It was definitely a first things first situation. There was nothing I could do about Stu's sudden foray into the wild side. But his injuries I could do something about. "If you won't let me call a doctor, whether you like it or not, I am fixing your leg." I could feel the heat radiating from his knee as I inspected the damage closely. "Stu, this is infected."

He eyed me slightly sourly. "I know... I've been feeling sick and feverish all day."

I got to my feet and started to round up first aid supplies from around the flat. He levered himself up onto the bathroom stool with a groan, and I crouched down to examine the bite mark. I gave him my best glare. "This is going to hurt." I said, as I wrung out the soft cloth and started to clean the puncture wounds. There was no point in being tentative about it. The hot water softened the scabs, and the four holes in his leg started to ooze. He flinched and winced a bit at it, but I was relentless. "Another five minutes and you would be into septicaemia." I looked up from my unpleasant task. "I hope you've had a tetanus shot recently!" I looked up; his expression was carefully neutral. I changed the water, rinsed out the cloth, and continued my work.

It was nasty. He needed a doctor and antibiotics, but as he was desperate to avoid both, I did the best I could. I flushed the wounds out and dressed them.

I finished up, and we made our way downstairs. I put the hot pot in front of him and he tucked in. I could tell from the way he was eating that he had not had hot food in a while. I was just putting the kettle on to boil when my mobile rang.

I read the caller id as I answered. A cold feeling of dread swept through me. It was a conversation I'd dreaded, but had been half-expecting since I had pulled Stuart into my kitchen. I answered and listened. When the caller had finished speaking, I begged him for time. He didn't want to give it to me, but I begged and pleaded. Finally he agreed.

Stu looked up as I re-entered the kitchen. "Was that...?" he said quietly.

I nodded, and cleared my throat twice. "They want me to arrest you. Take you in to Sun Hill."

"I know." He looked down at his plate.

"They've given us a little time." I picked up the pan with the custard, poured a generous helping over the apple pie, and set it down in front of him. "Until tomorrow morning."

He nodded and put a hand out, taking hold of mine. His fingers were cold and trembling, but his voice was steady: "You have to do it, Jo."

I knew that, and with the FME on hand at the station, it wouldn't hurt to get him the medical attention he needed either. But the benefits didn't make it any easier. I finished feeding him, wondering if I had actually opened my very own Canley Home for Stray Police Officers. We both washed up, and I took him upstairs to bed. I was going to give him my spare bed. I stood on the landing looking at the closest friend I had. His career was hanging by a thread, the sword of Damocles hanging over both our heads, and all I could feel was that I wanted him closer to me tonight. It wasn't as though we hadn't shared a bed several times before, usually when we were drunk. So I changed my mind then and there about the sleeping arrangements.

He followed me without question. We readied for bed, and got in side by side. His recent experiences had exhausted him, so he was asleep in minutes. I lay there wondering what I could honestly do about any of this. Stu was a long way out of his depth. Heaton had been more resigned than furious, but he was adamant. I had to bring Stuart in, cuffed. Heaton wanted to get the message across: Stu was off the case. And if he persisted, he was off the force.

I cuddled a little closer to Stu. I had never seen him like this. The gash in his palm needed stitches, the dog bite was infected, and his hand probably was as well. I had done little more than clean the cut and dress it, doing nothing for the more insidious side effects of his misfortunes. Stu was exhausted, strung out and operating solely on nerves.

So, in sum, I was supposed to slap the cuffs on Stuart Turner and bring him into the station, whatever the emotional strain of being returned to Sun Hill in handcuffs would do to him. Heaton was adamant, and though I hated to admit it, he was right: Stu simply had to be taken out of play. He wasn't equipped to deal with this stuff. But there was more to it than that. Instinctively I knew he hadn't hit the self-destruct button for his own purposes. There was some imperative deep down inside him driving this, something which would get him killed. Because however good a copper he was, and Stu was a very good copper, he was just not sufficiently trained or a good enough deceiver to pull this off.

I awoke at six-thirty the next morning feeling tense and tired, with absolutely no idea when I finally fell asleep. Stu was already awake. I could see from his expression that even a good night's sleep hadn't really taken the edge off the strain. I fetched his clean clothes from the dryer, we dressed and made breakfast, we ate it, we washed up like a regular domestic couple.

And all the time, running through my head was the truth of what I had to do to my best friend. I've never wanted to do anything less in my life.

I spun it out. The ache inside of me was growing. But finally, we had to go. I hung up the tea towel and turned around.

Stu caught the expression on my face. He hesitated a second, wandered over to my handbag and picked up my cuffs.

We were three feet apart. He held my gaze as he snapped the cuff around his left wrist. He gave me a somewhat wobbly smile, and then he turned round and put his hands behind his back. He was trying to make it easy on me, but it really wasn't working. I fully appreciated what it was costing him. So I stepped forward and gently closed the cuff around his right wrist, and as I put my hand on his arm I could feel him shivering. Whether that was stress or the fact that he was ill, I wouldn't like to say. This was tough on him, certainly, but it was tearing me apart too.

I helped him into my car, fastened his seatbelt, and drove him to the station. We walked up the ramp together. I had hold of his arm again and I could feel the shakes building within him. He was doing his best to hold it together for my sake. We reached Custody. Callum Stone was on duty, and he booked Stuart in. I took off the cuffs, Stu surreptitiously tugging his sleeve down to cover the bandage round his hand, and I wondered at that. Callum kept silent, and let me walk Stu round to the cell.

We reached the doorway, and he turned. I couldn't help it; I couldn't just put him in a cell and walk away. I stepped forward and put my arms around him. His arms came round me and he leaned into me for a second and we hugged, then he stepped inside and I locked the door, wrote his name up on the board outside, and Heaton's underneath. Leaving him locked up and walking away was hard.

I headed towards CID, trying not to worry too much about Stu. I had enough problems of my own, and at least he was safe whilst locked up downstairs. As I pushed open the doors, DI Manson was standing outside his office, with Inspector Weston and a man I didn't recognise.

"Ah, Jo." Manson was looking at me in that way that told me I wasn't going to like what he had to say. "I would like you to assist DI Weston and DS Cope." Cope moved towards me, his hand held out towards me.

"Hello. DS James Cope. DC Masters, I've heard a lot about you." There was something about him that I didn't take to. Call it loyalty to Stuart, call it my copper's nose, call it whatever you will, but this guy was too smooth. Stu was temperamental and feisty, a ruthless self-promoter and often cocky and arrogant. But Stu had a heart. He threw himself into cases with boundless energy, and he gave everything he had to nick the bad guys.

Cope emphasized his title. I picked up the stressed inflections in his voice as he rubbed his rank in. And I didn't like that at all. There was a certain triumph in his expression. It didn't take me five minutes to work out that his smugness was about having one up on Stu.

Fair enough. Stu could be the same on occasion, but this was not the time. Stu had risked his life on the streets. I sensed that this guy wasn't about that at all.

I struggled to concentrate through the day. I wasn't privy to Heaton's interview with Stu. I could guess what had been said, though, and I worried about it. Heaton seemed determined to keep Stu locked up for a while. Knowing Stu the way I did, he was probably frantic by now, and desperate not to show it.

Kezia appeared late afternoon, and a little later CID had a briefing. I sat in on that briefing, and suddenly my own problems seemed negligible. It was me, Kezia, two other DCs that I didn't recognise who were introduced as Mark and Lacey, DS Cope, Inspector Weston and Heaton himself. There was a definite tension in the air which I could have put down to Stu's incarceration, but somehow that didn't feel right; Cope was lording over the DCs, me included, in a way that made my hackles rise. If I ever thought that Stu or Max had attitude, Cope was worse.

When the briefing was over, I waited a moment until I could see a direct line to Heaton. I boldly walked over to him.

"Sir, may I go and see Stuart?" It sounded a little bald, and for some very odd reason I felt nervous. He looked at me for a second in silence, as though considering whether I could be trusted. For the first time since I laid eyes on my friend I felt the strongest suspicion of yet another undercurrent...and a picture slid into place.

I looked up at Heaton. Something had changed in that second. And I realised that Stu was the bait in a very, very dangerous game.

"Very well." Heaton's reply was gruff, with a hint of reluctance. I nodded my acceptance, and was rewarded by a brief smile. As I walked away, I wondered exactly what I was letting myself in for, and, more to the point, just what idiot notion had gotten into Stu's head that he could pull this off.