The journey to Craig's had been interrupted with a 'phone call, much to John Paul's annoyance. Fortunately the robbers had been ill equipped, inexperienced but it had still taken over an hour.

Craig Dean's apartment was located in the most affluent area of Hollyoaks City. The building towered high above the city, Craig living on the top floor, which had been divided into three sprawling homes that could well have been self contained little houses. Each of the three 'apartments' had their own private rooftop gardens, and access to the pool, gym and saunas which occupied the floor below. Boasting two bedrooms with en suites, a dining room, kitchen, two reception rooms, a small gym plus Craig's customisations, and a large hall way John Paul knew it was ordinarily out of most people's league – including successful models, that actually worked very little John Paul as had found out.

A small air vent led right across the other apartments, to an obscured skylight, which provided secret access to and from the apartment.

The Knight dropped through the small hole in the ceiling onto the floor inside the secret room Craig had used, until recently, to store a lot of what he had stolen along with anything else relating to his 'other life'.

Located behind a sliding door that formed two bookcases the room had opened reveal shelves and corners sparkled with a myriad of jewels, tokens of past crimes, of past achievements. Countless wealth that was hidden in a room where no one ever, ever saw it, no one but Craig and then John Paul. The secret of Craig's genius had been walled up in a small room hidden from everyone, and now it was pretty much empty save for the last few jewels that were waiting return and in the farthest corner the space where the Ocelot's outfits and arsenal usually hung, empty.

The sound of his armour echoed slightly, strong cold metal, as John Paul pulled back the mask to reveal his features, which were coated with a small amount of beaded sweat. His dark blonde hair appeared almost brown as he ran his gloved hand through it, quickly checked the LCD screens, which showed every room in Craig's place and whether it was safe to exit the room.

John Paul's brow furrowed as room after room appeared on the monitors – all empty save for the image of two cats, skulking around happily their opulent playground.

The cabinet hissed slightly as it rolled away letting John Paul exit into the main reception room in Craig's apartment. The lounge was minimally furnished, but with a subtle high-class elegance that seemed to suit Craig Dean perfectly; John Paul had grown to realise that Craig definitely had a taste and liking for style and nice things, and would have carefully selected each colour and item of furniture that adorned his home. A large gilt-edged mirror dominated the wall above the marble fireplace and it reflected back an abstract painting that hung opposite it – a painting that had long bothered John Paul. It was almost identical to one that had been stolen twelve months ago from a top gallery in Berlin, and was clearly the best type of copy and you could barely tell it wasn't the actual missing painting.

Slowly the realisation hit as the photographer charged through the apartment, opening each door and calling his lover's name over and over.

John Paul trembled as he walked into his lover's bedroom. The bed sat immaculately made. Craig's cleaner had never ceased to impress John Paul with how thorough she was. There was no sign of Craig.

The photographer turned to watch as the two white cats with golden tails happily climbed, almost in sync onto their owner's bed their green eyes fierce glowing at him. In those green pools John Paul saw the predatory glare of a lion, a tiger and jaguar – the hint of still not being fully tame. Perhaps that was why he preferred dogs? Yet they looked through him, directly behind him to the open walk in cupboard.

John Paul didn't turn round. He knew what the cats were gleefully telling him – something he knew in his core already. The 'spare' outfit would not be hung casually behind all the other clothes.

With purposeful strides John Paul retraced his steeps, fastening the mask back over his features and chided against the God's silently for his unanswered prayer. The Knight's metal encased feet walked over the screwed up magazine, looking down only momentarily before rejoining the night once more.


An Ocelot looks almost like a domestic cat. Their clouded leopards coat once a favourite for lovers of the fur trade. Almost exclusively nocturnal it is a solitary animal, possessive and a fierce fighter, which will happily lounge in trees and pursue its prey with a cruel streak as if it were a game, letting the hunted believe it has got away right until the last moment. When it is not hunting it preens its coat, never looking anything but perfect.

In truth Craig had never given himself the name – it had been the media that directly baptised him under that title following a throw away decision to leave a small 'calling card' which had been emblazoned with his mother's favourite animal. In hindsight it had been both a good and poor decision, letting the Ocelot's name and reputation grow and grow.

A large billboard towered over one of the high rise buildings which sat adjacent to Max Midas' penthouse. A man lay on his side on a black satin couch. His muscular body was dressed in a dark suit, a blue shirt open at the collar showing some of his olive skin. His hair was dark brown, curling over his collar, his flesh rich with an olive Mediterranean tint. His eyes were a velvety brown, like rich chocolate framed with long eyelashes that fanned on his cheek when he blinked. His half smile was crowned with a small mole above his top lip, and his entire body matched the slogan beneath him – 'LOOK DEVINE'.

Gingerly Craig disabled the alarm. With one carefully cut wire Max Midas' penthouse became his playground, the CCTV taken out. The panic buttons nothing more than large, hidden pathetically silent pieces of security. The sensors desensitised.

In truth that was the high. Outsmarting. Triumphing. Excelling.

The Ocelot moved through the penthouse with practised silence, clad from head to toe in midnight black. As much as Craig enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, and the added bonus of wiping the smile from Max Midas' fat face, he knew he couldn't afford to hang around. You got in, and you got out. That was the art of a good night's work – swift reclamation of the prize.

And there it was. Sat around a faux dummy's neck, sparking like a thousand night stars was the diamond necklace worn in the photo shoot.

The Ocelot's hands trembled slightly as he reached out. His throat ran dry, his heart pounded in his chest and for the first time that night he saw John Paul's face in his minds eye. But this was nothing about John Paul. This was about reclaiming the lost dignity of his mother, about settling scores – and twisting the hand of karma firmly back onto Midas' cruel, selfish face. However much the two blue eyes shimmered they couldn't mitigate the hazel-green eyes of his broken hearted mother, serving boil in the bag pasta on Hanukkah in a refuge after being thrown out onto the cold streets of Hollyoaks City.

Just as the Knight had been created out of injustice, so had the Ocelot.

Gripping the bejewelled necklace the Ocelot turned his mask face to the open door where Midas slept, snoring loudly. Let there be none to extend mercy unto him… with his mother's words echoing through his head, the Ocelot left his calling card.

With perfect ease Craig moved back through the room, out to the office windows, which led into a marble balcony. The sound of the night echoed slightly along the cold breeze, the cars travelling the dark wet roads below him. Within moments he had climbed and swung himself onto the main roof, running through the blackness and darting from one rooftop to the other, his body a black silhouette against the giant silver full moon which hung silently in the inky black sky.

The adrenalin rose through his body, his heart racing with excitement as he sprinted across the gap between one building to another; his lithe, long strong body moved with fluid ease – his skills seldom seen even in the best gymnast. The Ocelot hurled his body forwards, his back arching as his hands touched the ground arching his back further in a forward flip until he came to rest, in a crouched position high up the tower of the gigantic towers over St. Jude's cathedral.

Through the night sky droplets of rain were carried through the heavy winds, which rattled through the stone gargoyles that leapt from the gothic arches of the battered building at the centre of the city. The Ocelot reached into his pouch and removed the glistening diamond, his fingers snaking slightly allowing the gem to catch the light. Craig flinched as his wrist burnt with the sudden contact of a strong hand clenched around it, his body darting to full height, as he turned round.

Within seconds the dividing walls had resurfaced. The Knight and the Ocelot once more on opposite sides.

Craig lunged his free hand at John Paul, forcing the Knight to relinquish his hold.

The Ocelot slid his body down, crashing onto the large flat lower roofs of the gigantic side chapels. His body moved in and out of the life sized statues of various saints and angels, descending further down onto the small covered entrance, his body moving in and out of the horrific, tortured statues of the dammed which built up one half of the Last Judgement pediment. His mind raced with the implications of what he had done punctuated by the echoing footsteps of his lover behind him.

Both men raced across the rooftops, their bodies spinning in summersault, back flips and copious displays of agility. It was second nature to them, their bodies at one with night sky as it showered across the rooftops which were their pavements. In those moments they were the same. Agile. Powerful. Secretive. Dark. They were part of the multitude shadows that enveloped the city, as much as one with the night as the blackness of the sky.

Two tiny stars dancing in the blackness, the sound of the night harbour filling the sky as the salt lingered in the air.

"Craig this isn't funny," John Paul growled through his mask, his voice the cold disguised tones of the Knight. "I know you weren't taking anything back…"

John Paul was right, it wasn't funny – Craig rushed his body forward, his feet stepping up a wall with agility that was spellbinding before he launched himself. He moved with the fluidity of water; his strong body rippling underneath his black Kevlar armour which clung tightly to his frame, his muscles twisting in perfect ease.

With effortless grace the Ocelot threw himself forward, his feet kicking him from the concentre wall, his body moving in a forward back flip closing the gap between him and Knight with such speed he was able to get the upper hand, knocking John Paul down to the floor.

John Paul reacted with fury, his armoured hand crashing against Craig's shielded face. The two men rolled on the floor, their breathes echoed through the voice distortion software in their full masks.

The Knight's grip on the Ocelot's wrists tightened as he used the weight of his entire armoured body to hold down the man he loved. The man he was now worried would break his heart.

Craig's knee crashed into the Knight's groin with searing pain, the contact sending the city's protector backwards and letting the thief regain his upper hand, and his height as he dragged himself to his feet once more.

Stepping forward Craig flinched as his eyes met his lover's. Through the tiny gap inside John Paul's full mask, cast in shadows, Craig saw the pools of pain that looked out at him. John Paul could have easily moved, easily have kicked out. He could have launched another attack.

Instead he stopped still. He watched as Craig moved to the edge of the roof, Yoshi's Sushi Bar a few rooftops away. The water howled angrily in the wind, crashing against the side of the building.

Still John Paul remained lay still on the rooftop, looking up at the blackness.

Craig reached into his pocket and pulled the necklace out, the diamonds burning into his glove.

"There are far, far worse than me," Craig declared bitterly. "I never took from anyone who couldn't afford it – anyone who didn't have more than enough already. Anything I took was insured, often probably never really missed. The CEOs, MDs, bankers, senators and fat cats who drown in their wealth while their employees live on the breadline, while their tenants are made homeless for missing a payment – those are the real thieves…"

"So you're a communist now," John Paul scoffed.

"No," Craig hissed throwing the diamond necklace angrily through the air, watching the diamonds glisten brightly in the star filled night before it twisted and turned down into a water grave. "I'm the result of their crimes… just like the Knight is the result of someone else's."

"Unlike the Knight though," John Paul announced flatly, "your identity isn't a secret anymore – Calvin has worked out who the Ocelot is so you'd better get back to the flat!"

"What?"


Pulling the Kevlar armour from his body Craig emerged with little concern or his normal careful ease, his naked body angrily padding to the wet room adjacent to his bedroom. Nikolai and Malaysia ran round his feet, meowing their concern, and yet Craig paid them little mind as he searched out the activation button to turn on the jets making his two pampered felines hiss with disapproval.

The model craved the relaxing heat of the water, turning up the temperature right to the point where it bordered on uncomfortable, and submerged his face beneath the running water. Within seconds his olive skin had turned a deeper shade of warm pink, and his body adjusted to the slightly too hot water. He had always hated the cold, the apartment often far too warm for some people. The water running down his features the model turned his face from side to side, letting the water run in rivulets from his jaw line down his body.

His hands trembled as they rested against the wet tiles, his head arching forward allowing the water to run down his back in gentle lines making wet translucent tiger stripes down his form, washing off the sweat of his exertion and restoring Craig to a sense of freshness and washing away the scent of the Kevlar.

Turning the water up a little more Craig felt tears mingle with the water – if only everything else could be washed away.

"Craig?"

The sound of John Paul's voice was muffled by the water, but loud enough to grab the model's attention. Turning the jets off Craig padded out of the shower, grabbing a towel and storming back into the lounge.

John Paul tore his mask off, his chest rising and falling as he swallowed nervously at the sight of his boyfriend. Craig was soaking wet, his dark brown hair was almost black and wetly clinging to his scalp, a wet fringe slightly obscuring his eyes. His legs still had streams of water running down them the brown hairs looking thick wet, and the small amount of hair on his chest seemed to shimmer in the light bright wall lights.

John Paul found himself staring at the small wet hairs on his lover's pecs, which rose and fell as Craig breathed before eyeing the double ringed bellybutton that he suddenly wanted to kiss, and down to the models hanging manhood that crowned the space between the brunette's legs.

"Your calling card," John Paul announced placing down the small piece of card Craig had left in Midas' penthouse. "Retrieved."

Both men looked silently at the card, which sat on the coffee table between them. It might have only been a piece of thick paper, no bigger than an old fashioned calling card, but it was suddenly a wall between the two men; a wall of betrayal in so many ways.

"Thank you," Craig replied bluntly.

"For what? Breaking and entering, taking police evidence and covering your tracks…" John Paul asked sarcastically.

"I didn't ask you to," Craig interjected angrily, finally wrapping the towel around his waist. Malaysia rushed through the lounge, jumping onto the coffee table and pawed at the card, the sound of her purr echoing through the silence between the two men.

"I trusted you," John Paul sighed, his gloved hands wiping the mixture of sweat and tears from his eyes.

"Yeah well you shouldn't have," Craig hissed. Turning round to face away from his boyfriend, running his hand through his dark brown hair that was still wet. The cool water clung to his strong hands, his body suddenly aching from his work out as he flopped down onto the sofa, his two cats appearing either side of his within seconds. "How can you trust someone to stop being them…?"

"This isn't you!" John Paul pleaded, removing the gloves from his costume and peeling the upper armour from his torso. His stomach flattened as the midnight blue costume peeled from his pale skin, his arms stretched above his head.

Craig swallowed heavily at the sight, watching the city's protector suddenly morph back into his boyfriend. The only trouble was there was no Knight really, just John Paul. Just as their was no Ocelot really – just Craig. How cruel was fate bringing them together?

"How isn't this me? Do you really think the Ocelot is just that outfit?"

John Paul said nothing; instead he folded his arms across his chest, and looked out into the night's sky. The first hint of morning could be seen. The dark black heavens had turned a pinkish red, a glimmer of light stretching right out in the darkest portions of the deep purple hue. In the distance the spire of St. Jude's could be seen.

"Can you really split a person in half?" Craig asked. "I am me – all of me. I could do all that dressed in anything, I don't need the outfit. I didn't even have it when I started out, just a simple black top and jeans. This is me. The person you kiss… the person you love."

"No…" John Paul whispered, pressing his forehead against the cool plane of glass. "That's not it… it's about what you do. Calvin knows."

"What's he going to do?"

"He's a police officer, Craig."

"And you're the Knight," Craig answered flatly. "Are you going to take me in then?"

"I told you if you did it again," John Paul mumbled, his throat running dry with the gravity of the words he was speaking. His eyes look down into the glass in front of him, his chest heavily rising and falling. He had told Craig if he ever… ever took again like that he couldn't protect him. He would have to do the right thing and let them take him. It was so simple in words, in the fantasy of believing Craig could switch off everything like a button.

But it wasn't easy was it? Could he just switch off like that? Craig had been right. Nobody would live this kind of life by choice, it was a result. A consequence of something else and you couldn't just sift out bits as easily as turning a switch on and off. Just as John Paul couldn't just let Max Midas find that calling card: so he had snuck in and retrieved it, smashing the security system for good measure – hiding the clear cuts of the Ocelot's expertise.

"What would it take to let go...?" John Paul whispered. Craig had once asked him that weeks ago before everything got complicated.

"What?" Craig asked, raising his one leg onto the sofa his head resting on his clenched fist.

"You asked me what it would take to let go…" John Paul repeated, turning round. "In the Sushi bar. You told me there were places outside of this city. Paris. Milan. London…"

"I don't follow," Craig asked, his face contorted slightly in puzzlement.

"What did I say to you… I told you what it would take," John Paul whispered, his body trembling with what he was contemplating. Craig raised himself up further, his feet clumsily supporting his body as it rose to full height.

"Ignore it," Craig whispered as his buzzer went mad, over and over the sound of the front door demanding answering.

The two Turkish Vans ran round the room meowing in confusion, their white bodies contrasting with their orange gold tails which thrashed from side to side. It wasn't even four o'clock in the morning and somebody wanted answering.

"Who the fuck is that!" Craig turned stepping into the hallway John Paul only inches behind. The model sighed as he pressed enter, the words Calvin spoke echoing in his air as John Paul looked at the video link near the front door.

Calvin Valentine was tall and muscled. His body appeared somewhat unnaturally large in his uniform, making him almost 'cocky' looking. He moved down the hallway, not acknowledging his former brother in law whose lower body was still clad in the armour of his night attire.

"So there's a robbery at Max Midas' tonight," Calvin announced, his features grave and flat. His voice grave and yet strangely excitable, with a hint of panic. Calvin Valentine had always wanted to be a police man, growing up with a layabout father and in deprived area – he had wanted to make a difference ever since childhood, and his dream had been realised when he applied and was accepted into Hollyoaks City's police force at the age of seventeen. Working hard he had risen steadily thorough the ranks and gained the respect of his colleagues along the way. "The security system was disabled…"

"What do you want Calvin?" John Paul asked stepping forward, his eyes angrily squaring up with his former brother in law's, his arms folded against his chest.

"I want you to look me in the eyes and say to me that it wasn't him," Calvin pointed to Craig.

"Don't be ludicrous," John Paul mumbled. "What would this have to do with Craig…?"

"It's got the Ocelot's fingerprints all over it," Calvin growled between gritted teeth. "And however hard someone tries to cover that, forensics will show up."

"Craig was here all night with me," John Paul replied wrapping his arm around his lover.

Calvin looked down at John Paul's armour clad legs, his gaze moving upwards slowly as he shook his head in disbelief. It was like John Paul was a different person. A different man – and the reason was plainly obvious. Calvin let his eyes met with Craig's. The dark haired man looked so ordinary, just a model. The handsome face from Vogue and Cosmo, from adverts and catwalks. He had seen Craig Dean so many times – how could this man have been the Ocelot?

But he was. He knew that.

Calvin stepped forward and gripped Craig's wrist, the model showing his strength and skill breaking free of the officer's grip.

"Craig Dean I'm arresting you on suspicion of theft," Calvin barked.

John Paul growled his anger as he threw Calvin against the wall, his arms pinning the large man against it their bodies mere inches apart. The handsome aquiline features of the photographer had blackened, his blue eyes shimmering with a mixture of venomous hatred and genuine pain.

"You have to have evidence Calvin," John Paul growled, "and I can promise you there is no evidence and if you take him in you have to take me in too – and I don't think you'll want to do that…"

"You?" Calvin blinked confused.

"Vigilantism is a crime last time I checked. I'm pretty sure I'm on that wanted list too."

"You're no better than him mate," Calvin hissed as he pushed John Paul from him, looking at the two men who were stood side by side. In that instant Calvin knew that new lines had been drawn and slammed the door behind him. However much he tried he couldn't take John Paul in, even if it meant getting the Ocelot too.

John Paul walked silently back into the lounge, removing the last vestiges of his armour and shaking his head cast it aside into the small gap between the bookshelves.

"I've always wanted to go to Paris," he sighed, his body trembling.

"Paris?" Craig asked.

John Paul turned round and faced his lover. His dominant hand touched his head as he spoke, his tongue nervously licking at his lips as he swallowed back. His dark blonde hair still looked blonde with sweat, dulled by the gel he used in his day job.

"You asked me why I stopped in Hollyoaks and what it would take to let go," John Paul croaked. "Its ghosts… I watched my sister's killers gets off. We didn't even get to know who they were working for… but they were rich. Rich enough to exploit loop holes… and I swore, I swore on that pain of being alone without anyone anymore that I wouldn't let that happen."

"John Paul I'm sorry…"

"But the thing is I'm not alone now am I? You said we're made by circumstances and its true, you and I we're the same basically. I still miss our Carmel but it doesn't hurt as bad as it did because I've got something else to feel. I love you… you're enough to let go…"

"I don't follow?" Craig said, desperately hoping that what he thought his lover was saying wasn't right.

"I can let go of the Knight," John Paul sighed placing his lips to his boyfriend's. "From tonight there is just us, we'll disappear together."


The pale yellow light of sunrise crept through the gap between the curtains, falling onto the deep purple sheets.

Malaysia stretched out idly on the pillow she had positioned her lithe body on as Nikolai's tail, a deep orange that bordered on gold, darted, violently, from side to side as he surveyed his sister. His eyes narrowed, making the small patch of black fur on his face more pronounced, more noticeable.

The tomcat crouched his body down, moving slowly across the sheets as if he was dragging his form like a soldier in battle – his sister's eyes fixed as she hissed warningly, making him reconsider his actions and move to the gap between the legs of the two men in the sheet, his sister's tail thrashing side to side in triumph as she rolled onto her side, purring as she triumphantly kneaded the bed sheets.

The sound of the mobile 'phone ringing disturbed the photographer, his hands blindly moving about on the bedside table as he tried to find the offending gadget.

He winced slightly at the sight of his brother in law's name, his legs moved instinctively but stopping at the last minute as his realisation kicked in. Calvin only called that number for one reason, and that reason existed no more.

John Paul cancelled the call and turned the 'phone off, sliding the back off and removing the SIM which he crushed between his two fingers letting the 'phone drop to the floor, startling the two cats.

Craig's arm draped across John Paul's chest as the photographer lay back down, his neck savouring the feelings of Craig's breath as the model snuggled close to him. Lazily the two men's lips brushed together, Craig sighing in contentment.

"Mmmmm," the model whispered, his eyes opening slightly before closing. "Too early to get up."

"I know and I've got the day off," John Paul reminded him as they closed their eyes.

Neither man heard the sound of sirens chasing a car through the streets of the City, or the cry when the joyrider crashed into an innocent pedestrian, as they slept soundly.


The bright February morning had passed gently into afternoon until the pale diluted sun of a still wintery day had faded away in the evening sky allowing the night to take a hold of the city.

Despite still keeping his own apartment John Paul had all but moved in with Craig, his possessions slowly filling the drawers with no real intentions of ever taking them back 'home'. There seemed little point in making their joint living arrangements official until they left Hollyoaks City, and its ghosts, far behind the, but both men had already made enquires with the local real estate to sell their apartments, a job that could be completed once they were gone.

The television played quietly in the background, its flickering images casting dancing shadows around the room, although neither man really paid much attention to it as they sat curled up together on the sofa.

Malaysia lay beside John Paul, her head just resting against his leg as she purred a slumberous song, his fingertips absentmindedly tickling her ears as she drifted off to sleep. Nikolai was lying with his paws on Craig's leg, his head on top of them and one eye flickering open occasionally to observe the blonde man who showed little intention of actually going away and not coming back. Craig's hand stroked softly along the length of the tom cat's back and Nikolai reluctantly gave in to the contentment of the rest of the room's occupants. Maybe having John Paul around wasn't so bad after all.

John Paul couldn't stop his gaze from flickering occasionally to the mantle piece where, propped up beneath the gilt-edged mirror, sat an envelope containing his future. His future with Craig. Plane tickets to Paris, not that Paris was a specific goal but it was a starting point, a launch pad from which the two men could begin again, leaving Hollyoaks City, The Knight and The Ocelot far behind.

Unfortunately leaving the two cats behind was an unforeseen complication to the men's plans for escape, but Craig had agreed that it would be more than unsettling for the two felines to be dragged from city to city until a permanent home had been decided on, and that was before the question of possible quarantine had been addressed. Craig hated the thought of leaving Malaysia and Nikolai behind and had made sure that their temporary foster home would be filled with the luxuries that the cat's had come to expect as normal, he had no intentions of letting them suffer until he could bring them to live with him again.

"What shall we do next week?" Craig asked as he scratched at Nikolai's ears, the cat's purr getting louder the harder he scratched.

"Next week?" John Paul replied with a shrug.

"Typical," Craig laughed, "I end up with the worlds least romantic boyfriend!"

"I don't follow you…"

"It's valentine's day John Paul… you know… a day for lovers…"

"Is it? I thought that had passed ages ago," John Paul frowned as he tried to recall the date, "I remember doing a photo shoot for it… big red love hearts and rose petals all over the place…"

"And you don't think that maybe the shoot was done in advance?" Craig teased. "Or maybe you really do think that Christmas falls some time around October too?"

"Yeah point made," John Paul laughed with a playful nudge of his boyfriend. "But if you're so up on all the holidays how come you don't already have something planned? All the restaurants will have been booked up ages ago."

"How do you know I don't," Craig said with a slow deliberate wink, his face alive with the brightness of his smile.

Twelve months ago the gorgeous model Craig Dean believed he had the perfect life. Money, luxuries and the company of some of the world's most beautiful people, most of whom were more than happy to spend some time in his bed. He didn't think his life was lacking in anything, he knew he was the envy of so many and he enjoyed the envious and often lustful eyes that would follow him wherever he went. Not only did Craig have all that but he also had the added excitement of his other secret life that topped up his not inconsiderable bank account and kept his blood racing in a way that nothing else ever had before.

Then he met John Paul McQueen and discovered the one thing that had been missing, the one thing he didn't even noticed he didn't have and didn't realise he wanted, needed so much. John Paul brought love into the brunette models life and now it really was perfect. The money, the lifestyle, that was nothing, it paled into insignificance when he discovered what it was like to care for another person that much that their happiness was more important than his own.

Giving up The Ocelot hadn't been easy, sometimes the craving to be out there again would be a physical ache, driving him close to the edge of giving in, the lure of an addiction that Craig knew he was far from cured of, but he knew he could beat it, he wanted to beat it, all for and because of the blonde haired blue eyed man who had become a far greater addiction.

"So?" John Paul asked eagerly, "What's the plans… you have to tell me now…damn we should have booked our flights sooner… Valentines in Paris, now that would have been perfect."

"You know we had stuff to sort out here first, besides Valentines with you, that's all I need," Craig said, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend's soft lips, the truth of his words almost enough to scare him. He didn't need the money or the lifestyle, he didn't need to be Craig Dean the Model or Craig Dean The Ocelot. He was all of those things and yet he was none of those things and slowly he was realising that being just Craig was enough, Craig the man that John Paul loved. "But I am working that morning…"

"Craig!"

"It was a good offer… I can't afford to turn these things down any more…"

In truth Craig Dean could afford to turn down any and all offers of work. His years as The Ocelot had made him far richer than being a model ever could, and whereas returning artwork and jewellery had been fairly easy to facilitate – getting rid of the web of accounts that were littered as far a field as Argentina, Switzerland and Monaco wasn't so easy without attracting too much attention. There were only so many donations a model could make, even anonymously, without the taxman getting suspicious. Eventually even John Paul was stumped and had to accept the uncomfortable nest egg they had, his blue eyes shimmering with shock when he found out just how much Craig was now worth. But still, it didn't hurt to appear to be earning an honest living as some photographer's muse – plus it helped deal with the boredom.

"I know," John Paul sighed, "We'll just have to make the most of the day when you get home."

"Deal!"

The men's fingers laced together as John Paul's head fell to rest on Craig's shoulder. He was starting to feel free from the ghosts that had haunted most of his adult life. John Paul had been consumed with a need for justice for so long, with seeing the guilty punished and the innocent protected, that he had taken to neglecting his own needs, but now he was starting to learn that sometimes it was alright to put himself first, and now maybe it was finally time for someone else to play the hero, John Paul was ready to just be the man.

With his eyes half closed John Paul watched the flickering images of an inane television commercial, advertising a product he neither knew nor had any interest in purchasing, sleep almost talking over him when the images suddenly changed and the words "News Flash" filled the screen.

The newsreaders face was stern, her blonde hair tied back in a harsh ponytail and her green eyes darkened and somewhat downcast as she read the words that flickered over the teleprompter in front of her.

John Paul's body tensed, Malaysia squirmed and then jumped down from the man's side after his grip on her tightened uncomfortably, causing her to cast him a disapproving look before she stalked away to the comfort of her deeply padded basket.

"News is just coming in of an armed raid on the First National Bank in downtown Hollyoaks City," the Newsreaders calm voice announced. "Although it is uncertain at this time how many robbers were involved we are being told that shots have been fired inside the bank."

John Paul closed his eyes and held his breath as he desperately tried to unhear the news report. It felt too familiar, too close to home and an unstoppable guilt clawed at his chest as the newsreader continued.

"It has just been confirmed that the police have just stormed the First National Bank and apprehended all of the armed robbers," the blonde woman continued, her demeanour calm and matter of fact, as if she were doing nothing more than reporting the days weather or sports results. "And," the newsreader put her hand to her ear for a moment as she received the latest updates, "I can now tell you that, unfortunately there had been one casualty, a woman, as yet unnamed, was caught in the crossfire and is reported dead at the scene…"

Grabbing the remote control Craig switched off the television, he could feel John Paul's tension as he desperately searched for the words to say that would make it alright, but he didn't know what they were, if they even existed.

"John Paul," Craig began, his hand stroking his lover's arm with uncertainty.

"Don't," John Paul replied with a half smile. John Paul couldn't help but think of the family who, even now, were sat at home waiting for that young woman to return, but she never would. Just as Carmel's had been her life was now ended because of someone else's greed and quest for wealth. John Paul could remember the pain of losing his sister in that way, he could remember the realisation that he was alone, that the only person he had in the world had been taken from him and nobody could ever tell him why.

"I just…" Craig bit his lip as he looked into the depths of John Paul's startling blue eyes and saw the pain of a man reliving a terrible loss.

"It's not my responsibility anymore," John Paul said with a shrug as he got to his feet. "I can't save them all… I did my best… I… I helped where I could…"

"You did more than anyone could ever have asked of you," Craig assured, his hands reaching for his lover in a need to offer reassurance and comfort, an offer that was rebuffed as John Paul stepped away.

"I'm tired," John Paul said as he headed towards the hallway. "I should go home…"

"You're not staying?"

"I just… I need some space OK? But I'll see you tomorrow."

"John Paul I… I love you…"

"Yeah… me too…"

Craig sat in silence staring at the closed door long after John Paul had left. Malaysia and Nikolai scampered around the room, stopping occasionally to try and attract the man's attention but he didn't see them. All he could see was the pain in John Paul's eyes.

"What have I done?" Craig whispered to himself, the answer far too painful to voice.


John Paul stirred in his bed as his mobile beeped the arrival of a text message. His eyes felt heavy and grainy as he rubbed his hands against them and sighed. The photographer had slept only fitfully for the past few days, his slumber disturbed and broken but he wasn't certain if it had been the memory of the news report or the lack of Craig at his side that had stolen sleep from him.

Five days had passed since the bank robbery and, although John Paul had done his best to block it from his mind it was constantly there, taunting him, berating him, making him feel like he had let someone very important down.

Reaching out an arm John Paul groped for his phone, peering at it with bleary eyes before Craig's name finally came into focus on the illuminated screen.

Propping himself up on a couple of pillows John Paul yawned as he accessed the message that the model had sent to him.

"I've gone to work, come to mine as soon as you like… I love you John Paul McQueen xxx"

John Paul smiled as he quickly thumbed his response. "Love you too. See you soon x"

It had seemed to make sense the previous evening when Craig had suggested John Paul spent the night in his own apartment as the model had to be up early for the photo shoot, but with a sigh John Paul silently wished that he had been able to kiss his lover a good valentine's morning.

Looking at the clock John Paul flung aside his duvet and got to his feet, stretching his arms high above his head as he slowly worked his muscles to ease the aches that a restless night had given him. A shower would help, and seeing Craig, that would help most of all.

Pulling out the drawer of his bedside cabinet John Paul fished out a framed photograph, a sad smile flickering across his face as he looked at the image of the beautiful blonde woman, her face radiant with love and joy as she basked in the attention of her wedding day.

"I'm sorry Carmel," John Paul said to the photograph, touching his lips briefly to the cold glass. "I did try… but I could never save them all…"


Craig's apartment was empty when John Paul arrived, save for its two permanent feline residents, both of whom dashed towards him as he opened the door and began circling his legs, rubbing against him so much that it almost caused him to trip.

"What's this?" John Paul asked laughingly as he finally shooed the cats away enough to allow him space to walk. "Acceptance at last?"

Nikolai looked up at the blonde man and mewed pitifully, the cats green eyes pleading for something that John Paul could not decipher.

"Did Craig go out and forget to feed you?" John Paul asked, bending down to stroke both cats, his hands running along their backs and to the tips of their tails. "That's not like him is it? Shall we see if we can find you something in the kitchen?"

Scooping up Malaysia in one arm John Paul headed towards the kitchen, laughing as the cat raised her head repeatedly with the result of a soft furry head butt to the chin over and over again.

A large white envelope on the mantelpiece beneath the gilt edged mirror caught John Paul's eye, redirecting him from the kitchen as he saw his name written across it in Craig's familiar hand.

"Did Craig get me a valentine's card?" John Paul asked with a grin as he picked up the envelope before perching himself on the edge of the sofa to open it, placing Malaysia on the floor at his feet.

As he tore open the envelope John Paul realised it was far too thin to contain the suspected card and instead he withdrew a folded sheet of paper.

Dear John Paul,

I feel a coward saying goodbye to you in a letter. Well, I guess I am coward but I know if I say it to your face I'd never go – and I do have to go. I really do.

I've watched you these last few days, torturing yourself and I know whatever you say I'm the cause of that. I can't be the cause of pain to you. As long as I'm around I know you'll put me first, but if that is at the expense of your conscience how long will it be until you resent me? I don't think I could stand to see resentment in your eyes and know I put it there.

I can't stand to watch you beat yourself up because, for the chance of your own happiness, you feel you've let people down. I know there is a reason you put that mask on, and until that reason is gone I don't think you can ever stop being the Knight.

The truth is John Paul I'm so in love with: all of you. Not just the photographer but also the Knight. They aren't two different people – they are the same. You've changed my life, and I hope I have changed yours too, but I don't want to change you to the detriment.

I can't stop you being you, and in the same way I don't think I can stop being me.

There isn't a Craig Dean and the Ocelot; it is one and the same. One man. But the man you met has gone – you've changed me for the better, so please don't let me change you for the worse. When we first met I went out and stole for a hit, because I could, for the adrenalin, for the high. For the satisfaction of knowing I was the best. Trying to find something that has always been missing.

Maybe its karma but I don't get that adrenalin anymore. Not from stealing, or outsmarting some high security. I get it – I got it – from being with you. I found what was missing from my life in you John Paul McQueen – how could I tarnish that? You've changed me and now I need to find out just who Craig Dean is – I don't think I can do that if you're around.

I know there is a chance you could find me, so I'll ask one final thing from you: please don't try. Please just let me go and carry on. Put on that suit and go out and fight for what you believe in. Be the hero I know you are – be my hero.

I've left you three things. They're the three most valuable things I have. Nikolai and Malaysia. Please look after them – I'm sure the three of you will get on eventually. As long as they're being fed they're not too difficult. The other is the box. I wont say what it is but it's something I've had for a long time.

Maybe in time things will be different. But I think that says it all.

I love you John Paul McQueen,

Craig x

John Paul couldn't breathe. The letter fell from his hands as he shook his head from side to side trying to dislodge the words that seemed permanently burning into his eyes, the pain of each one piercing his heart like a sharp blade.

"No, no, no…" John Paul repeated over and over again as he tried to process what had just happened. Craig had gone. Left him. Just like that.

Racing into Craig's bedroom John Paul tore open the wardrobe and pulled out drawers. All were empty. There was nothing but a small wooden box sitting in the centre of the neatly made bed. Climbing onto the bed John Paul cradled the box in his lap, hardly noticing when Malaysia and Nikolai jumped up to join him, their bodies pressing into him, mewing softly as they shared in the pain of his loss.

John Paul accepted the warm cat's onto his lap, his arms pulling them close to him as he rocked slowly, his face becoming damp with silent tears.

Craig had gone, left him, left them all.

But at the same time John Paul knew that Craig didn't just leave him, he didn't grow bored or fall out of love and decide to simply go away. John Paul knew that Craig left him in order to save him.


'Flight LX 7891 to Zurich is boarding now'

The glass wall looked out at the runway, stretching the entire length of the first class waiting area. Grey art deco pillars were obscured by potted palms near the windows, while niches in the marbled walls opposite were filled with dark black vases topped with tiny orchids, lit by hidden spots lights. Black leather chaise longue, divans and ottomans and nestled around in a slightly random arrangement, as waitresses walked through with glass trays carrying drinks.

The rain obscured the view outside running along the dark glass like crystalline worms, melding into each other as the impressive sight of planes landing and taking off became nothing more than a surreal light show glistening through the darkness.

Quietly a figure moved down the long corridor, slightly apart from the other few passengers as if he was in a world of his own, isolated and disorientated. His one hand clutched his passport, ticket stuck between the pages and a small black case rattling after him. A long black coat flapped behind him, almost like a cloak, with each step, his dark brown hair wet with rain; his eyes were obscured by the dark black retro sunglasses that were completely at odds with the stormy February weather.

'Passengers for Flight AF 5132 to Paris CDG are requested to make their way to the departure lounge now…'

A small sign declared 'Ticketed Passengers Only', guarded by three white shirted impassive men as the figure moved past, his thumb trailing over the leather of his passport case.

"Excuse me sir," a voice called behind him, making him freeze on the spot. Turning round slowly the figure sighed as he met the gaze of young blonde haired man. The twinkle of his blue eyes seemed unduly bright, and yet he dark haired man refused to meet them or return the apologetic smile. "Can I see your passport please?"

The dark haired man handed the passport over, his hands almost lifeless and lethargic in their motion. The blonde haired figure opened the small booklet, looking over the Air France ticket and then down at the picture of the dark haired figure, full of life and handsome vitality even in the sombre passport picture of 'CRAIG DEAN'. The blonde let his eyes pace between the photograph and the obscured face of the figure, almost disbelievingly.

"Could you take off your sunglasses, Sir?"

With a sigh Craig removed his dark shades. His chocolate brown eyes were puffed up and reddened, their beauty obscured with the bitterness of a thousand tears. The white of his eyes seemed to match the red shirt that was unbuttoned to expose a black T shirt. His long brown eyes lashes were still damp as they touched his cheek in a slow wearied blink. Once more the customs officer looked from the carefree face of the photograph to the pain wracked image in front of him.

It seemed almost impossible, and yet they were clearly the same man.

"Thank you Mr. Dean," the customs officer whispered apologetically handing back the passport, "enjoy Paris, Sir..."

Craig accepted the passport back silently, his hands restoring the sunglasses to their protective place over his reddened eyes. Turning round he moved silently off into the distance, a single tear appearing on his face beneath the rim of the glasses and trailing down his features in a zig zag, until it clung precariously to his chin, before falling down onto his shirt.


On a high rooftop, a solitary figure stood motionless and impassive. The chill of the wind and rain didn't seem to touch the figure who surveyed the quiet streets below with a steady gaze. His static stance as he lingered in the half shadows, gave the strange man the look of a beautifully sculpted statue. His strongly muscled arms were folded across his chest, the close fit of his clothing emphasising every gentle curve of his body, as his intelligent eyes continued to stare unblinking at the world before him.

A break in the dark cloud cover directed a beam of bright moonlight towards the figure, giving only slight illumination to the man's dark outfit. It was dark, midnight blue. The same shade the night reaches when the moon's illusionary light fades, threatening the heavens with oncoming blackness. Silver armour clung to his legs, arms and chest, crowned with a full mask. It was this razor sharp armour that had earned him his name.

Beneath the armour he wore something which gave him more strength than he had possessed before, something more to fight for. Strapped to his wrist under the metal that protected him he wore a simple watch that he had found inside a small wooden box. The watch had been wrapped around the body of an old battered toy that had obviously been well loved by a child who had long since outgrown it, but had been unable to part with the small stuffed ocelot. The watch bore the inscription 'Love Always'.

The man was The Knight.

They say in the darkest night there's a light beyond

But the ending always comes at last,

Endings always come too fast,

They come too fast

But they past too slow,

I love you, and that's all I know.

That's all I know, that's all I know.