Thank you Emma for your review!

The statement giving was painful. Andrea wasn't sure who was more relieved when she finally finished, her or her former colleagues. When Smithy told her that even hard-nosed Phil Hunter was disgusted, that's when she knew it must be shocking. She smiled to herself ruefully. Even he had a set of morals, even if they were loose at best. She had just finished at her counselling appointment. Her shoulders slumped as she left. As nice as the counsellor had been, she didn't want to keep talking about what had happened. Her phone rang as she walked out of the revolving doors. She looked at the screen and smiled. Charlie. She decided to walk the short distance home instead of getting the cab she'd promised Smithy. Her first rebellion. And it gave her a chance to prolong the conversation with her brother. He'd called her regularly, apparently eager to get to know her and right now, he was just what she needed to take her mind from reliving the trauma for the past hour. As usual he did most of the talking, telling her all about Alberta, where he lived, and how you could now start to see the northern lights in the sky. Neither had mentioned their parents, nor had they tried to call her. That told her all she needed to know.

"Sorry," he said, as she turned into her street. "I'm just talking and talking and you're not getting a word in edgeways."

"It's kind of hard to know what to say," she said, getting out her keys. "I'm still not sure I've quite taken in this not being an only child thing."

"No," he said, as she let herself into her house. "Me neither. You know, when I told my friends, they didn't believe me, thought I was pulling their leg. They said, 'how could you have a sister and not know about her'!" He gave a sour laugh. "I told them they hadn't met our parents."

"No," she said, sitting down heavily. "They haven't."

"Have you heard from them?" he said tentatively.

"No," she said, trying to sound like she didn't care, but failing miserably.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, all of the joy from earlier gone from his voice.

"What for? It's not your fault."

"Aren't you…angry at all? At me? For being…"

"The child they kept and raised?"

"Well, yeah," he said a little guiltily. "That's all everyone keeps on asking me, after they finally believed me of course. Aren't you angry or bitter or just plain not interested in me?"

She thought about Gabriel then and his angry and often irrational ranting about being the forgotten child, the waste of space, the black sheep. Maybe she could understand a bit better now. But look how he'd let his hate and anger twist him up.

"How could I be? That wouldn't do anything for our relationship, would it?"

"No," he said. "Mum and dad…"

"I think that's different, Charlie," she said. "They ignored me most of my life. Let someone they barely knew take care of me. They were lucky Graham's intentions were honourable. He could have been anyone and they wouldn't have cared to find out."

"How is he? How's his friend?"

"He could be paralysed," she said, thinking about the conversation she'd had with Graham shortly after he'd arrived home. "They need to run some more tests."

Charlie let out a low whistle.

"That's not good. Are you all alone?"

"For now," she said. "Smithy will be here soon. They've let him do the days so he'll be around in the night. I don't know why that makes me feel better. Anything could happen in the day, just like it could if he were here at night."

"Everything seems scarier at night, doesn't it?" he said wisely. "It's one of those old childhood fears which never goes away."

She agreed and they chatted a while longer before he said he had to go. Canada was five hours behind and she could hear the tiredness in his voice. That he stayed up so he could call at a good time for her was sweet. But then, she really was all alone. Somehow being on the phone didn't feel like it, even though there was nobody physically there. She got up and put on the kettle to make tea, not because she wanted one, just because she wanted something to do. She reached to pull down a mug and jumped as Twinkle leapt up on the counter. The mug fell to the floor and shattered. Twinkle ran away and she sighed, bending down to pick up the pieces. The doorbell rang and she jumped for the second time, a piece of china slicing her hand. She rose slowly, looking at the door. She picked up her phone as she ventured slowly towards it, dialling 999. Her finger on the call button, she slowly opened the door. She sighed in relief and closed the phone. Tony and Reg.

"Andrea, love?" Reg questioned, staring at the blood running down her hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry. I dropped a mug."

She opened the gate to let them in and went to wash her hand under the tap.

"You have a first aid kit?"

She nodded towards the bathroom and said; "it's just a scratch."

"Even so," he said and went to retrieve it.

She held a tea towel to the admittedly deep scratch and sat down. Tony asked her for a dustpan and brush and she indicated the cupboard. Reg came out with the first aid kit as Tony swept the broken pieces of ceramic. Reg bandaged up her hand and stood up.

"Tea, was it, love?"

She nodded.

"Will you both have one?" She intercepted the glance between the pair and said with a stab at joviality; "I have Eccles cakes."

She saw Tony smile and he sat down, taking his hat off.

"Can never say no to an Eccles cake."

Nobody spoke as Reg made the three teas. When they sat at the table, the two men munching on the sweet treats – Andrea had declined – she warmed her hands around her mug.

"I heard you," she said quietly. "That night."

"Yeah," said Tony. "We were told. You didn't call out."

"I tried," she said. "The first time, it was like an out of body experience, you know? I could hear you and I wanted to move and call out, but I couldn't. The second time…"

"We know. He was already here." Tony's jaw tightened. "We were minutes after him. Seconds even."

The latter. But she didn't have the heart to tell him that. It wouldn't do good to make him or Reg feel worse than they probably already did.

"It doesn't matter, Tony."

"Yeah," he said. "It does matter. If we had stayed outside your house like Reg had said, we could have stopped this."

She raised her head slowly and looked between the two. She saw the realisation dawn and Tony closed his eyes.

"You didn't know that, did you?"

"No," she said. "But even if you had, he would have found a way to get to me. That's how he got away with it for so long."

She saw Tony's fists clench and even Reg's face paled in anger. They had been close to his victims, Sheelagh in particular. Kerry had burnt a lot of bridges but Sheelagh had been a friend to all.

"Nobody can believe it," Reg said. "That we all fell for his lies and stories for so long. How can someone lie so…"

He was cut off at a pointed glare from Tony. Andrea's cheeks reddened and she looked at her barely drunk tea.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm not under any illusion, you know. I know this doesn't change what I did."

Tony leant forwards and clasped her uninjured hand. He had an unusually fierce look on his face.

"You listen to me. Nothing – nothing – you did compares to what he did. We all wish we'd only known about Malcolm and what he was doing before."

"It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Maybe not at that moment. But over time…"

"It's done now."

She picked up her mug and drank. The two men finished their tea in silence until the crackle of the radio broke it.

"All units from Sierra Oscar, joyriders in stolen ford escort, registration bravo, papa, nine, nine, Charlie, Mike, Charlie, travelling at speed the wrong way down one-way road Myatt Street, anyone deal?"

The next road. Andrea smiled faintly as the two looked at each other.

"Go. At least someone can enjoy playing cops and robbers. Come back anytime. I'll always have Eccles cakes."

With thanks, they left, shouting into their radios that they were on their way. She watched the car from the window as it sped away, sirens blaring, wishing with all her heart that she'd considered a police career to begin with. It was a in a long list of life regrets.

Smithy got to her late and welcomed her with the strong hug which always seemed to make everything better, before sitting down gratefully to the pie and vegetables she'd kept warm in the oven for him, then they curled up together watching television, though neither had any particular interest in what was on. He traced his fingers up her arm, kissing her head.

"I didn't know they'd actually come by," he said. "Sorry. I would have warned you."

"It's fine. It was actually nice to see them." She looked up at him. "It wasn't as awkward as I thought it'd be."

"We've arranged another pub night," he said casually. "Friday. They've asked if you want to come."

She paused and he squeezed her.

"Too much?"

"It's not that I don't want to. I'll think about it. You still go though. I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you alone to go boozing. I can quite easily bring booze back here."

"I don't want you putting your life on hold for me."

"You don't get it, do you?" he said, sitting up, forcing her to as well. "Do you have any idea what it was like when you were missing? I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't focus on anything. It was Hell, Andrea."

"Sorry," she said, shrinking back slightly.

"No. No," he said, rubbing his face. "Don't apologise. I don't mean… I'm sorry. I'm explaining this all wrong. All I could think is that I was never going to see you again and the last thing I ever said to you was…"

She put a hand on his shoulder. "It was justified, Smithy."

"I know. But that didn't make it any better." He looked at her and stroked her face. "I've got you back in my life. That's all I want. And I don't want to waste any more time."

She looked at him, unsure if he was saying what she thought he was saying and not sure she wanted to hear it if he was. She leant forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"We're both tired," she said. "Let's talk about it tomorrow, shall we?"

She got up and went into her room. He watched her go, his heart sinking. That had gone well. Seething with himself, he went into his own room for another night of loneliness.

Andrea crept up to Smithy's bedroom door and peered around. His habit of leaving the door open in case she cried out meant she was never sure if he actually was asleep. He seemed to be though, body relaxed, one arm flung out, mouth slightly open. Unsure if he was only lightly dozing, she rapped sharply on the door. He snorted slightly and she held her breath, but he turned over and slept on. He was exhausted. It couldn't be easy, doing a twelve hour shift then coming home and keeping watch over her. She'd felt his eyes on her as she pretended to be asleep, sitting on her bed, just watching. For hours sometimes. Now he was telling her…well, what was he telling her? She walked quietly from the house, disabling the intruder alarm, closing the door with a soft click. The last thing she needed was it blaring when she came in, walking him up. She stepped outside, the cold winter air chilling her bones. A fine drizzle of rain had begun to fall and she looked to the sky, standing for a moment to enjoy the feeling of it on her face. It was refreshing and she'd forgotten how she could miss something so simple.

She set off quickly, glancing over her shoulder, half expecting Smithy to come charging after her, half naked, demanding to know where she was going. She wanted a late night walk? So did he, he'd say, struggling to get the words out through yawning. He'd get dressed and come with her. She had a feeling he wouldn't approve of this particular walk though.

She slowed her pace as she reached the cemetery, trying to ignore every will she had to turn and run all the way to the safety of her home. She slipped in through the gate, and walked through the grounds, trying to locate the various stones she had eyed when Smithy had brought her here earlier in the week. She spotted the white marble angel she'd remembered as being the closest and in minutes, was standing over Sheelagh's grave. She let her tears fall, as she'd let them fall the last time, except now, he wasn't here to hold her.

She could remember Sheelagh finding her. She could remember slipping into delirium, from the infection raging through her body, wishing it would kill her, yet not wanting to die. Then hearing the footsteps, but seeing nobody. Thinking it was him, playing games or else hallucinations. But she'd made some noise. She must have, she remembered Sheelagh jumping, dropping what she was holding and racing over to her. But nothing after that. She remembered her final thought though, that now she could die, because someone had found her and he'd have a hard time explaining it away. But she hadn't died. She'd lived. But in her place, Sheelagh was gone. She sank to her knees on the cold wet grass, tears still flowing.

She arranged the flowers on the grave, neatly and symmetrically, as if she was tucking her in and looked at the cross marking her spot. Gravestones took forever to make. She wondered what it would be. Plain and simple? An angel? Or maybe a Saint? She knew Sheelagh was a devout catholic. Had been a devout catholic. She was sure her family would see to it that she got the traditional burial she would have wanted. From her pocket, she took the envelope and tucked it within the bunch of flowers she'd left a few days previously. Suppose someone from Sun Hill were to come here and find it instead? She'd have a lot of explaining to do, not least when she'd been able to put it there. She didn't think Morrell and Okaro would approve of her methods, but with all due respect to them, nothing they were doing was working and he wasn't likely to surrender himself. He didn't have the guts for that, or he would have done it months ago, nor was he stupid enough to be seen. She had a feeling that he'd want her alive this time. She had a feeling he wasn't done with her just yet.

The snapping of a twig had her jumping to her feet in shock, spinning around on the spot, breath catching in her throat. She heard it, the crunch of gravel under feet. Leaves rustled and her eyes were glued to the archway above the church, where it was dark with shadows. Backing away, she turned and ran, the terror nearly causing her to hyperventilate. She was sure – and wasn't definite on if it was just a feeling or something real – that there was someone standing there watching her, probably from the moment she'd gotten there and watching now as she fled from the cemetery.

He watched her go, furious with himself, glaring down at the leaves and twigs beneath his feet, kicking them in a temper. He should have watched where he was putting his feet, gone up to her quietly, not frightened her. Like he used to. She always knew he wouldn't hurt her if he'd approached quietly. She could help him, she was the only one who understood. That was what she'd said, wasn't it? That she understood, that she'd help. He hadn't meant to harm Sheelagh, she could tell them that. Back him up. He'd just needed her to shut up, but she wouldn't and until she did, he couldn't release his hold on the pillow. But then she was still and there was no going back. He could follow her, ask her to come. But he didn't. He couldn't be sure this wasn't a set up, and so stayed where he was. Even if she had intended to come alone, what if she'd been followed? The one time he'd attempted to go to her house, he'd got there as a panda car pulled up outside. He should have considered that she was being guarded and then seriously doubted that this was a set-up. Smithy and Callahan would never allow her to be used as bait, even if she had consented. She'd know now, that he'd lied to her about Smithy. How willing would she be to help him? But she'd come here, hadn't she?

Slowly, he ventured out towards the grave. She'd put something there, he'd seen it. She'd only left flowers a few days previously with a beautiful message. Why come again in the middle of the night if she didn't want contact with him? He stood over at the grave, narrowing his eyes as he searched. There weren't any new flowers. But there was something sticking out of the bunch she'd left before, an envelope, put in so it could be seen, yet not caught in the rain which had become heavier. He drew it out. His name was written across the middle. His preferred name. He took out the paper and read the short message on the pretty sunflower paper, then looked up, staring at the place she'd disappeared, even though she was long gone.

Andrea ran all the way home, her hand shaking so much, she could barely get the key into the lock. She shut the door quietly, locking it and securing the chain. She sat on the sofa, barely aware of her soaking wet clothes. There had been someone there and did she know in her heat that it was him? Yes. But between the unfathomable urge to see him and the desire for revenge, fear had taken over and her feet had ran before she could make the decision to stay. She was a spineless coward. But she wanted this on her terms, and he turning up when she wasn't expecting it was definitely not ideal.

"Andrea?"

She started and looked up as the light clicked on. Smithy covered his mouth, yawning, wearing only his boxers and t-shirt, eyes bleary but confused.

"What on earth are you doing? Its half three in the morning! And..." His eyes focused and narrowed. "Why are you dressed? Have you been out?"

"I just needed some air. I didn't go far."

"Are you crazy?" he said fiercely, all traces of tiredness disappearing. "We've been through this! You go nowhere alone! Neighbours, corner shop, Sun Hill, nowhere!"

"Bathroom?" she snapped before she could stop herself.

He sighed and sat down.

"I'm sorry. I know feeling like you're caged again is the last thing you need. But you could still be in danger from him. If anything happened to you on my watch, I'd never forgive myself. And I feel bad enough as it is."

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just felt like I was suffocating. I just needed some space beyond this house."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But until he's caught, that's the way it has to be." He put a hand on her shoulder and grimaced. "Go and change. The last thing you need is to get sick again."

She went into her room and had just climbed beneath her duvet in her cosy pyjamas when he knocked on the door and entered, carrying two mugs of coffee.

"Spot of brandy," he said, handing one to her. "Always warms me up."

"Thanks," she said, holding it between her cold hands.

She expected him to leave then, so was surprised when he got in next to her. After a minute, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You don't still want to see him, do you?"

She tensed. Had he guessed the real reason behind her desire 'for air?'

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know how I feel about him. Sometimes, I think that's worse than hating or being afraid or whatever anyone else thinks I should feel."

"It must be hard," he said. "I can't pretend to understand. I just want to tear him apart with my bare hands for everything he's done."

He put his free arm around her.

"Please don't take stupid risks. I couldn't stand it if anything else happened to you."

"Okay," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

She put down her mug and nestled against his chest, running her fingers on the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too," he said, putting his other arm around her. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'm not letting you go again."

"Even after what I did?"

"It doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't it? You say that now, but what about when all this is over? When he's caught, jailed. What if you remember then?"

"Then we'll work our way through things," he said. "If that's what you want. I'd understand though if it isn't. If Sun Hill and everything else that goes with it is nothing but a reminder. Especially me."

"You're not still blaming yourself, are you?"

He stayed silent and she raised her eyes to him. His jaw was tight and his eyes brimming with tears. He looked away. He hated anyone seeing him cry, even her. She could see the first tear trickle down his face. Angrily, he brushed it away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry. If I'd just listened to you…"

"Please," she said, feeling her own throat tightening. "Please. Don't. We've been through this as well. You had your reasons for not. You know that."

He said nothing, just held her tighter.

"If I could have swapped places with you…"

"Please. I don't wish that on anybody. Anyway. Where would have been the fun in that for him?"

She could almost feel the anger radiating from him and reached out to turn off the light.

"You want me to go back to the other room?"

"No. I want you here."

Shortly, she felt him relax and tentatively looked into his sleeping face. Maybe she should have told him to go and told him to stay away. It would probably hurt him less in the long run, but selfishly, she just wanted him here. She pulled herself closer to him, holding on tightly. After all, you never would know which night would be your last.