A/N: Sorry, short chapter, long time between posting. Enjoy the few words there are, anyway. Review if only to berate me.

What with two of their best officers on compassionate leave, and another accused of causing death by dangerous driving, the mood in Fenchurch East was far from high. Ray was suffering without Chris, and, merely to make up numbers, Alex had felt obliged to come into work, though spent most of her time sitting at her desk staring into space. Gene, meanwhile, like so many times before, had all but barricaded himself in his office, drinking, smoking and swearing profusely. As Ray had put it to Jasmine over dinner the previous Friday it was "shit, really."

Alex and Gene were arguing more than ever, not their usual well matched banter, recently it had been quite different. They would arrive home from work, Alex would not speak, Gene would try and be sympathetic, perhaps throw an arm around her, which she would invariably throw off, he would get frustrated, he would shout but she would not shout back; she would just cry.

Gene had tried to take refuge at Millie's, visiting her almost every evening, but she had made it clear that he was not welcome. ("I don't care what she is or isn't saying, she needs you! Just sit tight, be there for her, it'll pass!") but it had not passed, if anything, it had got worse. That morning had dawned cloudy and overcast, and Alex had sat in her desk chair as if on tenterhooks; she was being questioned about the accident that afternoon.

"Shazza?" Chris approached his wife, who sat lackadaisically on the sofa, looking wholly detached.

"Yeah?" she said, almost inaudibly.

"We need to…we haven't like…you know, talked…" Shaz looked up into his tentative face, considering him, even through her grief she found it vaguely amusing that he should want to talk when he was hardly the most articulate of men, though she moved up slightly to allow him to sit himself down beside her. For several, long moments, there was silence, before Chris whispered, "Why'd you go up on the roof Shazza? Why were you going to…you know." she took a deep breath. She had been expecting and dreading this question, though knew that it was one she must answer. She owed him that.

"Coz…coz it was my fault, wasn't it?"

"You what?"

"The baby…my fault." she could not maintain his eye contact, could not bring herself to look him in the face as she admitted her awful betrayal, "I was drinking…I was drinking while I was pregnant…before I knew like…that's what did it, I just know it."

"Don't be stupid."

"But Chris-"

"Shaz, I'm telling you: don't be stupid. It can't 'ave been the drink…from what you said, it were only two weeks in, and it's not like you had a lot in that time…couple of glasses of wine…my Mum drank all the way through when she were pregnant with me, and I'm fine," again, Shaz felt an unbidden urge to giggle, thinking that many of their work colleagues might beg to differ upon Chris' last remark. "I don't blame you Shazza…so I don't see why you do…" his sweetness consumed her, and she raised her head, looking him full in the face which was now so lined with concern. "What you did…went to do…on the roof like, please, just don't. Don't Shazza. Don't do it to me. I love you, please don't ever leave me."

And at last, she understood. Perhaps the simple love, care and warmth which emanated for him had cast some redeeming light upon her, but she suddenly seemed to know: she couldn't have stopped it. Then, with a crash, she realised what she nearly did up on the roof…she nearly made Chris lose his wife as well as his child within a few days of one another.

"I'm sorry Chris."

"I'm sorry too."

"What for?"

"I dunno…" he said, caught off guard, she giggled weakly, "for not finding out what was wrong over the last few days, for not looking after you, for letting you get to the stage where you…well, you know."

"Top myself?" supplied Shaz.

"Yeah, that."

"Weren't to know though, were you?" she said, as he put his arm around her and she relaxed into him.

"No…and neither were you Shaz, bout being pregnant."

"Yeah."

There was silence for a while, before Chris spoke, timidly. "Shazza?"

"Hmm?" she said, in reply.

"Can we…you know…name him?" Shaz did not speak, not knowing how to react, Chris, eager to please, as ever, hastened to add, "If you don't want to…I just thought-"

"No, let's do it…" the decision had come to her subconsciously. A name was necessary. There was a short pause.

"Jack." said Chris, simply.

"Jack," repeated Shaz. "I like Jack."

Shaz placed her head on Chris' chest as he stroked her hair. After what seemed like a short while, Shaz's eyelids began to droop, and gradually, her breathing became deep and slow. When he could be sure she was asleep, Chris placed a hand upon his wife's stomach.

"Sleep tight, Jack." he whispered into the darkness. He removed his hand, hastily using it to wipe the stray tear from his cheek.

"DI Drake? Is it possible, that in your haste to...ah..." the round, unplesant man consulted her statement gingerly, as though it was giving off a bad smell, "get milk...you might have been a little...shall we say, careless in your driving?"

"No. I was-"

"So careless, in fact, that at 11 pm on October the 30th that you, Alex Drake, cost a man his life?"

"NO! No...No I didn't. I wasn't...I'm always careful...I always..." Alex was taken aback by how much this man wanted her to be guilty, but when she voiced this, he only said:

"No, DI Drake. Long gone are the days when you could just flash your warrant card and the charges would just melt away...long gone...I'm afraid you'll have to be a litltle more...persuasive."

DS Parker's cold, alight eyes chilled her to the bone.