1 November 1990

The knock at the door stunned them both into silence. Neither had been aware of anything transpiring in the outside world, focused only on the anger and the pain, trading verbal blows like tennis players knocking the ball back towards each other across an invisible net. She hadn't even realised that she was pressed up against the wall, his face inches from hers, her throat raw from the screaming. For a moment, she simply stared at the door, wishing with all her might that it had been a mistake and that there wasn't, in fact, someone on the other side at such an ungodly hour…someone who might know both of them.

"It's the police, open the door!"

All hope left her as quickly as it had come as she recognised the voice and knew there was no escaping the inevitable. He stepped back from her, wiping his mouth free from the spittle of anger and turned towards the door.

"Stewart!" she said his name sharply and he turned back to look at her, before continuing towards the door and pulling it open.

"Good evening sir," Tony said formally. "We've had a call from one of your neighbours about some shouting and screaming coming from this address. Is everything all right."

"Can't you mind your own fucking business?" Stewart replied angrily, forcing her to step forwards before he could say or do anything else.

"Tony…June…" she met their gazes one by one, hating the looks of both concern and pity. "Everything's fine."

"Can we come in, Chris?" June asked softly and she nodded, only for Stewart to step in front of her. "Mr Church, if you wouldn't mind…?"

"That's Sergeant Church to you!" Stewart spat, "and she told you that everything's fine."

"We'd still like to come in sir, thank you," Tony said, gently but forcibly moving past him and coming into the hallway. "Now, would you like to tell us what's been going on?"

"We've been having a row," Stewart replied before she could, slamming the front door behind them. "Just like thousands upon thousands of couples do every night. I don't know what on earth it has to do with you."

"Like I said, we had a call from one of your neighbours," Tony replied, glancing between them. "So you'll know that we're duty bound to investigate any disturbances."

"Jesus fucking Christ…" Stewart shook his head. "It's a domestic for God's sake! And not much of one at that! Haven't you lot at Sun Hill got anything better to do of a Friday night?"

"Are you all right?" June asked, coming towards her.

"She's fine."

"I was asking your wife."

"I'm fine," she replied, "really, it's just like he said. We've just been having an argument, that's all." She sounded pathetic to her own ears, like every woman in such a situation would, trying to downplay the events of the evening.

"What about?"

"That is definitely none of your business!" Stewart raged, moving towards them and causing Tony to step between them. "If you really want to know, she wants me to get the leather and chains out for a kinky session and I said no, isn't that right darling?"

"He's just drunk," she said to June. "It's fine, honestly."

In reality, it wasn't fine and hadn't been for quite some time. Stewart's drinking had worsened over the last few weeks and though he had manged to avoid getting himself arrested again, his behaviour towards her had continued to deteriorate to the point where she'd felt as though she was permanently walking on eggshells. Most of the time he only got out of bed to reach for a bottle, returning there to drink under the covers and lament the woes of his life and when she did try to speak to him, it always descended into an argument.

This had been one of the worst though, primarily because she had decided to fight back, had elected not to simply let him rage at her, but respond in kind. It had clearly been a mistake, given that it had led colleagues to her door.

She could only imagine what Frank would say when he found out.

"Is there somewhere else you could go?" June asked. "Maybe a hotel for the night, or a friend? What about Viv, she's not on shift, is she?"

"She doesn't need anywhere else to go," Stewart said before she could respond. "She's fine. I haven't laid a finger on her."

"He hasn't," she agreed. "Honestly, it's fine. We were arguing and it just got a bit out of hand, that's all."

Tony and June exchanged glances and she knew that they were conflicted. If she had been an ordinary member of the public, they might have dealt with it one way, but with her being a colleague, and them both being officers, it cast a different light on things. "Maybe you could go somewhere else for the evening, sir," Tony said finally. "Let things cool down a little?"

"No, maybe I couldn't," Stewart said. "Things are fine here, she's told you that. Now, will you pair get the hell out of my house, or do I have to throw you out?" he opened the front door.

"I wouldn't take that tone with me, sir. Not if you'd like us to leave you in peace."

"Oh, wouldn't you? Well, what tone would you like me to take with you, Constable?" Stewart sneered. "Would you like me to say, 'oh please, please don't arrest me, officer, I'm a good boy, really I am'. Don't make me fucking laugh. Like I said, get out!"

"Do you want us to contact the DI?" June asked.

"Oh yes, that's right! Yes, let's get Frank Burnside in on this now, shall we? Your lovely boss, your little protector, your little white knight!" Stewart stepped towards her again. "You probably planned all this, didn't you? Get your little friends down here so that they can go running to your precious Frank and tell him all about what a bastard I am!"

"No," she stepped back, "I didn't."

"You dirty little cow…"

"That's enough, sir," Tony said.

"Don't you tell me what's enough in my house!"

Christina closed her eyes as chaos reigned around her. Stewart flew for Tony and landed a punch on the side of his jaw that sent the other man staggering. June leapt in to assist, forcing Stewart backwards against the wall, Tony righting himself quickly in order to help her subdue him as he fought out against them. She heard the familiar words of the caution yelled over the sound of Stewart's protests and followed them numbly outside as Tony and June manhandled him towards the car.

"Right, we're taking him in," June said, coming back over to her once he was detained within, the vehicle rocking with the effort of his protestations. "We'll do him for assaulting a police officer. You'll have to come down and make a statement."

Christina nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to speak. How had it come to this? Fourteen years and now he was being taken away in the back of a panda car.

June sighed and shook her head, "How long has it been like this?"

"Truthfully?"

"Yes, truthfully."

Tears sprang into her eyes again. "Too long."

XXXX

"Frank, just the person I was looking for."

He groaned inwardly at the sound of the voice behind him. There was usually only one reason Andrew ever wanted to speak to him about anything and, generally, it was to bring trouble to his door. If they weren't arguing over issues that connected both uniform and CID it was over something as innocuous as the weather. He'd never come across anyone so rigidly conformist before in all his life and, given it was a Saturday, he was even less in the mood for it. "Andrew."

"Not here," Andrew said, gesturing to his office.

Frank paused and then followed him, "Why all the intrigue?"

Andrew closed the door behind him before walking around to his side of the desk. "Uniform answered a domestic call in the early hours of this morning."

"So, hardly unusual for a Friday night, is it?"

"The call was from 103 Spicer Street. WDC Lewis's address."

He felt a chill creep through him, and a thousand random terrible thoughts entered his brain. "What?"

"June and Tony attended. Turns out a neighbour had called after hearing a lot of screaming and shouting. Christina and her husband were both inside and there were, apparently, signs of a disturbance."

"Is she all right? Was she hurt?"

"No sign of any injury," Andrew replied. "She said everything was fine and that it was just an argument and things might have been left at that, had Stewart Church not then gone on to punch Tony in the face."

"Did they nick him?" he asked, feeling a somewhat inappropriate sense of victory.

"Of course, and they brought him down here and charged him. He's still in the cells sleeping it off apparently." Andrew paused. "Christina came down with him, but she ultimately refused to provide a statement about anything that had happened in the house prior to the call or give anything to corroborate what her husband did to Tony. Thankfully, of course, June was able to provide what was necessary." He eyeballed him. "A word in her ear might not go amiss."

"Meaning what?" Frank bristled, unsure as to what he was more pissed off about. The fact that Monroe felt qualified to opine on his team or the fact that he seemed to be suggesting Christina needed chastising for something.

"Meaning, she's a serving police officer and whilst I can understand her reluctance to cooperate with the domestic aspect of the call, failing to support a fellow officer who has been injured could be seen as a very serious dereliction of duty."

There was so much that he wanted to say, so much that he wanted to do to the other man and yet he knew that it would serve no purpose other than succeeding in making things ten time worse. So, he bit his tongue and saved his vitriol. "Thank you, Andrew. I'll be sure to pass on your concerns. Nice to know where it ultimately lies."

"Don't take that tone with me," Andrew replied. "Uniformed officers are my concern, CID officers are your concern and when one of mine gets hurt and one of yours doesn't stand up…"

Before the other man could finish, Frank left the office slamming the door behind him and took the back stairs two at a time up to the CID office, knocking and opening Gordon's door only to find his room empty.

"He's out," Ted said helpfully, from his position at his desk. "Meeting at headquarters."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." Frank paused. "You uh…you heard any whispers from uniform this morning?"

"Like what?"

It was one of those times when he found his relationship with Ted playing one way over the other. For all the times they butted heads and for all the insinuations the other man had made about Christina, he knew, deep down, that he could trust him. "Like Stewart Church getting nicked last night for punching Tony Stamp?"

Ted's eyebrows shot up, "You're joking, where?"

"In the face."

"No, I mean where did it happen?"

"At his home. Apparently, he and June answered a domestic call."

"Christina?" he nodded. "Is she all right?"

"Apparently so, but she refused to cooperate, both in terms of the domestic and the assault on Tony."

Ted let out a long breath, "How did you find out?"

"Oh, only from Monroe, who clearly couldn't wait to tell me all about it. Church's is still in the cells downstairs sleeping off whatever bucketload he swallowed last night. He's been charged with assaulting an officer."

"Well, at least that's something. After all those drunk and disorderly incidents he's walked on, it's about time things got a little hot for him."

"Yeah…" Frank shook his head, "maybe if I hadn't intervened at Barton Street, he would have got nicked long before it got to this stage."

"You think this is the first time he's kicked off at her at home?"

"No, I don't, but I'm going to find out." He turned back towards the door. "If the DCI comes looking for me, tell him I'm out on enquiries."

"Frank."

He paused at the sound of his name and turned back to Ted, "What?"

"Be careful."

"You know me Ted," he replied with a confident smile that belied how he really felt, "I'm always careful."

XXXX

This time when the knock came at the door, she knew exactly who it would be and why they would be there. It was impossible to keep something like this secret at Sun Hill and even if June hadn't directly got in touch with Frank, she had known it would only be a matter of time before the jungle drums would relay the news to him. Checking her watch as she made her way to the door, she was actually surprised it had taken this long. She took a deep breath before opening it, bracing herself against the tirade that she knew would follow. "Hi."

"Crappy day, isn't it?" he replied to her surprise. "The weather that is."

"Oh…yeah I guess so." She looked up at the leaden sky, full with the promise of impending snow.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She closed the door after him and led him through to the kitchen. "Do you want a coffee?"

"Well, I wouldn't say no. Black, two sugars."

"I know how you take your coffee, Guv, I've made it often enough for you."

"Well remembered."

She busied herself at the kettle, filling it with water and spooning coffee into two mugs before turning back to face him. The fact that he hadn't immediately started having a go at her was unnerving her slightly and she wasn't sure if she should bring up the events of the previous evening or wait until he did. "I'm not on shift today," she said finally, for something to say.

"I'm aware of that. You think I don't know the rota?"

"No, I know you do. I was just…saying…"

"I saw Fiona last night."

"Oh…" she turned back as the kettle began to boil, wondering why he was thinking of telling her that information and how best she should respond. Fiona had been nice enough, but the thought of him having regular relations with someone made her feel slightly…well, she wasn't entirely sure. "That's nice."

"Yeah, we had dinner then went back to her place. I didn't stay the night though, not really my style."

She couldn't help smiling as she poured the water into the cup and stirred in the sugar. "I didn't realise that staying over or not staying over was part of anyone's style."

"Well, that's what happens when you're not part of the big bad world. When you're cocooned in a long-term relationship, you don't notice what else is out there. Thanks," he took a mouthful of coffee. "I was home by midnight."

"Lucky Fiona," she quipped, sitting down at the table.

"My point is…I was at home."

"Yeah, so you said."

"Meaning you could have called me."

As she sipped her own coffee, she realised that the way he had led into it actually made her feel worse than if he had come right out and shouted at her, called her stupid and asked her what she was thinking. "Well, I don't keep track of your social life, Guv. I didn't know what you were doing last night."

"And if you had?"

"Well, if I'd known you were with Fiona…"

"I'm not talking about that, as well you know." He leaned forwards. "Tell me what happened."

"He was drunk, we had an argument. That about covers it."

"Does it?"

"Yes. He didn't touch me, if that's what you're trying to get at, in any way."

His eyes roamed over her face. "Would you have reported him if he had?"

She looked down into the dark depths of her cup. Would she have reported him? It was something she didn't really want to think about. "I don't know."

"Why didn't you give a statement?"

"Because it was an argument, and I was shouting as much as he was."

"An argument about what?"

"What do you think? His whole attitude, his drinking…same old same old."

"Only this time, someone called the police."

Embarrassment swept over her at the memory. "I know. I'm not proud of that and I'm not proud about what Stewart did to Tony either."

"Then why not give a statement about that?"

"Because I didn't need to. Tony and June's accounts would be sufficient for a charge. They clearly were given that he was, in fact, charged."

"Chris…you have a duty as a police officer…"

"Oh please, Frank, don't start with that! He's my husband! How could I…" she broke off and rested her chin on her hands, sighing heavily in the process. "How could I make a statement against him and then carry on our marriage? It would be like the ultimate betrayal."

He shook his head, "If you think that's the ultimate betrayal, then there's something wrong with your perspective. Maybe you've got more of your old man in you than you think."

It was something she had never considered, and the insinuation hit her square in the chest. "That's not…I mean…"

"Well, isn't that how it works? You don't grass on family?"

"That wasn't…that wasn't what I was thinking. I didn't mean it like that…" she trailed off, finding herself wondering if he was, in fact, right. She spent her working life trying to persuade people to grass and yet when it came to her own husband…

"How about all the times he's got himself nicked? How about the way he's been acting? How about the fact that he brought the police to your door and assaulted one of your colleagues right in front of you? You don't think he's betrayed you by doing all that?"

"So, what should I have done?" she looked at him, desperate for an answer. "Made a statement and then what?"

"You should have made a statement and then left him."

His words caused her breath to catch in her throat. He had said what she had often thought over the last few weeks and months, but fourteen years of your life with someone, the only person you had ever loved or ever been with…throwing that all away just because he was going through a difficult time seemed wrong somehow, not to mention daunting. "I can't leave him."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Well, that's two different things, isn't it? You're an intelligent woman with a good job and prospects. You're not some slag down the estate with five kids hanging off your skirts, reliant on dole money every month. You could leave him, if you wanted to."

"I love him."

"Yeah, well…" he drained the rest of his coffee. "I suppose there's no accounting for taste."

Anger flared through her, "How dare you…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, how dare I question the sanctity of your wonderful marriage. How dare I suggest that there be more out there for you than living with someone like him. I told you that you could talk to me, tell me what's going on and I'd be there for you."

"Yeah, with no judgement," she reminded him acerbically. "That's what you said and look what you're doing now. You're judging me, judging him."

"Of course I'm judging him!" He looked away and, for a long moment, there was silence in the kitchen save the ticking of the clock on the wall. "All right, I'm sorry. Maybe I can't be impartial about it and maybe that's why you've chosen not to talk to me." He looked at her again and her stomach turned over. "But I don't like hearing about these things from Monroe, of all people. At the end of the day, you are an officer under my command and if there are things going on at home that call into question your fitness…"

"What?" she gasped, shocked that he would go down that route, "there is nothing wrong with my fitness to be a police officer!"

"No?"

"Of course not!"

"That's not how Monroe sees it."

"And how do you see it?" he said nothing. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you or showed you up in front of Monroe but, believe me, I wasn't exactly doing a jig myself when June and Tony turned up!"

"I don't give a monkeys' how I look to Monroe. I'm concerned about you!"

A hum of tension started between them, a heaviness in the air that she didn't know if he recognised or was only noticeable to her. The earnestness of his concern was so…attractive? Was that even the right word? She couldn't help but wonder, as she often did, how it would feel to be in his arms. If she got up from the table at that moment and asked him to hold her, would he do it? And, if he did, would it end there, or would she crave more?

"I'm grateful," she heard herself say, "really I am."

"You keep saying that, but there's only so many times I can offer to help you, Chris. If you're not willing to take it…" he paused. "What happens when he gets released?"

She took a breath, "We talk, like adults. Like married adults. There has to be a way through this, Frank. I have to believe that there is."

He stayed silent for another long moment, then nodded and got to his feet. "Well, you know where I am." Though she had heard the words from him many times before, it was perhaps the first time that she recognised a sense of defeat in them. She followed him to the front door. "I'll see you on Monday then."

"Yeah," she replied, "see you on Monday." Closing the door behind him, she leaned against it and let out a long breath, just as the phone in the kitchen started ringing. "Hello?" she said, lifting the receiver.

"Christina? It's Bob Cryer here."

"Oh, hello Sarge."

"Your husband's just this minute walked out of the door." He paused. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Yes," she replied, taking a deep breath, and steeling herself for what was to come. "Thanks."