A/N: Thanks to my reviewers for being so kind to me! It's always nice to know your stories are being read and appreciated. So here's a new chapter for you, twice as long and hopefully up to scratch...

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue...please? Promise? On with it then...

Now, as time progresses and life, as they say, moves on, yours sucks more than you thought it could ever suck at any rate. Your relationship with Adam is dwindling, because even though you promised yourself the file Matt showed you was not going to make any difference, it actually does.

It gnaws on you, day and night. Everything Adam says and does, everything he doesn't say or do is suspect. Every word has a double meaning and though you promised yourself that, once you had become a prosecutor, you would not make the mistake of going into work mode with any of your boyfriends, it's doubly hard now. Not one of your love interests has given you much reason to be suspicious so far, but now...God you wish you'd never seen the file.

You swallow it away for as long as you can, but now that the seed of doubt is firmly planted in your mind by a certain DS you wish you could hate, it has started to take root and now the growth of it simply won't be stopped, no matter how charming Adam's trying to be.

To top that off, you and Matt are still not on speaking terms. Well, at work you have to be, of course, but there's this veil of professional courtesy, barely thick enough to conceal the hurt of betrayal, of words that can never be unsaid. Of words that should be said and purposefully held back. The silences that fall between case updates and court preparations are cutting at your heartstrings more sharply than any knife could ever do. The openings you should have taken to make amends never get used and soon disappear too as they're filled by awkwardness, shame and leftover resentment.

God, how it hurts.

And then, about two months after your fallout with your once best mate, some strange things start to happen.

At first, it's nothing alarming. Adam's working a lot of overtime and is constantly on the move, travelling to visit and inspect hotels or to add new, formally independent hotels to their chain. In between these business trips, he still cancels a few dates and when he does make it, he's tired, jetlagged and agitated. In the bedroom, the few times you actually make it there, he's distracted, too preoccupied to fulfil your needs, which aren't that demanding, really. Yet, you cling to the idea of loving him, so you make sure no complaint ever leaves your lips whenever you are with him. It's a sad note to be proud of your ability to fake it, just to get it over with.

But it's getting harder and harder to believe in the fairytales you've created for yourself. You're not sure why you want to keep pretending in the first place.

Still, the status quo does not change, even when your boyfriend cancels dinner for the umpteenth time and then tries to bribe you into forgiving him with overlarge and overpriced jewellery, expensive perfumes and other gifts. Just like any other man of some wealth, he thinks you're for sale somehow. It irks you, but you never get the opportunity to tell him so as he's soon being whisked off too wherever. Then again, he probably wouldn't listen anyway.

So you struggle on and on, working by day and patiently waiting for your man by night. Not a scenario you're comfortable with. You haven't seen your circle of girl friends for weeks, never committing to going out with them in case Adam wants to see you. It's like you're having an affair with a married man, though you know that's not true. You've at least checked out that much. If anything, he's married to the job. To the status it brings with it.

Slowly but surely, this relationship of sorts you have with him, isolates you from the rest of the world. Either you're with him or you're alone, waiting for a chance to be with him. It's ridiculous, really.

Take tonight for instance. You were supposed to go for a bite to eat and see a show. You're not sure where you were supposed to go to, it was meant to be a surprise. And quite a surprise it was: he cancelled, again, calling you on his cell phone from the backseat of a company limo to tell you he got stuck in traffic on his way to a dinner meeting with a business partner and the owner of a chain of vacation homes at the Normandy coast, willing to sell by lack of successors in the family.

It sounds plausible, it always does and as usual, you tell him it's quite okay, you'll go another time. You hang up the phone, take a shower to wash off the excess make-up and dress in your most comfortable track suit. With a tub of ice cream on your lap and the remote within reach, you find a feel good movie and settle in.

A few minutes into the movie, you've forgotten all about your earlier plans. You're so engrossed in the story, you're quite alarmed when your cell phone rings from the depths of the small clutch you were supposed to be taking with you tonight. Thinking it might be Adam to try and salvage what's left of the evening, you put the television on mute, scramble onto your feet, locate the discarded clutch on the pile on your bed, fish out the insistently ringing phone and pick up, not even looking at the name on screen.

"Hi Adam."

It's not Adam.

It's a female voice, barely audible over the unidentifiable ruckus in the background. You're sure you've never heard the voice before, but it's not the voice itself, but the message that sets all the hairs at the back of your neck prickling.

"Listen to me, JCP Alesha Phillips and do not interrupt. Do not ask questions. I want to let you know that your boyfriend, Adam Garrison is currently sitting in a pub, having a very cosy conversation with none other than Jack Riordan and his mate Dan Raggerty. I know you know who I'm referring to."

Of course you know. You've been trying for years and years to bring down the syndicate of Jack Riordan and his cronies, Dan Raggerty being the most important one of them.

Jack's criminal organization has its many tentacles in every crime imaginable, including producing, trafficking and selling of every drug known to mankind and a few that aren't, people smuggling, prostitution, extortion, creating and distributing child pornography. And that's probably just the tip of the iceberg. His criminal files so far take up a cabinet of their own and with the ongoing investigation, another cabinet should be added soon. And still, much to your chagrin, he has so far dodged every attempt at charging him, like he has dodged all bullets fired at him by either legal officers or other criminals whose toes he might have stepped on along the way. The fact he's rich enough to hire an army of expert lawyers to help defend him and accountants and software geeks handy enough to cover a lot of his tracks, doesn't help your cause either.

That and the fact he's rumoured to have a lot of judges in his pocket either by threatening to hurt their families or by bribing them.

In short, he's a royal pain in the prosecutors' combined backsides and you'd give an arm and a leg to finally bring him down forever.

In the meantime, whoever was on the phone has hung up during your stunned silence as you try and wrap your mind around the thing you've just heard.

It can't be possible. But there has to be something you can do. Besides from ignoring it, that is. And if you'd been any other girlfriend, you might want to do just that. Take the ostrich approach, stick your head firmly into the sand and let it all slip underneath the radar. But whoever called you, knows you're a prosecutor and must have realized that, as such, you can't let it go.

Sure there's always the possibility that this was a prank call and therefore not to be taken seriously, but then again, nobody was laughing.

This is real, you just know it. Also because there's no caller ID, so it's impossible to trace back the call.

Now what to do?

Your first instinct is to call Matt, but you hold it back. Though not a man to gloat and rub the conclusion that he's right and you're wrong in your face, you're still not sure you want to admit the fact you've just made a terrible mistake out loud. Childish perhaps, but there you have it.

On moments like these, you're happy you've gotten into the habit of recording every phone conversation you ever make. It's most likely a very paranoid thing to do and most shrinks would have a field day sorting out the layers of reasons why you're doing it, but clearly, it's not such a bad idea after all.

If only you could get yourself out of your state of stupor and do something other than just stand there in the middle of the living room with the pantomime of characters looking foolish on the television screen behind you; a stark contrast to your total state of immobile shock.

Then the phone, still in your limp hand, rings again. Shrieking with shock, you look at the small screen lighting up, as if the caller could jump at you from the small rectangle and throttle you. Then you exhale.

It's Matt.

"Matt?"

"Hi, Lesh."

His voice sounds odd. Not as gruff as it's been the last couple of days, but not his usual relaxed self either. Your heart rate turns up a notch again and you're worried it'll go into overdrive any moment.

"Matt, are you okay?"

A small chuckle escapes his throat, though it doesn't sound humorous.

"I was about to ask you the same. Listen, I got the weirdest phone call just now. A female voice, instructing me to go and see how you're doing and that it was urgent. Nothing more. No number on screen to call back to, so I figured I'd call you first, before walking straight into a trap. Are you okay, love? Do you know what this can all mean?"

You sigh. This could be a lot more serious than you thought, although you're still not sure if the unknown female caller is friend or foe.

"I think I do, a little at least. But it's hard to explain over the phone."

"I'm on my way then. See you in a bit."

"Okay...and Matt? You might need to inform Nat as well."

"We will if we need to, okay?"

The connection gets broken and you aimlessly walk to the bathroom, clean yourself up a bit and drag yourself to the kitchen to put on the kettle for some tea or coffee, not sure which one he prefers this late in the evening.

Your phone beeps again and you jump. Angry at your own skittishness, you pick it up from where you left it on the kitchen table and read the text message from Adam.

Sorry, darling. Getting 2 late 2 bother you.
Staying at my own apartment tonight.
Call me tomorrow? X. Adam.

You sigh in relief. Having Adam walk in on you and Matt while you're investigating the possibility of his involvement with one of London's biggest criminals is not something you were looking forward to. As a dutiful girlfriend, you text a sweet message back and put the phone down.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. A soaking wet Matt Devlin is standing in front of you. You hadn't realized it was raining this hard outside.

"Please, come in. Let me get you a towel. Take off that coat."

You're so ridiculously relieved to see him, so happy he's still there for you after the terrible accusations you made at him, you're actually tugging at the sleeves of his drenched coat. Matt starts to laugh, grabbing your hands in his own.

"Whoa there, tiger. Had I known you were in such a hurry to get me undressed, I would have worn my new boxers."

You feel a blush creeping up and not for the first time, you're glad you're no ginger. Muttering something about getting those towels, you make a beeline to the linen closet in your bedroom, only letting the air escape once you know you're alone.

Grabbing the first stack of towels you can find, you hand them to your friend without looking at him, but you can hear his chuckle as he takes them from you. Matt hangs up his coat, wiping his hair with one towel while placing another one underneath the dripping cloth as to not soak your hardwood floor.

It's what you love most about him. He's so thoughtful around people. You understand now that when he showed you the file incriminating Adam's firm, he was simply doing the same. Looking out for you.

"You want something to drink?"

"If you happen to have any coffee brewing."

"I do, but I'm afraid I only have instant."

"Fine by me, love."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you internally shriek with joy. He's back to casually calling you 'love' and it makes you almost giddy with happiness.

"Take a seat. I'll be back in a minute."

As Matt settles down on your couch, looking around him curiously, you apply yourself to the task of making the hot drinks without spilling anything. In one of the cabinets, you find a pack of cookies. There's no reason why you shouldn't be hospitable despite the circumstances.

Back in the living room, he's quick to help you as he takes over the tray of mugs and cookies. He smiles his full charming Matt smile before taking a grateful sip from his full mug, warming his hands around it.

"Thanks, 'Lesh. I needed that, it's cold outside."

You nod, but nerves have crept back into your system and your throat is too raspy to respond. Immediately aware of the change of atmosphere, he pats the seat next to him.

"Come sit down, love. Let's figure out what's going on here."

He's taking charge, back in DS Devlin mode. You're glad of it. Ever since that strange phone call, you've been trying to get yourself into JCP Phillips mode, but it's not working out too well for you so far. You can't switch personalities on demand, apparently.

You start by playing back the phone call for him and he confirms it's the same female voice telling him to come here tonight.

"Well, if we for now assume this was no prank call and that Adam is in serious cahoots with Jack Riordan, than we need to know what he's up to. It could be your boyfriend is in it willingly, but he could also be forced. In which case Riordan knows something about Adam he doesn't want anyone else, or especially you to know about."

"Either way, Adam's in trouble."

Matt nods, his face glum as he continues.

"I'm not worried about Adam, 'Lesh. He's a grown man. I'm way more worried about you. This could get you in trouble too."

"I think I'm safe for now."

"Don't be so sure of that. 'Lesh, you could be dating a criminal here. Even if he's not a threat to you as it is, he could easily use you as leverage. He could claim you knew about his illegal activities and helped him cover it up. Even if he doesn't physically hurt you, this could seriously harm your career."

Shit. You haven't thought about that. How could you have been so incredibly, dangerously naive? What better way to clean your slate than to date a legal officer? Did he pick you out for especially that purpose?

And what if you refused to budge? Threaten to bring him down yourself? He could threaten you, hurt you. Kill you.

Suddenly cold, you wonder how, where and when your rainbow relationship had turned into such a storm cloud. You shiver violently and immediately, Matt's there, putting a tentative arm around you. When he finds you're not recoiling, he draws you in closer, until your head's comfortably leaning against his shoulder, his head resting on top of yours.

It's an amazing fit. Your trembling subsides a little.

"Don't worry too much, love. Nothing's set in stone yet. You're in no eminent danger and the moment you think you might be, I want you to come to me, or Ronnie or Nat. I don't care if it's the middle of the night. In the meantime, just try and act as normally as you can around him, don't give him any reason to be suspicious of your behaviour and don't let him know anything about the phone call you got."

"I'll try. I just..."

"I know. I don't like it either. But we'll have to cross all the bridges when we get there. There's not enough evidence to arrest him now, there's not even enough to bring him in for questioning. So there's nothing we can do but wait it out and play along until we do know more."

"You think I'm up to it? I'm not a very good actress."

As always, Matt's quick to reassure you.

"You'll manage, love. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And if you don't want to get further involved, why don't you just come up with some excuse and break up with him?"

"What kind of excuse?"

"Like, you're totally in love with this certain DS you work with?"

"Who, Ronnie? He'll never fall for that."

Grinning and elbowing you slightly in the ribs, he answers:

"Not the DS I was referring to and you know it."

"You mean yourself then? Like I said, I'm not a very good actress."

He looks hurt, but you're not fooled by his pouty expression. Adorable as it is, you know his over inflated ego can take a hit. So you give him a sweet grin instead.

"And neither are you, my friend, so stop the pseudo sulking and get us a drink."

He stands, bowing deeply.

"Whatever the lady wishes."

"The lady wishes a beer. Take one yourself too."

"No thanks, the roads are bad enough without adding any alcohol. I'll stick to some juice if you have any."

"It's all in the fridge."

He nods, disappearing into the kitchen. You take the opportunity to stretch your legs in an attempt to relax. Having Matt back in your life as a friend does help a lot, but the reason he's here tonight doesn't fail to scare you.

He comes back from the kitchen with a beer bottle, an empty glass and a glass of orange juice for himself, handing you the cold drink. Ignoring the glass, you simply put the bottle to your lips and gulp the cool liquid down. Only when you put the now almost empty bottle down on the table, hoping he didn't hear the small burp escaping your throat, do you see Matt looking at you in amusement.

"What? You've never seen a woman drink beer before?"

"Not like that I haven't."

You shrug.

"Is it off-putting? Adam doesn't like me to drink beer at all. Thinks it's not a lady's drink."

He scoffs. "He does realize women have equal rights these days, doesn't he? I mean, he knows you can also vote, right? Run for prime minister?"

"I don't know. Perhaps that's why he wanted to date me."

Reality sinks in after that last remark of yours. Suddenly skittish now that the dreaded subject is back on the table, you take the bottle and slug down the remaining contents, trying to hide the reoccurring trembling in your hands.

To no avail, though.

Matt takes the bottle away from you and sets it back, taking your hands in his own warmer ones.

"Don't do that to yourself, 'Lesh. You're a beautiful, smart, strong woman who happens to be in love with a man who might be involved in some criminal activities. The fact you didn't realize does not make you stupid, it makes you a sweet and caring partner to your lover. It would never change my opinion of you, nor those of the people who matter."

A smart woman who happens to be in love...who happens to be in love...

"I'm not, you know."

The words have left your mouth before you are conscious of even thinking them. But worse than saying them out loud is the fact that, now that they're said, you know them to be true.

You're not claiming to be a psychic. It's not that you have somehow known all along that he was up to no good. And yet...you were never totally swept off your feet by Adam. No matter what he did, how many times he brought you flowers or expensive gifts, no matter how attentive he was to your needs (at the start at least), no matter what he did in the bedroom (though you still blamed your bashfulness there on your ordeal with Merrick), it was all okay, but never really...wow.

After months of hoping, you'd given up on the wow and settled for the okay, convincing yourself that it was all you needed, that many women your age didn't even have as much as that. Perhaps it was time for you to get your nose out of the sleazy romance novels and see the world of dating and relationships for what it was: a whole lot of hysterics about pink clouds and seventh heaven and a lot of disappointment once you woke up. Perhaps you were never supposed to scratch the veneer.

Adam seemed to adore you, he was nice to you and you liked him well enough to settle. So settle you did. For the less than perfect love life, for the less than courteous manner in which he treated you lately. For his lack of true interest in and attention for you, compensated by unnecessarily expensive gifts.

Surprised at your little, yet oh so big admission, Matt looks at you.

"You're not what?"

"Not in love."

"You mean, not anymore?"

"No, I mean I don't think I ever was. I...It's complicated."

"That's okay. I'm in no hurry."

Wow. You hope he doesn't charge for this psychology session by the hour. You don't make that kind of money and your health insurance might not cover it.

"I guess...I wanted to be in love, in a relationship so badly. Like I wanted some evidence I could still be loved, that I wasn't somehow...defiled forever. So when I met Adam, I willed myself to fall in love with him and somewhere along the way I must have started to believe it. Now that this is all happening, I know I can't actually be in love when it's this easy to think I might be happier without this mess. I mean, if I really loved him, shouldn't my first reaction be anger at you for your ludicrous accusations? Shouldn't I be mortified that you could even think such a thing?"

"Well, you did do that before."

"True, but that was also because I wanted to do what was expected of me. Or at least I didn't want to admit out loud, to myself or to you, that I was in a relationship I never believed in to begin with."

"Don't you think you're way too smart to fool yourself like that?"

"As a prosecutor maybe. As a woman, apparently not. Huh...guess I am a good actress. I almost believed in the role I forced myself to play."

He gives a small, sweet smile, again putting his arm around your shoulder.

"That's quite enough of the self-incrimination, love. I know very few ladies smarter than you. Natalie comes close I guess, but that's it, really."

You suppress a small smile, though internally you're very pleased with his kindness.

"Thanks for saying that. I do feel a little foolish."

A glint in his eyes tells you he's definitely up to something. When he opens his mouth, you know you were right.

"Well...it could be you were in serious doubt because of something else."

"Do I dare ask?"

"You're strong enough to take the blow of the truth coming out. To find out that I was right all along."

"About what?"

Turns out, you weren't strong enough. Or at the very least not smart enough. You should have known he was setting a trap for you. Instead, you walk right into it.

"About you having all these romantic cravings for a certain handsome DS we all know and love. And no, that's not Ronnie."

You laugh and decide that, before you make the terrible mistake of answering in the affirmative, he's got to go. It's getting late and you're tired. Knowing you have to pretend to still be all lovey-dovey with Adam in the morning doesn't help raise your mood either.

The moment you stand, he gets up too, recognizing your need to stew over this evening's revelation on your own for a while.

He follows you to the door and as he puts on his still damp coat, turns to you. He takes both your hands in his own and holds them against his chest.

"Try to get some sleep, love. And don't worry too much about Adam. Like I said, he might still be an innocent pawn in all this, we basically don't know anything for sure yet. We'll discuss it with Jake and Henry next Monday, see if they think there's enough cause to start an investigation. We might need to search your house, though."

"I know. I'll hide the drugs before you get here."

"Very funny."

He draws you in for a quick hug and, trying not to cling to him too desperately, you let yourself sink into his embrace for a second, disregarding the dampness of the material beneath your cheek. After a while, he lets go of you with a sigh, kissing your cheek as a goodbye.

"Goodnight, 'Lesh. Call me if you need anything. Really, anything."

"I will, I promise. Goodnight, Matt, and thanks."

"Anytime, love."

With another sigh, you close the door behind you, glad you're going to bed alone tonight.

That's all for now! Again, your opinion is much appreciated and I'll try to update soon!