Hathaway half-regained consciousness and tried to reach down for the knife still embedded in his thigh to pull it out, but her hand on his wrist stopped him, "Try to keep as still as you can," she ordered.

"Brianna," he whispered hoarsely.

"Try not to talk too much, James," she murmured.

The moment seemed to stretch out forever, afterwards she realized that it couldn't have been longer than four or five minutes but she was acutely aware of the damp cobbles, the blood oozing through her hands, the coppery smell in the air and the feeling of total helplessness. Then suddenly there seemed to be hundreds of people around her and Inspector Lewis was at her elbow, "You can let go now, Brianna," he said gently, "they'll take it from here."

He was about to pick up her crutch when she shook her head, "I thwacked his attacker with the end of it, there may be DNA samples."

"Thwacked?" A wry smile curved Lewis's mouth, "Have you got a spare?"

"In my room. It's in the wardrobe." She said slowly.

"Miss?" one of the paramedics turned to her, "I think he's asking for you."

"Go to the hospital with him," Lewis ordered, "I'll follow you there with your crutch."

"You'll need my keys," Brianna smiled wanly.

She remembered the journey to the hospital only in terms of light and dark, Hathaway half-regained consciousness on the journey and moved to take her hand, Brianna looked up at the paramedic hesitantly, "It's all right," he said, "It'll keep him calm. Talk to him if you like."

Brianna couldn't do that, her throat had closed up on her and she couldn't speak. They wheeled him out and he refused to relinquish her hand, she leant forward and said quietly, "James, they need to get you into theatre to remove that knife in your leg. Remember? I'll come and see you later."

"Promise?" he whispered.

"I promise." She replied. And then they were gone.

Slowly, she turned and using the wall as a support, shuffled towards the waiting area. She was still sitting there when Lewis arrived.

"Any news?" he asked gently.

"They're not likely to tell me," she responded, "might tell you though."

"I'll ask," Lewis smiled, "I brought your spare." He handed her the crutch and her keys and she looked up profoundly grateful.

He walked up to the desk, "I'm Inspector Lewis, Sergeant Hathaway was brought in here about twenty minutes ago. Can you tell me how he's doing?" He showed the nurse his warrant card and she nodded, "As far as I know, Inspector he's still in surgery, but I'll ask someone to come and have a word with you."

Lewis nodded, he slipped away and returned with two cups of coffee, "Thought you might like a drink."

Brianna nodded dully, reaction was beginning to set in and she wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or just go to bed. She sipped the coffee and then realised her hands were still covered in blood, his blood. Slowly she set the coffee down on the table and realised her hands were shaking. Lewis put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her, "Take it easy," he murmured, "you did good, girl."

"I feel sick," she muttered.

"Take nice deep breaths," he advised, "it'll pass."

Some of Brianna's colour had returned and she felt stable enough to go to the ladies and wash her hands, and they'd had another cup of horrendous hospital coffee when the doors opened and a green-coated surgeon emerged.

Lewis stood up, anxiety etched on his features, "How's he doing?"

The surgeon removed his cap and smiled, "Your sergeant's a very lucky man. We've patched him up and he should be all right. But I would like to congratulate whoever was first on the scene."

"Why?" Lewis asked.

"They didn't pull out the knife," he responded, "The knife injury to his side wasn't that serious, missed the major organs, but had they pulled out the knife in his thigh he'd have bled to death."

Lewis turned to her, "How did you know?"

Brianna looked sheepish, "From a Dick Francis novel. Wasn't sure if it would work or not though."

Lewis laughed and then just as suddenly hugged her, "Thank you," he murmured softly.

As he set her down, Brianna looked up at him, "Ah, Robert-" She began and then suddenly couldn't speak any more.

"He asked to see you," the surgeon said quietly. "You can go and sit with him if you like."

Brianna turned to Lewis, "May I?"

"Yes," he assured her, "I'll go and let the squad know that he's going to be all right."

Brianna set her crutch against the wall and then eased herself into the hard plastic hospital chair, she gently took his hand and looked at his face, "Well, so much for our tour of Oxford tomorrow," she said softly, "I guess we'll have to make another date."

Meanwhile when Lewis returned to headquarters he went straight to Innocent's office, she was sitting at her desk but looked up as he approached the door, "Come in, Inspector, how's Sergeant Hathaway?"

"He'll be fine, Ma'am," for the first time that night, Lewis looked relieved.

"And this Dr Talbot?" Innocent smiled tersely, "I hear you two have a history? What's her role in this?"

"She saved his life, Ma'am." Lewis replied, "I left her at the hospital. I've asked forensic to take a look at her crutch. She bashed the attacker over the head with it."

"Get a statement, Inspector," Innocent responded.

"Yes, Ma'am."

He was aware of a voice, falling and rising in a cadence that seemed familiar, he tried to focus on the words but they slipped away, like fish through water. He tried to concentrate but a streak of pain shot through his side and an involuntary moan erupted from between his lips.

The words stopped and he was aware of someone's hand taking his own, "Easy, James, easy. Take slow breaths, it'll be all right, it'll be all right."

Slowly, almost painfully, the words permeated his consciousness and began to make sense. He forced open heavy eyelids and stared up into a familiar face, "Brianna," his lips moved, but no sound emerged.

"It's all right," she said softly, "you're all right." She filled the cup standing on the table and held the straw to his lips, he drank gratefully.

His hand touched something metallic on the bed, it felt familiar, and his fingers felt the hard edges of what felt like a cross. Then he felt the beads, a familiar frown puckered his forehead, "Rosary," he whispered and then realised why the cadence he'd first heard had been so familiar.

"Mine," Brianna said, turning his wrist and placing it in his hand. "If it'll help you can hold onto it."