Sorry I'm actually rubbish - I've been away over Christmas with no Wifi - if you can imagine such a thing! But it is my new years resolution to finish this story so it's happening! Thank you for the reviews.

I added a little section just for you Melanie on the handcuff situation. I haven't tried it out, I don't have handcuffs lying about. Although would like to see if it actually works. If I'm honest I YouTube it! Street undresses Chris in chapter 3 to hide the fact she's been running around with criminals and a gun. He didn't know her reasons for why she did it, but he still wanted to protect her from the consequences.

Camille the concussion was a sports injury, all healed now thanks.

Happy New Year, hope you enjoy.

'Street,' Chris was starting to panic. Street could almost hear her saying his name as he watched her lips move as she spoke, but the noise still eluded him. 'Stop,' she tried to use her free hand to prize his fingers off her wrist but her bandaged hand couldn't get a good grip. She was concentrating on their hands in front of them and was caught completely off guard when she was suddenly dragged forwards out of the bathroom. Chris stumbled, but stayed on her feet. 'Street,' she started to really protest this time. He couldn't hear her, and she could only see his back as he marched them out of the bathroom and across the flat.

She forcefully brought her arm down suddenly. She was sure this would bring her her freedom; but Street's grip on her had been stronger than she'd given him credit and now he knew that she wasn't going to stop at that. His grip was bruising into her wrist. There was a second of pause, they both knew what was coming.

Chris struck out at Street's legs. She caught one of his legs with her forceful kick. He fell to one knee. His hiss of pain gave her a second of guilt. Chris still wasn't free, and now she'd been dragged to the floor. She hadn't landed half as composed as Street had, and now he had the upper hand. Chris looked up at Street who was looking at her. Her heart was racing, emotions running through her as quickly as the blood was running through her veins. The fear built as she judged her situation.

Street's eyes found hers and the fight drained out of her. She could't put her finger on what she found in them. There was determination and strength, but something else. Something she couldn't dismiss. Something that made her feel, safe and loved, even in this ridiculous position. Could she trust this feeling. She would be stupid to trust it. Jamie knew better than to trust someone, but she was feeling less and less like Jamie.

If she wasn't being pulled to her feet and led away from the front door, she would have been able to think, and realise that she had some of Chris's memories. The random bed she woke up in didn't feel unknown and the tight grip on her wrist was from someone who was so desperate to save her he would do anything.

The glass on the bedroom floor broke under their shoes. The handcuffs enclosed around her wrists. All of this happened with no fight; no words, no emotion at all. Chris found herself lying on her bed, facing the window. Her back was to the door, and her back had Street pressed against it.

He was holding her. One arm was partially underneath her head. His hand being held between her two against the head board. He had once again handcuffed her to the bed and she was cupping her hands around his. She was holding his hand, as though this wasn't weird enough, she wasn't just holding it but clinging onto it. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was unwilling to let go.

The way he had his other arm wrapped around her middle pulling her flush with him gave her some hope that he was feeling the same way. She was going crazy. That she was sure of now; how could she possible be right where she wanted to be while she was lying handcuffed to the bed.

Somehow the handcuffs made the situation better, she could slip out of them again if she needed to. Her feet were free this time, and just for good measure she was sure that Street had some form of concussion. By bidding her time she could be out of here quickly and easily, but for now she was content.

The small piece of metal she had used as a shim on the hand cuffs was still tucked under her watch strap. She had taken the big hand off an old clock weeks ago, she wasn't really sure why she had done it. At the time she just thought it was spite, Benz had placed the clock in front of her. He was all worked up shouting; basically foaming at the mouth. Did she know the time? He'd told her to have it done by seven and look it was five past. He'd slammed it down in front of her at that point, and she'd want to break his neck. She was pushing down her anger, swallowing the words of hatred she wanted to shout back at him. Of course she couldn't do or say anything to him, not in the position she was in.

So the clock hand was the only thing she could do to rebel. It made her feel like she still had a say, the one tiny action gave her something to hold onto that she wasn't just blindly following orders; gun in hand. It was a promise to herself that she would stop doing this, she would find a way. But when that way out had come knocking she was too scared to take it. She couldn't go to Street - he would never except her - not when he learn what she had done.

But he hadn't given up. He had kept fighting, refusing to give up on her. Chris didn't want him to. She wanted to fall back into her old life, even if she wasn't one-hundred percent sure what that looked like. The problem was if Benz ever found her, and he was going to find her. There was no doubt in her mind about that. He had so many connections and resources. Jamie wasn't ready to come face to face with Benz. She never wanted to face him again. But she would and she was terrified of what that meeting would look like.

If Benz found her here she was trapped, being held hostage. He couldn't blame her for that. And she still got to lie here Streets arms around her, his body heat keeping her warm, and his smell surrounding her making her feel safe. She didn't know how to trust this new feeling of safety with him. Yes she was definitely crazy, there were handcuffs, broken glass and a drugging; but the memories were flitting through her mind. Just flashes of happiness. Street smiling at her, a hug, moments of his lips on hers.

At some point Street realised that Chris had fallen asleep. Her breathing had deepened, and her body had relaxed. He reached around her and brushed a strand of fallen hair from her face. Her face felt cold under his hand. He half sat up looking for a blanket, but there wasn't one. The only cover he could see was underneath them. He rolled his arm out for underneath her head, and slid off the bed. He pulled the covers up off his empty half and tucked them around her.

His shoes broke more of the glass underneath them, and for the first time the popping noise reached his ear. He placed another foot carefully on top of some glass and smiled to himself as he faintly heard the pop of the two pieces breaking apart. At least something was fixing itself.

Street made his way into the open plan kitchen/living room. He needed an aspirin. He pulled the cupboards open, finding himself a glass and the small white tub. He clicked it open, filled the glass with water and swallowed them down hoping for some relief from the pounding in his head. He should have known Chris could escape. She'd spent the last five plus months perfecting the art. He wasn't annoyed at her, just at himself, that she'd managed to knock him out with a lamp. He looked across the room into the mirror, it was definitely going to scar. He traced the cut, his fingers gliding over the skin closures holding it together. It was oozing a little, how he was going to explain it at work he had no idea.