Jo opened her front door, and stepped inside the cool dimness of her hallway. It had been a long day... and the day before had been a long day. She had wracked her brains for two days straight, but still had nothing, she and Stu had been backwards and forwards through everything. They'd dug back through their closed files, Stu had rung round to see if anyone was out of prison that either he or she should know about.

As she pushed her door closed behind her, she had a feeling. A bad one. She couldn't put a finger on it, it was elusive, a nameless dread. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her mobile. There was only one number in her head, her thumb keyed the speed dial. He answered on the first ring. As she knew he would. They were so attuned they hardly needed words anymore.

"Stu."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"You don't know what it is."

"You rang. I don't need to."

She smiled, and rang off. He knew her so well. There was something in her relationship with her cocky sergeant, a warmth, a depth of feeling, a mutual understanding, that she just didn't get with anyone else. Even Tess.

That name. It hung in the air, as though she had spoken it aloud. That's twice in two days that I've thought about that name. In her mind's eye, she could still see the scene as she cautiously boarded the boat on the Thames, Stu, helpless, bound and blindfolded, awaiting his fate. There was something there. Something about the way he'd been left. The clue was in the question. But what's the question?

She pressed her temples with the heels of her hands as though trying to massage her tired brain into action.

There was a knock at the door, and she yanked it open, feeling slightly embarrassed that she was still standing there in the hallway. He was as good as his word, five minutes he said, and he was there. His flat was only a five minute drive from her home, so he must have been stood in his own hallway.

"What's up?" he smiled, trying to be encouraging, suddenly, she felt afraid, she looked up into his face and her lower lip trembled. Without another word, he stepped forward and swept her into his arms, hugging her close. She wrapped her arms round his neck. They didn't need words, they just understood each other.

She took a deep breath and eased back a bit. "What's up? I don't know." he frowned, her response to his arrival suggested something... "Stu, I'm starting to wonder if I'm losing my mind, but someone's been here!"

He frowned again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He took her at her word. He'd learned a long time ago to listen to Jo's hunches... they'd even saved his life once or twice. He took her wrist and tugged her close again. "Get what you need. You're coming home with me." She looked up into his face again, and nodded slowly... suddenly she didn't want to be alone.

He followed her to the bathroom to collect her toothbrush, and then to the bedroom to collect some clothes, he was taking no chances. Nothing had been right since they'd been drawn into this case, he was starting to wonder if he was losing his mind, never mind Jo losing hers. Someone was doing a number on them.

Jo curled her legs up and cuddled into his sofa, clutching the mug of tea with both hands. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were now being driven, dancing to someone else's tune and this was going to end badly. Stu was rummaging around in his kitchen, she shuddered slightly, Stu's culinary skills were a bit scary. He did his best, but somehow he just really didn't get the whole cooking thing. He normally made do with what he could zap in the microwave. He reappeared with two plates piled high. And an anxious expression on his face. She took the offered plate and picked up the knife and fork he had handed to her earlier.

"Mmmm this tastes good." she was surprised, she meant it, and was rewarded by a relieved smile from Stu. Oh hun.. she sighed inwardly. He was such a contradiction at times. He was cocky, clever, intuitive and fearless, but he was also surprisingly vulnerable, he hurt easily, and when hurt he tended to lash out in confusion. He didn't mean to, it was a kind of a defense mechanism, the counter point to that was that he was surprisingly easily pleased by little things like her telling him what he had just cooked was actually quite nice. Little insights to his character which even now still had the power to surprise her, and his vulnerability tugged very hard at her heartstrings.

She tucked in, and for a while they ate in companionable silence, unwinding from the stresses of the day. But the nameless dread still hung between them, and as she finished her plateful, she had a sudden need to move closer to Stu. His arm went round her and they hugged fiercely. It was getting to both of them, the uncertainty.

Jo went through all her old files again, without a great deal of hope. They seemed trapped in some sort of timetable about which she knew nothing. And they were unable to get a handle on it. Neil Manson was concerned, but unable to get a better grasp of what was going on than Stu and Jo were. After a day of frustration she looked up from her desk, "Stu..." he looked up at her, there was still a light of something in his eyes, but she had enough to work on without trying to deal with her partner's emotions too, "Pub?"

He nodded. He needed a drink. All day, working on thin air, grabbing at straws and chasing ghosts was getting to him. As was the feeling that he could no longer control. He loved Joanne Masters.

She grabbed her jacket and he followed her out. The Seven Bells was the favoured watering hole, and as usual it was noisy and crowded with most of the relief. A few people hailed them as they entered and they headed over to where most of CID were celebrating the conclusion of a very nasty armed robbery.

"Gin and tonic? or a pint of lager?" Stu looked sideways at his partner, as she slid into a seat next to Terry.

"A pint for me, please Stu." Jo looked up at him, he looked tired and she couldn't help worrying a little about him.

"And me..." Terry passed over a glass, "and while you're at it!"

"Drinks are on DS Turner." several war whoops and comments about letting the moths out of his wallet. Stu sighed. He'd wanted a quiet drink with Jo and then home, but it wasn't to be. He headed over to the bar, and waited his turn.

Stu gathered the drinks on a tray. Too many... he would have to leave one behind. His. He took a sip from his pint and put it back on the bar, picked up the tray and carried it over to the table. He never noticed the figure at the end of the bar, but that was no surprise. He was tired and strung out.

As the evening wore on, and the drink flowed, Stu felt progressively more tired and slightly dizzy. He wondered if he was coming down with something other than the malaise that was affecting his judgement, his love for Jo. He pushed himself to his feet, and caught hold of the back of the booth as the room swayed. He blinked, everything seemed a little blurred. Jo looked up at him, concerned.

"You alright hun?"

"I feel a bit dizzy, must be the stuffy atmosphere." He pushed himself upright, "I'll walk home, the fresh air will do me good."

"Are you sure?" Jo was quite worried, he didn't seem his normal cocksure self.

"Quite sure." he put his tired legs in motion towards the exit, feeling more sick and dizzy with every step he took.

"Stu!" Jo caught up with him in the doorway. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He nodded, even though if truth be told he couldn't remember a time he'd felt this bad. "I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

She looked into his warm brown eyes, something indefinable in their depths, and impulsively she put her arms round his neck, kissing him gently on the cheek. "Take care hun, see you tomorrow." He hugged her gently to him, Jo was infinitely precious in his eyes; and then he pushed the door open and headed out into the night. Jo stood and watched him go. He didn't look too steady on his feet as he went, but she put that down to tiredness and alcohol.

The night air did not clear his head as Stu hoped it would. It was as though shadows were closing in around him. He found it increasingly difficult to walk straight and was relieved when he reached his front door. He fished in his pocket for his keys, and picked out his front door key with difficulty. He looked up at the lock,but there were five of them, his hand went out hesitantly towards his own front door, as his legs folded up beneath him and he subsided into a comatose heap on the floor.

Two figures moved in behind him, "I didn't think he would last this long!" the smaller of the two figures whispered. "It doesn't matter... Detective Sergeant Turner is now our guest." the taller replied. Together they lifted him, not without a struggle, and dumped his comatose body into a large laundry basket, wheeling him out to the large van parked outside. A few minutes work, and Stuart Turner vanished without a trace.