Jo gathered together everything she had from her days with Tess. Stu was depending on her, and she wanted him back safe. She ran through every possible location in her head, her mind kept wandering to the abandoned house that sparked all this off. That house meant something, she knew it.

He drifted in an out of semi consciousness, at times his mind sharp as a razor, recalling facts, details that could help him survive, at times the pain overwhelming him, an entity in its own right, holding him in thrall. His pinched and trapped arms were hurting from his finger tips to his shoulders, he moved his fingers continually, mechanically, working them, trying to keep his circulation going. Occasionally his two worlds would collide and the hopelessness and devastation of his situation would tear great wrenching sobs from deep within his soul, the tears forced out leaked beneath the enveloping layers of blindfold and streaked the dirt on his bruised cheeks, the salty water stinging in the cut on his right cheek.

Hands touched his body, different hands, gentle soothing hands, a voice... he knew that voice... for a moment he hardly dared to dream that it was true... he was safe. Hands stripped away the blindfold, and he was blinking at the sudden rush of light, Jo's face, Jo's hands struggling with the knots that bound him, then his arms were free. Stiff and sore they were, his returning circulation forcing moans of pain from his lips, he crawled into her lap and wrapped his sore, bruised arms around her waist, burying his face against her side.

Jo held him as he buried his face against her and wept. The tiny glimpse she'd had, his eyes seemed fine, unharmed, but she couldn't check the wound in his cheek as he resisted all attempts to turn his face so that she could get a closer look. He was frozen and shivering, and she accepted the blanket from Neil Manson, wrapping it gently round him, containing the storm as she stroked the back of his head. "Come on Stu... please..." In answer he burrowed closer and she held on.

He grew calmer, the stress and tension oozing out, as he relaxed, she persuaded him to turn over, catching her breath at the bruising on his face, the cut was deep, and she very carefully wiped the dirt away from it, he hissed at even that gentle touch. She gathered him close and he moaned and groaned at her touch... "take it easy..." he croaked, "that hurts."

"Well what doesn't hurt?"

He held up his left hand and waved his little finger at her. "That doesn't hurt." he croaked. Jo took his hand, and kissed his finger. He lay in her arms, the emotion laid bare on his face, less guarded than she had ever seen him, and she eased herself back against the wall, gathering him more firmly into her arms, his head resting against her shoulder. Despite his aches and pains, he cuddled closer.

Jo could hear the tramp of feet overhead as her colleagues ripped through the abandoned house like a perfect storm. She would take no further part, Stu needed her, and right then, she needed to be with him. Finding him had been a fluke. A lucky break when Jo had remembered that the abandoned house had a basement. They'd taken the chance that the most obvious place wouldn't be searched, and they had been so nearly right. A detached part of her brain wondered where Tess was, and her accomplice, they'd left Stu alone and helpless in the basement.

She looked down at her partner, he was drifting and for fourth time she wondered just where the ambulance was. His head was against her shoulder, the fingers of his left hand were gripping the open v of her shirt, his knuckles curled against her skin. She looked at his death grip on her shirt front and gently stroked his hair again, carefully tucked the blanket more securely round him. "Stu?"

He murmured something and burrowed closer, his grip on her shirt tighter. She very carefully hugged him to her "Stu, I'm not leaving you, I'm staying, hun. All the way." She could feel his tears soaking her shirt again, and she soothed him.

A tramp of feet on the stairs, and Neil stood there. "No sign. No information. Nothing." He looked at her, "they're still out there."

She nodded, "I know guv."

"How's Stuart?"

"Not very good. Where is that ambulance?"

As she spoke, the sound of voices at the top of the basement stairs, and feet coming down as the paramedics arrived.

Stu sat on the gurney in A&E and scowled darkly at the nurse, "I'm bruised all over, all I want to do is go home with DC Masters," he jerked his head in Jo's direction, "have a hot shower, something to eat and curl up and forget about this." He still felt weak, tired and disorientated, but he was getting out of there if he had to crawl. Apart from hospital food making the nick canteen's efforts look like Michelin starred cuisine, the smell always brought back bad memories. He was getting a headrush of images right now, which he couldn't control and couldn't cope with. He desperately wanted and needed out of there... he could deal with the images any day but today.

The nurse turned to Jo, who spread her hands wide, "leave me out of this". She stepped forward and stood in front of her partner, he was in a state, but she could see that stubborn light in his eyes, he was getting out of there whatever anyone had to say about it, something in that pleading gaze tugged at her heartstrings.

The nurse gave up. "On your own head be it."

Stu nodded, and slid off the gurney. He maintained a steely grip on the side as his knees threatened to buckle and dump him on his backside on the floor. Jo slid up against him and put her arm firmly round his waist. "Stu, this is a bad idea."

"I don't care." his voice wobbled, and he fought down the tears with a supreme effort. He really hated feeling like this, since Jo had found him he didn't seem to be able to stop crying, Jo looked across at the porter who had brought a wheelchair. Carefully, she encouraged him to sit in it, and kept hold of his hand. Stu clung to her hand, even as he was hating himself for showing dependency, burdening the only person who understood him and cared about him, yet further. They got to Jo's car, and he eased himself into the passenger seat, every inch of his bruised and battered body protesting, it would have been easier to have stayed in, but some things were just too much to cope with. He looked across at Jo, and acknowledged to himself that he was no longer alone in life, no longer just trying to fit in. Jo had given him that. He could feel the tightness in the back of his throat and pulled himself together with another enormous effort, Jo needed him and he couldn't just come to pieces when she needed him so badly.

Back at Jo's, he followed her upstairs to her ensuite. "Hot shower... you look like you need it." She gave him a quick hug, and in line with his new found resolve, he didn't just collapse like a house of cards, he held himself together and hugged her back.

"Thanks" he said, simply. Thanks... a woefully inadequate word... He took the towels offered, and stripped off his shirt, awkwardly and not without pain in both shoulders. It would take some time for the physical effects of his experience to leave him. He looked in the mirror, they'd stitched his cheek and dressed the wound, he looked a mess, about as far from his usual assured, groomed self as it was possible to be. Something about the image of himself catapulted him back in time. He closed his eyes, and bent forward over the basin. He'd done what his father wanted, he'd shed the past, he'd gone on and made a success of his life, he had a good job, a career which he loved, but there was still something missing. He knew where the secret garden was, he even knew where the door was, he just didn't have the key to the kingdom. A kingdom he realised now that he really wanted into. A world which wasn't about surface and promotion and climbing the ladder. A world that had all the things he had lost along the way, and pretended to himself didn't really matter.

A world which scared him, but enthralled him at the same time.

He turned round, and reached in to turn on the shower. Getting his head back into the game was what mattered. He clamped down on his past, fighting the demons back into the shadows. He was DS Stuart Turner for god's sake. He hadn't made DS by being weak, and he wouldn't be able to protect Jo by being weak. He didn't want her pity, he wanted what he couldn't have, and the sooner he faced up to that the better. His right hand reached out and traced the old faded scar on the inside of his elbow.

"Stu?"

He snatched his hand back, and turned round. Realised with a blush that he was stark naked and Jo was standing in the doorway behind him. "Oops. Sorry." he flushed and grabbed a towel, preserving his modesty. Jo smiled at him, a friendly grin, and he relaxed.

"Razor? Thought you might like a shave?" She held it out, a packet she'd found from the last time she'd had a cousin stay with her for a few days. A handle, and a pack of blades, untouched, left over.

"Thanks." he held out his hand, and took the razor from her. Jo's eyes didn't miss a thing, she'd seen him at the sink, his body language distressed, she'd seen him trace the inside of his left elbow, and her curiosity was piqued. It was a small scar, old, faded, a hang over from his past, she guessed.

She was in the kitchen when he came downstairs, she heard him come in behind her, and turned around. He looked a lot better than he had twenty minutes ago, his hair washed, she didn't have any gel, so he'd just run his hands through it, and the result was softer and made him look younger, he'd shaved too, the bruises on his cheeks standing out against his olive skin, he looked relaxed and a bit less sore. "Better?" she said.

"Yes... thanks." He moved closer. "And thanks for this Jo... I..."

"I know" she said, quietly. Truth be told, she wanted him there with her. Right now being alone was something she didn't want to be. She continued with dinner, aware of him hovering close to her, she served it up and they carried their food through to the sitting room. On impulse Jo sat on the sofa, and patted the seat beside her. He didn't hesitate. Words between them unnecessary. Just the mere fact of each other's presence was reassurance enough. Reassurance that Jo realised, with a start, that she desperately needed.

Reluctant to revisit the horrors of the day for Stu, she replayed them quietly in her mind. Remembering the moment she'd entered that cold, abandoned basement and seen him lying on the floor. For a second she'd feared the worst, then he'd moved, ever so slightly and she had known he was still alive. Then the fear that made her hands tremble as she stripped away the blindfold, fear that they had taken his sight. Then the anger at the cruelty of how he was tied, the bruising on his arms. And then his distress as he'd burrowed against her, as though she was his only friend in the world, and how she needed him as much as he needed her.

Without a word they edged closer to each other, and Stu put an arm around Jo's shoulders, drawing her closer, his shoulder ached with every movement, but he didn't care, he needed the reassurance of Jo's presence. Worn out, they drifted together.

It was sound instinct which woke Jo, something was wrong. Very wrong. She could hear a crackling noise, which made no sense.

"Stu?" He was curled against her, his head on the big cushion next to hers. "Stu..." she gave him a push. He blinked at her.

"What..."

"I don't know... but something's wrong."

They were both on their feet, and Stu walked over to the door. Half a second before he put his hand on the handle, instinct made him pause, he reached out and touched the door with the back of his hand. It was hot. Then he noticed the smoke wafting beneath the door, at first wisps, then more...

"Fire." He looked across at Jo. Her face frozen in fear. The window was a no go, the drop to the ground to far, they had one choice, back through the kitchen, he moved over to the door to the kitchen, and touched that too. It was cold. Reaching out to grab Jo's hand, "we've got to get out of here." Jo was frozen in terror. He pulled his sleeve down and grabbed the handle, pulled the door open, smoke billowed into the room and they both coughed, there were flames in the hallway, and thick black smoke, he pulled Jo to him, and they stumbled into the kitchen, he swung round to kick the door shut, but there were flames licking at the door frame, he lashed out with his foot, and managed to kick it closed, Jo yelped in fear and he swung round, the back door mat was alight, the flames reaching up to catch the curtain over the backdoor, they were trapped. He grabbed the two teatowels, that was all there was. They were getting out of there right now or they were dead. He soaked the two teatowels in the sink. "Cover your face and hair." he almost threw her the teatowel, wrapping the other one around his hand and arm, he reached across the burning curtain to fumble the key undone, yanking at the door, they jumped over the burning mat then they were stumbling down the stairs into Jo's tiny garden, coughing and wheezing at the smoke. The teatowel and Stu's shirt sleeve in flames, Jo scooped a double handful of earth over his arm.

"Jeezus... Stu..." Jo held his arm, gently peeling the scorched remains of the teatowel and shirt sleeve back... looking at the angry blister that was forming on his forearm. There was the sound of breaking glass, and they scrambled away from the burning building. Mechanically she reached into her pocket and called the fire brigade.

They clung to each other, shivering. They'd survived that one by luck alone.