A/N: No arguing on the sulking front, Claire, but tough luck. You know me, I have to string it out. Wow, I've never been called an inspiration by anyone. Well, not a sober person (you are, aren't you?). Thanks, Abi. Look forward to reading them.

'It was nice of you to invite me in,' Gabriel said after stretching out in the chair.

Feeling it probably wouldn't be polite to say she hadn't really had a choice, Sheelagh just handed him a glass of wine before collapsing on the sofa. 'I could do with the company.'

'No Connor?'

'He's staying with Patrick for a while, in case he falls or something.'

'He sounds like a good kid. Not many lads his age would wanna help out their parents.'

She smiled. 'Yeah, he is.'

Gabriel sat back contentedly. 'Was everything really alright at the restaurant? You two had us worried.'

'It was just girl talk. Boring stuff really.'

'I never knew you and Samantha Nixon were so close.'

'We weren't. I think we just discovered we had more in common than we thought.'

'Like what?'

The interest he was showing seemed a little misplaced. After all, what was so unusual about a friendship? 'I don't know. We just seem to get on well, I suppose.'

He sipped his wine. 'She doesn't like me much, does she?'

That was news. 'She didn't mention anything to me.'

'That's a surprise. She threatened to warm you off me.'

'Why would she do that?'

'Perhaps she thinks you're in danger,' he answered innocently.

Sheelagh nodded, trying to retain her calm exterior. Inside, though, her mind was racing.

Suddenly, the whole dinner idea made sense. Sam had wanted to look at them as a couple, use logic to analyse. Now, why would she do that if she didn't think there was something seriously wrong?

Gabriel didn't seem a menace. Always the nice guy, that was him. He'd risked his own life to save Smithy from the fire, not to mention the fact that he'd been the perfect gentleman with her. He hadn't even made a move. Then those thoughts which she'd managed to suppress at the beginning of the relationship started creeping back into her mind. Ruby Buxton and the framing. Marie Carver saying he attacked Jim and there were several people around the station who didn't seem to like him. Smithy, for one. How could he not even be grateful that Gabriel had saved his life? Inspector Gold didn't have a lot of time for him either and Lance was definitely not a fan. Why would so many people dislike him unless he'd done something to warrant it?

Oh, it was just silly. She was getting things so much out of proportion it was unbelievable. But as she looked up she found his eyes resting on her. It was unnerving to say the least.

'Another drink?' Sam didn't wait for Phil to answer, she paused two glasses of wine, downing hers immediately.

He frowned. 'You're knocking 'em back a bit, ain't ya?'

'Not really.'

'Is Abi asleep, do you reckon?'

'Probably.'

'Good.' He stood up. 'Right, are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on?'

'Sorry?'

'First you rope me into this dinner with two pathetic PC's...'

'Hey!' Sam looked at him sharply. 'Leave Sheelagh out of this.'

'It's all about her though!' Phil answered. 'You spent half the night talking to her like we were invisible and then you disappear to the bathroom for half an hour!'

'It wasn't that long.'

'Sitting with him that's what it felt like!'

'I'm not answerable to you, Phil.'

'I thought we were getting serious!'

'You don't get serious! You use women, I'm not gonna be one of them.'

His face softened. 'When I take you out I want it to be just us, alright? I wanna look across the table and see you, not Gabriel flipping Kent.'

However unusual it was to hear Phil Hunter speak like that she couldn't just melt into his arms. For starters, it wasn't the way she behaved. Secondly, she didn't want to. She wasn't certain why but she didn't want to. 'Maybe it's best if you just go.'

'You don't mean that.' He took the glass out of her hand, placing it on the table. 'Do ya?'

Roughly, she pulled away. 'I said so, didn't I?'

'What's the matter now?'

'I told you to go!'

On his way to the door, he looked back. 'I don't know what's going on with you. But sort it out.'

'It's getting late,' Gabriel commented.

Yes, it was rather and he wasn't showing any signs of movement. The sky was finally dark outside, with the curtains open and only a little lamp-light there were shadows being cast all around. For minutes on end all Sheelagh could hear was the gentle ticking of her old mantle clock and the heavy breathing of the man sat opposite her. 'Mmm.'

'I love this time of day,' he went on. 'It's quiet. The calm before the storm.'

'The storm?'

'You know. Kicking out time at the pubs , all that fighting then go home and well...'

No, she didn't need a bigger visual. Nervously, she finished her glass of whisky (she'd moved on after the second bottle of wine) and stood to refill it. With her back to him she felt braver. 'I've got an early start in the morning, Gabriel, so...'

He stood immediately. 'I'm sorry, I didn't think.'

'That's fine.' She walked him into the hallway, just about to open the door when a hand pulled her back. 'Gabriel, what..?'

As she turned she caught the gleam in his eye, the strength in his grip. Fear registered then panic.

Sam was contemplating movement. For the last hour she'd been happily lounged on the sofa with her trusty wine bottle but it was empty. So she was stuck between getting a new one and getting some sleep.

The tapping was so slight that she didn't recognise it at first, she thought it was a side-effect of all that alcohol. But as it continued she realised it was someone at the door. Phil crawling back perhaps.

Yet as she approached the noise she felt suddenly sobered almost as if she had to be. With trepidation, she opened the door, shocked to see Sheelagh against the frame. To put it bluntly, she looked a mess.

'Sam..?'

Before she could fully comprehend the situation she found herself cradling her friend in her arms.