II

Emma rolled over and tried to regain her bearings. She was in her room, in bed. Who knows how she had got there. She felt George's hand gently play with her stomach and she smiled. He pulled her closer to his warm body and suddenly she was racked with guilt.

"George," she turned to face him. "I'm sorry." His hand brushed a stray hair from her face. "We shouldn't have… you know." She broke the intense eye contact. "It was…"

"Great," he smiled interrupting. She ducked her head, clearly embarrassed.

"Don't worry."

"I don't, I'm not like, I never…" She got frustrated with herself. Dammit, she wasn't the kind of person just to sleep with a guy just because… lately, unfortunately she had been. Anything to get at Mick, to get with Mick.

"I…"

He silenced her with a kiss and she relaxed into it.

"Don't worry Emma," he pulled her close and she shrugged him off.

"Please don't..." but his forceful, warm... strong... sexy arm held her close to him and she relaxed into it, just for now...

II

Daylight was grim and grey as the city began to wake up. The trees shook their leaves and let the water fell to the ground as the wind rushed through them. Dark clouds on the horizon warned that more rain could be coming.

At the hospital, nurses went about with their jobs as normal, every now and then looking in on the police officer and the young woman waiting for her to woke up. Jeff had rushed out in the middle of the night on an emergency and not returned since.

When Helen finally began to stir, the young woman sat up expectantly.

Red was her first impression, blurred red, and for a moment, Helen wondered if she was dreaming. Then her vision sharpened and Tayler's smiling face came into focus. It was a rather strained smile, but nevertheless sincere.

A silence fell, as the machines kept ticking away patiently and there seemed to be no rush at all. Outside, the sun had broken through the thick clouds for a while, and drops of water began to fall away from the window.

Taking her hand, Tayler tried to withhold her tears, but failed miserably.

"It didn't stop," she whispered, "there's just more and more."

Nodding, Helen stoked her hair, having no strength for words. She knew exactly what Tayler felt though. The death never stopped.

And how much more could they carry?

A few minutes later the door gently cracked open and Jeff entered. He looked tired, Helen noticed, tired and angry. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn't got that much sleep. Upon seeing her awake, he tried to smile, but it was more a grimace.

"What's going on, Jeff?" she asked before he'd even opened his mouth.

"It's nothing.."

"Jeff!"

He sighed, then took a seat next to Tayler, giving her a quick greeting.

"Someone broke into Mick's house and fired several shots. Both him and Alex are unharmed," Jeff hurriedly added when he saw concern fill Helen's face. "We have a tire track of a motorcycle, and one neighbour noticed the licence plate."

"And?" Helen prompted, making a mental note of the fact that Alex had been with Mick. It could be nothing, but..

"It belongs to Ernie… Agi's brother," came Alex's voice drifting from the doorway as she stepped inside. She looked no better than Jeff, Helen noted, tired and not just physically.

"What does he want, to get even?" Helen could feel a cold hand grip her spine. Not another death. Anything but another death.

"What about George?" Jeff asked, "He was on the boat."

"I couldn't reach him at home," Alex answered, glancing down the hall. Where was Mick? He'd been right behind her before heading off the loo. What was taking him so long?

She was painfully aware that they needed to talk. The tense silence between them was about to drive her crazy.

"Find him," Jeff told her, bringing her speculation about Mick to an end. She left without another word, throwing a few glances at the men's toilet as she passed. If Mick was evading her, fine. Two could play at that.

But Mick wasn't in the toilet. Feeling an overwhelming urge for a breath of fresh air, he'd stepped outside. It was like he couldn't breathe anymore. Leaning against a tree, he heard footsteps approaching, but figuring it was Alex he didn't turn around.

He suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, and than the world went black and the sound died away. "Like turning off a television," he though dimly before his thoughts died away too.

II

George wasn't at the office, and she kept getting his answering machine for the cell phone. She would give him a whipping when she found him, that was for sure, Alex thought with a sense of satisfaction. She just had to find him first.

Maybe he'd gotten so pissed last night he couldn't hear the phone? It was worth to drive by his place, to cool off if nothing else. Besides, being in the office was giving her the creeps.

She could almost hear Jack's voice echoed here, in conversations long past. Sometimes, late at night, she wondered if she could hear Frank and Rachel too, long before her time.

She practically ran out, feeling tears press on. Damnit! She had to keep going, it was the only thing that had kept her from breaking down the past weeks after Jack had been found dead and the funeral had been prepared. It was all she could do to hang on.

She didn't even notice the familiar car pulling into the parking lot as she sped away.

II

He was somewhere light and warm, and for a while Mick felt happy just being there. Then it occurred to him that it might be a bit too warm. His mind felt heavy, like it was filled with syrup. It was hard to think about too much. He had to take small breaks when it was straining too much, and so it took him several minutes to figure out a perfect solution to feeling too warm was to take a bath.

He tried to remember if he was supposed to find the place familiar, but it was too straining, so he gave up. He thought he had heard a car, but could he really be sure he knew what a car sounded like?

Rolling off the couch he was placed on, he looked down at his hands and found them to be tied. He couldn't really recall if they were supposed to be, and it kind of hurt, so he staggered into what had to be the kitchen to find something sharp.

Had it always been this hard to walk? His legs were shaking as he reached the counter and found a kitchen knife. He almost dropped it several times, but finally his hands were free.

But they still hurt, and he was still warm. And somewhere beyond the window he saw the water glittering.

II

Alex drove into George's driveway and found it to be empty. For a second she was about to just turn and drive back, then a bothersome thought came into her mind.

Would George really leave his door open like that, hanging just by one hinge?

Her eyes widened in terror as a thought occurred to her, and she dialled the number to the HQ without even thinking.

"Donna, get back-up to George's house NOW!" Without waiting for the reply, she exited, taking out her gun. There was something very, very wrong about the scene before her. The door had been broken down, and the implications of that brought a cold sweat to her face.

The house was empty, filled with light, but no sounds. She noticed the knife on the floor immediately, with just a little bit of blood on the edge. Still, it didn't exactly reassure her.

She wasn't really sure what made her look towards the open window and the Harbour, but as soon as she did, she saw the silhouette walking towards the water.

"George?" she called out, taking the quickest exit out to the beach; the window. The man (she was sure it was a man) had reached the water when she had crawled out, and as she ran closer, a slow reorganisation registered in her mind.

It was Mick.

"What the hell are you doing, Mick?" she cried out, her voice drowning in the sounds of the water roaring. He was waist deep in water now and the waves kept rolling over him, leaving no dry spots.

Without thinking, she ran into the water herself, throwing her gun to the sand and shuddering at the first contact with water. Still, she plunged on, towards the spot where Mick was now standing still. He wasn't looking in her direction at all, but rather at the horizon

She nearly lost her footing once or twice as waves washed over her and left her breathless. The wind was nearly strong enough to knock her over too, but she struggled on, finally reaching Mick.

"Mick!" she called out as she reached out to grab his hand, but at that moment a strong wave came right at her and she lost her footing. For a few seconds they were both under, then she emerged on all fours sputtering and cursing, feeling the beach under her feet and hands. And Mick's arm around her waist.

They both fell onto the beach, breathing hard.

"What's the bloody matter with you, Michael?" she managed to get out, pushing away wet strains of hair from her face.

"I dunno." He let go off her waist, rolling over on his back.

"You don't KNOW?" her voice rose in anger, and she had to fight the urge to slug him right then and there. The bloody idiot. Only then did she notice that his eyes seemed slightly disoriented, and that his wrists were swollen. Rolling over, she reached out to examine his wrists. He made no objections, looking at her without really looking.

He'd been tied up, she realised, tied up and probably injected with some drug. It wasn't a pleasant image, and as she helped him up, she vowed to stay glued to his side from now on. She had lost Jack. She couldn't lose Mick.

No matter how big a jerk he was.

II

George had expected to arrive home to a quiet house, change clothes, and head over to the hospital. It had been hard not to smile as he drove towards home, but as soon as he reached the driveway, his smile disappeared.

If the three police cars parked there hadn't been enough to tell him something was wrong, the expression on Jeff's face as he pulled in certainly was.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jeff fired at him as soon as George had exited the car.

"What's going on?" George countered, not really wanting to answer "sleeping with one of your other subordinates".

"Ernie is out for revenge. He brought Mick here, drugged, and probably planned to kill you both together. Luckily, you weren't home, so he went to search for you. And then Alex.."

"And then Alex arrived, looking for me," George finished, suddenly feeling faint. Sex had literally saved his life. A sudden memory of his childhood priest telling him sex would do quite the opposite, that sex would ruin his life, came over him and he had to fight not to laugh. He was never going to be celibate. Never.

"How's Mick?"

"Confused. He'd been injected with one of the new drugs on the market. Luckily, it was only a small dose. He'll be fine."

"What about Ernie?"

"He's out there. But," Jeff added with a grim voice, "he won't be for long."

II

Mick awoke to find a cool hand resting against his forehead. It was a pleasant sensation, and he revelled in it for a while, feeling like he had just awoken from a very, very long sleep. He remembered an urge to take a bath, but only very vaguely, like it hadn't happened to him at all.

"Mick?"

He opened his eyes and looked into Alex's face. She seemed relieved to see him, and as his eyes travelled over her body, he realised to his great surprise that she was wearing his clothes. They were a little big on her, but she was more beautiful than ever.

"I dropped by your place and got you a change of clothes, and I didn't wanna waste.." she paused, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous about her decision to stay by him as much as she could. It wasn't like he would have been in danger in the hospital.. Well, he could have, she reasoned, but not very convincingly.

"I hope you don't mind," she finished, trying to read his expression. He shook his head, sill looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"Jack loved Rachel, and she died from him," he muttered suddenly and she began to wonder if the drug really had left his system.

"What?" she asked softly, her hand travelling through his soft hair on its own accord.

He didn't repeat the remark, instead he took her other hand in his.

"You should go, Alex."

She shook her head even before he'd finished the sentence.

"Not gonna happen, Michael Reilly."

They stared at each other for a while, yet it didn't seem like any time passed at all. A line from one poem she had read when she was too young to understand it, suddenly occurred to Alex.

Each man kills the thing he loves
Yet each man loves the thing he kills
The brave man does it with a sword
The coward with a kiss

It made a hell of a lot more sense now, and she began to wonder if not Jack Christey had understood that poem much more than she ever would.

"Alex.."

"No, Mick."

"But.."

The only way to shut him up, she figured, was to keep his lips occupied. So she pulled her upper body into the bed and kissed him before he had time to protest. This time he didn't hesitate or attempt to pull back, but simply leaned into the kiss and bring his arms around her waist. It was a rather painful position on her part, as the metal end of the bed pressed into her abdomen and thighs.

She broke of the kiss long enough to climb into the bed, trying to make a mental of note of the fact that they were in a hospital and couldn't really do anything.

But then Mick began kissing the side of her neck, and she decided to stick the mental note where the sun didn't shine. They could blame it on the shock, and in Mick's case, the drugs. Everyone would understand.

And yet not understand.

So she didn't really pay that much attention to the approaching footsteps.

"We have a description out on him," Jeff was telling Helen as they walked down the corridor. She was leaning on a frame and a snail could outrun her, but she was walking, that was the main thing.

"Where was George anyway?"

Jeff shook his head as they approach the room where Mick was resting. "He dodged the subject, but I'll find out. Even if it worked to our advantage this time, he can't vanish of the face of the Earth if he wants to be a detective."

Helen threw one look into the room as Jeff kept on about keeping in touch in a crisis situation, and suddenly took hold of Jeff's hand.

"Say Jeff, shouldn't you call to check in with George?" she said pleasantly (and loudly), steering him away from the room.

"What?" Jeff seemed momentarily taken aback.

"I'd feel so much better knowing if he is getting somewhere," she prattled on, trying not to shake her head. She'd known something like that would happen. Still, she didn't really feel she could blame them.

Leading Jeff away, she didn't notice Emma coming from the other side and looking through the doorway.

Emma stood very, very still for a long second, staring at the scene in front of her. Then she turned and walked quietly away.

Damned if she was going to face off Mick and Alex on the verge of tears.

II

Mick had fallen asleep, his hands still locked around her waist and his head nestled against her chest. She felt tired herself, but somehow she was afraid to fall asleep. It was much better to stay as she was, pretending for one small moment that everything was all right.

But it wasn't. She'd run from the consequences of Jack's death and right into the arms of another man. The thought made her cheeks hot, and she rested her head against Mick's. She hadn't even given him much choice, knowing how he felt, knowing about Emma..

A little voice inside her whispered. "And what about Jack? What was that?"

Problem was, she didn't know what it was. And now she never would.

"So you finally decided you wanted him," Emma's cold voice came from the doorway. Looking up, Alex had to fight an urge to bite back.

"Hey Em. I guess you and I should have a talk.."

II

When Jeff walked into HQ, Donna rushed immediately at him and he tried not to groan.

"Is it important? Half my police force is in the hospital," Jeff sighed, trying to ignore the fact that his leg itched violently.

"About that sir, there's a new detective here," Donna cut in, "Tommy Tavita."

"What?" Jeff was sure he'd heard wrong, that all the stress had finally got to him and he was hearing things.

"Tommy Tavita.. sir," came a deep voice from the door, and Tommy walked in, and suddenly it seemed to Jeff that he had never left. Not really. No one ever did. A part of them remained in the office, waiting for them to return once more.

As the two men shook hands, Jeff wondered if this meant yet another era for the Sydney Water Police. And troubling enough, he suddenly wondered if he was meant to be a part of it.

II

Night came, as it always did, no matter how hard the day struggled to keep on.

In a hospital room, Mick tossed around, his mind playing an endless reel of memories.

Rachel's face when he'd come knocking on Frank's door the day before the guy had left. Mick had always wondered just what he'd interrupted; a fight, a kiss, or something more? He'd always felt he owed Rachel something because of it.

Rachel's face from his dreams, always pointing at him, blaming him.

Jack's harsh words, accusing him of being the one to blame. He'd lashed out at Jack.. But only because it the words had been painfully true. Jack had been right.

Alex's face when she realised Jack hadn't made it, crumbling, her eyes tearing up, her bottom lip shaking.

Emma slamming the door behind her as she exited the car, and, in many ways, his life.

You can deny the guilt only for so long before it consumes you.

Looking at the woman asleep in the chair next to his bed, he wanted more than anything to reach out and touch her. She was just an arm reach away, yet a mile away. And so, he kept tossing and waiting for exhaustion to finally allow him sleep.

But even then the memories claimed his dreams

Twisting violently, he tried to reach out to Rachel, but blood poured from her so fast he was drowning. He called out her name, and suddenly he felt a hand on his face. The colour of her hair slowly began to change, turning golden like a halo. Alex.

"You're dreaming, Mick."

He knew he was, and so it didn't seem wrong to pull her onto the bed, trapping her below his body. She protested slightly, but he was too busy admiring the way her skin lit up in the room. Like pale moonlight, and he basked in it.

Her clothes were wide and easy to push away. He felt her soundless gasp as his hands wandered up her shirt, and the last of her protests died away.

She was so beautiful, her skin trembling under his touch, her lips warm as they brushed past his jaw line. Her hands had already tugged the hospital gown off him, and he could feel her smile as she pressed her body closer to his.

"Alex," he rasped, no longer caring if it was a dream or not, simply knowing he had to have her now, one way or another. She whispered his name as their bodies locked, and again and again until she was out of breath and very glad she had kicked the chair at the door, locking it somewhat.

She wondered if he was aware he wasn't dreaming, but as her body responded to his, she found she didn't care. A tide seemed to be rising inside her, and she had to bite her lip not to cry out as her body gave in.

When she finally felt like herself again, Mick was resting against her shoulder, his heavy breathing hot against her ear. After a while his breathing became steady, and she could tell he had drifted back to sleep.

She stayed awake until the darkness finally began to fade.