No, you've not inadvertently taken LSD and begun hallucinating...this is indeed an update. Major apologies for the delay, I thought it would be a super smart idea to do a second degree so have started University (again) this week and the build up has been manic! On the upside, University is where I wrote What Could Have Been and was in my element with my OCD posting so here's to no more month long gaps between chapters!

This is where you start to see the changes in CHARACTER with his universe, someone crops up at the end who is certainly not the person they were when mentioned in previous stories. I'm currently six chapters ahead writing this so updates will be more frequent, I promise. Thank you to all those of you who reviewed and took the time to send PM's, I know I've got broken record syndrome but seriously, its MIND BLOWING how many people have read and continue to read my stories so thank you so much. Read, enjoy and if you fancy, leave a review, they make my day :) El xx

Called mum, she knows you're safe. Will come get you tomorrow. Enjoy letting Harding play nurse for you. Silver linings and all that bollocks.

Pete snorted as he read Steve's text before flipping his phone shut and placing it on Allie's huge glass and marble dresser, his battered wallet and keys complete with West Ham keyring looking utterly ridiculous amongst the bottles of expensive looking potions and powders. Strewn about where photos of Allie and various members of her family, some of her and Lara and of course of her and Pete. His eyes settled on one from a few summer's back when they had braved the Barking Lido and Allie had worn a bikini in front of him and the boys for the first time. He chuckled to himself as he looked at the photo closer, noting that not one of the boys was looking at her or daring to stand anywhere near her. Pete included. He tapped his fingers against the back of the chair slotted into the vanity itself and listened out for her return. She had snuck downstairs to get them something to eat and drink; after they had finally pulled themselves up from the bathroom floor, he had bashfully informed her he was going to get changed, giving her the chance to leave so he wouldn't have to see the sympathy in her eyes. But typical Harding, all she did was kiss him on the forehead and inform him she was going in search of food. How she managed to strike the balance of being there for him without making him feel like a complete child, he would never know.

Doing his best not to look at his bruised and battered body in the mirror, he ran a finger along the top of the vanity and absentmindedly pulling one of them open, his eyes bulging as he stared down at the various scraps of lace.

Jesus Christ on a fucking bike.

Since when did Allie wear stuff like this? This was the girl who had left the room wearing flannel boxers and a SpongeBob t-shirt.

His mind was assaulted with various images of Allie in nothing but lace and something tightened deep in his stomach, forcing him to slam the drawer shut harder than he had intended and catching his finger.

"Fuck!" he shouted.

"Jesus, are you ok?" Allie raised her eyebrows, quickly closing her bedroom door behind her and locking it to keep prying eyes at bay.

"Yeah," Pete mumbled, focusing on wiggling his fingers rather than looking at her. And imagining her stood against the door in nothing but lace. And maybe those black high heels she was wearing earlier. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Was this what concussion did to you these days?

"Cramp," he shrugged, knowing it was a bullshit excuse but it was the best he could do. "Christ, did you get enough?"

He laughed as she stumbled over to her bed and dropped the armful of food she was carrying, tins of Pringles, chocolates and popcorn along with a 6 pack of beer and some Cokes landing gracefully on the cashmere throw and making his mouth water.

"You eat like a horse," Allie raised an eyebrow at him, reaching for a packet of Haribo, plucking all the cola bottles from the pack and handing them to Pete who merely rolled his eyes. "God knows how long we'll be stuck up here," she flopped down onto the bed and crossed her legs. "Something tells me this is an all nighter,"

Pete frowned, guilt surging through him as he watched her open one of the coke bottles and take a long sip. This was their pre-University, post exam celebration of freedom and she had to spend it patching the better half of his torso back together and being verbally assaulted by his shit heap of a father.

"Why don't you go back down?" he folded his arms. "I'm gonna get some kip and-…"

"Piss off, Dunham," Allie laughed, clambering up onto her knees and hobbling over to him. "As per every other moment of your life since 1995, you're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

Pete chuckled, shaking his head as she placed her hands on his shoulders to balance herself and for whatever reason, it made his skin tingle. His eyes flickered down to the t-shirt and shorts she was wearing and he briefly wondered if anything resembling the underwear he had seen in her drawer was underneath it.

"So we 'ave beer…" he raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the bottles on the bed and forcing his mind from the gutter.

"We also have marshmallows and chocolate," Allie pursed her lips.

"Well then, Harding," Pete grinned, ignoring the sting in his cheek as he did so, the cut on his eyebrow stretching ever so slightly. "What'd you say we take this north?"

It was eight minutes and one close call when Pete's foot had slipped out of his trainer later that they found themselves laying side by side on the roof of Allie's house; they had discovered they could climb up here seven years ago when there had been a meteor shower and Allie who was going through her astrology phase at that time had insisted they watch it from the highest point possible. Which meant 30 feet up on the flat patch of roof which housed Allie's bathroom. However on this particular night, it wasn't Polaris they were gazing at or the outline of the Milky Way.

"He isn't…"

"Oh he is…"

"No, surely to God not there…"

"Oi, he asked her first, he's being a gentleman about it…"

"How can she be ok with this? Is she seriously going to let him…"

"Wait for it…"

"OH MY GOD!"

Allie clapped her hand over her eyes and fell back onto the roof, Pete's laughter taunting her as she pulled her hooded sweater up over her mouth and let out a muffled scream.

"I told you not to look," Pete shook his head.

"In my garden," the blonde sat up again and clasped her hands to her chest. "The garden where I spent my childhood is now robbed of any innocence…"

"Wanna know the worst part?" Pete cocked his head as he squinted into the darkness. "I'm pretty sure that was Swill,"

He laughed at the dark look Allie gave him, her finger shaking as she pointed it at him.

"You take that back,"

"Sorry, blondie," Pete winked, opening another bottle of beer and handing it to her. "Another precious memory tainted by Simon Wilkins,"

"Remember when I was a kid and my dad used to make us have jars for everything?" she asked him, drawing a heart-warming and genuine laugh from him.

"Remember 'em?" Pete snorted, stretching his long legs out in front of him and nudging her feet with his own. "I had to fucking have one,"

"A swear jar ironically," she rolled her eyes. "Pretty sure within six months you'd paid for our summer holiday to Mexico the next year. Point is," she gestured down to the garden. "I vote we get one for that bastard,"

"A Swill jar?" Pete smirked. "He ain't got that much money, darlin',"

"Well he can clean my garden then," she shuddered. "Actually screw cleaning, I want that corner of the grass burned and its ashes scattered in Nepal,"

Pete chuckled and fell back into the nest of pillows they had brought out with them, pulling on her hand so she did the same. They lay there as they had done so many nights before, sipping their beers quietly and staring up at the sky only this time there was a tension there. He knew she had questions, questions that he didn't want to answer but he would if she asked him. He had never been able to deny her anything, least of all his honesty. It was what made them as strong as they were together.

"I can hear 'em, you know?" Pete's voice broke Allie from her reverie as she stared up at the star scattered sky.

"Huh?"

"The cogs," he pointed to his temple and rotated his finger against it. "Around and around they go,"

He was teasing her, she could hear it in his voice but truth be told, she did have things she wanted to know. She was certain she wouldn't like the answer to any of the questions she had but dammit, she still needed to know.

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, Allie gulped hard and forced her eyes away from Pete's, not particularly able to take the intensity in them at that moment.

"I don't want you to tell me anything," she whispered. "Not if you don't want to. That's not…this isn't some tit for tat scenario; I'm not going to force anything out of you. Just know if you did want to talk about it then…" she shrugged. "That's ok,"

Pete gazed at her, for some reason wanting nothing more than to reach out and run his knuckles down the side of her perfect face. She had said those words to him all those years ago when they had first met and he was sporting a split lip. Nothing changed with this girl; she was there for him then and she'd be there for him whenever he needed her.

"I was nine," Pete let out a long breath, keeping his eyes focused on the night sky above them. "First time he smacked me about."

Allie tensed beside him, he could feel her body go rigid, her breath coming out in shallow pants as she fought to keep herself together. Below them, the hum of the party still mingled with the night air, music and laughter spilling out into the expansive garden and forming a cloud around them.

"Bad day at work, he said," Pete snorted humourlessly as he recalled his father's muttered excuse the next morning at the breakfast table. "He walked in and mum 'ad made sausage and mash, asks him what he wants to drink and without saying anything, he picks up the plate and smashes it on the floor. He gets in her face then, asking her if she's fucking stupid, how many times does he have to tell her he don't like mash,"

Allie swallowed hard and laced her fingers together on top of her stomach; she had known Michael Dunham over a decade and whilst he had never been the warmest person, she had never assumed he was capable of this.

"She starts stuttering, apologising even though she did nothing wrong," Pete spat out, the fury surfacing in his words as his fists clenched at his sides. "Steve gives me this look as if to say 'keep your mouth shut', but I can't. Dad's got her hair wrapped round his fist as this point, his shoving her head into the fridge and screaming at her with all the food in there, she has to make mash like we're on the fucking bread line. Starts accusing her of stealing his money, spending it on herself,"

"So I stood up, before I even knew I'd done it and just shout at 'im "leave 'er alone'. That's it, three tiny words and the whole world caves in."

Pete swallowed, hating the way his voice had begun to waver, his hands shaking as he bit down on his lip hard.

"He asks me when my balls dropped, when I became the hero and then he slams her face into the side of the fridge and drops her like she's nothin'. Then he walks towards me and crouches down in front of me, tells me if I want to get involved in things that don't concern me they I'd better be prepared to take the consequences…and then he punches me in the stomach. Gets me down on the ground and grabs Steve's plate of food and shoves my face in it. He doesn't give a fuck that I can't breathe or that I'm bleeding, he just screams at me if I love mummy's cooking so much then why don't I eat it."

Allie shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, hating herself as tears began to stream down the side of her face and onto her neck, their trails cooling her skin in the autumn chill. How the hell had this been going on all these years and she had never noticed it?

"He kicks me in the back and then walks out of the kitchen, turns on the TV and sits down as though nothing has happened. He even shouts out to Steve that footie is on," Pete laughed darkly. "And mum just stands there crying, pulls me up and cleans me down, all the time telling me she's so sorry. That it's her fault,"

"Pete,"

That one word in that tone of voice was enough to make his stomach ache; he glanced up at her and saw her crying, trying to hard to keep it together as she sat up and reached for his hand, holding it tightly in her own.

"Why doesn't she…"

"Leave?" Pete finished for her, shaking his head lightly. "I've asked her so many times, but…she loves him. I don't understand what there is to love, the bloke is a cunt. He's an alcoholic, woman beating piece of shit and if Steve hadn't come home tonight…"

He shook his head and looked at her, sitting up and cupping her chin in his hand.

"I never would have let him touch you," he told her, his voice hoarse with emotion. "If he'd laid a hand on you…"

"I know," she frowned, wondering why he was so concerned about her when he was the one who was hurting. "It's ok,"

"It's not fuckin' okay, Allie," he shook his head. "If he touches my mum again, I'll kill 'im."

The simplicity which with he spoke sent a chill down Allie's spine; it wasn't as though she blamed him but she knew deep down that if Michael raised his hand to Moira Dunham again, either Pete or Steve would murder him.

"Then don't let it come to that," she begged him. "Get your mum, stay here and…"

"Harding," Pete smiled sadly, shaking his head. "This ain't a Dickens novel, alright? I ain't the orphan the rich girl can take in,"

"Oh as if you've fucking read Dickens," Allie shot back at him, rousing a genuine laugh out of him this time.

"Come 'ere," he pulled her to him, resting his chin on top of her head and closing his eyes as her hands swept up and down his back. "I'll be alright, you know me,"

"Yeah," she snorted, her voice coming out muffled against his chest. "That's the problem."

Pushing herself away from him gently, Allie looked up into his azure eyes and tried to keep her own open as his fingers swept up her arms and under her hair to cradle her head. God, his hands felt good. Shaking the sensation away, she ignored the loud crash followed by a resounding "wheeeeeey" from downstairs and forced his gaze back to her.

"So what happens in the morning?" she pressed him. "I drop you back home and what? Wait for a phone call saying you're either in hospital or in prison for murder?"

"Not quite, Harding," Pete grinned at her. "And besides…who said anything about going home?"

Pat Dunham limped down the short footpath to his front door, making a note of all the weeds that seemed to have grown overnight and cursing under his breath. Fishing his keys from the pocket of his overalls with a filthy hand, he practically threw himself into the house, sighing with relief when the smell of bacon hit him.

"Aye, here's trouble,"

He smirked, bending down to take off his work boots as his wife poked her head around the kitchen door and wolf whistled at him.

"I do like a man in uniform," Nancy Dunham winked, ignored the hand gesture he threw in her direction as he straightened up and made his way towards her.

"I didn't marry you for your sense of humour," he told her, pulling her into a hug. "I married you for your cooking and your body,"

"Arse," she laughed, elbowing him playfully. "Go on, bugger off, you'll get my clothes covered in muck,"

Releasing her and brushing a streak of mud off of the back of her nurses' uniform before she could spot it and box his ear, he slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs and reached for the enormous mug of tea she had placed in front of him.

"Your brother rang last night,"

At that, he almost spat out his tea, turning to look at his wife as she gave him a knowing look and went about buttering the toast for his bacon sandwich.

"Well fuck me," Pat rubbed the back of his neck. "Moira finally chuck him out?"

Whilst Pat loved his brother, there was no denying Michael Dunham was no way near good enough for a woman like Moira; he had a short temper and an even shorter attention span which meant he usually hopped from job to job. Not ideal when he had two young mouths to feed.

"Or did he get fired again?"

"He didn't say," Nancy shrugged, placing the huge sandwich down in front of him and licking some brown sauce from her finger as she took a seat next to him. "He was slurring though,"

"Oh well there's a fuckin' surprise," Pat mumbled through his mouthful of food. "If he wants me to get him a job on the site, he's got another thing coming. I'm onto a good thing with this new contract, I ain't having him fuck it up by showing up pissed out of his tree,"

"Maybe he just called for a chat," Nancy shrugged, rolling her eyes when her husband laughed loudly.

"Yeah, it's been a while since we had one of our boys' days out," Pat looked at her seriously and then stretched his hands out, examining his dirt covered fingernails. "His timing is bang on, I really need to get these manicured,"

"Alright," Nancy held up her hands up with a laugh. "I'm done, I'm going to work."

"I'm going to finish this and get some kip," he replied with a yawn, sending her a wink as she blew him a kiss and stepped out of the back door, taking the alley way down towards the tube station as she always did.

The kitchen descended into a quiet calm, the radio humming in the background as he wracked his brain for reasons his brother would have phoned him. Michael never phoned. He showed up unannounced with beer on his breath, he sometimes even passed out in the front garden when he was too pissed to knock but he never, ever phoned. Not all that willing to give it much more thought, Pat yawned again and stood, dropping his plate into the sink and starting down the hallway towards the stairs, his body crying out for rest after his 10 hour night shift. His foot had barely found the first step when the doorbell sounded and he swore in that moment, a small part of him died.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he rubbed his forehead. "I found Jesus, we've got a funeral plan and our windows are already double glazed," he shouted over his shoulder.

Low and behold, the shrill ring of the bell sounded again and he growled, turning on his heel and yanking the door open, his jaw falling when he came face to face with the intruders on the other side.

Pete looked up at his uncle, gently removing the sunglasses Allie had loaned him from his face and wincing at his reaction. Smirking, he thought back to the moment in Allie's bedroom when she had offered to put make up on the bruises and he had given her quite the colourful reaction. But now as Pat Dunham stared at him with utter anguish in his eyes, he found himself wishing he'd swallowed his pride and asked her to cake him in the stuff. Next to him, the girl in question squeezed his hand a little harder, letting him know she was there for him.

"Alright, Pat?" he attempted to send him a boyish grin but failed miserably and hated himself when he felt the all too familiar sting of tears in his eyes. "Don't suppose you-…"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence, instead found the wind knocked out of him as the older man yanked him forward and pulled him into a tight hug, knowing without even having to ask exactly who was responsible for this. Trying his best to control his temper as his nephew's tears dripped down onto his shoulder, Pat pulled him inside and reached for the young blonde behind him, ushering them both in and out of the cold and –unbeknownst to any of them- out of the sight of Michael Dunham.

This version of Pat was originally and I mean ORIGINALLY circa 2006 how I wrote him to be so I feel as though I'm finally doing him justice. :D Please be kind enough to leave a review if you have the time, as always my PM box is open, suggestions, questions and anything else are always welcome. :) x