Hey guys, just to say cheers for the reviews of the last chapter, glad you liked it. I hope the same goes for this lil ditty. Either way, I'd love it if you let me know hint hint :D Also just to let you know, this takes place directly inbetween chapters 28 and 29 of WCHB, so I don't know if you want to read those first or whatever to remind yourselves of what happened. cough review!

"You still owe me that fiver, you prick," Dave shoved Ned as they walked the now all to familiar short cut back to Pete's flat. Having spent a fair amount of the afternoon in the Abbey, they'd decided to redeem themselves slightly by making a point of not getting completely rat-arsed in the middle of the day; instead choosing to head back to Pete's and maybe watch a couple of films, order in some pizza and more than likely knock back a few more beers.

Turning the corner of Broughton Park, Pete climbed the half broken fence as he always did and began walking the small dirt track with ran along side the field, cutting a good ten minutes off of his journey. Crumbling rocks crunched almost melodically beneath his feet as he listened to the boys idle banter, pulling out his phone and checking to see if Allie had called him.

"Shit," he hissed.

"What's wrong, mate?" Dave raised an eyebrow, briefly turning away from his conversation with Bovver.

"My phone's dead," he frowned. "I swear I fucking charged it last night,"

Shrugging, he shoved it back into his pocket and suddenly felt the temperature drop as though it were going to rain. Lifting his eyes to the rapidly darkening sky, he hoped that it stayed dry just till they made it home.

"Pete, it's gonna piss down in a second," Bovver muttered from next to him. "I saw a cab back there, what'd you reckon we jog back and get it?"

"You lazy slag," Pete laughed, pointing up ahead. "Look, it's the end of the path right there and then it's…"

"Still a good five minutes to yours," Bovver finished for him, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. "Seriously mate, I'm going back,"

Turning on his heel, he started back down the path, leaving Pete staring at him in confusion.

"Bov!" he shouted, half laughing. "Mate, don't be such a bitch, it's only a bit of rain,"

"I'm actually with him, Dunham." Ned winced, pulling his coat tighter around his body and jogging up the path. "We'll see you back at yours, yeah?"

"Oi, wait up," Swill called running after him.

"Fuck me," Pete shook his head. "What's got into you lot?"

"Why don't you just come with us?" Dave asked, pausing behind Keith and Ike who were in the process of following the others.

"Because I can actually fucking see my flat from where we are," Pete laughed, pointing to the building across the field. "I'm not forking out for a taxi just to…"

"Suit yourself," Dave clapped him on the shoulder before running off.

Pete stared at him in disbelief as he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. What the fuck was that about he had to wonder. Shaking his head, Pete carried on walking, fishing his phone out of his pocket once more and hoping that it had magically come back to life so he could call Allie. No such luck.

He was still worried about her after everything that had happened last week and then Bovver had shown up last night with the news that Mikey had been killed and-

Pete slipped in something, almost losing his balance as his hand shot out and grasped the fence running along side him. Frowning, he glanced down and felt his stomach twist.

All along the section of the path was a huge trail of wet, still fresh looking blood.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he realised it was probably a rabbit or something that some dog had hunted down but then, that was a shit load of blood just for a rabbit. The devil in his head won the argument and he found himself following the trail until he came to the small ally way which he knew led back into town. Stepping into it, he scanned the small area for any sign of a struggle and frowned when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging, he moved to turn back but then he spotted it and his heart plummeted.

Peeking out of one of the many over grown bushes lining the side of the small path was a hand; it was small, dainty, almost child like. Squinting, Pete tried to establish whether or not it was actually just a child, after all most of the kids around neighbourhood were notorious little shits who would go to any lengths to fuck with people's heads. But then he spotted something that made his blood run cold.

The small scar on the back of the thumb, the silver engagement ring on the finger.

oh fuck…oh please God no, not again…

"Allie!" he screamed, running as fast as he could and then dropping to his knees beside her. He felt sick when he looked down at her body, the white t-shirt she was wearing saturated with her own blood, a huge gash in her stomach, one in her neck, her lips parting as she tried to say something to him, her eyes pleading with him to help her as they drifted open and then closed again and again.

"Allie," Pete cried, pulling her head into his lap. "Everything's going to be alright, baby, I promise, ok?"

She looked at him in a daze and swallowed; everything seemed to be slowing down. She felt tears spilling down her cheeks and smiled weakly when Pete brushed them away with his thumb. She reached up and gently touched his face; holding her hand to his cheek, he kissed her palm gently, cursing when he saw her crumpled fingers. She whispered something inaudible and he pulled her up further into his arms, trying not to focus on how pale she was or how cold her body felt.

"Don't talk, ok?" he whispered to her, brushing some hair out of her eyes and reaching for his phone. "I'll call an ambulance," he nodded, ignoring the tears which were not streaming down his face. He had no idea when he's started crying but it was all he could do not to just start sobbing. Staring down at the phone, he remembered that it had no battery and felt his chest tighten. There was no one around, he had no phone, he had no car to drive her to the hospital.

Glancing around their surroundings desperately, Pete suddenly felt her start to shake in his arms and looked back at her.

Looking into her eyes, Pete saw something that would haunt him for the rest of his life. She was so scared. Tears were still streaming down her face and she met his eyes one last time before they shut.

In that second everything seemed to go silent; even the wind seemed to stop blowing. Looking into her face, Pete frowned. She was too still.

"Allie," he shook her lightly. "Allie, baby you have to open your eyes."

Her hand has limp in his, and he put his head to her chest listening for breathing. He screamed at the top of his lungs, sobbing as he pulled her closer to him, her limp body trying to slip out of his arms.

Suddenly her hand tightened around his and he pulled back from her, feeling sick when her dead eyes opened and she stared at him with so much hatred that he actually didn't know her.

"You did this to me," she whispered venomously. "You killed me. I'm dead and it's all your fault."

Pete Dunham's eyes snapped open and he gasped, the sweat trickling down his back and chest as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling for a long moment, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

"Fuck," he whispered, his eyes wide as he listened to his own heart beat pounding in his ears.

Immediately he snapped his head to the side and looked at Allie as she slept peacefully, the t-shirt of his she was wearing having fallen off one shoulder, leaving her skin open to his eyes. It was flawless as usual, no blood, no marks of any kind. She was ok, she was ok.

He lay there for a long moment, the aftershocks of his nightmare still causing his body to shake as the sheen of sweat he was wearing began to dry in the cool air coming from the partially open bedroom window. Forcing his eyes away from Allie, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table and for the first time in his life was actually relieved to see that it was already 6.30am which meant he had to be up. If it was any earlier, he wouldn't have had a hope in hell of getting back to sleep. What the fuck was all that about? He hadn't had a nightmare since he was about 12 and even then, it had been nowhere near that screwed up.

Rolling over, he pressed a soft kiss against Allie's cheek and smiled hearing her murmur something in her sleep, snuggling deeper into the pillow. Knowing that she had the day off, he slipped out of bed as quietly as he could without waking her and made his way to the bathroom, wasting not time in shedding his boxers and stepping under the shower, making it as hot as he could without scalding himself. He leant back against the cool tiled wall and closed his eyes, happy to let the water stream over him for a long moment as he tried to force the images of his dream out of his head.

But he couldn't.

Mikey was dead, Sean was missing and Allie was…

"We weren't out to smack her up, Pete."

Sean's voice echoed through his ears, blending with the images from his dream and making his body feel like it were made of ice, despite the temperature of the water.

"…No, that night we followed her on the tube, we had every intention of killing her."

Her bright green eyes going dark as though the light in them had been stubbed out, the way her body felt in his arms, lifeless and cold, her blood on his hands, staining both their clothes, so much of it that he could actually smell the copper in the air.

Fighting the urge to scream, Pete slammed his fists hard against the tile and knocked a few bottles of shampoo and shower gel off of the small shelf, watching as they clattered to the floor, a few of them spilling open. He didn't have the patience or the energy to pick them up, instead leaving them there, resting his head back against the wall and tilting his face up to the shower head.

It was only a dream, a stupid fucking dream which meant nothing other than he was getting paranoid. Nothing would happen to Allie, not with him around and even if something happened to him, he had no doubt in his mind that the boys would step in and protect her. Nodding to reassure himself, he reached for his shower gel and took a deep breath.

It was only a dream….so why was it making him feel so sick?

By the time Pete arrived at the school, he only had 20 minutes to sort himself out before class began but he didn't care. Contrary to what all the other teachers thought, he did most of his lesson plans in advance anyway unlike the rest of them who were still scribbling shit down as the kids piled into the room.

Ignoring the usual looks of distain he got from the other teachers as he pushed through the staffroom doors, he spotted Benjamin sat at the back of the room reading a book and immediately made his way over to the Scotsman.

"Ay, ay," Ben nodded at him in greeting, placing the book in his lap and grinning. "Rough night?"

"Why'd you say that?" Pete asked him, pouring himself what was left of the pot of coffee.

"Well off the top of my head, it might have something to do with that fact you look like regurgitated shit," Ben smirked when Pete threw his head back and laughed. It was amazing what he let Ben get away with, anyone else bar probably Allie said that to him and they'd be on their arse right about now. "So what was it? Over indulgence at the bar maybe?" he raised an eyebrow. "Or do I have Miss Harding to blame for the fact that my partner in crime looks like he's about to keel over?"

"I wish, mate," Pete rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of the watery coffee.

"Well, whatever it is that's bothering you, don't look too down, brother," Ben grinned. "It's the draw today,"

Blinking in surprise, Pete realised that with everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, he'd actually forgotten that today was the footie draw. Fuck, he had to text the boys.

"Not that they should really even bother," Ben shrugged. "Chelsea are going to win this without even trying,"

"Oh fuck off," Pete snorted. "Chelsea are a bunch of tarts, you know that as much as I do,"

"Ay, maybe so brother," Ben grabbed a couple of biscuits out of the communal tin and started munching on them. "But they'd still kick your Hammer arse all the way back to Upton Park."

"It's early in the morning," Pete shook his head and pointed at his friend. "Don't make me hurt you,"

Laughing, Ben wiped some crumbs off of his shirt and elbowed Pete in the ribs when he spotted Cassie Pearson, the only other teacher their age walking over to them, the light blue sundress she was wearing hugging her less than appealing body tightly as she came to a stop in front of them, placing her hands on her chubby hips and glaring down at the two men.

"In case you've forgotten, you're supposed to be on playground duty," she told them curtly, bending down to scoop up some biscuits, taking her time as she knew that they could see down her dress. Not that either of them were looking; Cassie Pearson was 25 going on 40 and both Pete and Benjamin knew that it had been her who had sold them out to the head master a few years ago when they'd stumbled into work still a little drunk from the night before.

"Cheers, Cassie," Pete nodded, smiling at her.

"No problem, Pete," she smiled back flirtatiously and Ben immediately started choking on the mouthful of biscuit he had. "Is he alright?" she pointed at Ben who had started to turn red, apparently, laughing, coughing and eating at the same time wasn't a good idea.

"Yeah," Pete laughed, shaking his head. "He'll be alright,"

She stood there for a moment, obviously waiting for one of them to come up with something, to bait her into a conversation and give her a reason to sit down with them. When it didn't happen, she rolled her eyes and tutted disgustedly before turning on her heel and heading back to her seat on the other side of the room.

"Subtle, mate," Pete laughed, clapping Ben on the back as he finally cleared his throat and wiped his watering eyes.

"Oh come on," he smirked. "Big Mama Cass has a crush on you and I'm not allowed to laugh," he frowned. "You practically pissed yourself when that geography teacher had a thing for me a few years back,"

"Yeah," Pete nodded, standing up and brushing a few crumbs off of his own shirt. "But that was because it was a bloke,"

"What can I say?" Ben winced and gestured to himself. "He was only human after all and who in their right mind wouldn't want a piece of this?"

"I can name a few," Pete grinned.

"Bet you Allie's name wouldn't be on that list," Ben winked. "I see her looking at me when she comes to visit you and I know that look, Dunham. Pure, animalistic lust is what it is,"

"Maybe so," Pete rubbed his chin and nodded. "But that's just because she doesn't know you that your dick looks like my little finger,"

"Piss off, you cockney bastard," Ben flipped him the finger, standing up beside him and pulling on his jacket. "Let's go get these kids in before Moby Dick finishes what's left of the biscuits and finds another excuse to come over and harass us."

Laughing loud enough to bring yet more attention to their conversation, Pete grabbed his keys and pulled on his jacket, glancing outside and noting that the light icy mist covering the school field was yet to lift which meant he'd have to do an indoor P.E session and fuck, did he hate those. Following Ben out of the door and down the hallway, he jammed his hands into his pockets, already feeling the cold creeping in from the large windows either side of them.

"So who'd you want to get?" Ben asked him. "I know you lot were gunning for Millwall last time I was down the pub but…"

"Millwall would be fucking ace," Pete grinned. "The shit between us has been going down for more than a decade, it'd be an excuse to clear it up if nothing else,"

"And by 'clear it up' you mean beat them shitless, right?" Ben raised an eyebrow.

"You know me too well," Pete laughed, pushing through the doors and stepping out onto the playground where he could see the boys playing football near the science block as usual. "Ay, ay, boys!" he shouted, grinning when they all turned around and shouted back at him. One of the pros of being the youngest members of staff: the other teachers might hate you, but the kids fucking loved you.

"You fancy playing, Mr. Dunham?" Jake Marshall, one of the boys in Pete's class piped up from where he was balancing the ball on the back of his neck.

"Nah, 'fraid not boys," he shrugged. "It's lesson time,"

The army of groans and curses drifted up from the crowd as Jake sighed and dropped the ball, all of them making their way over to the huge pile of school bags in the centre of the playground, sifting through them and arguing over whose was whose.

"Mr. Dunham, can we watch a video first period?" One of the boys asked as he passed Pete, the rest of them looking at him pleadingly.

"I'll see what I can do," he laughed, ruffling the boy's hair and gently pushing him forward. "Go on, get in,"

"Can we watch a video, too, Mr. Ellis?"

Benjamin looked at Pete and mouthed something fairy suspect at him, ignoring the smirk he got in return.

"No," Ben shook his head. "But we can keep reading To Kill Mocking Bird,"

The boys in his class groaned and began dragging their heels as they shuffled towards his classroom, already arguing over who was going to be in whose team when their football game resumed at lunchtime.

"'Ave fun," Pete winked, clapping Ben on the back of the neck before breaking into a jog behind his boys. "Oi, lads, what'd you say we take a cheeky break at half 12 and watch the draw?"

They shouted happily, getting excited as they piled in through the hallway, arguing amongst themselves and with Pete about what team would draw with the other and more importantly who would win. Amidst the excitement and the general peace he always got at work, Pete smiled, suddenly finding it a lot easier to make out that everything that had happened with Mikey, Sean, his growing frustration with Bovver, his fears over Allie…was all in his head. It was nothing to worry about, or he could pretend as such, for the next few hours at least.

"So basically we're looking at pushing Lisa Kline and maybe putting less emphasis on DKNY this issue, her fall line was an abomination of fashion anyway so quite frankly, she shouldn't expect any less,"

Allie stared at the glass table top in front of her, trying to work out how in just three hours she had gone from being fast asleep to sat in a board room listening to some woman who wore far too much perfume for her own good ranting on about their next issue when she didn't even work for the bloody magazine. But as Jack had explained, she was a PR from French Vogue and they apparently knew their shit.

"How are the rest of us feeling about that?" Jack asked, the tone is his voice letting all of them who knew him know that he was less than impressed at being told how to do his job. "James? Lara? Allie? What are you guys thinking?"

"I think it's a risk," James admitted and Allie smiled gratefully at him. She had always liked James, even when he knew it wouldn't go down well he would always speak his mind, but then they were creative directors, it was their job.

"I'm sorry?" the perfume whore piped up, her tone clipped and annoyed.

"Well, if we look at the successful history Vogue UK and U.S have had with DKNY, it becomes easy to see that…"

Allie tuned him out for a moment, frowning when her stomach cramps returned and she actually found herself gripping the edge of the table. She'd woken up feeling ropey but hadn't really thought about it, not after whatever had happened last night on that roof after she went to bed. She'd wanted to ask but Pete had already left for work by the time she'd woken up, the usual note scribbled in a hurry and left on the nightstand letting her know that he'd be back tonight by 6 and was making her dinner.

Actually hissing out loud this time, Allie realised that even the mental mention of food was pissing her stomach off and so she closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating solely on her breathing.

"Allie?"

She opened her eyes and glanced around the table, blushing when she realised that everyone was staring at her.

"Are you ok?" Jack frowned in concern as he took in his friend's pale and clammy looking skin. "Honey, you don't look so good,"

"Sorry," she shook her head and let go of the table, folding her hands on top of her notebook on which she had written a total of three words since the meeting began. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she blinked a couple of times, trying to forget about the discomfort in her stomach. "Go on,"

"Thank you," The woman told her curtly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at her as if you say, 'how the hell did you ever become a director here?' "So as I was saying, credentials and person affections aside, what you as a team have to assess is the long term ramifications of dropping someone like Lisa Kline-…"

"Oh my God," Allie lurched forward, her stomach felt like it had dropped down to her toes and then bounced back up again.

"Allie?" Lara peered around James to look at her.

"What is wrong with you exactly?" the woman asked, not even trying to hide her annoyance. "We're trying to have a meeting here about the future of this magazine and…"

"Shit, I'm sorry," Allie blurted, shoving herself away from the table and out of the door, pegging it down the marble hallway as fast as her high heels would let her. Reaching the frosted glass door which led to the bathroom, she ran in, almost knocking over one of the reception girls on the way.

"Ugh, excuse me," the brunette snapped, flipping her hair over her shoulder and striding out through the door.

Ignoring her, Allie bolted into one of the cubicles and barely had time to kneel down before she vomited. Even in the shock of what was happening, she reached up and quickly tied her hair in a loose bun, then went back to gripping the edges of the black marble bowl and emptying her stomach once more.

Coughing and spluttering, she flopped back against the wall of the cubicle and tried to calm her breathing; great, this was just what she needed. Pete was in a mess, her work was apparently going through some kind of French hostile take over and she was ill. Shaking her head, she felt her stomach churning again as she realised she was still able to smell the sick and quickly flushed the toilet, the still unsettled feeling in her tummy making her unwilling to leave.

Resting her hands on her taut stomach, she closed her eyes for a long moment, opening them only when she felt the door hitting her leg and glanced up to see Lara staring down at her with concern in her eyes.

"Is Jack pissed?" Allie asked her as she stepped into the cubicle and shut the door, grimacing when she saw traces of what appeared to be vomit in the toilet bowl.

"No," Lara shook her head. "Like the rest of us, I think he's just wishing you'd had the initiative to puke on Frenchy McBitch instead of making it to the bathroom."

Taking a seat opposite Allie, the red head smiled at her soft barely there laughter and handed her the bottle of Fiji water she'd managed to grab from the fridge on her way to find her.

"You feeling ok?" she asked, watching as Allie uncapped the bottle and then took a long sip. "I can drive you home if you want?"

"Um, actually yeah, that'd be good," the blonde nodded tiredly and rubbed the back of her neck. "Is Jack ok with that?"

"'Course he is," Lara nodded. "This is Jack we're talking about here, as in Mr. I-go-to-St. Barthes-every-Spring-on-the-company-account. He's all for leaving work early." She stood up and offered Allie her hand. "Besides, today's your day off anyway, you should be at home lazing about in the land of day time TV,"

"Mmmmm," Allie sighed. "That sounds good right about now,"

"Maybe you should make a doctors appointment," Lara suggested. "Y'know just in case something's wrong,"

"Lara, I'm fine," Allie smiled and downed the rest of the water. "It's just…I don't know some bug going around or something. I'll just take some aspirin and have a nap and I'll be fine."

"It's up to you, kiddo," Lara shrugged and held the door open for her, frowning when she saw Allie go pale again. "What? What's wrong?"

The blonde didn't answer, she just dropped back down to the floor and buried her head in the toilet, her entire body heaving as she gagged repeatedly.

Crouching down behind her, Lara rubbed her back soothingly and raising an eyebrow as Allie threw up yet again.

"Jesus, I think I just saw one of your kidney's come out," she quipped.

"Don't…" Allie coughed. "Don't make me laugh,"

"Sorry," Lara grinned. "You sure you don't want that doctors appointment now?"

"No," Allie whispered, shaking her head and yanking on the handle to flush the toilet once more. "I think I'm done,"

"Maybe you're pregnant," Lara joked, earning a stern look from Allie. "What?"

"We're too careful for that," she shook her head, standing up and feeling almost freaked out by how much she suddenly felt better. "I never miss a pill,"

"Yeah but how strong are Pete's little soldiers?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "Because if those boys really want to get to the disco, they'll find a way,"

"Soldiers? Disco? What's with the 80's slang?" Allie smiled. "Have you been watching Miami Vice again or something?"

"And to think, your stand up comedy career never took off," Lara shot back at her, fishing around in her pocket for a moment and then retrieving a packet of mints and handing her one. "Your breath smells like a public waste bin after a Friday night out, you might need this,"

"Thanks," Allie giggled, shaking her head as she popped the sweet into her mouth and started chewing.

"Come on, Crockett," Lara joked, linking her arm through Allie's. "Let's get you home,"

"So if I'm Crockett, that makes you Tubbs, right?" Allie smirked, her eyes twinkling.

"Aw, bollocks," Lara hissed as they stepped out into the hallway, Allie's giggle echoing behind them.

"Fuck!"

Allie shouted as she wretched yet again. Lara had dropped her back at Pete's flat about an hour ago and for all of fifteen minutes, she'd been fine but then whatever had gone wrong this morning had kicked back in again and she had spent the last half hour hunched over the toilet bowl. Finishing, she pushed herself up and quickly flushed the toilet before she brushed her teeth exuberantly, ignoring the dizziness in her head and the pain in her belly. Dropping her toothbrush beside the sink, she opened the cabinet on the wall and retrieved the bottle of aspirin, popping two and sighing as she felt her body get warm again. Whatever the hell this was, it wasn't going any time soon by the looks of it; maybe she had that rancid flu thing Harry had had a few weeks back, the one that left him unable to get out of bed for about a fortnight. Snorting, she knew that as far as things with her went, that was so not an option. Pulling the bottle of Echinacea she had just bought out of her bag, she swallowed one and walked back into the living room, kicking her shoes off as she flopped down on the couch and resumed flicking through the channels until her body grew so tired that the remote clattered down onto the old wooden floor boards as she finally fell into a semi-peaceful sleep.