview room door opening behind me, some ways down the hall. As I turn my head back to see who it is, I hear the soft voices of Evan and Susie as they walk out into the hallway. Ohhhhh they're holding hands! Cute. She leans up against the wall and smiles up at him as he stands in front of her, whispering earnestly into her ear. Looks like those two have made up and I didn't even have to get myself involved. Phew. I walk outside with a smile on my face. At least someone's life is working out.

Two hours later we've been out to the property of the supposed illegal burial, found it to be nothing more than the body of an old kelpie, informed the neighbours of the lack of anything exciting, and headed quietly back to the station. I sit in the passenger seat and notice how Kelly drives. She looks deflated, and I can't blame her. It started out so exciting, but ended so boringly. Oh well, get used to it probationary constable, I smile to myself as we pull up in front of the station.

It's 4pm and the Boss is in the kitchen making his afternoon smoko. I join him at the bench and reach for a scotch finger out of the biscuit barrel. Leaning with my back against the bench next to him I smile at the Boss. "Thanks for getting me out into the sunshine today," I admit, still slightly embarrassed he is being so caring. "Even if it was for nothing exciting."

He smiles – a rare sight on Tom Croydon's face nowadays – and pats my shoulder as he goes to put the milk away. "Why don't you go home a bit early today detective?" he suggests.

"Really?" I ask back.

"Yeah," he winks at me. "Go on, knock off, go home, relax," he's read my mind…except for the relax bit. I can't do that with Alex engulfing my thoughts.

"Thanks," I accept his offer though, and head back out to the car, grabbing my possessions from my office on the way.

When I get home I don't know what to do with myself. I'm home earlier than normal so everything feels out of place. I can't even think about dinner yet to distract me. Eventually, after pacing around the flat, wearing out the carpet, I sit down nervously on the couch, watching the clock tick further and further into night time. I flick aimlessly through the magazines on my coffee table and twist my hair mercilessly as I wait. What am I waiting for though exactly? Waiting for Alex to turn up on my doorstep? Waiting for a knock that might never come? Waiting for the courage to come to me to confront him myself? I don't know.

But as the clock ticks on and on, I decide I can't sit here any longer. What good is it doing? I'm just wrecking my hair and chewing my fingernails. Get up off the couch Amy Fox and stop letting your broken tag hold you back. I've got to do this for…me? For Alex? For the both of us? For….love? Blah, whatever, I'm going to go find him.

As I race out to my car in the dark – it is well past 8 o'clock now – I wonder what it is that's making me want to find Alex so bad. What makes one go after someone else? Is it the urge to be with nobody but them? Is it the comfort of a companion? Or the knowledge that someone would give their life for you? Is being with Alex everything I want in life? A little shudder runs through me as it hits me that it is. Right now anyway. It even makes me crack a little smile as I drive towards the house that Evan and Alex share. Oh man, I hope Alex is there.

When I pull up I can see lights shining inside, which instantly makes my heart leap. I press my lips together in anticipation as I jog up the walk, the keys jingling in my hand, my breathing becomes uneven as I get closer and closer to the front door. The verandah light is on, just like it was at Tom's place when I went to ask him where Alex was. The dim light it casts over me lets me see that my hands are trembling in front of me as they try not to drop the keys. I roll my eyes as my silly fumbles and quickly shove my keys into my pocket and go to ring the doorbell.

My finger millimetres away from the bell, the door springs open and I am met with the face of Evan Jones, rugged and relaxed, well and truly off duty. A tea towel is slung over his shoulder and it's lucky he's wearing an apron because he has spaghetti sauce all over his front. I say a silent hello and my eyes drift to apron. 'Kiss the cook' it reads in bright red writing. He follows my gaze and has a chuckle. "Well? Are you gonna?" he asks wickedly.

I stare at him wide eyed for a moment, annoyed, bewildered and scared all at once. A split second later I realise he's just kidding though and I roll my eyes. If he can put what we did behind him and not live with regret and guilt everyday, then so can I. He's obviously better off for it, so that very moment I stand in front of Evan I pledge to try my darndest to put it behind me too. What's done is done. I can't go back and change things, so I shouldn't dwell on the past. Move forward Amy. Choose freedom.

"Is Alex here?" I am surprised at how awful my voice sounds. It's low and dull, as excited and eager as I am to see Alex. Sadly the tone of my voice reminds me of the way I sounded the day that Chloe had her birthday party. The day I tried to turn my life around. The day I let my secret out to the world for the first time. The day I told him what happened.

"She didn't tell you I was pregnant?" I can't believe it. Who can keep such a thing secret? "With your baby? With…our baby?" It kills me to say the truth – it's ripped me up enough inside, and now saying it out loud for the first time ever rips me up even more. Suddenly I am back in the clinic in that cold, sterile, featureless room, scared for my life and feeling like my world had come crashing down for real this time. It takes my breath away to go back there, even if it is just in my head, and I feel starved for air for a quick moment. I swallow hard and look back up at him as he goes to deny everything I have just said.

"Amy," suddenly Alex is right in front of me. Woah, so close. I meet his eyes, forcing the tears to stay away. If I cry this is never going to be said. I take a deep breath and notice how he hasn't taken my hand or touched my sleeve. Such a simple, pathetically normal gesture that I've grown so accustomed to that when it doesn't occur it feels so amazingly wrong. And because he hasn't done that my heart sinks back down in my chest, negative thoughts entering my head at lightning pace. He's not going to want to listen to me, he's not going to let me speak, he's not going to look at me, he's not going to invite me in, he's never going to be mine again. A tear slips down my cheek, as much as I try to hold it back.

"Come in," his tone is the opposite of what I was just thinking, but I don't allow myself to get my hopes up too much, for fear they might come crashing down again and never recover. I step timidly inside the house, noticing that Evan has conveniently disappeared. Without a word Alex walks through the small house and we end up in his bedroom, uncomfortably enough. I feel awkward, but I suppose it is the only place we can have any sort of privacy. He sits down on the edge of his bed, and rests his elbows on his knees, running his hands tiredly through his hair.

I wander listlessly around the room, trying to gather myself together to speak. Just before I go to chicken out and make a run for it, ready to live my broken life for the rest of my days, I see a photo frame out of the corner of my eye. The gold border of it catches my eye as it glistens thanks to the bedside lampshade. Inside is a picture of Alex and I. My mouth falls open in shock and I stare, dumbfounded at it. I had forgotten we'd even taken it. It's from ages ago – ages ago in the relationship of Alex and Amy anyway, which isn't really that long – the short time where we enjoyed each others company night after night at my place, falling victim to quiet Thai dinners and whispering in each others arms. When we felt no pressure, when no one knew but us, when we never had to meet the parents or go to dinner parties. Oh gosh, it's such a bad photo – the sort that are all pasty white faces too close to the camera because one of you is holding up the camera in front of you both to take the picture. Our heads are touched together and my hair is intertwined with his, and I can't believe the smiles on our faces. I close my eyes and shake my head as I tear my gaze away from it. A smile curls onto my lips and my breathing becomes even again.

"I wish you'd smile more often," Alex whispers. "Because you've got a beautiful smile Amy. It totally changes you," I stare at him, still a little lifted up from discovering he has a photo of us – oh how amazing it feels to say 'us' – by his bedside. It gives me the courage to sit down beside him and speak up at last.

Our knees bump together as I fold my hands in my lap, thankful they aren't fidgeting or trembling for once in their life. "Alex," I reach over to stroke his cheek with my thumb, something other than my brain driving me to do it. "I've been waiting for you to come back," the lump rises in my throat before I had planned. "When you got into your car the other night and drove away from me, I realised I never wanted it to happen again," he stares closely into my eyes, now brimming with tears as I get to the clincher. "There are so many things I wish I'd never done and never said. There are so many times when I wished I hadn't pushed you away," he nods, brushing at the tear that glides silently down my cheek. At least he can touch me now. Should I take that as a good sign? No, don't get your hopes up remember Amy.

"Every time I pushed you away I just wanted to grab you back," I whisper, ashamed at how I'd treated him in the past. "I didn't realise it until you drove away that…" I almost can't say it. "…I can't live without you," my lips quiver uncontrollably as I let out a pitiful sob. Great, sobbing, crying mess again. Good one Amy.

I sit slumped beside him on the end of the bed, so sure that what I've just said are wasted words, that nothing can make a difference now. Nothing can fix what has happened between us. But he doesn't move away, or stop brushing the tears from my cheeks. He seems stronger – always stronger than I – as he finds his voice, much to my relief.

"You know when I told you to choose freedom that night?" he asks. I nod meekly in reply. He goes on, a little skip in his voice. "All these pictures ran through my head as I stared at your face," he doesn't even have to expand on it, I know what he is thinking. They were the same pictures that ran through my mind. A photo album of the life we could lead together if we let ourselves. "But I didn't think you could see them, so I drove away," he seems genuinely sad, a big leap from how he had sounded a second ago.

"I imagined them too," it brings fresh tears to my eyes as I become slightly embarrassed that this is starting to turn out like the script for a soap opera. He looks into my eyes, acknowledging my words.

"I want to give it all to you Amy," he confides, his voice barely a whisper, his face pained and desperate almost. "I can't stop the butterflies when I think that maybe someday I'll marry you," he flashes me a tiny smile.

My heart predictably soars, and suddenly I am floating. Soap opera or not, this is god damn romantic and everything I dared not let myself dream of. I can't do anything but let out another pathetic sounding sob – so pathetic sounding that it makes Alex laugh. He pulls me into his arms and I cry embarrassingly into his shoulder, but holding him so tight I can't imagine ever letting go. Maybe we will work out. My mind is still turning over a thousand million beats a minute. Maybe we will be happy.

He pulls me gently off his shoulder and cups my face in his hands, smiling with his own tears in his eyes. "Whatever you think you are, you're meant for me," he whispers, grinning suddenly. "We wouldn't have come this far if we weren't meant to be. Don't let yourself think otherwise Amy Fox," he is so insistent that I can do nothing but nod and sit bewildered as relief floods over me. Was I holding onto this all this time? Why did it seem so hard to let go of? Why didn't we say this the first time we met!

He presses his lips hard onto mine and a tingle runs through me as I realise that we are meant to be. I can't believe I took this long to realise and accept it. I could've saved myself and Alex all that other shit and just been content and happy living the sort of life I never had the chance to before. Here's someone who makes me happy, who doesn't care that I'm broken, who likes to see me smile, who never forgets to kiss me goodnight, who gets butterflies at the thought of marrying me, and most importantly, wants to help me to be happy. Alex Kirby is going to rid me of that broken tag that I have dragged around almost my entire life.

I kiss him just as strongly back, a smile forming on my lips. As I pull away I cock my head to the side. "Did you say butterflies?" I mock him with a smile. He stares at me wide eyed and then rolls his eyes at me, getting up and walking away to the photo on the bedside table. His back turned to me, I suddenly feel disconnected from him for the smallest of seconds, but even that infinite moment makes me get up and make sure he's not being serious. He hears me get up, because the bed creaks and moans back to its normal level, no longer burdened with the weight of two bodies, and he turns around, a ridiculous grin pushing out his slender cheeks quite wide. He knows me too well, and for once I don't get scared at the thought.

But I ask anyway. "Do you love me Alex?" I whisper. I unknowingly hold my breath as I wait for his reply. Neither of us has ever squeezed out a 'love' before, and so this moment is paramount.

"I love everything about you Foxy," he yelps, telling the world and picking me up and twirling me around. It's an exciting moment of freedom and exhilaration and I throw my head back and smile the biggest smile to ever grace my face, my arms wrapped around Alex's neck. As I slip back down his body so that my feet touch the ground, I want nothing but to grab at his lips again as I get my own butterflies thinking of our future. Wow, our future. Unbelievable. And to think I never thought this could happen.

We lock lips hungrily, acting out the end of our little Alex Amy soap opera, but there's nothing fake about the extraordinary feeling that whips through my veins. I rest my forehead against his and savour the look in his eyes as I whisper out my 'I love you' as well. I've never felt so close to someone – never even thought I'd ever get the chance to be like this. But I am. And I'll never go back.