Author's Note: This particular plotbunny has been a long time coming. Originally an expanded scene from the Madison Case, I've been wrestling with it for literally a few years; it's both the bane of my existence and my favourite piece due to its darker nature.

Temple decides to drug Steve's drink to keep her out of the way and safe (supposedly) when he faces the murderer. She figures him out and doesn't drink it, telling him off afterwards.

But what if she had finished her drink?

TRUST TOO FAR

"Darling, I feel a little queer..."

Paul Temple looked over his newspaper at his wife and saw that she did indeed look pale and drawn. It wasn't too late, but they had had a very busy day and she was most likely feeling the effects. "You do look tired, Steve. Why don't you head to bed? I won't be long."

She nodded, pushing herself out of her chair and reached for her empty glass. He'd set his paper down and stood with her, and noticed with some satisfaction she'd finished the drink he'd made her earlier in the evening, hoping it was to her taste. "No, darling, I'll get Charlie to tidy up. You just go to bed."

"Mmm, I am tired," she agreed, letting her body sway against his as he crossed the room to take her gently into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, taking in the scent of the flowery shampoo she used to keep her blonde curls soft and shiny, and chuckled.

"You've had too much excitement, that's what it is. Getting too much for you?" he joked, laughing when she swatted him half-heartedly.

"Be quiet, you," she admonished, reluctantly pulling away from his warm embrace and looking up at him. "Goodnight, Paul."

"Sweet dreams, Steve." He pressed another kiss to her forehead and watched as she moved to the door and down the hallway. He sighed, dragging a tired hand over his face and turned to sit in his seat again. "Be safe," he murmured, and settled down to wait.

Perhaps this life was getting a little much, Temple reflected as he stared down the barrel of a rather desperately aimed gun, if only for the fact that whenever someone was cornered they tended to be very predictable. The case he'd been involved in had been a rather unusual one, but still when it came down to it the end result was the same. Murder, highly charged showdown, then capture of the criminal. He'd invited Green over to reveal his suspicions, capture Green's confession on tape and then turn him over to the police, conveniently waiting outside (having called Sir Graham earlier he knew there were at least three undercover men alongside two uniforms, waiting in the wings). Of course, Green had pulled the gun on him, realising he'd been recorded.

"Don't move, Temple, or I'll shoot!"

"I wasn't going to," he said with some measure of patience, wondering if this was the time that the trigger would be pulled and the bullet would actually hit him. He'd been lucky so far, with only a couple of bullet wounds to show for his efforts, but one never knew and he didn't particularly want to push his luck.

"I'm getting out of here and you're not going to stop me!"

"I wouldn't do that," he intoned, mentally wincing at the words that added to the cliché of the situation. He breathed a sigh of relief when Green backed out the door and slammed it shut, and he lunged to it to open it and run after him when he realised Green had locked it. Temple started hammering on it and yelling for Charlie whilst mentally noting they really should keep a key in the room for situations like this.

A few seconds ticked by before the door was yanked open and Charlie appeared, bleeding from a cut on his forehead. "He clouted me one then ran for it," he managed, pointing out the front door, which was standing ajar. "He's gone up the lift; you should be able to get him if you use the stairs."

Temple was out the front door almost before Charlie had finished, yelling for two of the inspectors to follow him. He took the stairs two at a time, hearing the noise outside and realising that the others had taken the fire escape in an effort to cut Green off on the roof, but Temple knew the top few rungs were missing and it would be an effort for the burly policemen to heft themselves up and over the small brick lip of the roof.

No one spoke as they rounded the corner and took the next set of stairs. His flat wasn't too far from the roof and he knew they wouldn't tire before they reached the top but he could hear the measured breathing behind him as the officers kept pace with him. The door at the top was shut – possibly jammed, as Temple found the handle only rattled and didn't do anything. He turned to the two men but found there was no need to speak; they merely nodded and squared their shoulders, slamming their powerful arms against the wood and grunting with the impact. A couple of attempts proved successful when the wood splintered in protest at the treatment and the door swung open.

The roof was in darkness, and the wind had picked up since Temple had been out earlier in the evening. It whistled eerily past, making it difficult for him to see or hear anyone or know if they were friend or foe. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but realised it was the first of the policemen who'd used the fire escape, pulling himself up and over the brickwork. He turned to the two men with him and reached for the gun he'd grabbed from the bureau earlier and tucked in his pocket. "Split up – we should be able to corner him when the others are here," he shouted over the wind noise.

"All right, sir, we'll get him!"

He nodded with grim satisfaction, wishing he'd left it all to the police as the first spots of cold rain started, quickly turning into a driving wall of water as they searched for Green. He'd much prefer to be in his warm bed with his wife than out there, but it was a trait of his that ensured he had to see everything through to the end.

"GREEN!" he bellowed, moving along the side of a low wall, keeping his eyes focused for movement. The shout appeared to have an effect when a bullet whizzed past him and buried itself in a nearby pole, and he looked in the direction the bullet had come. There was a hunched figure, just visible in the distorted reflection of the water pooling near the roof slant Green was crouched next to, and Temple ducked down and moved stealthily across to come up behind him, hearing the shouts of the other officers as they responded to the bullet shot.

He was close enough to touch Green when the other man started and turned his head, his wild eyes even more desperate in the driving rain and wind, his hair plastered to his head and his coat flapping about him. Temple froze for a moment, wondering if this was it, but Green had apparently forgotten about the gun in his hand and made a last ditch attempt to escape by standing up and dashing across the concrete. Temple, however, knew what that led to; a long drop to the street below.

"NO!"

He was off at a sprint, and he heard shouts and footsteps behind him as the others followed suit. But none of them were quick enough to catch Green, and even Temple himself was still at least two feet behind the murderer when Green went over the edge, his startled yell caught by the wind and whipped away before it was cut short when his body hit the pavement far below.

Temple skidded to a halt and peered over the edge, his arms windmilling slightly to steady his balance. He felt a strong hand grip the back of his shirt and turned to face one of the men who'd helped him earlier. "Careful, sir. Don't want you to fall too."

Temple nodded, panting at the sudden exertion in the cold, then turned and cast one more glance down at the broken, lifeless body of the man who'd murdered Sam Portland as the wind buffeted him from behind. Then he stepped back and slid his gun back into a pocket. "Tell Sir Graham I'm sorry. I have the evidence on tape for him."

"It's not your fault sir," the officer assured him. "We all heard you try to stop him."

Temple gave him a mirthless smile. "That doesn't help the situation much, but I appreciate it." He walked away, leaving the officer to stare down and wonder at the amount of paperwork he was about to face as the first sirens filled the night.

The apartment was silent when Steve opened her eyes the next morning. She felt groggy and slightly ill, and it took her a moment before she realised when she'd felt like this before; the many times she'd been drugged by someone hell-bent on warning her husband off a case.

But that didn't make sense when she hadn't been drugged.

She closed her eyes for a moment to try and shake the feeling off when her mind started filtering through the events of the previous night. Her husband had been acting rather tense, as if he were expecting something – or someone. And he'd made her a drink, which in itself wasn't unusual, but she'd noticed him watching her carefully as she drank it. She'd started to feel rather queer after she finished it, but had put that down to the busy day and tiring weekend they'd had earlier.

As she pieced it together, she sat up with a gasp. Movement in the corner of the room caught her eye and as her eyes adjusted to the dim room in the half-light of the dull morning, she saw Temple slumped in the bedroom chair, watching her. Neither spoke for a moment, and tears pricked her eyes as she understood – reluctantly – what had happened.

"You – you...drugged me..." her whispered accusation had the same effect as a shout, and he flinched as if he'd been slapped.

"Steve..." he started, but she shook her head, the tears starting to spill over and run down her cheeks.

"No! No, don't talk to me!" She pulled the covers around her as she tried to process the reasons why.

"Please, Steve..." he tried again, leaning forward with a pleading look in his eyes, but she shook her head again.

"Please don't...just..." she replied in a broken whisper, and he understood what she wanted. He stood and moved over to the door, hesitating before exiting to the sounds of his wife sobbing.

It was late that evening by the time Temple returned. He'd escaped the apartment to do some soul-searching in a run-down bar he'd found down an alley. It wasn't one of his usual haunts but he'd wanted somewhere he could sit and think without being recognised – or at least be left alone if he was recognised. He'd spent the morning just walking, then turned to the bar late afternoon and into the night. He knew both he and Steve needed time alone to think over the consequences of what he'd done, and he'd wanted to make sure she'd have time to go to bed and sleep before he returned. He'd sleep on the settee that night, and then hopefully she would feel like talking to him tomorrow.

He had some explaining to do.

As he unlocked the door, he saw Charlie step into the hall from the kitchen, a glass in one hand and a towel in the other. He wore a disapproving expression but wisely said nothing.

"Is she in bed?" Temple asked, feeling as if he were a naughty child about to be scolded by his parent, and understanding to a certain extent that it was rightly so. Charlie knew Temple was his employer but that didn't stop him from being rather protective of Steve.

"She's in the study, Mr Temple." Temple knew Charlie was aware of the whole situation and showing his feelings by the way he addressed him. He usually called them "Mr and Mrs T" – a habit Temple was forever trying to discourage. The fact he was addressing him with his full title in a stiff, formal way was a sure sign the Cockney manservant was not happy.

"How is she?"

"She's spent the whole day in there. She hasn't eaten anything and only had two cups of tea. Sir Graham, your publisher and a couple of reporters have called but I've taken messages and said you'll call back."

Temple nodded wearily, the guilt returning full force as he worried about her. He was torn between going to see her and cleaning up but he decided to take a shower first – he didn't want to exacerbate the situation by letting her see him in the dishevelled state he was, smelling of alcohol. He let Charlie know what he was thinking and the Cockney agreed to make something light for him to take in to Steve when he'd cleaned up.

He was in and out of the shower in record time, feeling a lot more clear-headed, and dressed in some comfortable clothes before heading back to the kitchen to fetch the tea and toast Charlie had prepared for the two of them.

He pushed open the door to the study and immediately noticed the warmth emanating from the crackling fire in the hearth. He scanned the room and saw the small figure of his wife curled up in one of the large comfy chairs facing the fire, a blanket draped round her. She looked as pale and drawn as she had the night before, and he hated that he was the reason. He set the tray down and approached her, thinking she was asleep, but she opened her eyes immediately she felt his presence and looked up at him through her lashes. Even through her reddened eyes and tearstained cheeks, he was struck by her beauty and was reminded of when they met. He'd married her because he loved her for who she was, and he'd sworn to protect her. Now he'd given her a reason to be afraid of him, and had hurt her by his actions. He was the one that she should be protected against, something that really hit him hard. If she couldn't trust her husband, then whom could she trust?

"Steve, I'm so sorry..." he murmured as he crouched down by the chair.

She shook her head and reached out to him, her hand resting lightly on his. "I thought you'd left me."

"No, darling, I'd never...I just thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"No one knew where you were – you could have been lying hurt somewhere and no one would have been able to help you..." Tears were filling her eyes again and he marvelled at how she was able to worry so much about him when he'd hurt her. Rather than sit across from her, he settled himself on the floor next to the chair, facing her. She hadn't shown any sign that she didn't want him anywhere near her and he felt the need to be close to her; to reassure himself that he hadn't done irreparable damage to their relationship (although he suspected it would take a long time for her to be able to trust him again).

Steve stayed silent for a while and Temple just sat there, happy just to be in her presence and understanding there would be some time needed for both of them to come to terms with his actions. He was almost surprised when she spoke.

"Why?"

There didn't seem to be much accusation in her tone; more curiosity than anything. Steve had gone through the anger, the denial and hurt, and was now well into resignation. She just wanted to understand.

Temple hesitated and she knew that it wasn't because he was wondering what to say; for a well-respected novelist with a string of titles to his name he struggled to articulate his own feelings. He wasn't someone who wore their heart on their sleeve, and it had taken a while before he'd felt comfortable expressing terms of endearment and words of love to Steve.

"I wanted you safe." He didn't elaborate, and she knew he didn't need to. In that moment it had seemed the only way of protecting her and he hadn't thought of the consequences, caught up in the action as he was. She nodded, and they both subsided into silence again, but she reached over to touch his hair and the action of her fingers tunnelling along his scalp was both soothing and reassuring.

"You've kept me safe before," she replied, the words 'without drugging me' passing unspoken between them in mutual understanding. He dragged a hand over his face, and she saw a fleeting glimpse of what he was afraid of; an old, haggard man, alone because his wife had been taken from him due to his own actions. They'd not concerned themselves with those thoughts before but she could see the fear that had pushed him to protect her at any cost, and she realised that he was starting to come to terms with his own mortality, and by extension hers. His lack of response didn't worry her; she knew he was wrestling with his own demons, and as she paused in her ministrations he grasped her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips.

"Charlie says you haven't eaten anything today," he murmured, lifting his steady gaze to hers, and she could see the determination to start afresh and make amends in his eyes. He knew he'd done wrong, and he wanted to make up for it. She offered him a small smile, and saw his expression relax in response.

"Not really," she lifted a shoulder in a light shrug, knowing Charlie would have been watching over her and reported everything to Temple in an effort to ensure between them they could get some food into her. The toast sat on the tray Temple had brought in with him and although she knew it was cooling quickly, she felt the first pangs of hunger as she saw him reach for the plate and bring it to her. The tea sat on a side table between them as he took a seat on the sofa opposite her, his gaze never leaving her. They ate in silence, although the tension had dissipated and the atmosphere was now tentatively companionable. Steve realised that even though she had ordered him away, the one thing that had been missing was him. He'd been with her through everything and even though his actions had caused her hurt she still wanted him there. She'd spent the day probably doing as much soul-searching as he, and came to the conclusion that whilst she may not like the actions and their consequences she knew why he'd done it.

She took a sip of tea, noting absently that Temple never took his gaze off her, almost as if he never wanted to let her out of his sight again. To the casual observer, he was tense, but as his wife she knew his body language was screaming that he wanted to be closer to her, and suddenly she felt confident enough to take the initiative. He may have got it completely wrong in his approach to keeping her safe but it was a mistake he would never make again. "Where did you go?" she asked him, setting her empty plate on the tray as she wrapped the blanket further round her shoulders and stepped over to him. In response, he moved his plate aside and reached for her.

"Out," he answered, something crossing his features that hinted at a less-than-respectable destination. His hands moved over her until he had her curled on his lap, his arms a protective circle around her, her head tucked in the crook of his neck and his nose buried in the soft curls of her hair. She clutched his collar, rubbing the material between her finger and thumb thoughtfully.

"Tell me, Mr Temple, do you always drug your women?" Her tone was light, but she still felt him tense infinitesimally before relaxing again. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she lifted her head to press her lips against his, pouring indescribable feelings into the kiss. When they paused for air, he huffed out a sigh and nuzzled her cheek; rare romantic occurrences that she knew she would be treated to over the next few days as he tried to show how sorry he was.

"Only those I really care about," his response fell a little flat, but as Steve snuggled into his warm embrace she thought there was hope for them yet.

Author's Note: I may end up revising it at some point but I'm happy with how it turned out for such a difficult subject.