Hello once again lovelies! Another huge thank you goes to talkingtothesky, Iaveina, cid girl and Innogen for reviewing my last chapter! I hope you all enjoy this – Sam's continuing night of hell! MWHAHAHA!

Enjoy!

He pulled the now sweaty shirt away from his slender body, grateful that the monstrosity of a day was finally over. Despite the morning starting off particularly well, Sam Tyler's day rapidly deteriorated. From bizarre revelations of love children, to getting knocked over by a heinous right fist, this had hardly been the day he'd longed for to get back into the swing of 1973's Manchester.

Although he wasn't completely tired, Sam knew that if he didn't go to bed now and try and get a good nights kip that he'd soon start pondering the days events over and over again in his mind like a stuck record. To be frank, he couldn't be bothered to do that; he knew that it was about time he at least attempted to separate himself from work, even if sleep was the only way to do so.

Tearing his shoes away from his clammy feet, his face creasing at the rather musty smell, he soon diverted his attentions back to Annie. She had been so sweet to him, bringing him back to the flat, making sure he made it safely back inside without so much as a fly touching him.

"Are you sure you'll be ok?"

She touched his face affectionately. His heart raced; he had missed her touch.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thank you."

His speech was calm, hiding his pleasure of her presence. How he loved her so.

"You don't want me to stay the night, do you?"

He gulped slightly. He didn't want to offend her. She was the best thing that's happened to him in a long time, possibly ever.

"I promise tomorrow night, we'll spend it together. I'm just a bit knackered now, that's all."

She smiled sympathetically, as if she understood. Her fingers pressed lightly against his barely parted lips, urging him to just be quiet. To enjoy the moment. Tempting him to enjoy her.

"I understand."

Their bodies became synchronised, understanding the other even just through instinct alone, possibly through memories from before, of being together day after day. Except, this time, they could really appreciate the other without prying eyes obtruding their pleasure.

She moved in for the kill, her face millimetres from his. He closed his hazel eyes. He was going to enjoy the next few minutes.

He puckered up, taking in one large breath, anticipating the warmth of her delicate kisses.

He stood there, waiting. Opening his eyes carefully (in case it was he about to ruin the moment), her saw her stood there, stifling a laugh, her rounded face turning pinker by the second, her cornflower blue eyes sparkling under the dim lights like a secluded Christmas tree.

His parted lips became shocked, pouting like their Govs. Oh how he'd laugh too if he could have seen Gladys looking like that!

He folded his arms, mocking his displeasure. As he looked down, she grabbed his face, stealing a kiss from him. They stared at each other, just appreciating one another. His obvious love for her was never in doubt, his eagerness for them to be together never in question. Her hard to get playfulness was enticing yet marginally maddening.

But he could never be mad at her. She was his light through all consuming darkness of past - or future - craziness.

"Goodnight." she smirked sassily, her intention only ever good no matter how bizarre it may seem.

He beamed, tumbling into the bathroom and inspecting his battle scars in the fractured mirror, reminding himself (yet again) to get a more attractive looking medicine cabinet.

Although his 'childhood' boasted memories of innocence of the 70's, nothing of pure happiness but passages of contentment before his Father's radical disappearance, he could never remember a time being attacked for trying to calm a situation down in his life. Never. Well, then he thought back to his drunken days at Uni when everyone was away getting pissed out of their minds, throwing up in their dormitories before smoking a couple of spliffs, listening to some classic rock before proclaiming that new artists were all a bunch of shite who deserved being hung up by their testicles. But when you were off your head, it was more than acceptable to succumb to semi-violent rages; the drugs made you so at ease with everyone, it just didn't matter that one minute you'd beaten the snot out of them to the next hugging and crying into their shaking arms. No one gave a toss.

But it was the good days before the real senseless violence of the late 20th Century really took hold; before people were doing real damage to people, rather than drunken scuffles in the middle of the street. Real, blood thirsty violence destined to harm all it came in contact with.

That was part of the reason Sam had initially wanted to be a copper; he just wanted to help and protect people. Even when he'd been clocked in the head by a common moron, he still didn't question his commitment to the job. In fact, it made his passion even stronger, his duties even firmer in his mind. He just wanted to make sure people were safe, no matter where they lived or who they were.

He dragged a pair of freshly washed pyjamas from his newly fitted wardrobe, smiling with pride at the memory of the hour it took for him to assemble it. The soft lavender whiff brought a new, welcoming aroma into the room, at least masking the whiff of stale cigarettes and grease!

Deciding to take a quite steamy, hot shower Sam fell into a deeper sense of relaxation, his headache wearing off as the warm water lapped over him tranquilly. He felt much better now, humming to himself as he touched his less tender ribs with his fluffy blue towel, glad that the Gov's fists hadn't done anymore damage to him since their eventful day in CID many weeks before.

Rubbing any droplets of water from his off brown locks, Sam tugged his pyjamas on, feeling himself slipping into a greater pool of sleep even whilst standing up. Hovering over his bed for a few moments, he felt straight onto the covers, his breathing becoming softer as his eyes shut clumsily together.

"La la la, la la la, are you awake, Sammy?"

He shot up, his body a bullet. His cold, icy sweat sizzled against his piping hot body. "Wha-what do you want? I thought this was all over?"

"What's all over, Sammy? You didn't think I was going to leave someone as handsome as you alone, did you?"

"Piss off!" he hissed, trying to be brave, trying to annoy her, offender her, make her leave, make sure she never, ever wanted to come back.

"Oh no Sammy, have you forgotten your manners?"

Her small titters turned to lion's roars, her clown thrusted before her. He cowered. Oh God, how he'd told himself not to let her win.

"You like Casey, don't you?"

Her sweet, child like, sing song voice crashed into him like an exploding train.

His eyes sparked. "How do you know ab-about..."

She giggled almost mechanically at his awkward nervousness. "I know everything, Sammy. You don't need to avoid telling me anything. Your secrets are always safe with me."

"Stay away from her, don't you dare hurt her!"

"Don't worry Sammy, I would never hurt any of your friends. I know you only like her as a human being but you can't deny she's pretty..."

"Look, just leave - me - alone!"

He stood his ground, his heart thudding against his chest.

"You don't agree with her being in CID, do you Sam? She might interrupt some of your time with Gene!"

"That's enough! END!"

His eyes slammed shut, his body wracked with worry. She was still there, breathing on him, the stench of rotting candy and Bubble Matey bathing liquid becoming unbearable. She was closer than she'd ever been before. More menacing than she'd ever been before. Her voice, higher, louder than before, harder with severe consequences soon to follow. He just tell.

"Is she old enough to be there Sam? Is she qualified to be there, Sam? Is it safe enough for her to be the-"

His eyes broke away from the torture, hearing the beeping of his alarm clock excessively loud in his ear. He grunted, feeling weak as he sat up in bed, his sheets cocooned around his body, stumping his best efforts to breath, stopping him from fully waking from his deranged state of dreaming.

"Fuck." he mumbled, his perspiring frame making it even harder to break away from the shell of the bed. His head in his hands, he wanted to curl up and cry. Never had the Test Card Girl got so...so close or so personal.

He'd been fortunate enough not to have a visit from the blonde bitch since the last case with Mike Smith and Frank Morgan. He'd thought that then he'd finally gotten rid of her, that he would have to bare witness to her smug smile, her cold eyes or her bloody rotten clown ever again.

Perhaps - for once in his life - Sam Tyler could truly admit that he was wrong. Very wrong.

Feeling that he couldn't stand being in the apartment for any longer than absolutely necessary, Sam had a shower in seconds flat, pulled on the first clothes to fall out of his cupboard and grabbed an apple, emerging into the rising sun and paced his way towards Manchester's A Division at the speed of light.

To him, the dingy apartment had never felt eerier; he had never felt more out of place there. It had never felt less like a home to him until then. The moment the Test Card Girl finally made him feel two feet tall.

Sam just couldn't begin to explain why she'd come back. He should have known that the few weeks of peace he had away would come at a dear price. He should have bloody well guess that nothing would ever be perfect. No matter whether he was in 2006 or 1973.

Yet, taking another bite from the Granny Smith, he realised that Blondie had actually been accurately, painfully correct; was Casey really old enough to be working somewhere like a cop station? Wouldn't she need things like real, proper qualifications before the Gov should even consider her for the job, let alone give her it? Was he really going to protect her from all of the thugs and muggers on the streets of Manchester?

Suddenly, Sam's dazed but inquisitive nature soon turned to boiling anger. How Gene even do it without his opinion? Sure, he was his superior officer; he'd accepted that a long time ago. Yet, they'd been making decisions as a joint unit for some time too.

He began to walk faster, feeling a greater urge to get to the station before anyone else did. He needed to talk to the Gov, let him know exactly how he felt about the whole debacle.

He could feel himself, breathing faster, heavier, getting more and more worked up about the whole rotten thing.

In his mind, something needed to be done; before someone ended up getting hurt.

To be continued...

Thank you for reading - please review and let me know what you think!