A/N: Okay. Um... well, here we are again. Apologies for the direction of this. Kind of.

Sam was watching her sleep, she knew that. The attention caused discomfort (as with Gabriel earlier in the evening) but she was loathe to move and give the game away mainly because she couldn't bear another discussion like the one they'd had already.

The details. It had almost been impossible to think never mind describe but the look on Sam's face had forced her to. The split-second decision she'd made when she'd realised she had to get out of the house had been the right one, Sam Nixon wasn't being judgmental nor professional, just utterly supportive. It was the unexpected but gratefully received reaction.

Leaning against the doorframe Sam watched her friend sleep. After a little gentle persuasion Sheelagh had agreed to take Sam's own bed and nightclothes though she still refused point blank to either report the rape or have a physical examination. Thinking it over Sam understood why, though she didn't exactly like the fact.

Sheelagh was a copper, she knew why rapes had to be reported, for starters the guilty party had to be punished. Gabriel Kent. Yet she'd quietly rebuked the idea, not on the grounds that it couldn't be proven (the forensics would see to that) but because she hadn't got the strength to deal with the station gossips as she'd had to after the Des Taviner situation. Sam hadn't wanted to press the issue, though once Sheelagh had gone to bed she'd bagged up the clothes deciding she'd work on the physical examination tomorrow.

'Mum?'

Sam turned, Abi was in her own doorway. 'Oh, hi, sweetheart.'

Seeing her glance back into the room, Abi came further forward. 'Who's that?'

'Sheelagh Murphy. PC Murphy. You know her.'

'Mum, what's going on?'

Hesitating slightly, Sam leaned over to close the door then led Abi back into her own room. 'Earlier this evening Sheelagh was raped.'

'What?'

'Now, Abi, listen to me,' she went on quickly. 'You have to keep quiet about this, there's a chance she won't report it.'

The young woman sat on the bed. 'Why wouldn't she?'

'I can't explain, I'm sorry. But she'll be here for another night at least, if that's okay.'

'Course.' Abi paused. 'Is she alright?'

'Not really,' Sam answered truthfully. 'She... knows him.'

'Do you?'

'Oh, yeah.' Glancing at the clock she registered the time- one-thirty in the morning. 'I've got to nip out.'

'What? Where too? Mum, you're not going to do anything stupid are you?'

'Abi, I play things by the book, you know that.'

'You must want to hurt him.'

'Honestly? I wanna kill him but I... All I'm going to do is go to Sheelagh's house, she needs fresh clothes.'

'Do you want me to stay up a while in case she wakes up?'

'I don't think she will but... Aren't you tired?'

Abi patted her stomach. 'She's giving me trouble.'

'It's a Nixon family trait.' Sam planted a kiss on her daughter's forehead. 'I shouldn't be long.'

'Be careful.'

She looked back from the doorway. 'I will.'

There was a patch of damp on the ceiling. Sheelagh lay looking up at it while she was straining to hear the conversation between mother and daughter in the next room. It was no good, merely a mumble that was interrupted by the passing of a car every so often. She didn't suppose it mattered though, they'd be discussing her.

It was easier not to think. Dipping her head into the soft pillow yet again she tried to lose herself in Samantha's scent. And yet again it failed to work.

Below her the front door opened and closed. Panic started to swell until a car started up then a little fear set in. Why had Sam gone out? To find Gabriel?

Having taken the keys from Sheelagh's handbag Sam was prepared for what might be behind the door. Some kind of indication about what had happened in the hallway perhapsbut the only thing that betrayed the fact that Sheelagh hadn't been alone were the two wine glasses. The copper in Sam rose again, she carefully retrieved them both putting them in a kitchen cupboard just in case Sheelagh changed her mind about reporting it later.

After choosing a selection of clothes she went back downstairs. As she looked at the wall she couldn't help but remember what Sheelagh had described earlier. It literally made her vomit into the kitchen sink.

'Abi, where's she gone?'

The young woman turned from the kettle, perhaps nervousness on her face. 'She thought you needed some fresh clothes.'

Her heart slowed, slightly anyway. 'I thought she'd...'

'She won't,' Abi assured her. 'She promised.'

'Right.'

'Cup of tea?'

Sheelagh nodded. 'I suppose she told you.'

'I'm not going to tell anyone.'

'I appreciate it.'

When they sat at the table a few minutes later Abi broached a difficult subject. 'She says you won't report it.'

'It's complicated.'

'Well, maybe,' Abi agreed. 'But what if it helps? What if he did it to someone else, could you live with that?'