We don't have to drive for long until Peter becomes clear just up ahead. Jim keeps his speed steady as we approach and a light snow flurry begins. Peter is staggering along the roadside trampling the snow and trying not to slip on any icy patches. The road has been quiet all night but out of nowhere an SUV races around us, it's bright xenon lights illuminating the road and surroundings ahead. We're thrown forward in our seats as it nips in quickly in front of us causing Jim to slam on his breaks so as not to hit them.

The car sweeps in by Peter slowing down to a roll but not stopping. The door flies open and a hand reaches for him, pulling him towards the car. Brake lights glow red as it eventually stops for half a second to pull Peter in and slam the door shut. Jim speeds up a little and I hope they don't suddenly drive off at speed. Their car has started rolling again and its gradually getting a good distance a head of us.

Flooring it Jim tries again to get closer but they must know we're on their tail, because the suddenly fly forward. I'm shaking violently against my leather chair, my heart pounding as all sorts of thoughts pop in and out of my head regarding Peter. "Damn" shouts Jim suddenly pounding the steering wheel with a fist.

"What?" I ask all choked up with worry.

He presses down on the accelerator as we attempt to gain on them. "Azarov!" he says through gritted teeth. I can see the anger brewing but I thought he was on their side unless…

Jim interrupts my train of thought, glancing quickly at me and then focusing back on the car in front. "He fired me you know, all that work I did, all that pain I caused and he just fires me" His grip tightens on the wheel enough to turn his knuckles white. "Threatened to kill me he did, so I got in the car and drove off, he must have been tracking me" he says his tone angry. I sit silently back in my chair and try to take in the information Jim has volunteered. If Azarov fired him why did he come looking for me?

"Why did you come looking for me then?" I ask innocently hoping he won't blow a fuse. He takes his eyes from the road and fixes them on me. Panic sets in for just a minute and I glance out of the front window. I look back at him and he's focused back on the road. His jaw drops as he goes to speak but he doesn't have a chance before he is slamming on the brakes. I look forward to see what the urgency is only to see the car up ahead skid to a stop, the door fly open and Peter be thrown from is as it pulls away again.

"Peter!" I cry out as my fingers move to release me from my belt. Freeing myself I reach for the door handle and unclick it. "Carla" he warns but before Jim has time to stop the car I jump from it and end up falling by the side of the road. I push myself up and clamber to my feet as the brakes on the four by four screech with Jim trying to stop it.

I make my way over to Peter slumped at the road side and as I reach him I throw myself down at his side and roll him onto his back.

Peter groans as I do so and I gasp as I gaze down at him. His face is bloody and bruised all over and he can barely open up his eyes. "I'm sorry Peter, so sorry" I whisper as I sweep my palm down the side of his face. He gives another deep groan and tries to roll back on his front. A hand appears on my shoulder and I break down, the sight of Peter hurt overwhelming me. Jim has come over to us; he shuffles around to Peter and goes to lift him.

"Get off me" Peter snaps but he cannot fight Jim as he continues to lift him. "Get off me" Peter yells then screams in pain as he's held in Jim's arms.

"Let him help you Peter, please" I cry wiping the tears from my eyes and sniffing to stop my nose running unattractively.

Jim carries him back to the car and then calls me over to help with the door so he can slide Peter onto the back seat. He gestures for me to climb in beside Peter, he wants me still but he knows I want Peter. I give him a shy smile to say thank you. Our eyes linger on each other seconds longer than necessary and I have a feeling this is not the end of things between Jim and me.

As Jim jumps in the drivers seat I take Peter's hand but he is again quick to snatch it away. It's all so upsetting; I don't think he'll ever forgive me for Jim. How could I be so stupid to hurt him like that?

"Peter I'm sorry, please don't hate me" I beg too aware Jim is listening to every word. Deep down I know what I'm saying is empty and meaningless but I hope Peter doesn't. I'm sure he can forgive me this after all I've forgiven him for so much since we announced our affair to the world. Well the street at least.

He ignores me and turns away. I glance at Jim in the rear view mirror and he gives a sympathetic smile as the tears begin to flow down my cheeks. Maybe Peter just needs time, yes that's for the best. In the past I've just left him to cool off and he's come back to me I just hope it will still be the same this time.

I push back against the cold leather seat and press my head against the freezing glass of the window. My eyes open and close as I watch the nothingness outside go by. I have no idea where Jim is taking us this time but I feel re-assured knowing he isn't working for Azarov anymore.

Suddenly I open my eyes to find we are in a well-lit road, shops to one side and small shanty like housing to the other. We must have reached a small town. Looking to my right I see Peter sat awkwardly across the back seat, his eyes closed and he looks peaceful and free of pain despite his chest heaving and a wheezing as he breathes. The car is rolling slowly and I look up and catch Jim staring into the back via the rear view mirror.

"Where are we…"

"Hospital" he replies not letting me finish. "Get you two both checked over and then I want to get you on a flight home, away from all this" he offers as extra information.

I let out a small sigh. It'd be so nice to get back home, to my factory, Michelle and even little Simon.

Bright lights from the hospital glisten before us as Jim pulls into a parking bay. Peter stirs as the engine stops and cries out in pain when he goes to stretch. Jim is quick to jump out and open the door so I can get out and he can reach in to carry Peter to the emergency department. As we enter a nurse comes rushing over with a wheelchair as she sees Jim struggling to carry an agitated Peter in his arms like a child. One look at Peter and she orders us to check him in, her Russian accent strong and whisks Peter off out of sight. The receptionist hands Jim a clipboard filled with paperwork to fill in and then gestures for us to take a seat amongst a scattering of waiting patients.