hello! first chapter in a while. as mentioned, I have been moving back to university this week and have struggled to find time between settling in, seeing friends and doing coursework. updates will likely be more spread out now, hopefully one or two a week as I love writing it! I hope you all understand and can be patient with me!
as always, I hope you enjoy and please do let me know your thoughts as we head into my favourite season!
"Hey," Kate greets as Liz walks into the viewing room.
Liz smiles in return, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. Looking over at the screens set up on the end of it, Liz glances over the image of Hastings, Dot and Steve sat on one side of the interview room, with another man and his solicitor sat on the other.
She had been briefly informed on the case by Steve who had caught her in her office earlier. He explained their latest inquiry centred on 'Operation Damson' where the suspect, a man named Ronan Murphy accused of preparing gangland execution, was shot by Sergeant Danny Waldron of South Ferry Station. Steve had explained himself and Ted were called to the scene because of suspicious bullet marks, indicating he was perhaps killed maliciously and not as a result of self-defence. The other three officers who were with Waldron at the time also confirmed the story of the shooting being defensive and necessary, but AC-12 has its doubts. On her lunch break, having already eaten at her desk, Liz thought she would drop in as Steve had invited her to watch from the viewing room, claiming he wanted her opinion.
"Victor Charlie Four One notified me that the suspect was travelling towards us and authorised us to carry out a real-time intercept," Liz hears the man, Sergeant Danny Waldron, state matter-of-factly.
"Real-time intercept," Hastings repeats, doubtfully, "Things get a wee bit fuzzy for me here, Sergeant. Maybe you could be a ray of sunshine and burn off the fog, hm?"
Liz watches as Waldron only stares back at the Superintendent, an offensive yet challenging gleam in his eye.
"I'm waiting," Hastings cockily prompts, a brow raised inquisitively.
Waldron remains silent, a stark contrast to the almost-arrogant assurance he had so far been responding with.
Dot speaks up, leaning forward, "What the super's asking you is how come, as per the statement given by Victor Charlie Four One, you were ordered to only support-"
"Not ordered," Waldron exclaims, swallowing hard once he realises how loud that had slipped out, "Advised."
"But you went ahead and carried out the hard stop, anyway," Dot confronts.
"The suspect was travelling at high speeds to an unknown destination with the intent of committing a gangland execution," Waldron asserts.
"Or so the intelligence says."
"The intelligence did say," Walrodn argues with a shrug, "and if that's wrong, sir… take it up with them."
Dot glares at the man as Waldron raises a cocky brow.
His solicitor leans forward now, "Can we please stick to a line of questioning that relates to Victor Charlie Five One's actions?"
Hastings nods, waving a welcoming hand to Waldron, "On you go, Sergeant."
Waldron lets out a breath, then reaches for the documents laid out on the table in front of them, "It would help if I refer to the map in our folders. Document four."
The group pull out their copies, Liz opening her own folder that Kate passes to her.
"Travelling at high speed along Prince's Road, the suspect approached a line of parked cars with open road ahead," Waldron explains, "I was concerned that if we didn't carry out the hard stop immediately, the suspect would get away."
"And that was your decision, was it?" Dot questions.
"No, sir," Waldron says, turning to him pretentiously, "It was a decision of the strategic firearms commander, who designated the operational objective of preventing the suspect carrying out an act of lethal force. Added to which, as police officers, it's a non-negotiable duty to protect the public."
Liz chuckles to herself as she sees Kate roll her eyes at the Sergeant's excessive use of terminology. Looking back to the screen, she can tell Steve is straining to resist doing the same, instead leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.
"Can I answer the question now?" Waldron quirks.
Hastings sighs, quietly irritated, "Please do."
Waldron nods, once again beginning a performative account of his version of events, "Fearing the suspect would get away and pose a danger to the public, I took the decision to close off his route of escape by executing a hard-stop manoeuvre on Prince's Road that trapped the suspect's vehicle between ours and the parked cars. The suspect then made his escape on foot via an alleyway and I gave chase."
Liz looks to her map, where this route is clearly indicated.
Waldron continues, "This foot chase led to a confrontation in Prince's Court."
"Well," Hastings says, "we need you to tell us all about this confrontation."
"Once in Prince's Court, the suspect almost immediately realised he was cornered, Waldron states, looking Hastings unwaveringly in the eye, "The suspect turned his weapon on us and fired. We returned fire, shots struck the suspect in the head and proved instantly fatal."
"We have received written statements from yourself and the other AFOs on your team," Steve explains, "Said statements agree you all entered Prince's Court together."
"Correct."
"See, thing is," Dot continues from Steve's point, "we have a statement of an eyewitness on Prince's Road. She says that you entered that rough ground at least thirty seconds before the rest of your team."
"I was first out of our vehicle," Waldron insists, "That would have misled the eyewitness."
"Are you saying she's mistaken?" Hastings asks.
"I'm saying that my written statement and the written statements of my team are accurate."
"Yes, they are," Hastings nods, "And entirely consistent in every detail."
Waldron flinches. The minute wince of his undereye would have gone unnoticed to many, but not to Liz. It was a very telling reaction.
"You and your team acted as one," Hastings says, also having noticed this.
"Correct."
"That's not always the case for you and your teams though, is it?" Dot inquires, hinting to their next point.
Steve continues following Waldron's blank silence, "In your four years at South Ferry there have been a fair few transfer requests from officers who didn't want to stay in your team."
"Some guys can't cut it," Waldron defends, "I want them off my squad. To save face, they put in for a transfer request."
Liz sighs, knowing that not to be true. She had appointments with at least three officers who had complained about their experiences with Waldron at South Ferry.
"I've got high standards," Waldron shrugs, impassively, "That's their problem."
Liz watches as Steve only stares at him, distrustingly.
"So, all four of you entered Prince's Court together," Hastings says, leaning his elbows on the desk as he folds his arms.
"Yes, sir," Waldron smirks, "We were moving fast on foot but I carried out a rapid risk assessment, noting that there were no members of the public in immediate jeopardy. I called 'armed police'. The suspect turned his weapon on us and opened fire. I returned fire. The suspect fell to the ground. Immediate examination of the suspect by Victor Charlie Five Four revealed serious wounds to the head. The suspect had absent respiration and his pulse was also absent. I secured his firearm. A few moments later, Victor Charlie Four One arrived on the scene with her team and assumed operational command."
Liz lets out a relieved breath when he finally finishes talking, Kate sighing irritatedly beside her. That sourly stoic tone was nothing but grating, quite frankly.
"You discharged your pistols, not your G36s," Steve notes.
"We confronted the suspect in a confined space bounded by hard surfaces," Waldron responds, as if it were the most obvious explanation, "Given the G36 has a muzzle velocity of over 900 metres per second, I identified a significant risk our rounds might pass through the suspect and ricochet back at us, causing injury."
"We don't have an eyewitness to the shooting," Dot states, "but we do have three ear-witnesses."
"Three independent ear-witnesses," Hastings stresses.
"Each ear-witness claims to have heard a group of gunshots followed closely by what sounded like a second group of gunshots, followed closely by a single gunshot," Steve informs.
"As per my written statement," Waldron huffs, "it's a matter of fact that there was one shot fired by the suspect, immediately followed by a group of shots, fired simultaneously by myself, Victor Charlie Five Two and Victor Charlie Five Three."
"These independent ear-witnesses would seem to contradict said 'fact'," Hastings challenges.
"It is an accepted and well-recognised acoustic phenomenon that an ear-witness can be deceived by up to six different sounds associated with a single gunshot," Waldron replies, having an answer for everything. It reminds Liz of Denton.
Steve resists a sigh, instead wishing to continue, "Document six in your folders. Forensic report regarding Operation Damson."
Liz looks down at her own folder as Steve continues to read, "Gunshot residue from the discharge of a Glock 17 pistol was detected on the hands and clothing of the following: Victor Charlie Five One, Victor Charlie Five Two and Victor Charlie Five Three."
"They all discharged their weapons. No one's disputing that," Waldron's solicitor argues.
Steve continues, unbothered, "A Colt 1911 A1 pistol was found in the suspect's right hand. Gunshot residue from a discharge of this firearm was detected on the suspect. Gunshot residue from the Colt was also detected on Victor Charlie Five One."
Liz leans forward to study the vacant glare Waldron was sending Steve's way after that evidence.
"Are you able to explain this finding?" Hastings asks.
"I secured the suspect's firearm, causing secondary transfer of residue after the firearm had been discharged," Waldron covers, "This explains the high concentration of residue."
"Does it?" Dot smirks, huffing in disbelief.
"A concentration distribution more characteristic of a gunman than a bystander," Steve explains.
"Caused when I secured the firearm," Waldron insists.
Hastings shakes his head, muttering, "You expect us to believe that?"
Steve continues to push, referring once again to the forensics report, "A distance of approximately five metres from the suspect was a small concentration of gunshot residue found on the ground. Said residue matched the suspect's firearm. How would you account for this?"
"The suspect was in motion as he turned his firearm towards my team. He covers a short distance between raising the gun and firing it."
"There's gunshot residue on the ground where the body was found," Steve pushes, "That's where he fired the gun. Why is there gunshot residue five metres away, as well?"
"My colleague has answered the question-"
"Did the gun ever lie in a potion on the ground five metres form the suspect?" Steve questions, voice raised and overpowering the solicitor.
"No, it did not," Waldron asserts, though the slightest hint of a smirk appears on his face, as though he were proud of his facade.
Steve huffs, turning back to the folder to hide his frustration, "Document eleven. Three bullets were recovered from the head wound and were identified as nine by nineteen millimetre parabellum rounds fired by a Glock 17 pistol issue to authorised firearms officer Victor Charlie Five One."
"Three shots," Dot emphasises, "You made sure. Didn't you, Sergeant?"
"Victor Charlie Five One regrets the loss of life," Waldron's solicitor says before he has the chance to respond himself, "But I don't need to remind everyone that he was an authorised firearms officer acting on the lawful orders of a strategic firearms commander."
"You regret killing him?" Steve asks Waldron.
"As I said-" his solicitor goes to repeat her assertion before Steve interrupts her again.
"I am asking Victor Charlie Five One."
"Victor Charlie Five One has the right to be interviewed by an officer at least one rank superior," the woman quips.
Liz can't resist an amused smile at the way Steve's face darkens in frustration. He always hated it when they said that.
Hastings jumps in then, "Do you regret killing him, Victor Charlie Five One?"
"I regret the loss of life," Waldron professionally responds.
"Three shots," Hastings raises his voice to accentuate the point.
"Standard practice is to aim at the maximum body mass," Steve explains, "The chest."
"Why head shots?" hastings inquires, tone stern.
"I was ten metres away in good visibility," the Segreant explains, "The shots were highly achievable."
"Standard practice is double tap the trigger, discharging shots in pairs," Steve continues to stress.
"Not two shots," Hastings scolds, "Not four."
"He collapsed after the third shot, so I ceased fire," Waldron's voice strains under the pressure, yet remains assured.
"You shot him down like a dog," Hastings castigates.
"Sir, you language is inflammatory," Waldron's solicitor complains.
Liz chuckles at Hastings' unbothered, sarcastic laugh at that.
"We don't shoot to wound," Waldron continues, "We shoot to neutralise the lethal threat."
"You were the only AFO to strike the target," Steve looks at the man, challengingly.
"Yes, that's what hap-"
"You listen to me, son," Hastings scorns, silencing the Sergeant, "We weren't born yesterday. You shot that fella in cold blood while your wee mates stood by and watched."
"I shot first and the others fired a fraction later, by which time the suspect had collapsed and their shots missed."
"You saw all that in a fraction of a second?" Dot raises a disbelieving brow.
Waldron leans forward, darkly glaring at him, "I've never been to this building before. You saw me walk into this interview room and sit down in a matter of seconds."
Liz frowns, unsure where he is going with this.
"Over my left shoulder," Waldron allows his gaze to flicker between the three men opposite him as he begins, "are three rows of open plan desks in front of a glass petition dividing the open plan area from a private office, range 20 metres. Seated at the desks are seven perosnnel composing four males and three females."
LIz can see Steve looking beyond Waldron to affirm his claims. She turns to do the same, shoulder sinking as she realises he is correct.
Waldron goes on, "Over my right shoulder is a longitudinal partition at chets height, beyond which is gate-controlled access, range 20 metres. Entrances and exits at this level are via key-controlled lifts adjacent to the waiting area at my four-o-clock position, range 35 metres."
Hastings immediately speaks up, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of them seeming impressed or flustered by the display, "So why the second shot? Why the third?"
"The first shot was fatal," Steve says, keeping up the barrage.
"Why did you keep firing?" Hastings questions, "Are you losing it out there, fella?"
"I cite under Common Law, my lawful right to use lethal force for preservation of life or in self-defence where this threat is immediate," Waldron bites.
"Yes, and in response I cite Section 117 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act: the use of reasonable force," Hatsings bites back, "And for the tape, the emphasis is mine and not contained in the act."
Kate and Liz share an amused glance at the older man's witty quip, before turning back to the screens where Waldron once again shrugs, indifferent.
"That's an easy argument from behind a desk, sir-"
"Behind this desk, Sergeant, we uphold standards!" Hastings shouts, "Standards you're expected to meet as a serving police officer!"
Steve swipes on the tablet, an image of the deceased suspect appearing on the screen. Liz swallows down some bile at the sight; bloody bullet holes having torn through the eye socket.
"Do you recognise the man in this image?" Hastings asks, voice now calm once again.
"I object in the strongest possible terms," Waldron's solicitor says, recovering after her own shock at the image, "Victor Charlie Five One has been involved in an extremely tragic and distressing incident, and this line of inquiry is offensive and insensitive."
"Your man doesn't strike me as the sensitive type," Dot quirks. Liz has to bite back a laugh.
"Are you?" Steve asks, Liz noticing him also struggling to refrain from smiling.
"Am I what?" Waldron asks, not having responded to Dot's accusation.
"Sensitive," Steve states.
Liz watches Waldron's face darken again.
"In your personnel file, there's no next of kin," Steve states, "Wife, fiancee?"
Waldron lets out an offended huff, looking anywhere but the AC-12 officers. The assured confidence has disappeared completely from his expression and posture, now sitting deflated and defeated in his seat. Liz feels her heart pang for the man, feeling somewhat guilty for having been amused by the accusation.
"This line of questioning bears no relevance to the investigation," his solicitor defends.
"We don't know that yet," Steve argues.
"I'm single," Waldron finally responds, looking sadly yet challengingly to Steve, "The suspect was an armed criminal with a history of violence posing an immediate and credible threat to the public. In respect of Operation Damson, on May 13th the strategic firearms commander authorised the use of firearms. Under Section Three of the Criminal Law Act, 1967, I am also entitled to use such force as is reasonable in the circumstance to prevent crime. And under Section 117 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, 1984, I am entitled to use reasonable force in the exercise of police powers."
Liz winces as the man's volume gradually raises higher and higher as he recites the terms, seeing his confidence grow in the increased puffing of his chest.
"Under Common Law, I have the lawful right to use reasonable force for preservation of life or in self-defence where this threat is immediate," Waldron hits a finger pointedly onto the table as his gaze catches the three men, "At no time has anyone in this room out forward credible evidence that I acted unlawfully! And therefore, I formally request that my withdrawal from operational deployment be lifted and my firearms permit be reinstated so I can get back to doing what I do best!"
"This investigation is far from over, son," Hastings warns, "As far as I'm concerned, we've only just scratched the surface!"
Waldron's lower lip trembles as he glares incredulously at the Superintendent.
Hastings stands, walking from the room, "Request denied. Desk duty only. Interview terminated."
The door slams behind him, Liz looking out the window of the viewing room to watch him stride to his own office. She sighs, leaning back in her seat as she thinks over all the new developments and information.
"Christ," Kate says, unsure what to actually say as she also processes the insights.
"Are you going undercover at South Ferry?" Liz asks, assuming that was why Kate had not been present in the interview room.
"Most likely. Though nothing has been put in motion, yet," Kate nods, then looks over to her friend with a teasing smirk, "Sure you don't want to take this one?"
Liz guffaws, looking offendedly at the woman, knowing she was referring to her mission with Hurrell seven months ago, "You're never going to drop that, are you?"
Hurrell had since been permanently suspended from the force, with many other women coming forward with their own accusations against him. There was not enough for a charge, but Liz was proud to have secured a suspension at least. By putting herself in the line of fire, she had encouraged others to open up about their own experiences after years of feeling bullied into silence.
Kate just shrugs, still smiling.
"Besides," Liz continues, "I know him. Sort of."
"Yeah, Steve mentioned," Kate vaguely remembers the man having said something about it, "You worked with him or something?"
Liz hums, "Was at my branch, back when I was briefly an actual officer after training."
Kate nods, remembering that was what Steve had said to her, "What was he like?"
"That," Liz chuckles, humourlessly, gesturing to the screens where he remained seated, speaking with his solicitor as Steve and Dot gathered their documents, "Reserved, kept to himself mostly. Very eager, but not out of the ordinary for a young, male recruit, I suppose."
Liz had only known the man for less than two months a few years ago. It was hardly as though he were a client who she had studied and written profiles on. He had always been that way; arrogant. But she had always written it off as eagerness when they worked together as officers. It was not until she spoke with a few clients from his new branch that she began to imagine a different side to the man. A side she could not work out from such a distance. All she knew was that him shooting down a suspect and intimidating his team into covering for him did not feel unlikely to her. Though, it did not sit right that he would do it without reason. If she had to guess, there was more to his knowledge and maybe past with the suspect than he wanted to reveal. Hopefully, if they allowed her to, she could be useful to the team in that sense.
Liz watches the screen as the group stand from their chairs and leave the interview room. Wanting to catch up with Steve and discuss that line of inquiry and any part she could play, she gets up from her chair to meet with him as he escorts Waldron out of the building.
"I'll see you in a bit," Liz says to the other woman as she heads out of the room. Kate waves at her, needing to stay hidden in the room from Waldron if she were to be stationed at his branch, undercover.
Leaving the viewing room, Liz heads over to the office exit where Steve is standing with Waldron and his solicitor. Steve catches her eye, nodding in greeting as she approaches, though Liz stays a little further away from the group as to not entirely intrude.
Steve's attention is immediately returned to Waldron, who has not yet noticed her arrival, stepping closer and squaring up to him.
"What was all that about my personal life?" Danny scowls, lowly, "What was that?"
"Danny, don't do this," his solicitor warns, only to be ignored.
Steve refuses to stand back, looking up determinedly at the furied man, "Nothing personal."
"No?" Waldron exclaims, disbelieving and offended.
"Interview's finished, Danny," the solicitor drawls as the lift begins to open.
"I'm not," Waldron huffs, defiantly.
"Good," Steve growls, inching closer, menacingly, "Neither are we."
Liz almost rolls her eyes at his typical dramatic retaliation, taking a step forward as the two men glare at each other.
"Danny," Liz calls, hoping her calm tone would distract the two men and diffuse their tension.
Waldron's eyes finally flit to hers, the animosity in his eyes retracting. Liz would have felt relieved if his stare was not so grievously, almost somehow threateningly blank.
Liz holds out her hand to him, ignoring the look, "I'm Liz, Liz Thornton? I don't know if you remember, but we used to work together. At Crowley Avenue Station?"
Her hand hangs limp in the air as he just looks at her, eyes blank and dark. She had hoped it was simply a look of nonrecognition, that he was unsure who she was. But, after an almost missable miniscule nod of the head in realisation, the stare remained fixed on her. The sinking feeling in her stomach is not only embarrassment, but dread.
Perhaps, Liz wonders as she timidly lowers her ignored hand, he thinks she was involved in the interrogation of his personal life. Perhaps, he thinks she, having known him before, gave AC-12 the information they used against him. Perhaps, he is angry with her.
Liz represses a chill.
She finds herself taking a small step backward, slightly cowering under his glare. Liz notices Steve, who had been worriedly glancing between the two of them, move slightly in front and between her and the man. As he does, Danny's bothersome blank gaze flicks sharply between Steve and the woman behind him. With one last snarl, Waldron turns on his heel and strides to the lift, joining his solicitor.
Steve remains standing in front of Liz as the doors to the lift close, Waldron continuing to send the pair a sinister snarl until the doors close and he is out of sight.
Liz lets out a relieved breath, having been unable to exhale under the pressure of Waldron's glare.
Steve turns to her with a concernedly questioning look. She nods, assuring him she is alright.
"You did well," Liz says to him as they begin to head for her office.
Steve shakes his head, "You were right. He's difficult."
Liz hums, thinking to when she had tried to describe Daniel Waldron to her friend the day before. 'Difficult' was the only word that had come to mind. Steve had frowned, underwhelmed at that analysis, but now it seemed fitting.
"What time do you finish tonight?" Steve asks her.
"Late, probably. I have a meeting with Central tomorrow I need to prepare for," she explains.
"I finish at nine if you want a lift," he offers, knowing that, even after a year, Liz had still been too humble to ask for a new company car after the Denton crash.
Liz smiles, gratefully, "Thank you, Steve. I'll try and get it all finished by then."
"Great, see you later."
"So when are you bringing in the rest of the squad for questioning?" Liz asks as they walk to Steve's car later that night.
"Hastings is working on it now," Steve informs, holding the office door open for her as they leave the building.
"Thanks," she says as she passes, wrapping her coat around her tighter as they step into the cold, night air, "And Danny? Will he be back soon?"
Steve huffs, "Well, we need more to go on before we can lay down a charge. Having a meeting tomorrow about Kate going undercover."
"Yeah, she mentioned the possibility," Liz nods.
Kate had seemed up for the idea, things now beginning to settle with her husband and regular visits with her son, Josh. The woman had seemed much more content lately. Not quite happy, but things were so much better than they had been this time last year. She had an apartment, her family back and finally felt re-convinced in her ability as a UCO. Seeing her friend so stable after everything made Liz happy too.
"Hastings has seemed a little reluctant to send out UCOs after…" Steve trails off.
Liz rolls her eyes, knowing he is referring to what happened all those months ago with Hurrell.
She smirks, "Steve, I thought we agreed to move on from it. Besides, Ted is just being over-protective. I refuse to let that man prioritise my mistake over this case."
Steve rolls his eyes now, "Lizzie, it wasn't your mistake-"
"Please, I really don't want to talk about it again," Liz says, holding out a hand to stop him, "We said we would move on and that's what we should do. It was so long ago and there really is no need for it to keep coming up."
Steve sighs, both in frustration and relief.
"I don't ever have to think about that man again, so I won't," Liz asserts, shuddering from the cold and the memory of Hurrell's advances.
Steve looks at her as they walk into the car park, quietly affirming, "I'm just glad you're ok."
Things had been going well for Lizzie too over the last year. Her O.K. network was ever-expanding, with more wellbeing officers being recruited and assigned to branches each month. After the Hurrell incident, Steve had feared she would have felt defeated and put herself down lower than she usually had the habit of doing. Instead, like with Kate, Liz had seemed much more assured. There was a new air of confidence about her - and Steve's chest aches proudly seeing it. He is sure the turning point was Hastings' long overdue confession of him being proud of her that did it. Steve almost found himself choking up when she told him, knowing how much that must have meant to her. It was as if, now Hastings was finally, openly proud of her, she could be too.
"Me too," Liz smiles up at him, Steve returning it fondly.
"How is the network-"
"Steve!" someone cuts him off by yelling his name, echoing around the car park.
The pair look over to where his car sits, a woman standing next to it and waving over at him.
Liz sighs, though under her breath so the man beside her does not hear it.
Sam Railston. Steve's girlfriend.
She watches as a smile lights up Steve's face, him moving quickly over to the other woman. Liz slowly makes her way over too, though stops a fair distance away from the couple.
Steve envelopes her in an embrace, the couple then melting into a kiss. Liz looks away, quietly clearing her throat, awkwardly. He had not mentioned his girlfriend would also be there this evening. It disappoints her, having been grateful to spend time with him after such a busy few weeks at work. Not that there was dislike between the two women. They just had not seen much of each other after the Hurrell incident and Steve using a date with Sam as a guise to protect her. Liz supposes the woman had a right to feel weird, but after so many months, she was surprised Sam still seemed reluctant to want to get to know her. Sam would often find excuses to leave when Liz approached them or, as in this case, she would almost put on a performative display of affection with Steve. Liz did not understand why the woman felt compelled to do that, it was not like it was making her jealous or anything. Only extremely uncomfortable.
With his arms still wrapped around his girlfriend's waist, Steve gives her another sweet kiss, "Hey."
"Hey," Sam sultrily whispers back.
Steve suddenly opens his car door, remembering, "I have these for you."
He pulls out a bouquet of flowers, smirking at the smile Sam gives him when she sees them, "Happy anniversary."
Sam responds by kissing him back, deeply.
Steve leans back after a moment, smiling at his girlfriend.
He turns to look behind him, now almost embarrassingly aware that Lizzie was watching the entire thing.
Or so he thought.
Lizzie was no longer there. She was gone.
Liz is happy for Steve.
She is. Of course she is. Why wouldn't she be?
Sam is… nice. Steve is happy. And he deserves that.
This was good for Steve. He has clearly changed his ways when it comes to women. Hopefully, he had listened to the many times Liz called him out for being, well, a womaniser.
That nausea in her stomach back there as she watched the couple was just awkwardness. It is always awkward watching someone kiss in public. Especially when it is your friend. And Steve is one of her closest friends. Of course she feels uncomfortable.
Besides, even if a small part of her was jealous, it would only be that general envy of companionship again. She had felt it before, with Steve and Georgia, and Steve and the nurse, and Steve and Denton- Of course, most of those had been romantic relationships, to an extent. But that wasn't the point. He was her friend. it was only normal for her to resent him spending time with anyone else. Especially when she had so few other friends.
Perhaps she did not have to walk away like that, unannounced. But they clearly wanted time alone, so she is doing them a favour by walking herself home. Liz is sure Steve will understand.
Liz feels her phone vibrating in her coat pocket as she walks. Pulling it out, she sees the caller ID is Steve.
He will understand.
Still, she ignores the call.
Putting her phone back in her pocket, she looks around, realising she has walked further than she realised. Must have been lost in thought.
Liz was no longer walking down the busy high streets and main roads, but was now making her way down the narrow alley short-cut which led to her road. She had walked this route so many times before, on her way to and from work. It was more than familiar to her.
So, why did she feel so uneasy?
Goosebumps prick her arms and neck. It was a cold night, but Liz's thick coat and hurried pace was enough to keep her warm - so why did she have goosebumps?
Could it be the way the street lamp was flickering, darkening the path ahead?
Or the chilling wind howling in her ear?
Was she still feeling uneasy about Steve and Sam's intimate display?
...Or was it the resounding, heavy footsteps that had relentlessly followed her for the last twenty minutes?
Taking a breath and shaking her head, convincing herself it is just coincidence, Liz turns her head slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a figure a few feet behind. Any features are indistinguishable in this shoddy lighting. She guesses it is a man, from the heaviness and pace. But who was it? Were they following her?
Liz, despite trying her best to persuade herself she was being irrational, quickens her pace a little, focusing intently on the path ahead of her.
You're being irrational, Liz scolds herself, He will turn the other way as soon as we reach the end of the alley and that will be the end of it. He isn't following you-
He doesn't turn. The footsteps continue behind her.
She quickens her pace again, her feet fumbling slightly. Liz attempts to keep a regular fast pace, not wanting to alert this man - if he were following her - she had caught on, or on the other hand - if he were not following her - not wanting to embarrass herself by running.
Though, despite her mind's resistance, every instinct in her body is telling her to.
Speeding down her road, Liz risks another glance to the side. It is still too dark to distinguish who this man is. But it becomes more plausible to her that he is following her as she becomes hyper-aware of the footsteps, also quickening their pace to match hers.
Eyes snapping forward, watering from the cold and fear, Liz almost runs to her apartment building. Practically falling through the front door, Liz slams it shut behind her, holding it closed for a moment. Looking through the glass, she sees no one.
The street is empty. There is no one there. The man is gone.
Breathing heavily, Liz backs away from the door, turning to her own flat. Fumbling in her pocket for keys, Liz glances over her shoulder, worriedly. Still, there is no one there. But that does not stop her heart from battering against her ribs. Or her hands stop shaking. Or a tear falling down her cheek.
Collapsing against her door once she is through it, and sinking to the ground, Liz lets out a short sob.
Saoirse approaches, stroking her fur coat against Liz's leg. She allows herself to revel in the feeling, taking it as an attempt of comfort.
She is home, she is safe.
Liz does not know who the man was or what his intentions were.
But Liz does know; she was being followed.