Content warnings for violence, kidnapping, blackmail, mentions of substance abuse, mentions of blood.

Chapter 1

Steve rubbed his eyes gently, hoping he could alleviate the headache forming behind them from the bright glare of his computer screen.

He had wanted to be present for Kate's questioning, but DCI Carmichael had insisted that there was a conflict of interest with them working together, and instructed him return to the office and submit his report on tonight's events.

Knowing there was no hope of changing her mind, he had begrudgingly done so. But he'd been sitting here for the best part of three hours and had written no more than a handful of paragraphs. His mind was too focused on Kate, his thoughts eddying in a maelstrom of repeating scenes from earlier that night.

Kate and Jo on the ground. Kate pressing her hands on Jo's wound to try and slow the bleeding. The gut wrenching fear of thinking some of the blood was Kate's too.

Kate's harried explanation that she was fine but that PC Pilkington had shot Jo and fled the scene. Officers fanning out to search for him. The look of caution on Kate's face when he had made eye contact with her, as if she didn't quite know whether she could fully trust him or not.

He needed to talk to her. But there would be no hope of that tonight, especially not with Carmichael leading the investigation. She would likely hold Kate overnight for further questioning since DCI Davidson was in hospital and couldn't corroborate her account of events. Steve likely wouldn't get to speak to her until tomorrow at the earliest.

Realising this came with the dawning awareness that he had been sitting his eyes closed, trying to stave off the headache, for more than a few minutes. It was futile trying to continue this report when his mind wouldn't slow down. With a weary sigh, Steve made the executive decision to go home.

Logging off his PC and gathering his things, he stood slowly, trying not to aggravate his back. The twinges had been increasingly present in the last few weeks and he didn't want to do anything to set them off.

Noticing that the Gaffer's office light was still on, he made his way over and knocked twice before entering.

Ted looked up from the paperwork in front of him, a mildly surprised expression crossing his face. "Steve."

"I'm heading home, sir. I won't be able to get much more done tonight. Have there been any updates on Ryan Pilkington?"

"Uniformed officers are still out searching for him. I'll send word as soon as I hear anything. Go and get some rest, son, we'll need it for whatever tomorrow brings."

Steve could see determination warring with exhaustion in the Gaffer's expression. He had been as concerned about Kate as Steve when they arrived on the scene, and had been borderline outraged when Carmichael barred him from Kate's questioning.

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight."

Steve headed for the lift and took it down to the basement, where his car was parked. He unlocked the boot and put his bag in before sliding into the driver's seat, hissing when he felt the muscles in his back seize up.

He breathed deeply for a few moments until the searing heat slowly dissipated, then started the engine. Whatever happened over the next few days, he would see it through without any painkillers. Even if that meant riding out the waves of pain with gritted teeth.

Reversing out of his spot, Steve left the underground car park and drove home. It was getting late and the roads were quiet by the time he reached his apartment.

Retrieving his bag from the boot, he was heading towards the door to the main building when he heard a sound that didn't belong to the calm night.

A moaning sound came from just down the street.

"P-please...I need…"

The breathy voice sounded winded and in pain.

It was dark further down the street, as the overhead street lights were out, but Steve couldn't ignore whoever was there.

Changing direction, he followed the groaning voice.

"Hello? Are you alright, do you need help?" Steve called out.

Slightly further down the street he saw the shape of a person lying on their side, huddled into a line of bushes. The lack of light made it difficult to see them properly, but they had one arm splayed out in front of them, as if they were reaching for something.

"Please…"

Steve jogged over quickly and knelt down.

"Are you hurt? Do you need help?" He slipped his phone out of his pocket to turn on the torch. "Can you tell me your name?"

The torch light illuminated an older man with grey hair and an unruly beard, who squinted in the sudden brightness. He brought his hand up to shield his eyes and Steve could see dirt on his palm.

The man mumbled something Steve didn't catch, turning away from the light slightly.

"My name's Steve, I'm a police officer. Can you tell me your name and if you're hurt anywhere?"

"I…" He seemed lost for words so Steve asked his name again.

"I...sorry…"

"Sorry?" Steve repeated, confused. He had only a moment to consider the word before he saw the man's eyes focus on something behind him, his expression going taut, and a feeling of wrongness swept through Steve.

He had been a police officer for long enough to have developed a sense for when something was about to happen. Kate called it his copper's sixth sense. He just called it intuition.

He lunged sideways as strong arms tried to grab him from behind. His phone went flying out of his hand. His attacker only managed to seize one of his arms and Steve tried to drag himself free, adrenaline igniting through his body.

Steve turned, kicking out hard and landing a solid blow to his assailant's thigh. The figure stumbled back slightly, their all-black outline barely visible in the dark, and Steve swung his free arm round to aim for their face. His punch connected with the side of their head and the force knocked a navy baseball cap off, revealing the balaclava they were wearing.

Steve froze. Hazy memories of being attacked and thrown down the stairs by the balaclava man shot through his mind. His momentary stillness was all the assailant needed.

They threw a punch of their own, hitting Steve squarely in the jaw and sending him off balance. Before he could recover, they grabbed both his arms and wrenched his elbows back. He began to struggle just as a cloth was shoved over his nose and mouth.

The acrid scent of chloroform made him choke. Knowing he had only seconds before he passed out, he renewed his efforts to get free, slamming his head back into his attacker's nose.

A sharp yell of pain told him his blow had landed and the grip on him loosened. Steve broke free and turned, his vision blurring. He swayed slightly as the street lights threw off swirling balls of light.

No.

The chemical was already starting to affect him. He took a step forward, but the other figure grabbed him again, twisting him round and throwing an arm across his neck in a choke hold.

The cloth was forced over his mouth again and Steve involuntarily inhaled as the arm over his windpipe tightened. He coughed, breathing in more of the pungent chemical as he tried to catch his breath and struggle free. His vision wavered and darkened.

He only had time to think of one thing before he passed out: Kate.

Steve's body went limp in the other man's arms and he slowly lowered him to the ground.

He kicked the AC12 officer's shoulder none too gently to make sure he was out cold and then walked over to the homeless man, who was staring wide-eyed.

"Here's a hundred, as promised." He said, handing over the money. "Don't forget that if you tell anyone about this, it'll be the last words you ever speak." He rested his hand lightly on his gun, the threat clear.

The old man looked terrified as he grabbed the money, nodding his head quickly in acquiescence. He looked over to where Steve lay unconscious.

"Is he.."

"He'll be fine. Now leave and don't come back here. If you talk to the police, believe me, I'll know."

Wide-eyed, the older man got to his feet, grabbed his meagre belongings and hurried away, looking back every few paces to make sure he wasn't about to be attacked himself.

The man in the balaclava watched him go, wondering idly if he should have just shot him instead. It would have been faster and cheaper. but messy. And although the street lights were out here, someone would have heard the gunshot. There were too many houses and apartments nearby for them not to. Paying him off was better.

He walked back over to Steve's prone form and stood over him.

Looking down, Ryan Pilkington slowly eased the balaclava up over his broken nose.

"We've got a lot to discuss, DI Arnott."

He picked up Steve's phone from where it had landed on the concrete and slid it into his pocket before grabbing Steve's bag and sweeping the rest of the area for any evidence of the assault.

Once he was satisfied that there was nothing to incriminate him, he knelt down and lifted the other man up over his shoulder with a casual strength hidden by his slim frame.

He made his way to the unmarked van parked in the shadows further down the street.

Dropping Steve unceremoniously in the back, Ryan tied his wrists and ankles with zip ties before sliding the door closed and quickly climbing into the driver's seat. He threw Steve's bag and phone in to the passenger footwell and started the engine.

Easing out of the street, he held a tissue to his bloody nose. That hadn't gone as smoothly has he had planned, but the outcome had ended up the same.

A broken nose was a worthy trade off for DCI Arnott.

A/N: I've become really captivated by Line of Duty over the last year and this story was inspired by the cliffhanger ending to 6x05. In the week we had to wait for 6x06, I kept wondering what would happen if Ryan ended up on the run and went after Steve. So, this is based on that idea. In this version of events, Ryan and Kate's shots both missed because Jo pushed Kate out of the way. Her shot goes wide and Ryan's shot hits Jo instead. Reviews are always appreciated.