The Bill is not mine. If it was, it would never have ended. Simple as.

This takes place before Death Knock

Chapter One: Baptism by Fire, Part 1

Have you ever looked down the barrel of a gun and known you are going to die? Have you even been in a situation where you've seen your life flash past your eyes? That's where I am, right now. Literally staring down the barrel of a gun. I should be focused on the person holding it, trying to read his behaviour, trying to get a sense of what he's going to do next – anything that might save my life.

But I'm not. I'm staring at the gun, and my life is flashing before me. The early years, school, first kiss, college, university, several drunken nights, joining the police force, a few memorable cases... and then we get to the last week and everything slows down. Slows down enough to be able to analyse every wrong move I've made in the last week. The mistakes that, when added together, put me right here.

Staring down the barrel of a gun.

My first mistake happened before my first shift. The night before.

Have you ever woken up and thought to yourself, what in god's name did I do last night? Or better yet, have you woken up and thought that same question sober? I have.

I don't drink. I guess that's the first thing you should know about me. It's not the most important thing about me, but it's going to help explain how I got into the situation I have, and how my first week at my new job was memorable for a lot of wrong reasons. Don't get me wrong – when I was at uni, I could easily knock back several tequilas before turning to the other drinks. I just didn't like the person I became when I drank. To cut a very long story short, I did the single thing I am most ashamed of. I kissed my best friend's boyfriend. In front of her. So I stopped drinking.

The day before I started work, I moved into my new apartment in London from Manchester. I wasn't supposed to be there for another week. That was why the only belongings I had in the place could fit into a single rucksack. Oh, and my mountain bike, (hence the rucksack. I was not about to navigate a train and then London with a suitcase and a bike). The rest of my things were waiting at my mum's, taking over her usually ordered dining room, waiting for the removal company to collect it the following week. The powers that be had called and asked if it was possible to start a week early – that there was something big going down and the extra set of hands would be needed. I had agreed. That had been the first mistake. Accepting.

So I had packed my things in the bag, gotten to London, found my apartment and then I had had to go straight out and buy a mattress. Aside from the fridge freezer and the oven, there was nothing in the apartment, and I was not about to sleep on the floor. Believe it or not, that was my second mistake. If I hadn't had done that, then maybe I wouldn't have made my fifth mistake.

Seriously, one mistake after another...! Of course, at the time, I thought I was making a sensible choice. Let's be honest – hindsight is a bitch.

Anyway, whilst waiting for the mattress to be delivered, I went out and bought a few essentials. Something smart and practical to wear to work, an iron and an ironing board, some bed sheets, and of course, the most important thing... a few pints of Ben and Jerry's.

Another important, yet useless, fact about me is that I am addicted to ice cream. Chunky Monkey! I celebrate with it, I commiserate with it, and, well, generally live off it. Hence the mountain bike. No really, it does make sense – if I have to keep in shape for the job, and I want to maintain my figure, I'm going to have to burn off all those calories somehow.

My shopping actually amounted to the third mistake. One that I definitely should have realised at the time. Firstly – Ben and Jerry's, no matter how tasty, does not make for a nutritious breakfast. Secondly, buying decent work clothes is a good idea, but if you don't buy a decent pair of shoes, then you're not going to have a brilliant work outfit.

The fourth thing, and defiantly the thing that led to the fifth thing, was agreeing to go out. Even without the power of hindsight, I knew it was a stupid idea. I mean, who goes out the night before their first day at work? Yeah, that idiot is me. My friend, Natalie, called and said she wanted to introduce me to some friends of hers, so I would know a few people in the city. Realistically, I should have waited for a night where I didn't have to be in work the following day. But as I looked around my pitifully empty apartment, I figured going out wasn't such a bad idea.

Thankfully, in the bottom of my bag was my favourite little black dress. You know that one dress a girl can wear and feel absolutely gorgeous in? That was the one I had. And set one of the impractical pair of shoes I had bought with me. Red, huge heels – the 'bang bang' shoes. (Definitely not the pair of shoes I chose to wear to work!)

We ended up in a bar. Me, Natalie, and three of her friends. It was a nice bar, the drinks a little more expensive than what I was used to paying (especially for lemonade), but it was the kind of bar that seemed to want to be a club at the same time, with plenty of loud music. I think the thing that surprised me the most, was that the girls were content to stay in the same place, rather than hop from bar to bar (although I did find out later on that one of the girls worked there and they could get a discount on the rounds).

We had been in there hours. The other four were drinking and I was doing my best to let loose and have fun. After going out and being the only sober one more times than I can count, I'm getting good at acting drunk. However, there's only so much a person can take, and by midnight, and especially with the knowledge I was to be at work at seven, I was getting ready to go – the taxi had already been booked.

And that was when I made mistake number five.

I don't normally do things like this. I mean, I'm not completely unpleasant to look at, so I'm not trying to put myself down or anything, but for some reason, when it comes to men (and unless there's some tequila involved), I clam up, shut down, and run away. Actually, it's quite pathetic, really.

But this guy was gorgeous. He was sat in the corner, drinking a pint, and judging from the collection of empty glasses that had yet to be collected from in front of him, he had had a few. He didn't look happy. He actually looked quite miserable. I think that's why I smiled at him. Smiles are supposed to be infectious, but they had little effect on him. He just stared at me. He did look surprised, but he didn't smile.

I went and found Natalie and let her know I was leaving, assuring her that I would text her when I got back safely. As I walked off the dance floor, he was waiting for me. The rest was truthfully, a blur. I mean, I remember everything that happened when we got back to mine (and I tell you, with the skill he had, I'm damn glad I can remember it), but how we ended up there, it's just one big blur. I don't even remember who paid the taxi.

Which brings me back to waking up and asking myself, what in god's name did you do last night?

I awoke before the alarm – the light streaming in through the windows. (Curtains were high on the list of priorities to get sorted this week). Then again, it could have been the fact there was someone in my bed with me. I sat up and reached for something to cover me in the chilly morning air. His shirt was the first thing I got my hands on and I quickly pulled it on before I turned to examine my bed partner.

Yup, even in the light of day, and smelling of alcohol, he was still gorgeous. He also looked peaceful, as he lay there, half hanging off the mattress, still completely naked. Reluctantly, I grabbed the covers and pulled them over him. I hog covers, and even though I didn't know him and more importantly, I could have stayed there, staring at him all morning, I didn't want him catching a cold, and I needed a shower.

The shower was quick, and I was done in minutes. Drying my hair took much longer. It's thick and dark, and for some insane reason, I wear it long. I've desperately been trying to grow it so it will cover my breasts when down, but for some reason, I can't get it longer than just above them. I got dressed (realised that I hadn't bought decent shoes and had to resort to my only other pair – the trainers I had travelled down in), and headed back to my bedroom.

He was still asleep.

I wandered into the kitchen, ready to get some breakfast, and had to settle with ice cream. Making sure my work clothes were packed in my work bag, I gave my bike the once over, and then went back to the bedroom. Still asleep. The problem was, I just didn't want to wake him. My mind kept wandering back to that sad expression on his face from the night before and how peaceful it looked now. So I did what any sane, single female, oh, and police officer would do. I left him there.

It's not like there was anything to steal, unless he had a fetish for women's clothing, and he certainly didn't strike me as the type. And if he really wanted a half eaten tub of ice cream, a mattress and a phone charger, then he was welcome to them. It wasn't even like there was a key for him to copy. I just left him a note (along with two pain killers – I was feeling especially nice) telling to make sure he pulled the door locked behind him.

I arrived at the station early. I hate being late and I would rather sit around for a half hour, waiting, than make someone wait for me. After making sure the bike was securely locked in the back, I headed to the reception desk and waited to be escorted to the locker room. I changed out of my clothes into the new work clothes I had bought. The trousers were grey baggy – completely impractical for riding a bike – and there was no way I was going to wear my leggings to work. Finally, after being pointed in the right direction, I made my way to CID.

It was empty, save for one person. So much for needing an extra pair of hands for the case.

"Not quite the welcome you were expecting?" he asked me, looking up at me over his computer.

"I expected a few more people in," I admitted. I walked over to him and offered him my hand. "Cheryl Landry."

"DS Max Carter," he told me, reaching for his beeping phone instead of shaking my hand. He quickly read the text message and looked up at me, smiling. "And now it's time for a little excitement. Informant wants to meet. You're with me."

I couldn't keep the frown from my face. Making mistakes in my personal life, as you may have gathered, I do very easily. My professional life is another matter. I didn't particularly want to get off on the wrong foot with a senior officer, but something told me I shouldn't be going anywhere without talking to the DI.

"He's out," Max told me. He must have caught me looking at the DI's door – Neil Manson. "He's probably with Grace, but he's still out."

"I guess," I muttered at him. He was already walking out in front of me, and I had to move quickly before he disappeared and I got lost. We walked through a maze of corridors, passing by several uniformed officers, but Max was either not in the mood for introductions, or in a rush. I tried to give as many of them as I could bright smiles, but we were gone before I could think.

He stopped at a car and turned to me. "I drive."

That didn't bother me and I slipped into the passenger seat. It wasn't like I knew my way around and the last thing I wanted was to take an embarrassing wrong turn.

He drove us to a small cafe, open for breakfast, and headed straight to the counter, ordering a full English breakfast. I ordered a coffee and followed him to a table in the corner, joining a man sat there. The man looked like he might have been good looking a few years back, but now he fell into that stereotypical category of 'shifty looking', and I wasn't surprised he was the informant we had come to meet.

"Marty," Max greeted him.

"Who's that?" Marty asked him, nodding his head in my direction, anxiously.

"Arm candy, nothing to worry about," Max assured him.

Arm candy? Seriously?

Marty eyed me suspiciously, like I was going to pull a gun on him, or something, but nodded. "I have some information."

"I guessed that when you wanted to meet at this dive, so early in the morning," Max quipped.

"What do you know about Fantasy?" Marty asked him, ignoring me.

"Strip club owned by the Wright Brothers. We suspect there's a bit of solicitation going on in there, but we can never get anything," Max replied. "Why, what do you know about it?"

Marty leant over. "Buy a lap dance, and get a bit extra, you know what I mean?" he told him in a hushed voice so I could barely hear what he was saying.

"No, Marty, I don't," Max told him.

Marty stared at me.

I got the message. "I'm going to see how that breakfast is doing," I sighed, leaving the table and heading back to the counter. They took so long I ordered myself another cup of coffee, watching as the discussion continued over Max's breakfast. I was contemplating a third cup – I hadn't had much sleep, after all – when Marty finally left.

Max made his way over to me, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Oh, we have landed a good one," he told me.

"So what happened to you last night?"

"I told you I was leaving, Nat," I pointed out. We had gone back to the station and were heading to the see the DI and let him know what had happened, but on the way in, my phone had rung. Conveniently, Max's had also rung, so I stayed out back, just around the corner from him, staring at the vans, and took the call.

"Yeah, I know you left, and with that cute guy. Did you two, you know?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "You can say it, you know. And yes, I did sleep with him."

There was an excited squeal down the phone and I had to move the phone away from my ear. "So, how was he? Was he any good? Will you be seeing him again?"

"Oh, it was very good," I admitted, ignoring the fact I could feel my face begin to heat up. I ducked my head, and lowered my voice as I sensed some officers moving about behind me. "But I doubt it's going to happen again."

"Why not? Wasn't he interested when you woke up?"

I thought about it and shrugged. I do that a lot – forget that I'm actually on the phone and the other person can't see me. "I don't have a clue, to be honest," I told her. "I kinda left him asleep in my bed and went to work. I doubt he will be there with dinner waiting for me when I get back."

"Cheryl!" Natalie shrieked at me. The phone moved away from my ear again. "You just left him there? Alone?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "It's not like there's anything there to steal. Unless he wants the mattress?"

"And what if the mattress isn't there?" Natalie demanded. "Did you at least get his number?"

I laughed again. "Number? I didn't even get his name."

"Callum Stone."

It was one of those moments where life moves in slow motion. I could feel my mouth dropping open in complete horror as I turned to the person standing just behind me. I have no idea how stupid I looked, gaping at him, but I would hazard a guess that it wasn't very attractive. It was the man from my bed. Of course. Only I could have this luck. My eyes flickered to his shoulders. Sergeant. Great. This was getting better. If this was a movie, I would have come out with something completely witty and intelligent. Hell, if I was Natalie, I would have made a better attempt. But no, the best I could manage, before I could help myself… "Oh, crap."

"Nice," he muttered at me, bending over to scoop my phone out of a puddle. I hadn't even realized I had dropped it. He handed it over. "One less thing for you to worry about me stealing."

I was bright red. I could tell – my face felt so hot. I also have really pale skin, so when it goes red, it goes red. I was also still gaping up at him as I wished the pavement would open and swallow me whole. Oh hell, I never expected to see him again, much less where I worked.

And that pavement was not opening up.

"Do I get your name?" he asked me, finally.

"Um…" I just stared blankly at him, while he stared back at me. "Cheryl?" I managed, finally.

"Look, about last night," he started, but shut up quickly, seeing something behind me.

I half turned, spotting Max walking up to us, looking like the cat that got the cream. "It is looking good," he told me. He turned to Callum and grinned. "I think you're going to want to hear this." He stopped and looked between the two of us, a frown crossing his features. "Do you two know each other?" he asked us.

"No," we both said, quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. Max eyed us suspiciously, but didn't say anything, instead heading inside. I gave Sergeant Stone a weak smile and followed Max inside.

CID was much busier the second time I went in there, and judging from the quick headcount I did, it looked like the majority of people were in. I didn't get chance to take in my new surroundings properly as I was taken into DI Manson's office.

"Cheryl," he greeted me. "Welcome to Sun Hill."

"Thanks," I told him.

He was frowning slightly. "I was expecting you a few hours ago."

"That was my fault, guv," Max piped up, allowing me to breath a small sigh of relief. "I got a call from an old informant and I thought it would be beneficial for Cheryl to come with me."

Neil nodded, accepting the excuse. "Anything good?" he asked us, looking over my shoulder at Sergeant Stone, who I could sense was standing behind me.

"Oh yes," Max agreed.

So, um, yeah. It's my first fanfic - let me know what you think?