Kristine can be blamed, cursed at, loved for this piece of work that is going to challenge my abilities as a writer.

A/N Neither The Judge nor Connie belong to me sadly, but the story does


Disappearing World

She wasn't entirely sure why this bar had stuck out to her so much, she wasn't even sure why the hell she was still in London, having been down for Michael's appeal hearing the dutiful wife role had run it's course and she could have been back on duty in only a couple of hours. Yet she was sitting at the dark, deep mahogany bar sitting handily close to the Old Bailey. Spending the day in court had made her realise just how much of a good decision medicine had been, the staff there appeared to be soulless, something she professed to knowing but knew she was apt at providing compassion when time called. It wasn't her problem that Michael had been told to stay put for the meantime, moral fibre inside made her feel slightly remorseful that her bed would still lie empty at night, yet her head knew it was the right decision, letting him out now would be pointless, lessons would remain untold and he'd return to old ways within a matter of weeks. Still it didn't stop her making a good go at getting as drunk as was possible.

Letting her slightly blurred eye catch the new face crossing the threshold she was slightly aghast at the appearance of the judge residing over her husband's case. Catching her eye the man started in her direction, smiling slightly as he leant forward on the bar, not committing to a stool yet not hoping to the door either.

"I recognise your face from somewhere," he stated in a silky drawl, similar to Ric's yet unique in his own right, she watched carefully as he downed the whisky in one, slamming the glass on the table and nodding to the bar tender to refill it.

"I was in court today, why?" she replied evasively, making small talk with any one outside the realms of family, colleague or friend was beyond her, a pet hate of falseness that she couldn't stand.

"No reason, I'm just trying to entertain a lost looking soul," he retorted smoothly, making nothing of the harsh implications of his statement.

"Well I'm not lost and I'm not in the mood for entertainment, but if you're here to stay sit down and make yourself comfortable, I hate people who don't know whether they're coming or going," came the spitting reply as she necked the rest of her gin and tonic, recoiling as the liquid burned down the back of her throat, it had been a long time since she'd gone out with such intent on getting hammered, but she thought it was a one off hankering back to the past.

"You sound like you talk from experience," he asked, sitting down on the stool as she'd asked, ordering his third whisky before turning so his body was facing her, and more particularly her legs which extended eloquently from the short skirt she'd put on, being away from her husband meant she could play if she wanted, and parading in an outfit often used to tell him what she wanted at night made the ideal get back.

"Have you tried running a large inner city Cardiotharacics unit lately?" she questioned in return sliding an extended finger round the rim of her tarnished glass, sinking into the tiny crack that lay on the top of it.

"So you're a surgeon then, I had you down as either a stay at home wife or a professional, never a doctor," he replied carefully keeping her gaze for as long as he could.

"Are you always so judgmental," she drawled, reminding him of a cat, lying wistfully in the sun after spending the afternoon sleeping in a snug bay window, not someone probably drinking themselves stupid after having their husband returned to jail for the foreseeable.

"Well it is in my job title, Judge John Deed," he retorted mischievously, clearly apt at playing her back at their own intellectual game.

"So is giving a f u c k about your patient's private lives with me, yet I don't tend to care," she smirked, relaxing slightly as the effect of the drink began to take a hold of her, "so at which point do they surgically remove your soul in those places,"

"It's usually around the time when you graduate, brilliant present wouldn't you say," he said, slightly taken aback at his forward agreement. She sat for a moment, neither laughing nor replying, instead finding interest in the bubbles that fizzled in the tumbler afore her, "are you just going to stare at that for all eternity," he spoke softly, interrupting her reverie.

"Avoiding reality for a moment, excuse me," she apologised, feeling the blood flush in her cheeks, draining her own glass before turning to him, sending a provocative smile towards him.

"Let me buy you another drink if you'll entertain me for the duration of the evening that it'll take for us to get drunk enough to lose any sense of caring," he watched as she smiled and let a perverse nod escape, motioning for a refill he continued, "tell me to leave off but are you divorcing your husband,"

"It depends very much on who's asking, to you yes, the man never loved me for what I was, only what I used to be, to anyone else, no it keeps life simpler."

"You and me both," he stated, feeling the pressure of her under his skin already starting to dissipate, it's why he loved coming to this particular bar, picking up the waifs that felt the need to drown reality out for all of an evening, transporting them back to a time when any iota of guilt over drinking passed with the taste of vodka on lips.

"You're separated with a parasitical ex wife too then," she purrs, the effect of alcohol leaving a slight slur on each syllable as it passes effortlessly into the atmosphere.

"Separated yes, George is far from an animal," he drawled in long languorous tones, hinting at the sadness he still possessed for his past relationship, sinking low in his heart he knew George still had a place for him, there weren't many people who sent him into a teenage dalliance at the mere blink of an eye, yet she still did.

"In all honesty I would class Michael as one, a posh toff yes but animal, no, he just…"

"Irritated you with his every forthcoming gifts of gratitude when you forgave him for the umpteenth time," he nods with an air of understanding, much though it had riled their relationship up he still felt pangs of guilt for keeping his eye always on the stray.

She nodded taking her time to formulate an equally revealing answer,

"it's when he's caught with your ward sister that it metaphorically hits' you in the balls," perhaps a little to revealing she blushes at her forward remark.

"I can see why it would, why did he feel the need to stray further than the marital bed," he smirks, eyeing her body in sheer indulgence, unperturbed by the smile forming on her face.

"I couldn't say in all honesty, but he did feel fit to try other's out, then again so did I," he's even more intrigued now, if it's something he likes it's an adulteress, it's one who has confidence in her own performance. Falsities run high in both jobs and he can't help but notice the feeling of not letting it get to her, genuine air filling her surroundings.

"It's the thrill of the chase isn't it," he tells her offhand, sliding to his feet "well it is for me," letting his elbows rest on the bar.

"Oh really," she eye's him coyly, shrinking the last of her drink away, looking at him intently, "leaving when the night is so interminably early?" letting her voice rest on him for a moment, he merely smiles knowledgeably.

"Well I was going to invite you to my apartment to share out the last of a perfectly aging whisky, but then again," he stopped; childishly looking at her with an unsubtle look of passion as she let herself hop from the stool and easily onto her heels, steady as if she were stone cold sober.

It took little time for them to reach his abode, the stairs climbed efficiently and the door flung open as they revelled in the warmth it provided, slinking towards the kitchen he was about to reach for the whisky when he lent his eyes towards her, sinking into her enticing glare that admonished any doubts he had about having her that night. Seasoned pro's never tended to make light of foreplay.

Slipping the white coat from her slender form he let his hand grope around her back, settling at the small, his lips imploded on hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth made him taste the generous tendrils of gin lacing in it aristocratically, he felt reverent for a moment as she let her hands caress the wide expanse of his back, slipping first a finger then a hand under his braces, pushing them aside enticed him closer to her, sinking his hands on the buttons of her top, undoing them one by one, slipping the shirt from her back ripping into the clasp of her bra he felt his trousers drop, leaving his boxer freefalling behind them, a quick flip of the catch on her skirt and she too was ready, leaning effetely towards one another he felt himself excite, sliding into her as the reached the expensive cotton sheets, delving deeper he pinned her hands to the bed above her, letting the erotic noise of her come fill the air like orchestral music. Feeling her skin begin to dew felt like a torrent running over him, egging him onto the next ravine. Whipping the moment till it curdled into soft effigies of ecstasy he Let her go, like a rag doll she flopped back, grateful of the release he'd provided her with, yet not feeling indebted to him.

"You come delightfully," he sighed, letting another kiss fall on her naked breast, consuming it with his right hand, sinking a kiss over her nipple, sending it to affinity and back, his lust felt like a poison lying caustically in her veins as she swept him over, letting him writhe on the bed, she slid a skilled hand round his sizeable manhood, shrinking him to nothing more than a gibbering teenager. Allowing time to enjoy the feeling of him the cacophony of emotions filled the air, neither one of them able to deny the alluring taste they gave to proceeding's, feeling like a well oiled orchestra about to perform for the first time, well drilled in the role they played and knowledgeable in the effect it would have. As she let her mouth drink in his juices he let out a dull monotonous moan, for someone of such wise words the Neanderthal effect of this was surprising, lovemaking reduced many men to nothing, but his response was somewhat spectacular. Letting her tongue lick his tip she released her grip, allowing him to re enter her, their lips locking in a somewhat odd tasting embrace, the alcohol long gone, replaced with a devilish taste; himself.

"I must say, Mr Justice Deed, that you come delightfully as well," she smirked, letting their naked body's relax as one, her breast's lying heavy on his chest, sending his skin fantastically wild, soaring through a myriad of emotions, lusting, discontent, worry that this woman would leave him as soon as she could, hating him for being so self consumed.