Thank you again for all your brilliant reviews - they really do spur us on! Sorry for the wait...this chapter proved trickier than expected!

Ray felt all the breath knocked out of him as he slammed into the floor, the other man pinned beneath him. Wrestling the gun from him, he secured the cuffs around his wrists and scrambled to his feet with a grim sense of satisfaction. It was only as he turned around that the last ten seconds replayed in his head with a horrible inevitability, and he heard again the gunshot, the scream, the thud as someone hit the ground. At first, the scene in front of him didn't seem real. He blinked. Nothing changed.

No. Ray felt an empty void fill his mind, and he could do nothing more than stare blankly, uncomprehendingly. This couldn't be right. Chris couldn't be...it was impossible. But there was DI Drake, hands covered in blood, kneeling beside him, shouting something that was just sound to Ray; and there was the Guv, struggling with Shaz as she attempted to fight him off with nails and fists and teeth, and there was Chris himself, a pool of blood slowly spreading beneath him, his eyes still open, but only just.

Reality seemed to blur as Ray dropped to his knees beside his friend. He was vaguely aware that someone was screaming something, and he could hear the Guv radioing for an ambulance, but all he could see was Chris, and the blood, and the shock still there in his eyes.

"Hang on in there, mate," he heard himself saying, although he had no recollection of moving his lips. He glanced up as Shaz appeared beside him, the Guv right behind her, and he had to look away as her tears mingled with Chris's blood. For a moment, he had the strangest sensation that it was him who had been shot, him who was lying on the floor with blood pooling around him and all his senses fading. He was aware that everyone was talking at once, shouting, pleading, but although he could see their mouths moving, he couldn't hear any of it.

It seemed barely a second later that the ambulance arrived, and two men in overalls were lifting Chris between them and lowering him into the back. Shaz stood up shakily and took a step forward, her cheek smeared with Chris's blood.

"I want to go with him."

"Shaz, you can't." DI Drake, her hair a mess and her white jacket horribly spattered with blood, turned away from the ambulance and joined Shaz and Ray. "You've been in the wars, you need to see someone who can check you over." Shaz opened her mouth to object, but DI Drake continued regardless. "Shaz, he's going to be all right, trust me. It's a flesh wound. He'll be fine. I'll take you straight to the hospital as soon as we're done, and you can –"

"No, I can't!" said Shaz desperately, not taking her eyes off the ambulance. "Does he look fine to you? I've got to go, I don't need checking over. There's nothing wrong with me!" But even as she said it she swayed slightly on her feet, and DI Drake wrapped a hasty arm around her shoulders.

"Shaz, listen to me. I'm sorry, I really am. But you can't go. I'll take you to the hospital as soon as possible, I promise. It really is just blood loss, there's nothing to –"

"No, I'm going," Shaz insisted, her big dark eyes stark against her paper-white skin. "He can't go by himself, he – he can't –"

"I'll go with him." Ray heard his own voice as if it came from a million miles away. For a split second, his eyes met Shaz's and something unspoken passed between them, some raw emotion that he would never, however hard he tried, have been able to put a name to. Then the moment was over, and the ambulance doors were open. He aimed a savage kick at the man on the floor and clambered into the back.

As soon as the doors were slammed shut and the ambulance lurched into motion, Ray felt a hollow fear grip his stomach. All they could do now was wait until they arrived at the hospital, and although he knew it wasn't a long drive, it didn't look as if Chris was in the best state for delays. A rough bandage had been wrapped around him, but already it was thickly stained with blood. He noticed with some alarm that Chris's eyes were shut, his face abnormally white.

"Don't panic, mate," one of the men reassured him. "He's passed out. Completely normal. Probably best at this stage. He's lost a lot of blood."

Ray nodded mutely. He knew the man was only doing his job, but he had a fierce urge to stand up and sock him one for his calm, understated tone, his meaningless platitudes. He took another look at Chris and felt his stomach clench with something akin to dread. For a second, he let himself imagine the worst. He remembered the night Shaz had been stabbed, the way that he and Chris had laid into the bastard holding the knife. Mindless revenge, but it had helped. A little. A very little. He knew he'd do the same this time if it came to it, knew he'd take it all out on every piece of scum he could lay his hands on, but this time there would never, never be enough of them to put it right.

No, he told himself fiercely. That wasn't going to happen, because Chris wasn't going to die. It was impossible. Wasn't it? It had to be. Chris's hand had slipped off the stretcher, and on an impulse Ray reached out to lift it back up again. For a moment, he kept his hand where it was, grateful that the ambulance men were facing the other way. He could feel the pulse beneath his fingers, and its steady rhythm cleared his mind.

"Not long now, mate," he said quietly, placing Chris's hand back on his chest. His eyelids didn't so much as flicker, but Ray couldn't quite shake the feeling that, on some level, he was aware of his presence. "We're on our way to the hospital," he continued, feeling slightly stupid but wanting desperately to break the silence. "The Guv and DI Drake are bringing Shaz along in a bit, she's all right...well, you know that I suppose, but...yeah, it's all sorted. Bastard's being introduced to one of our luxury cells at this very moment." He glanced down at Chris's bandage, where the blood was starting to congeal, and swallowed. "These blokes...they reckon you've lost a lot of blood...well, I could have told you that, you're wearing most of it, you daft twonk." Chris didn't move. Ray sighed heavily. "Bloody hell. I feel like a right nancy going on like this, it's not like you can hear me, is it...but, just in case...well, if you can see your way to waking up, it'd be a good thing all round, I reckon." He paused, glancing briefly towards the men in the front of the ambulance before turning back to Chris. "You're going to be all right, mate, I know you are. You've got to be. You're a div, Chris, but...well, if you don't wake up, I..." Ray hesitated for a moment, then sighed in frustration and sat back in his seat, running a hand down his face. "Talking to an unconscious bloke. Bloody poofter."

"All right, mate?" came a voice from the front of the ambulance. "Just pulling up outside. We'll be with you in two ticks."

"Great." Ray cast an anxious glance at Chris. "And then you'd better shake a leg, you useless twonk." Chris showed no sign of having heard a word. Ray sighed and buried his head in his hands. "Just...wake up."

They didn't speak as they hurried down the sterile linoleum corridor towards Chris's room, both too lost in thoughts and guilt and shock to bother with small talk or comfort. Alex felt strangely detached, as though the moment the gun had gone off she'd floated up out of her body and hovered somewhere on the periphery, watching events unfold with a vague curiosity. Her senses seemed hyperaware, so sensitive that she could feel the pulse of Chris's body as she'd clamped her hands over his wound, so finely tuned that his every breath dragged in the drum of her ear, yet it was as if someone had reached in and snipped the cord that connected events to emotion. She'd cared for him, she'd stemmed the blood, she'd comforted Shaz, but inside she was empty. Void. A great gaping hole of nothing.

"Bolly?" Gene's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, yet she jumped all the same. He reached out to touch her elbow, to guide her towards the doorway, then jerked abruptly back, eyes wide as though seeing her properly for the same time. She looked down too, noticed with that same terrible neutrality that she was still covered in Chris's blood, huge red poppies of his life blooming across the white meadow of her blouse. "Do you want to change? I could...I dunno...run you back to your flat or..."

She shook her head tightly. "No. We need to see Chris, find out how he's doing." Slowly, with deliberate care, she rolled back her sleeves. Beneath the cotton, her skin was stained with red. She swallowed. Chris. Focus.

She opened the door quietly, in case he was asleep. As it happened he was still unconscious, his life marked by the steady beep of the heart monitor, face uncharacteristically pale against the stark white bed linen. Ray was perched on the edge of the chair beside his bed, head in his hands, so still and so quiet that Alex wasn't sure he'd heard them come in.

"Raymondo?" Gene spoke first, voice still lower, softer than usual. Ray slowly raised his head, haggard suddenly, face creased with the fear and shock and guilt that joined them all like an umbilical cord, feeding each of them with bitterness, with regret.

"Guv." He got to his feet. "Have you got the bastard?"

Gene nodded. "In the cells."

There was a silence, and Alex felt bizarrely as though she was balanced on a knife edge, unwilling to topple over into the chasm of knowledge, yet equally certain she couldn't remain in the dark forever. Finally, after what felt like eons, she took the plunge. "And what did the doctor say? Is Chris...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Ray swallowed, then nodded. "They said he was lucky. A centimetre lower and it would have punctured his kidney." He visibly shuddered. "They've stitched him up and sedated him, so he won't come round for a while yet. He'll be all right though." He paused. "He'll be all right."

His repetition acted like a mantra, reassuring, promising, and Alex watched as Gene's eyes slipped briefly shut in thanks.

"Right then," he said after a moment, sounding much more like his old self. "You get off now, Ray, you look like shit. Lady Bolls and I'll keep an eye on him until Shaz gets here." He hesitated, then reached out and clapped Ray on the back. "He won't forget this. You've been a proper mate to him today."

"Yeah, well, stupid twonk shouldn't have got himself shot," Ray replied, and Alex almost smiled at his failed attempt at bravado. She watched him as he left and then moved to join Gene, who was standing quietly at Chris's bed side.

"Bloody fairy." He shook his head. "I knew he'd get himself into trouble one day. Should've guessed it'd be because of a bird."

Alex didn't comment. She knew what Gene was doing – trying to disguise his worry, to shrug it off now he knew Chris was safe – and she also knew that he wouldn't appreciate her pointing it out. So instead she just reached out and pulled the sheet up a little higher around Chris's chest, an action that reminded her suddenly of Molly, of tucking her in at night, of turning off the lamp and putting her book on the bedside table. The Princess Diaries. Harry and the Wrinklies. Stig of the Dump.

And just like that, Alex was crying. She sagged, leaning heavily on Gene and clutching at the bed rail with one hand, gripped by great, wracking sobs. He turned into her, surprised and tousled and kind, and wrapped his arms around her, guided her head to his shoulder and then stroked her hair, her back, fingers moving in slow, steady movements.

"Bolly?" His voice, when he finally spoke, was low. "Alex?"

She clutched at his shirt, embarrassed and tearful, and let out a shaky little sigh. "I'm all right. I just...oh God, Chris." More tears spilled over, smudging lines of black mascara across her cheeks, and she swiped at them with the backs of her hands. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me...I just saw him and...Molly..." she trailed off. Was this how she looked in 2008? A body, pale and prone in a hospital bed, teetering between life and death? Was this what Molly had to see? She felt very cold again, and she realised her teeth were chattering.

"Bloody hell, Bolls." With gentle fingers, Gene tipped her chin up to look at her, brushing away her ruined make-up with the pads of his thumbs. "Christ, what is this stuff? Tar?" She smiled weakly. "We need to get you home. You're freezing."

"I'm sorry, I'm fine." Her words juddered through her chattering teeth. "Just c-c-cold."

He framed her face in his hands, gave her a rare, soft smile. "Shock. Happens to the best of us."

Just then, the door swung open. Gene and Alex sprang apart, Alex hastily wiping her eyes and Gene turning back to Chris, but Shaz ignored them, taking two tentative steps towards the bed and then rushing forward with a cry of dismay.

"Oh my God...Chris!"

"It's all right, love." Gene's voice was still uncharacteristically gentle. "He's all right. Just out of it, according to Ray. He'll wake up soon enough, the daft bugger."

"Oh Guv..." Shaz trailed off, reached out for Chris's hand and held it tightly in her own. "He looks so pale. Are you sure he's going to be all right?"

"He'll be fine, Shaz." Alex moved in front of her. "You, however, look like you could do with a hug." She opened her arms and closed her eyes as Shaz fell into them, swallowed as she felt her tears soak into her blouse. She lowered her voice. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Shaz sniffed and took a step back, trying for a weak smile. "Me too, Ma'am." She paused. "Sorry about making you all wet."

Alex shook her head. "Don't be silly. Do you want us to stay with you?"

Shaz looked at her almost shyly, her dark eyes huge in her pale face. "If you don't mind, Ma'am, I think I'd rather be by myself. You know, to talk to him and stuff."

"Of course." She reached out and squeezed her arm gently. "You won't be frightened?" After all you've been through, she didn't add.

Shaz smiled properly this time. "What, with my hero to protect me?" She brushed Chris's hair fondly off his forehead, fingers lingering on the skin of his face. He looked younger, Alex thought. More innocent. "I can't think about anything at the moment," Shaz added after a pause, serious now. "I just want to concentrate on Chris for the time being." Her voice was fierce with determination and Alex nodded. If Shaz didn't want to talk just yet, she wasn't going to push her.

"Right then." Gene appeared at her elbow. He'd been lurking in the corner of the room under the pretence of examining the medical equipment, scared off by their girly chat, but now he gave Shaz a nod, a look full of understanding. "Keep us updated, Granger. I'll escort Lady Bolls here back home and then get a bit of kip." There was a beat, and then he added: "I'm at the end of the phone, Shaz. Whenever you need me."

Alex bit back a smile as he steered her out of the room. He was arrogant, overbearing and tougher than old boots, but he had a good heart and a kind nature. He understood the hell Shaz had endured but equally he knew that going over it now would only shatter her carefully constructed calm, and as she followed him out of the hospital Alex wondered how on earth she could ever tell him all this. How she could ever show him how complex he was, and how very much she wanted to make him better. She settled for taking his hand.

The drive to her flat was spent largely in silence. Now that the shock had worn off she felt cold and drained, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget the last few days had ever happened. She glanced across at Gene. His eyes were on the road but his grip on the steering wheel was tight, his whole body taut with tension.

"It's okay now," she said quietly. "It's all over."

There was a tiny hitch in his breath, and then he sighed deeply. "I know. It's just...been a hell of a week."

She leaned her head back against the seat. "Tell me about it. There's nothing I want more than a long, hot bath."

His eyes flicked across to her, and for the first time that day there was a glimmer of laughter there. "Nothing I want more than you in a long, hot bath either, Bolls."

She smiled but the expression was short-lived, curling quickly away to nothing as she remembered. Their night together. Her hopes. His kisses. The blonde woman. Betrayal wound like a spring in her stomach.

"Who is she, Gene?" There were a hundred different ways she would have chosen to start this conversation, and asking the question outright wasn't one of them. She closed her eyes. Did she even want to know? Was she just another floozy Gene had picked up? A former lover, maybe? An old flame, looking for a repeat performance? She suddenly didn't want to be having this conversation, not now, not here, not like this, still covered in Chris's blood and her own tears, but she couldn't take the words back and so she just waited, quiet and exhausted.

There was a long pause. His hands fidgeted on the steering wheel and he sighed. "She's my girlfriend."

"Your what?"

He scowled at her. "No need to sound so shocked. I'm not incapable of having a girlfriend, you know. Just because I don't spread it round CID it doesn't mean it's not true."

She let out a long breath. She didn't know how to feel – cheapened? He'd slept with her while he was supposedly going out with the mystery blonde, after all. Flattered that she'd been worth the risk? Devastated that he was already involved? She rubbed her eyes tiredly with the fingers of one hand, trying to clear her head. He was obviously expecting some kind of response – she just wasn't sure what it was going to be yet.

"So..." she stopped, thought. "What does that mean?"

His eyes slid across to her, and in the twilight they glinted silver. "That's up to you."

"What? We're not having a bloody ménage à trois, Gene!" She drew her knees up to her chest and gaped at him, dumbfounded. He gave her a withering look.

"Don't be daft. I meant...it's up to you what happens next. If you think this...us...might be going somewhere then I'll dump her. If this is just a shag..." He let the rest of the sentence hang unuttered in the air and she felt herself go cold. The thought of him with someone else, holding them, kissing them, making love to them the same way he had to her...it made her feel sick.

"Then what? You'd keep her on? Christ, Gene, you're colder than I thought." She turned her head sharply away to stare out of the window, exhausted again, on the verge of tears.

"Alex? Oh shit, Bolls, don't cry." He glanced at her nervously from the corner of his eye and then swung the car into a lay-by, yanking on the handbrake and moving in his seat to face her. Gently, he reached out and stroked his fingertips over her jaw, guiding her head back to look at him. "I was being an arse. I just..." he trailed off, made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat. "I'm shit at this relationship stuff. I don't know what to say."

She finally lifted her eyes to his, studied what she saw there. For the first time since waking up together that morning, and for one of the only times since she'd arrived, his face was open, honest, almost pleading. She moved her hand to rest above his where it cupped her cheek.

"I don't want this to be just a shag," she said after a pause, voice quiet against the background hum of traffic. He smiled at her, a tiny, rare smile that made her spine tingle.

"Me neither." There was a pause. "All that stuff before, about keeping her on...I was being a twat. Putting on a show in case you said you didn't want anything more than last night." He sniffed and looked away, obviously embarrassed. "Didn't mean any of it. It's you, Alex. It's always been you."

She squeezed his hand lightly until he raised his eyes to hers, and then gave him a slow, warm smile. "Take me home, Gene," she murmured, and he did.

As the Quattro roared through the quiet streets, Alex sat back and watched the world go by. Houses, shops, road signs and people blurred into one against the backdrop of the night sky, illuminated briefly by snatches of orange light spilling from street lamps, and for the first time that day she let herself relax, let the interior of the Quattro become her universe. The hum of the radio, Gene's breathing, the purr of the engine blended into a soft lullaby that carried her into sleep, and she only awoke when her passenger door opened to reveal Gene peering in.

"We're here, Bolls." He reached inside and took her hand to help her out. She felt dazed and leaned heavily against him as he guided her up the stairs to her flat, his hand tucked protectively into the curve of her waist.

He left her in the sitting room and then drew her a bath, returning only briefly to peel off her clothes with heartbreaking tenderness, his hands warm and wet on her skin. He didn't try to kiss her, to touch her, just helped her into the tub and then led her through the motions, soaking her with the sponge until Chris's blood was gone and the water had turned red. She let him dry her, his big, rough hands achingly gentle as they skimmed her body, and only then did she come back to life, her body tingling with warmth, with renewed life. She was captivated by him, enchanted, totally under his spell, and she moved with him almost as if they were dancing.

"Gene..." she started, and then trailed off. How could she possibly tell him everything she wanted him to know? How could she explain that his every touch set her on fire? How could she express her gratitude for his support, for his kindness? She didn't remember the last time anyone had looked after her like that, the last time anyone had touched her so carefully, so tenderly, and she almost wanted to cry at his compassion. "Thank you," she whispered finally, and he looked away, embarrassed that she should see him so open, so unguarded.

"Nothing to thank me for," he answered gruffly, but he didn't move her arms from where they had slipped around his neck, and as she finally tilted her head up to his, he melted into her kiss. It was torturously soft, a quiet expression of gratitude and relief and too many other emotions to ever put into words, and when he finally let her go, she felt as though she'd lost a part of her soul.

"Come to bed with me," she said, voice low and soft and heavy with tiredness, and he hesitated, just for a second. She smiled, shook her head. "Not like that. I don't think either of us is up to that tonight. Just..." she paused, suddenly shy. "Hold me?"

He nodded, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face, and let her lead him to her bedroom and then down onto the soft red sheets. He undressed quickly and quietly and then slid in behind her, fitting his chest to her back and slipping an arm gently around her waist.

There were no more words after that, just the simple peace of two people who understand each other completely, who take comfort simply in the other's presence. Alex lay awake for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing in the quiet of the room, and then, bathed in the pale light of a sedate moon, she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Shaz looked at the clock on the wall for what felt like the thousandth time since she'd entered the room. The minute hand was edging past the hour, marking time with a kind of pointless precision. It might have been nine in the evening or three in the morning; Shaz had no concept of how long she'd been in here. She just kept looking, kept telling herself: when the hand reaches the quarter mark...when it gets to half-way...on the hour...he'll wake up. But he hadn't.

A nurse had popped her head into the room not long ago and suggested, with a sympathetic smile, that Shaz might as well go home and get some sleep. She wasn't doing any good being here, she'd told her, and if she was anything like as exhausted as she looked, she'd be far better off tucked up in bed asleep, and she could come back first thing in the morning. But Shaz had refused; there was no way she was going anywhere, least of all back home to sleep.

With an almost inaudible sigh, Shaz turned away from the clock and back to Chris. He was lying motionless beneath the sheets, his face pale and drawn, his eyes shut and his breathing light. The smell of disinfectant was overpowering, and it made Shaz feel slightly sick, because she knew what it was masking. Her own clothes were still stained with Chris's blood, and although she'd scrubbed her hands beneath the cold tap until they were numb and raw, her stomach still twisted when she looked at them and remembered the red water swirling down the plughole.

Swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill, she reached out and touched his hair, winding a strand around her finger. The blood which she'd been afraid would still be there had been rinsed out, just as it had been washed from his face, so that, unless she lifted the sheets to see the bandage, he might have been merely sleeping. All she wanted at that moment was for him to open his eyes and smile, or say something, or even just look at her, so that she'd be able to breathe again without feeling as if she was going to choke.

"Chris," she tried, quietly, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently. "Chris, they say...the doctors say I should talk to you, they think it'll help you wake up." She swallowed. "I hope so. It's funny, you...you see it on telly, don't you? Never think it'll happen in real life. Always works, though, doesn't it? They always wake up." She smiled half-heartedly, but it quivered and died on her lips almost instantly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to control the quaver in her voice. "Chris, please wake up. I...I don't know what I'll do if you don't. It's not fair..." A single tear slid down her cheek, and she bit her lip, turning away from him.

"You know, I was thinking about...about the day we first met." She swallowed, blinking back the tears. "You turned up with Ray and the Guv, you'd just come all the way down from Manchester and you had no idea where you were or who anyone was and...well, I hadn't been working there long either, but I kind of knew what I was doing by then. Anyway, Ray had gone off somewhere with the Guv and left you behind, and you came over and asked me if I liked David Bowie –"

"Kim Wilde." Chris's tired voice reached her ears. "I asked you if you liked Kim Wilde."

"Chris!" Shaz had never before experienced anything as powerful as the tide of relief that washed over her at that moment. She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Oh, Chris, you're awake."

"Just about," he whispered hoarsely, wincing in pain. "Bloody hell, I feel like I've gone twelve rounds with Larry Holmes."

Shaz laughed and touched his cheek. "I think you'd be looking even worse if you had."

"How bad is it?" he asked seriously.

"Could be worse." She ruffled his hair. "Don't worry, you're still devastatingly handsome. It's just the bullet hole in your stomach you need to worry about."

"Right. I'll bear that in mind." He fingered the bandage gingerly and flinched as his fingers found the patch that was still sore despite the numerous painkillers he'd been administered. "Can't believe I let the bastard shoot me," he muttered, avoiding her eye, his voice slightly stronger now. "Ray must think I'm a right div."

"Ray's just worried about you," said Shaz firmly. "We all are."

At that, he looked away from her, taking in the tubes and drips that hooked into his arms and snaked beneath the sheets, and the bleeping machines wired to the bed. "Blimey, I'm really sorry, Shazzer. You must have been worried sick –"

"No, I'm sorry." Shaz felt tears sting her eyes and blinked furiously. She was determined not to let herself cry. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so stupid, if I hadn't let myself get so worked up about the wedding, we'd never have argued and none of this would ever have happened."

"Don't be an idiot." He struggled to sit upright, wincing with the effort. "Of course it's not your fault, Shazzer. I should have helped you more from the start, I should have realised you were worrying about the wedding and everything. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine." She opened her mouth to object, but he squeezed her hand to silence her. "Wait. I just...this is going to sound really stupid, and if Ray was here he'd never let me hear the end of it, but...I wouldn't give you up for the world, Shazzer. I don't know what I'd do without you, and if I had to get shot again to get you back, I would." He sounded so earnest that Shaz had to attempt unsuccessfully to bite back a laugh. Chris looked slightly affronted. "I mean it, Shaz! I really would."

"I know, I know." Her smile wavered and for a second she hovered between laughter and tears. "It's just...oh Chris, I'm so glad you're here. I thought...I thought I'd lost you."

"Nah, it'll take more than one stupid bullet to get rid of me," he said with a grin, his false bravado going some way towards cheering her up. "I thought I'd lost you." He gripped her hand tightly as a thought occurred to him. "Shaz, he...he didn't, y'know...did he?"

Shaz shuddered, the memories she'd been avoiding thinking about ever since her rescue flooding back to her in horrible detail. "He didn't do anything. You got there just in time. I thought...oh God, Chris, I thought you were never going to find me." Without warning, the tears she'd tried so hard to hold back broke through the floodgates, and she found herself sobbing uncontrollably, holding onto Chris's hand like a lifeline, as if it were the only thing keeping her afloat.

"Shaz, don't cry..." The bed creaked as he sat up against the pillows and pulled her into his arms. "You're all right now, and that bastard is where he belongs. You're safe now, I promise." Although she knew it was true, Shaz clung to Chris and cried harder, overwhelmed by the sudden recognition of how lucky she was that she was still here, that Chris had woken up, and that really, after all that had happened, nothing had changed. Chris said nothing, just held her tightly and stroked her hair until her tears were exhausted and she drew back with a watery smile.

"This isn't quite how tonight was supposed to go, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes, the effect only slightly marred by the tear tracks on her cheeks. "I suppose getting shot is bound to throw you off a bit. This was supposed to be our wedding night."

"Oh..." His brow creased for a moment. "Oh bloody hell, we missed our own wedding."

"Yeah, we did." Suddenly, inexplicably, the whole thing seemed very funny. Shaz giggled, drying her eyes on her sleeve. "Oh God. All that preparation. And everyone coming down here specially. I hope they can forgive us."

"What are we going to do?" Chris asked, visibly torn between bewilderment and amusement.

"Well..." she considered for a moment, her head on one side. "There's no rush, is there? It's not the end of the world."

"You've changed your tune," he said, surprised.

"Yeah, well...it makes you think, doesn't it?" she said quietly, running her finger along one of the tubes attached to Chris's arm. "This wedding was everything to me for months, but...I don't know, maybe it's not so important after all."

Chris looked slightly alarmed. "You do still want to get married, though, don't you?"

"Of course I do! I just mean...if we can't do it for a while, it doesn't matter to me. Just...you're still here, that's what's important."

"Yeah, I suppose. Bloody hell, Shazzer, we're a right pair, aren't we?"

"Unlucky, you mean?"

"Well, yeah. Could have been worse I suppose, at least we're both still here to tell the tale." For a moment, he looked unusually pensive, but then he visibly perked up as a thought struck him. "Hey, what do you reckon a bullet wound's worth at Luigi's?" he asked eagerly. "Must be a couple of pints on the house at least."

"You're not going anywhere near Luigi's any time soon," she told him firmly, spoiling the effect by grinning despite herself. "You'll be in here for a bit yet, I reckon."

Chris's face fell. "D'you think? Bloody hell, what am I supposed to do in here? I mean, I reckon I deserve a few visits from you lot, but apart from that...not exactly CID, is it?"

Shaz raised one eyebrow. "No, thank goodness. You're meant to be resting, not charging round beating people up. How about I bring you some books in? Your literary horizons could do with expanding." Chris looked distinctly unimpressed. "What about crosswords? They're supposed to be good for keeping your brain activity going." She laughed at the expression of unequivocal distaste on his face. "Or I could bring you my mum's spare telly and you could watch the football."

He winked at her. "You're a diamond, Shaz."

"I know. I put up with you, don't I?" She patted his hand and got to her feet. "I'm going to go and give Ray a call, tell him you're back in the land of the living."

"If you want to mention to him that I've pulled through against all odds, and that I'll probably have this scar for the rest of my life –"

"I think I'll stick to the facts, if you don't mind. You can give Ray your Oscar-winning tragic hero performance later." She turned to leave. "I won't be long."

"Shaz?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "What?"

"It's just..." He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. "I love you."

She smiled. "Love you too. Now go back to sleep, you look like an extra from Dawn of the Dead."

"Thanks very much."

Giving him a wave, she closed the door and hurried off to find a telephone. She couldn't wait to tell Ray, the Guv and DI Drake the news. At last, it was over. Everything was going to be all right.