3 February 1990

Frank stared at the letter on his desk, still confused by its arrival. In the weeks since the fatal shooting of Johnno Smith, he had thought often about the circumstances and, in particular, whether he could have done anything differently. If he had taken a more softly-softly approach in the first place, rather than bulldozing in, angry and self-righteous, would Johnno have produced the gun? Perhaps they could have talked about the situation calmly before it had got that far. Perhaps the other man wouldn't have needed to die. Perhaps a six-year-old child might still have her father.

There had been an official enquiry into the incident where both he and Christina had given written and oral testimony about what had happened. The result was that the shooting had been declared lawful and unavoidable due to the threat to life posed by Johnno when he had rushed out onto the balcony. He often wondered what had gone through the other man's mind at that moment and if he had known he was going to die. The committee's decision didn't make him feel any better about it though and, the letter he was now looking at, almost made it worse.

There was a sharp knock at the door and Christina stepped inside, dragging him back into the present moment. "Guv, Ted and I have finished with Matthews and Harper, so that just leaves Draper. I didn't know if you wanted in on the interview or not?"

"Did they come across?"

"Eventually. Both of them gave Draper up as being the ringleader and, apparently, he's got a load of gear stashed in a lockup around the back of the flats. Jim's working on a warrant."

"Good." He paused. "I'm sure you and Ted can handle him."

She frowned and closed the door over behind her. "Everything ok?"

Her perception was irritatingly on point. "Yes, why shouldn't it be?"

"Well, I just figured you'd be desperate to take a run at him." She looked down at the letter. "Nothing serious I hope?"

"Depends on what you call serious." He held it out to her, watching her reaction as she skimmed the text.

"This is great," she said, meeting his gaze again. "A commendation? Congratulations, that's brilliant."

"Is it? The bloke's dead. I'm not exactly sure what I'm being commended for."

"You're being commended for talking him down. You got the gun off him, regardless of what he did after that."

"Yeah…" he looked away, knowing that she couldn't possibly understand. He'd never been one to shy away from claiming the glory even if, on occasion, it had been meant for someone else but this time, the whole thing just rang hollow.

"You are going to accept it, aren't you? I mean, it's an honour and…"

"You don't have to tell me that," he snapped. "I've already got one. I know the drill."

"Sorry."

Immediately he regretted his words, well aware that none of how he felt was her fault. "No, I'm sorry. I get what you're saying."

"Besides, look on it as being a reward for saving my life, if nothing else." She smiled at him and he felt his insides contract. Every time he replayed the sequence of events in the flat over in his mind, every time he imagined taking a different approach, that part always came out the same; he always got her out of there, always protected her.

"You should have got one."

"Me? I was only in the flat for about ten minutes. I certainly didn't do anything to warrant a bravery commendation."

"I don't mean for what happened with Johnno. You should have got one for what happened in Patterson's club."

"Oh, that…" she shrugged. "Ryan's in jail, that's all I really cared about. Besides, I'm sure there's a lot of people who probably think I didn't handle that situation very well either. Anyway, you sure you don't want in on the Draper interview?"

"No, but thanks for the heads up. I've got a meeting with Monroe." He grimaced at the very thought and a knowing smile spread across her face.

"Definitely not love at first sight, eh?"

"I don't think you've ever made a bigger understatement. He's only been here a few weeks and I can't stand the man."

"Because he plays things very much by the book?" she raised her eyebrows quizzically.

"Are you suggesting that I don't?"

"Of course not. Well, have fun anyway."

"Oh yeah, barrel of laughs right enough." He watched as she disappeared from view and groaned inwardly at the prospect of going toe to toe with the new uniform inspector. He never thought he would miss Frazer as much as he already did but if she had been an occasional thorn in his side, Andrew Monroe was a whole tree branch. He had already rubbed most of the relief up the wrong way and he seemed intent on making relations between uniform and CID as difficult as possible. Something told him it was not going to be a pleasant meeting.

XXXX

"You've got nothing on me," Billy Draper said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. His supercilious smile was irritating and slightly disconcerting given that they, apparently, had him banged to rights.

"I think you're being modest," Christina said. "I think we've got quite a lot on you, actually. Your mates have been very forthcoming."

"Matthews and Harper?" Draper laughed. "Nah, I don't think so."

"I do think so. They've given us chapter and verse on all the robberies you've all committed, and they've given us very good information about where you're hiding the gear."

"In fact," Ted added, "We've got officers heading down to your lockup right now to give it a spin and something tells me they're not going to come away empty handed."

Draper looked between them. "I don't think so."

Christina raised her eyebrows, "No? Look Billy, why don't you do yourself a favour here and just tell us what you know. You'll feel better in the long run." He said nothing. "You've got a drug problem, haven't you?"

"Not anymore. I kicked the habit a few years back."

"Really?"

"Really…someone helped put me straight. I haven't touched the stuff for ages."

"Who put you straight then, a counsellor?"

"No," Draper smiled at her, "Not a counsellor."

"Who then?" He continued to smile at her. "Come on, if you're so proud of your achievement then there's surely nothing wrong with giving that person credit, is there?"

Draper paused and then leaned forward across the table. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I'm not sure you want that tape on."

"Why not? You got something to hide."

"No…I don't mind, but you might, given that you're his wife."

A chill swept through her body and she glanced sideways at Ted. "What?"

"Detective Sergeant Stewart Church," Draper said, grinning at her. "I think I'd like to make my phone call now."

XXXX

"Dear oh dear, what a pickle." Stewart shook his head and smiled. "Yet again Sun Hill CID making a mess of things."

"You don't have to sound so self-satisfied," Christina snapped. "How was I supposed to know he was your snout?" After Draper's revelation, she had tried to find Frank to no avail, so Ted had advised her to contact Stewart who had immediately turned up at the station.

"I'd have loved to have seen your face when he told you."

Christina stared at her husband, at the fact that he appeared to be revelling in the whole sorry situation and had to physically dig her nails into her palms to stop herself from whacking him. "Stewart…he's the leader of a gang, a dangerous gang, who go around breaking into people's homes, robbing them and then assaulting them if they so much as try to put up a fight."

"Not my problem," he shrugged. "Draper's a good informant, one of the best. Thanks to him we've nailed a number of influential dealers over the past few years and I'm not about to close off that pipeline over this."

"He also gave Johnno Smith the gun that ended up being the reason he lost his life!"

"So says Johnno Smith and I don't think he was really in his right mind when he copped it, do you?"

"So, Draper can just go around doing whatever he wants without fear of impunity? That's not how it's supposed to work. Being an informant doesn't give you carte blanche to…"

"In this instance, it does." He stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Come on darling, I know you understand…"

"Attempting to influence one of my officers DS Church?" They both turned to see Frank standing at the door, his gaze flitting between them. "That's not very professional now, is it?"

"Sir," Stewart greeted him with a tone of faux formality. "I was just explaining to my wife how the relationship between officer and informant works. Perhaps once she's acquired a few snouts of her own, she'll have a better understanding."

"Well, that's not very nice," Frank said, before she could reply, before she could even analyse how her husband's last comment had made her feel. "Suggesting that she can't understand just because she doesn't currently run any snouts of her own? We all know the score here."

"I'm sure you do," Stewart said. "You know the importance of good, reliable information. Even more so, I would imagine, after what happened to Johnno Smith."

Frank didn't say anything, and Christina felt anger flare inside her, more than what she had felt at facing her own criticism. The remark seemed innocuous enough, but she knew what he was getting at. "You're out of order Stewart."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Stewart spread his hands, "Just making an observation is all. I'm sorry about what happened to your snout, sir, it can't have been easy watching him being shot dead."

"Look, what are we going to do about this?" she said, desperate to divert the conversation back onto the real issue. "Are you asking us to let Draper walk?"

Stewart looked at her, a faint trace of disbelief on his face. "I'm not asking you, darling, I'm telling you that he has to walk, otherwise what's the point? He scratches my back; I scratch his back. He gives me information; I get him out of the odd pickle."

"Pickle…?!"

"Besides, I think you owe me one after the David Nelson fiasco."

"That was eighteen months ago," she snapped, "and he walked free from court, if you remember, after his lawyer made me look like a twat!"

"He should never have been at court in the first place, is my point!"

"Perhaps you pair could save the marital discourse for the privacy of your own home," Frank said suddenly. "The reality is…I don't see any other option but to let Mr Draper go."

Christina rounded on him, "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I'm making a joke?"

"But Guv…"

"I'm glad you see things from my point of view, sir," Stewart smiled. "There's no point in fostering bad relations between Sun Hill and the Squad now, is there?"

Twenty minutes later, Christina stood watching as Draper was signed out from custody, the same self-satisfied smile on his face, matched only by Stewart's. She could tell, even without him articulating it, that he felt vindicated, given what had happened previously with Nelson and appeared to be enjoying every minute.

"I can't believe you're happy to let the bastard just walk out of here," she said, as Frank came to stand beside her.

"Well, he is your husband. I've no reason to keep him here."

She rolled her eyes, "I mean Draper."

"I know what you mean," he replied, "don't worry, we'll get him."

"How? We've just given him a free pass!"

"There's more than one way to skin a cat."

Stewart wandered over to join them, the smile still plastered to his face. "Nice doing business with Sun Hill on this occasion. Darling, don't forget the party tonight. Gordon's dying to meet you."

"Oh yeah, that…" In truth, she had forgotten about it and, at that moment, the thought of having to hang off his arm and pretend that they were a solid unit wasn't one that she particularly welcomed.

"Well, he comments on your picture often enough. Time to let him meet the real thing in the flesh." He kissed her quickly on the cheek, flashed a final smile at Frank and then turned for the exit, following Draper as he pushed open the back door.

"Gordon?" Frank queried.

"Some colleague of his, DI Gordon Wray. New on the squad, going places, that sort of thing." She thought back to the conversations she and Stewart had had in the recent past about the man and about how keen he appeared to be to introduce them.

"I see, and hubby's been talking you up, has he?"

"He said that Wray took a shine to my picture. I doubt that counts as 'talking me up.' Anyway, I don't even want to go now." Turning, she started to make her way back along the corridor, aware that he was following her. "Honestly, he comes swanning in here, pisses all over us and just expects me to plaster a smile on my face and pretend he's the greatest thing since sliced bread?"

"What have I told you before about letting the job get in the way of your marriage?"

"Yeah, well maybe it's not worth it." She stopped and sighed, thinking about how, as time passed, she was finding herself questioning her relationship more and more. There were good points, yes, very good points and good times; but then there were moments like this one and like when they had arrested Nelson and he had hit her, like when she had failed the sergeant's exam, like when Ryan had attacked her…

"What are you trying to say?"

She looked up, met Frank's gaze, and realised that she wasn't really sure. What was she saying? Was she saying that it wasn't really a partnership? That Stewart was demonstrating more and more that he didn't really care about her? That she was questioning whether her future lay with him at all? Or was she just irritated about a situation over which she realised she had no control?

"I don't know, Guv. I really don't know."

XXXX

"Inspector Burnside!"

Frank paused as he was about to open the door and turned around slowly to see Andrew at the far end of the corridor. He had hoped that, having needed to cut short their earlier meeting due to Billy Draper's revelation about being an informant, he could have avoided re-starting it again by slipping away, but the look on the other man's face made it clear that wasn't going to be possible. "Andrew."

"I had hoped we might be able to pick up where we left off, so to speak."

"Oh, well I'm sorry Andrew, but I'm afraid I don't have the time right now. Can we pick this up at another time?"

"No, we can't. My concerns are real, and I think we need to discuss them properly."

"I've got plans this evening," Frank replied. In reality, he had no plans other than sitting in front of the television, but Andrew didn't need to know that. "So, it's not really convenient."

"I see," Andrew stood in front of him. "So, it's not a priority for you, the relationship between uniform and CID?"

"On the contrary, it's very much a priority for me, but I don't think we're going to agree on the mutual consideration of that relationship, do you?"

"Well, we certainly won't if you find any excuse not to actually discuss it. I was trying to explain my concerns about uniform overtime being used up for CID operations when you suddenly thought you had something better to do."

"I had something important to deal with, there's a difference."

"This is important."

"Andrew, I promise you that we can discuss all your concerns at another time, but it's been a very long day and I'm going home." Without waiting for a further response, he pushed open the door and made his way out into the yard, breathing in the cold night air. Monroe wasn't going to be as easy to mould as Frazer had been but then, after all, when you'd had intimate relations with a person, it made the working relationship all the more interesting and he had Frazer had certainly had some times in the past…

"Heading home, Guv?"

Turning, he saw Jim following on behind him. "James, you still here?"

"I got held up dealing with Matthews and Harper. Paperwork's all done, and they'll be appearing before the magistrate in the morning."

"Good boy. Get yourself home."

"I'm meeting a friend actually."

"Oh yeah? A male friend, or a female friend?"

Jim smiled, "Female."

"Well, I'll still expect you to be in early doors tomorrow and no excuses about being hungover."

"No Guv, I promise."

Frank watched as the other man got into his car and reversed out of the yard, raising a hand in farewell as he did so. Opening his own car door, he slid into the driver's seat and thought about the microwave meal awaiting him at home. Perhaps he should open his little black book and see who might be available that evening. That bird Fiona. He hadn't seen her for ages. Maybe it was about time to give her another go.

XXXX

Sitting in the back of the taxi on the way to the rugby club where the party was being held, Christina couldn't decide if Stewart's over enthusiastic displays of affection was because he was trying to make amends, or he was genuinely turned on by her. He had told her to wear a blue dress that she had bought months ago in a moment of spending madness and never had the opportunity to wear. It was a modest length, but low cut enough to encourage interest and from the moment she had put it on, he had been seemingly unable to keep his hands to himself. At that moment, siting close together as they were, his hand was wandering up her leg.

"Stewart, come on…" she said, pushing him away. "We'll be there in a minute."

"I can't help it if I find your irresistible, can I?" He leaned over and kissed her neck. "I'm only sorry you didn't get home early enough for us to have a quickie."

She glanced at the taxi driver who was doing a sterling job of pretending her couldn't hear. "Give it a rest."

"Don't be like that. You should be pleased that after all these years you still do it for me." The taxi pulled up outside the club and he opened the door before coming around to open hers. "Madame…"

Rolling her eyes, she accepted his proffered hand before looping her arm around his and allowing him to escort her inside. The place was already packed and a quick glance around the room revealed a number of faces that she recognised from previous Squad occasions, none of whom she was particularly keen to engage with.

"Ah, there you are!" Harry Grimm came enthusiastically towards them, shaking Stewart's hand and gripping her into a hug that made her squirm slightly. "Good to see you, Christina. How are you?"

"I'm good thanks Harry, how are you?"

"Can't complain. Can I get you a drink?"

She opened her mouth to respond but Stewart cut across her. "Have you seen Gordon?"

"Yes, he's over there talking to the DCI," Harry gestured towards the bar.

"Great, give us a second." Pressing his hand into the small of her back, Stewart propelled her through the crowd, and she suddenly found herself in front of a tall man, red-haired like herself, and who's face lit up when he saw her. "Evening boss," Stewart said.

"Evening Stewart. This must be the one I've heard so much about."

"Indeed. Darling, this is my Inspector, Gordon Wray. Gordon, my wife Christina."

"Pleased to meet you," Gordon extended his hand. "Stewart's talked a lot about you and, of course, I've seen your picture."

She glanced at her husband, who merely smiled at her, somewhat taken aback that he would have spent any time at all talking about her with his new boss. "Well, that's…"

"Do you want a drink, darling?" Stewart asked.

"Oh, yes a white wine please."

"Gordon?"

"Another whisky would be lovely, Stewart, thank you." He turned back to look at her once Stewart had threaded his way towards the bar. "Stewart tells me you're in Sun Hill CID."

"Yes, that's right. I've been there almost five years now."

"And you like it?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"Gordon, please," he smiled at her.

"Gordon."

"Your DI…I'm right in saying that it's Frank Burnside, aren't I?"

She paused slightly, "Yes, he's been my guvnor the last eighteen months or so."

"Indeed. How do you find him?"

"Well, he's…" Frank's image flashed into her mind. "He's a good guvnor; probably one of the best I've worked with. He's very supportive of his team."

"Yes…likes to walk on the wild side though…or so I've heard." He looked at her pointedly and she felt a growing sense of unease in her gut, as though his interest in her wasn't really genuine after all, but rather a means of finding out information about another officer. "A maverick, some might say."

"I'm not sure I'm qualified to comment on that."

"No, no perhaps not. Ah, Stewart, thanks very much."

"Not a problem, boss," Stewart replied, handing the drinks round before slipping his arm around her waist and squeezing gently. "You two getting acquainted then? I hope she's not boring you with tales of life on division, Gordon?"

"No, not at all. Your wife's as lovely as you said," Gordon replied, smiling at her over his glass as she smiled weakly in response and sipped her wine.

Later that night, as Stewart deftly removed her dress from her body and drunkenly satisfied himself, she found herself replaying the brief conversation over and over in her mind. Why the interest in Frank? Why the suggestion of him 'walking on the wild side' and being a 'maverick?' What did any of that, whether it be true or not, have to do with a DI on the Drugs Squad.

"Ah…" Stewart gasped, collapsing on top of her. "That was amazing. Was it good for you, darling?"

In that moment, she realised that all the time he had been making love to her, she had been thinking about someone else, and she wasn't even sorry about it. "Yes," she lied. "Amazing."