Hi folks! Review response…

Paisley: Patience, patience… ;)

Autograss Girl Racer T18: Hi, 'fraid no Kacey/Nikki here—and Nikki's role in this is very minor and I can't really change it now.

elmo12356: You'll have to wait for Kevin & Co, but plenty coming next time…

NothingLeftToSayImagineDragons: Thanks! Hope you enjoy this bit. I'm quite pleased with it and I rarely say that!

Comogen: It's coming, it's coming… I know I keep saying that, but it will come!

Thanks as always for the comments, and enjoy!

8.00am, School House

Jasmine was trying to slink out of the house without breakfast; since the previous week she'd become more withdrawn than ever, preferring to remain in her room rather than mingle with the others. Nor did it help that word had got out—how, no-one was prepared to say—to the effect that Jasmine had known about Connor's disappearance hours before it was officially noted, and she'd been thoroughly cold-shouldered by most of the Sixth as a result.

Her attempt at escape was forestalled by Miss McFall calling her name and she turned reluctantly to face the teacher.

'Miss?'

Miss McFall folded her arms and looked at her over the rim of her glasses, the frame glinting gold. 'Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything this morning, Jasmine?'

The girl frowned, puzzled. 'Like what?'

'Like your phone, perhaps?' Miss McFall's eyes twinkled. 'Although I must say it's refreshing to find someone your age who isn't permanently hooked up to one of the blasted things, but given the circumstances we need a quick way of getting in touch with you at all times. Mrs Budgen said she tried to call you yesterday and no-one answered. You must make sure—'

'I 'aven't got me phone, miss,' Jasmine interrupted, frowning. 'Lost it.'

'Lost it?' Miss McFall's eyes went wide with alarm. 'Did you try Sonya and lost property?'

Jasmine shrugged, still discomfited by her persistent concern.

'No point, miss. 'O wants to talk ter me anyway? 'Sides, was Steve-O who gave it me.' She shuddered. 'After everythin'… I don't want nothin' to do wiv 'im no more.'

The history teacher put an arm around her shoulders and Jasmine permitted it; during these past few days she'd developed something resembling affection for the older woman.

'I understand that, dear, but we need to keep you safe.' She glanced at her watch. 'I'm going to school now; do you want to walk in with me?'

Jasmine nodded, more grateful than she could express. No-one would dare lie in wait for her if she was accompanied by a teacher, even if it was only McFall.

'Excellent!' McFall beamed and Jasmine flushed; it was as if McFall actually liked having her company. 'I need to collect my bag. Meet me here in five minutes?'

For the first time that morning, Jasmine ventured a smile of her own.

'I'll be 'ere,' she promised, backing towards her favoured sanctuary of the downstairs loo.

'Five minutes it is, then,' McFall said with another of those twinkling beams. She paused at the foot of the stairs to give the Sixth former a mock glare. 'You needn't think this is the end of the matter where your phone's concerned, either. We'll going straight to Sonya when we get in, my dear! One way or another, you're going to have a mobile by the end of today, even if I have to buy you one myself!' She glanced at her watch and made a little sound of distress. 'Oh, would you look at the time… five minutes, Jasmine. Just five minutes!'

'Five minutes,' Jasmine repeated quietly as she withdrew into the quietness of the loo. Miss McFall was really awful good, but she could also be awfully exhausting, never to mention plain weird…

She rested her head against the painted wood of the door and began to count. With no phone and no watch, she had no other way of telling the time. What had happened to her phone anyway? She hadn't seen it in days, not since…

Realisation struck and she jerked upright. Perhaps she could make amends after all—but she'd need to be very, very sure first. If she raised false hopes she would never be forgiven.

8.40am, Head's Office

'Christine!' Tom crossed the office to enfold Christine in a heartfelt hug, pulling back to look into her face. 'It's good to see you, but you shouldn't have come in. If you don't mind my saying so, you look like something the cat's dragged in.'

She grimaced and dropped her bag beside her desk with a shattered sigh.

'Right. I'm sorry. I—let's just say it hasn't been an easy morning.'

His heart sank judderingly to his shoes. 'Have you heard—?' but Christine was already shaking her head.

'No, there's been no word. I wish there was. It's the not knowing that's the worst thing…'

Her words flashed him back seven years to the endless days and interminable nights he'd experienced after Chlo went missing, and he sighed. 'I know.'

She looked at him questioningly and it was his turn to grimace.

'It was years ago. You know I told you about Mika and Chlo?'

She nodded.

'After Izzie died… Chlo just went totally off the rails. Things came to a head when she slept with Mika's boyfriend—and when Mika found out, all hell broke loose, as you'd expect. Chlo ran off and disappeared… for weeks.' His tone was bleak. 'I thought I was goin' insane, I thought I'd completely messed up, I'd betrayed Izzie, I'd betrayed the girls. It was… horrible. Beyond horrible, I haven't got the words. I haunted the local police station 'til they got sick of the sight of me.'

'What happened?' Christine breathed, her eyes very wide and still.

He shrugged and got the words out. Even now, even knowing that Chlo and Donte and their kids were safe and sound… he still hated talking about it.

'Things got… ropey. She panicked and decided she wanted to come home—an' called. That was it. We had her home within the hour.' He had to blink away the film that clouded his sight at the memory. 'I don't think I've ever been so glad to hear someone's voice in all my life.'

'I can imagine.' It hurt him to hear the wistful longing that permeated her words. 'Had you tried calling before?'

'Of course. Multiple times a day. An hour, sometimes, especially at night when Mika had locked herself in her room and I couldn't sleep for thinking of all the ways I'd messed up.'

'And she never responded? Not once?'

He hesitated before replying, 'Only to tell me to leave her alone. It was some consolation to know that she was alive.'

She turned away, but he'd already caught sight of the sick devastation in her eyes and he reached out to spin her to face him, spurred on by the urge to do something—anything—to alleviate her pain.

'Christine, you don't know why he hasn't phoned. He might have lost it. The battery may have died. It might've been taken from him… there's a million reasons. Don't torture yourself by jumping to conclusions, 'cause it honestly won't help.'

Her head was moving jerkily from side to side.

'Nothing helps, nothing. I know this was a mistake, coming in, but I couldn't stay at home, Tom. I couldn't. It's, it's driving me mad.' She licked her lips—something he'd learned indicated nervousness—and lifted her eyes to his before blurting out, 'I found a bottle of vodka under the sink this morning. I'd've drunk it too, every drop—but Connor beat me to it. He'd emptied it and refilled it with water and put it back…'

'Why?' Tom was genuinely puzzled.

'It was a test.' Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. 'It was a test and I failed. I'd just put the bottle on the worktop and Imogen came in and saw it and we had words… and she just left, bags and all.' It was all tumbling out in a barely coherent rush. 'I can't go back there alone. I can't.'

His jaw clenched as he made a mental note to have a word with the younger Mrs Mulgrew during afternoon registration. And in the meantime…

'You won't have to go back alone, I'll come with you,' he promised, guiding Christine back to her seat. Her usually straight posture slumped, and one hand moved listlessly to push a straying lock behind her ear. He searched for something to distract her and found it the note he'd left on her desk the day before after receiving a visit from one of the prefects.

He indicated it with a flick of the finger. 'Hey, d'you want the latest?'

She nodded. 'Please.'

He forced a jaunty note into his voice.

'Guess who's taken charge of the prefects while you've all been off?'

She glanced up, her eyes flicking to his in an approximation of interest. 'Who?'

Tom grinned, relieved that she was making the effort.

'Rhiannon Salt, that's who. That appointment was a brainwave, Chris. It's done wonders for her confidence. And she's submitted the charities they've chosen to benefit from their fundraisers…' He stopped, his tone dangling suggestively.

'And?' Christine prompted, rising to the bait as he'd hoped.

His smile was proud. 'They've voted to donate to two charities. One of 'em's Kidney Research, as we expected. The other… are you ready for this?'

She nodded.

'Rape Crisis,' he said, and she dropped her face in her hands. 'Rhiannon didn't skimp on the explanations, either. They wanted to donate to Kidney Research for Grantly, obviously, and to Rape Crisis because of Dynasty—and you.'

She didn't look up and he hunkered down beside her, a hand on her arm.

'You OK?' He tugged gently, trying to pull her hands away, and she lifted her head. Something warm and happy gushed through him when he saw that she was smiling.

'Yeah. Yeah, Tom, I'm fine—or as fine as I can be.' He watched as she inhaled deeply, blowing out the breath in a controlled fashion, her shoulders straightening and squaring in the old way. 'I should know better,' she continued ruefully. 'Me, of all people. Falling apart doesn't help, it doesn't change anything. It won't get those kids back.'

'No,' he agreed softly. 'It won't. And you're not alone in this, Christine. I'd—I'd be proud, honoured, to share this ordeal with you if you'd let me.' There was a tiny tremor in his voice; he hadn't risked this much with a woman for long time, not since Rose.

'I thought you were already sharing it—as my deputy,' she told him, lips quirking. There was even a hint of sparkle in her eyes.

He rolled his own as he pushed to his feet. 'Very funny. You know what I mean.'

She blew out a second, smaller breath. 'Yeah, I do. Tom… you're a good man.' He stiffened, braced for rejection, and her lips quirked again. 'Oh, don't look like that, please. You're a good man, a man who deserves better than me.' She indicated the two of them with her fingers. 'What's this about, eh? What's holding us together in this dance we've started? Is it this place? This damned job?' She made a tiny movement of her head. 'Michael… Michael always said that the thing that drew me and him together was the fact that we were both recovering from crap. Maybe he was right, I don't know.' She stopped, swallowing hard, and looked straight at him.

'I'm damaged enough. I've already had my heart shattered twice. I—I can't do it again, I'm too old and too fragile. Not unless you're sure. Not unless I'm sure that I can trust you, that you won't walk out on me like everyone else.'

'How do we know you wouldn't walk out on me?' he teased, trying for a hint of levity.

She did not smile.

'I wouldn't.'

She was deadly serious, he realised, and his heart skipped a beat as he read between the lines. Christine wasn't a woman to have a light affair with a friend, he realised; she'd give her heart and she'd give it completely and expect the same from him. If they pursued this frisson between them they'd have to be sure—because this could be it, this could be the relationship he'd always dreamed of. It was too important to rush.

'You're right,' he admitted. 'We're not kids any more, are we? We're both too old to mess around, and we've still got to work together. Stakes are kinda high if it all goes wrong, huh?'

She nodded slowly. 'Hmmm.' The bell went and her eyebrows went up when he started to move towards the door. 'You teaching now?'

He pulled a face.

'Yeah, it's those criminals in Year 9. They're going through the argumentative silly-stage; I bet half of 'em'll be in the cooler before the day's out.'

'That's puberty for you, the terrible thirteens,' she answered with an attempt at lightness. She lifted a hand in a half-wave. 'I'll see you later.'

He halted at the door to give her his best rakish grin. 'That you will, Christine Mulgrew, that you will,' and departed feeling ridiculously pleased with himself when—despite everything—she turned pink and smiled the wide smile he saw so rarely and was coming to love.

Unknown

'Connor, guess what?' Kacey was doing her level best to sound cheerful as she shook her fellow prisoner awake. Some time had passed since Pete's departure, and the dread crawling through her veins would not let her return to sleep. 'It's time to move, mate, we're goin' 'ome!'

Connor moaned in protest and twitched away from her touch.

'No, Mum. Go 'way an' let us sleep, will yer?'

Kacey blinked at his mistake and bit into her lip at this new evidence of Connor's confusion. Perhaps trying to make him accompany her was a bad idea…

'Will you be OK if I leave yer?' she asked doubtfully. 'Dunno 'ow long'll be.'

'Wha'ver,' Connor mumbled. Another while passed, and she could hear him snoring.

She sighed, knowing she was wasting time. Maybe it was the darkness, she thought. If she could prise the door open maybe the light would return Connor to himself. He wasn't usually this bad.

With that thought in mind, she crawled across the hard ground towards the oblong outlined in light, grunting as the occasional stone dug into the sensitive hollows of her knees and pierced her palms. The cabin was small; it was not long before she'd reached the wall beside the outline, and began to carefully feel it for something resembling the handle. The wood creaked and groaned and she found herself wondering how sturdy this prison of theirs actually was; even if the door was well locked and bolted perhaps they could get free another way, if the actual timbers of the shed were rotten. Her hands closed on something globular and she gave a little shout of triumph that died in her throat when the door swung open with no resistance, half-blinding her.

Once she'd blinked the retina-haze from her eyes she flew across the shed (how ramshackle it looked now, with every corner illuminated by the low sun of winter) to give Connor another shaking, determined this time that she wouldn't be fobbed off.

'Connor, we're free!' she squealed when his eyes finally opened. 'D'you see? The door's open, Pete must've forgot to lock on! C'mon, we gotta move in case 'e comes back!'

He still looked dazed. 'What—?'

Exasperated and afraid, she slapped him. Slapping was supposed to be good for hysterics, she'd heard; perhaps it'd shock Connor into really listening to her.

'We've gotta move, mate,' she hissed. 'Did you 'ear? He's comin' back an' 'e's not comin' alone. I'd bet me place as team captain that 'e's comin' back wiv Steve-O—unless of course you're dyin' to face 'im?' She broke off, panting hard and wincing at her unfortunate choice of words. If they didn't escape, they might well die at Steve-O's hands, she'd no doubt he was capable of it.

'Steve-O?'

'Yeah, Steve-O,' Kacey repeated. 'He could be comin', Connor. We gotta go!'

At last something of her urgency penetrated and he moved to sit up, groaning and holding his head. She chewed her lip as she watched, more disturbed than she cared to admit by his colour; he looked grey and his eyelids fluttered madly. She gripped his shoulders hard to steady him, half-expecting him to conk out again.

'OK?' she asked when his eyeballs stopped threatening to roll up into his head. 'Ready?'

He nodded, his lips disappearing as shifted from a sitting to a kneeling position and began to slowly retrace the route that Kacey herself had crawled only moments before, hauling himself to his feet only when he reached the door. She followed, having stopped to grab her bag and Connor's scarf. She handed the latter to him as she zipped up her coat, aware that the scarf was the only protection he had against the elements, for now that they could see, she understood the intensity of the cold they'd endured: the ground was covered by a thin layer of sparkling snow.

He was already shivering as he turned to face her. 'What now?'

'We gotta get warm, first,' she said, fumbling for something practical to say. 'C'mon.' She pushed past him and out the door, hoping that she looked as if she knew what she was doing.

Four steps told her everything she needed to know. It explained why no-one had found them, it explained why Pete had not bothered to lock the door on his way out. Perhaps he never had. They were in the middle of a wilderness that stretched as far as her eye could see, bisected only by a wide river that had frozen to a mirror like gloss. High above she could hear the plaintive solitary cry of a lone bird; there was nothing else, no-one they could turn to for help, not even a public phone box…

She swallowed her fear and distress. She was a Barry, she'd survive, it was in her blood.

'Let's go,' she said grimly. 'Keep movin'. Too cold to keep still.'

Connor's expression was aghast. The shock of the bitter air had revived him somewhat.

'No way, Kace. You're missin' a few screws if this is your plan… d'you even know where we are?'

She inhaled sharply through her nose, welcoming the stinging pain of it. 'No, do you?' He shook his head. 'Can't help that. We do know Pete's comin' back, an' soon, an' we know it won't be good for us. What if 'e does yer 'ead in again? You can't 'ave that many brain cells left to lose, after the doin' you've had!'

He stared at her, his changeable eyes almost round. Then, most unexpectedly, his long face cracked in a grin. 'God, you really are Dynasty's sister, aren't you?'

She tossed her head, allowing the corner of her mouth to lift. 'Too right, an' don't you forget it. Now are you comin' or will I just tell Imogen an' yer mum that you preferred to play Statues?'

His expression changed. 'No chance of that, kiddo.' He sighed. 'I've got too many bridges to fix with both of 'em… if they let me. If they don't kill me for this first.'

'Good.' Kacey took his arm and grinned up at him. 'Let's go. Let's get away from 'ere an' find somewhere safe, an'—an' then we can start workin' out what to do next.'

If we don't freeze first, she thought with a shiver as Connor fell into obedient step beside her. And if she was cold with her thick jacket, he must be even colder with only his cardigan and and scarf. She dug her hands into her pocket, finding the flat object she'd discovered earlier. Once they were well away from here she'd turn it on, every finger and toe mentally crossed that it would work. She didn't know what she'd do if it didn't, because now they were screwed either way. Screwed if Steve-O caught them in the shed, screwed if he caught up with them out of the shed, screwed if he didn't… The phone she'd discovered in the depths of her bag could well be their last and only hope.