The background to this and the coming chapters are taken from the series 7 episodes 'Caught Napping' and 'Hammer to Fall.' Some of the dialogue is taken from those episodes which I don't therefore own.

30 April 1991

"Well, that's it then."

Frank shifted nervously, "How do you mean?"

"I mean, that's it, no further action." Derek eyed him pointedly. "You've been lucky. Given the relationship is at an end and there have been no questionable professional incidents, Mr Brownlow feels, and I agree, that it's best to put the matter to rest."

"So, no official reprimand then? No sideways move for her?"

"No, but like I say, you've been lucky. And just because there isn't anything going on your file, don't think that this is going to be forgotten, Frank. You made a right pig's ear of the whole business and could have ruined her career as well as your own. Next time, keep it in your trousers."

"Duly noted. I'm glad we can put it all behind us."

"Yes, so let's see that we do. I don't want to hear any more about it. You do your job, she does hers and you keep your hands to yourselves, understood?"

"Understood."

"Good." Derek paused. "I know it sounds hollow, but I wanted to congratulate you on solving the Helen Miller murder."

A cold feeling settled inside his stomach at the mention of the case. Three days after her disappearance, the body of 7-year-old Helen Miller had been found behind a garage on the Broom Lane Estate and a full-scale murder enquiry had been launched. Fortunately, the killer had been careless and left plenty of evidence for them to follow. A locally known paedophile had been subsequently arrested and charged, much to everyone's relief, not that it hadn't taken its toll. "Yeah well, at least we can hopefully get some justice for the family."

"I'm not sure justice will make them feel any better, but it's all that we can do. How have the troops taken it?"

"Well, everyone's been shaken, naturally. They're all down the boozer now."

"Tell them well done from me. I know they've all put in a lot of hours over the last few weeks."

"I will do, sir, thank you."

"And Frank…remember what I said."

"Yes sir." Opening the door and stepping back out into the corridor, he let out a long breath of relief. No further action, no official reprimand, no sideways move. They appeared to have gotten away with it. He wasn't going to be the next Gordon Wray after all. By the time he reached the pub, he felt his spirits had lifted, even despite the circumstances and he soon found himself raising a glass with the others. "Well, here's to another crime successfully detected."

"Yeah, if you can count the death of a child as any kind of success."

He paused and looked at Jim's melancholic expression. "That wasn't what I meant, and you know it. The point is, the bastard who killed her is now behind bars, and he's going to be staying there for a good many years to come. There's a lot to be said for that."

"Try telling that to Helen Miller's parents."

"All we can do is our job, Jim, no more no less." He drained his glass. "Besides, look at how we nailed Graham Marsden a few months ago for touching up those kids. He could have gone on to do all sorts, probably would have, but we stopped him. And Helen Miller's parents can look forward to a bit of justice too, thanks to all our hard work. All the late nights, all the worry…sorted."

"A conviction won't bring their daughter back."

He shook his head, realising that Jim was clearly a lost cause, stuck in a downward spiral of drunken despair, one in which he didn't wish to join, particularly in light of Derek's comments. "Tomorrow's another day, Jim." He turned away from the other man and headed back to the bar, quickly attracting the barmaid's attention and ordering another round. As he waited, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and knew, before even looking, the reason why.

In the three weeks since they had agreed to return to being friends – or rather since he had gone along with what she wanted – things had improved between them. Sometimes it really did feel like the old days. Sometimes the easy camaraderie took him back to how they had been before any of this had started. They worked well together, bounced off one another and harmony reigned in the CID office. But other times, it was impossible to ignore the fact that they had once been more. Sometimes the air would still between them, the tension taut, like the string of an instrument right before it's plucked. Sometimes, if he was close to her, he could feel the increased rhythm of his heart, the dryness in his throat, the pressure in his groin. Sometimes, when they looked at each other, he could see the same hunger in her eyes that he knew lingered in his own. Professionally, he knew the decision was sensible but, personally, it often felt like the worst one he had ever made.

"Another round?" Christina asked, stepping up beside him.

"Yeah, I ordered you another gin and tonic, I hope that's all right."

"Perfect." She glanced over towards Jim. "What's wrong with him?"

"Drowning his sorrows."

"We caught the bastard."

"Yeah, but he's hung up on the kid."

"Oh, yeah, of course." She sighed heavily. "It's a terrible job sometimes."

"Oh, don't you start," he said, shaking his head, "I've had all the misery I can stomach over the last few weeks with this investigation. How about some positivity for a change?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, anything. Seen any good films lately? Read any good books?"

"No and no."

"Well, aren't you a barrel of laughs. Anyway, I've got some good news."

"Oh yeah, what's that then?"

"I spoke to Conway before I came here," he lowered his voice slightly. "Apparently, there's not going to be any further action taken against either of us." He watched as her eyes widened. "No doubt he'll pull you in for the same pep talk he gave me but, at the end of the day, it's done."

"Oh…well…that's a relief."

"Yeah…" he studied her face. "The main message seemed to be, keep your hands to yourself."

"Are you referring to me or you?" she asked, her mouth twitching slightly.

"Reckon it could apply equally, don't you?" He paid the barmaid and lifted the tray, carrying it back over to the table where the others were waiting.

"About time," Tosh declared. "I was beginning to think my throat had been cut."

"Your throat will be cut if you get into a state again," Viv said, "Your Muriel wasn't too happy the last time."

"No, she wasn't," Tosh mused. "Still, it's not every day, is it? Cheers."

"Cheers," Frank replied. "Here's to a good team and to a job well done, as unpleasant as it was." He glanced at Jim who merely grimaced ruefully. "So, anyone got anything cheerful to talk about? Come on Viv, you've usually got tales of a man or two you've got on the go."

"What does that mean, sir?" Viv laughed. "You'll be giving me a reputation."

"Well, if the shoe fits."

"I'm happily single right now, I'll have you know."

"No woman is happily single," Mike chimed in. "Not at your age anyway."

"Yeah, the old biological clock must be starting to go," Tosh agreed. "Tick tock, tick tock…"

"What is this, gang up on Viv night?" She glanced at Christina in search of solidarity, "Back me up here, will you?"

"Not every woman needs a man, Mike," Christina said. "Some of us do quite well on our own."

Frank couldn't help but flinch at her words and tried hard not to look at her.

"Including yourself in that statement, are you?" Mike replied, the rigours of afternoon drinking having clearly dulled his sense of propriety, something that was uncommon for him given his usual propensity to being holier than thou. "Getting yourself stabbed in order to embrace single life is a little bit on the extreme side, don't you think?"

"You what?" Frank said sharply, glaring at him. "Watch your mouth, Michael!"

"It's fine," she said quickly.

"No, it isn't," he replied, well aware that he was approaching a line he couldn't afford to cross, especially in light of the afternoon's events.

"Oh, it's only a joke, Guv. Chris can take it." Mike waved his hand dismissively in her direction.

"Yeah, well she shouldn't have to, not from you."

"Leave it Guv, he's just pissed." He looked at her then and she met his gaze, her eyes conveying so many messages that he struggled to latch on to whatever one was the truth.

"Anyway, with blokes like you lot around, I reckon I'm well out of it," Viv said, lifting her glass. "What about you anyway?"

"Well, I'm happily married," Tosh replied, "as if you couldn't tell."

"I'm off women," Jim chipped in. "They're not worth it."

"Oh dear," Mike said, "little Sonia blown you out again?"

"Oh, you're not still running around with her are you, Jim?" Frank asked. "She gave you enough hassle the last time."

"Well, what about you Guv?" Jim shot back.

"Me?"

"Yeah," Mike joined in. "You still seeing that Fiona bird?"

A silence descended over the table, and he wasn't entirely sure where to look. Tosh and Viv both suddenly seem to find something interesting at the bottom of their glasses and he sensed, rather than felt, Christina stiffen slightly beside him. "You know how it is," he replied finally. "On and off."

"What, on and off of her?" Mike laughed. "Come on Guv, it's not like you to be coy. She was a looker, if I remember correctly with the most enormous…"

"Yeah, all right," Viv interrupted him. "There are ladies present you know."

"Oh yeah, where?"

"I'm going to head," Christina said suddenly, standing to drain the contents of her glass. "I'll see you all in the morning."

As a farewell chorus heralded her departure, Frank found himself following her as she wound her way through the crowds of other drinkers and outside into the evening air whereupon she turned, seemingly surprised to see him.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, course. Have you heard any more from CPS?"

"No, but I suppose it's still early days. They told me that if there was going to be a trial, it would be September at least. Why, have they been in touch with you again?"

"No need, is there? I've already given them my statement."

"I suppose…" she looked at the ground. "I've got my first session with the counsellor tomorrow morning."

"Well, that was quick. I half expected it to be Christmas before you got so much as a sniff of an appointment. You'll be late in then."

"Yeah, sorry I should have mentioned it earlier. I did clear it with the DCI."

"You don't have to apologise."

"Thanks. I'm not quite sure what to expect to be honest. Whether she'll ask me a whole bunch of questions or whether she'll just sit there and expect me to talk."

"Well, I doubt you'll be the first patient she's had that doesn't know the set up."

"No…" she trailed off.

"Listen, about what Michael said…"

"He's just being an idiot."

"I know but…" he faltered, unsure exactly what he wanted to say, or indeed how to say it. "What he said about Fiona…"

"You mean her having the most enormous…"

"Come on…"

"…eyes?" she finished, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, I meant more about the suggestion that she and I were…well…you know."

"We're friends, remember? What we each do in our personal lives is nobody's business but our own."

"I know," he said. "I just wouldn't want you to think that…"

"It's fine."

"I mean, I may have…"

"Frank…it's fine, really." She nodded reassuringly at him, though her eyes seemed almost too bright. "Things are ok at the moment, aren't they?" he nodded in return. "And I'm sure once I've started this counselling, I'll feel a lot better about things that have happened and…well…September isn't really that far away when you think about it, is it?"

"And once September's past? Once the trial's over?"

"I suppose it depends, doesn't it?"

"On what?"

"So many things." She shuffled from foot to foot. "We were lucky not to be reprimanded."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I'd better go. I'll see you tomorrow."

She was gone before he had the time to reply any further, left with the overwhelming feeling that, what she had been trying not to say was that things might never return to the way he wanted them to be, and that she might never come back to him.

1 May

"I suppose this might all seem a bit strange."

"Just a bit," Christina said, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. "I've never had any kind of counselling before."

"Oh, it's really nothing to be scared off," Rebecca Winters, a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties said, smiling at her from a few feet away. "Everything you say here is confidential, so even though it's been arranged through the Met, you don't have to worry about anything getting back to anyone there. This is purely for your benefit."

"I see." That morning, as she had got herself ready for the appointment, she had been half-tempted to simply cancel, afraid to face what might be said, afraid to face what she might feel. "So, you don't submit any sort of report to my DCI then?"

"No, not at all. I've been given a few brief details as to what led you to be referred to me, but other than that, this is your forum to talk about whatever you like." Rebecca smiled at her obvious hesitation. "We don't have to talk about your time in the police just yet, or indeed the incident that led you here. Why don't we start with a bit of background?"

Hesitantly at first, then growing in confidence as the time passed, she found herself recounting her childhood, the difficulties with her parents, her father's offending and how it made her feel. She had only reached the point of him being sentenced to ten years when she saw Rebecca glance at the clock. "Oh, is that our time up?"

"For this week, I'm afraid so. But this is a standing appointment, so we can pick up exactly where we've left off next week. Your DCI is duty bound to give you time off to attend, so if there any difficulties with that, please just call me and I'll sort it. You need to focus on the therapy rather than on any practical stresses surrounding it."

"Thank you," she got to her feet. "How many sessions do we get?"

"As many as you need."

Returning to her car, she couldn't help but think that the number could be infinite. They had barely scratched the surface of her life, not even introduced Stewart let alone Frank. Perhaps she would still be attending right up until the trial. If so, she could only hope that it would give her clarity on the whole situation and some guidance on what to do next.

Although he hadn't come right out and said it the previous evening, she had taken from the look on Frank's face and the hesitancy of his words that he was still seeing Fiona, whether it be for sexual relief or something deeper. She knew she had no reason to feel aligned or put out when, after all, she was the one who had insisted that they should be friends, but she couldn't help a slight sliver of jealousy whenever she thought about them together. The man she loved, who loved her, sleeping with another woman. When she had renounced their continuing intimate relationship, deep down she had thought that it would only really be temporary, until such time as other factors had worked themselves out, though she had no real inkling as to how or when that might happen. The decision to take no formal action against either of them had come as a welcome relief, but the fact that he had so readily returned to another woman couldn't help but make her question how committed he really was to her, despite all that he said.

But then, he was Frank Burnside after all. When had he ever been any different?

She parked in the station yard and made her way through into custody, immediately aware of a certain atmosphere hanging like a cloud. People appeared to be talking in hushed voices and as she walked through into the corridor, she suddenly saw that the blinds in the incident room were down and closed and a man she had never seen before was standing by the door. He gave her a look as she passed, and she was almost grateful to run into Reg on the stairs.

"Reg, what's going on in the incident room?"

"Oh yeah, well it's SCS isn't it. Serious Crime Squad."

"I know what SCS stands for," she replied, "but what are they doing here?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough I would imagine," he laughed. "Word is they're here about the Lennie Powell shooting. Investigating your whole department apparently. Yeah, going through the desks as we speak." Pushing past him, she started to run up the stairs, only to pause as he called after her, "I reckon your Guvnor should be worried."

"What, the DCI?"

"No, DI Burnside. Rumour has it it'll be his head on the chopping board."

Without waiting for further information, accurate or otherwise, she continued her flight towards the CID office, sliding to a stop in the doorway as she saw the others, crowded around Jim's desk, while plain clothes detectives she'd never seen before, rifled through their desk drawers.

"What's going on?" she asked, sidling past one of them and joining her colleagues. "I ran into Reg, and he said it was about Powell."

The moment the name left her lips, one of the men stopped and looked at her. "And you are?"

"Oh…uh…WDC Lewis."

"Right, WDC Lewis, well I'd thank you to refrain from speculation please. This is a serious ongoing inquiry. If you're required for interview, then you'll be notified."

"And in the meantime, you just rifle through our things?"

"Leave it Chris," Alistair said, "there's no point in arguing with them."

"Where's the DI?"

"No idea."

"Shit." She watched as they continued their relentless search, dumping papers and other debris out over the desks as though searching a suspect, Moments later, Kim appeared, her expression one of shock, her anger evident as she confronted the officer in charge and was then promptly frogmarched to her own office. Christina and the others remained stunned, unable to move, until the search and concluded and, without so much as a glance, the officers left the room. Slowly, she picked her way back to her desk, righting the items that had been overturned and closing her drawers. In a strange way, it felt almost like a violation and, glancing at Frank's empty office, she felt a hollow feeling inside until Kim returned to the office to a barrage of complaints.

"It's a flaming liberty, that's what it is!" Ted objected loudly. "They can't mess us around like this! I've got people to see!"

"That's right Ma'am," Viv protested. "Can't someone have a word?"

"If that's what they want then that's what we will do!"

"I've got a list of jobs come in as long as your arm!" Alistair waved a sheet of paper at her.

"Yes, I know, and as soon as you've been seen you can take whatever's outstanding."

"But…" Ted interrupted.

"No buts, Ted. That's it, I'm sorry."

"It's a complete joke!"

"It's no joke and the sooner you realise that the better," Kim glared at them all. "I don't suppose you've given any thought as to the fact this whole department could be in very serious trouble!"

Ted glared at her. "Now you hang on…"

"No, you hang on Ted. If they get the faintest whiff of any naughtiness and I don't care what kind, then before this investigation is over, there may be a few more empty seats in this office, is that understood?" She glanced around the room, her gaze resting on Christina who felt her insides suddenly contract. Of course, there could be no connection between herself and Frank in relation to Powell, but it didn't make her feel any better.

Twenty minutes later, having sat aimlessly, unsure what exactly to do, she found herself leaving the office and making her way along the corridor towards the stairs, only for Frank to suddenly appear out of nowhere and take hold of her arm.

"We need to talk," he said, pulling her gently through the doors.

"Where have you been? SCS are here about Powell."

"I know, that's what we need to talk about." He glanced around to make sure no-one was listening. "They're going to want to know about the decisions that were made about Powell's protection, in particular, about the order that was given to stand down the armed officers after the first attempt on his life."

"Ok…"

"I gave that order."

"I know, but you did so in the belief that the threat was over, didn't you?"

"Yes, but they're going to want to know about the circumstances surrounding that decision, so you and I need to be clear."

She frowned and shook her head, "Frank, I'm not following you. What does that have to do with me? I wasn't involved in the Powell operation."

"No, but you were in my bed when the information came through, not to mention the fact I'd hoped to find you still there when I got back. If they find out about that, an inference might be made that my decision making was sloppy on account of being preoccupied elsewhere."

"Oh…" the realisation of his words dawned on her and she felt an anxious knot start to form in her stomach. "But it wasn't sloppy, was it? You made the decision based on what you thought was right at the time. You didn't do it in order to get back to me, did you?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "We'd just had that fight, about you going to Leicester for Christmas. I'm not entirely sure what was going on in my head."

"No, you're more professional than that," she said, sounding more confident than she felt. "There's no way you would have allowed that to be a factor, none at all. Besides, you cleared the decision with Reid anyway as per protocol, didn't you?" He didn't say anything. "Didn't you?"

"I thought it was sorted. I didn't think I needed to clear it with her. Look…" he sighed. "This is a mess, but I don't want you getting dragged into it."
"Well, chances are they won't even bother to interview me seeing as I wasn't involved." She took a breath, aware that she was suddenly about to enter dangerous territory. "But if they do – what do you want me to say?"

He paused for a long moment, his eyes raking over her face. "I can't ask you to lie."

She met his gaze, savvy enough to realise that was exactly what he was asking her to do, and Kim's words suddenly came flooding back to her…

You could be asked to undertake tasks that he wouldn't ask other officers to do, purely based on the relationship that you have. A different example of being taken advantage of.

She recognised that the DCI had been right; Frank was taking advantage of her and yet, she had absolutely no qualms about it whatsoever. It was the least she could do after everything that had happened between them. After all, hadn't she tried to push him away in order to stop him jeopardising his career? In that moment, despite the state of their relationship, she knew she would do whatever he wanted.

"You didn't ask me," she said finally.

He nodded and smiled tightly before the doors swung open again and Kim appeared, her gaze flickering between them. "Christina, have you been cleared by SCS yet?"

"No Ma'am, I'm still waiting to hear if they want to interview me."

"Then I suggest you get back to the office until such time as you have been cleared."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Oh, Ma'am?" Frank said quickly. "Can I have a word?"

"Yes, of course."

Kim turned and headed back along the corridor, Frank following after shooting her a final smile. She knew what it conveyed; gratitude and a reassurance that all would be well.

She could only hope that he was right.

XXXX

Frank closed the office door behind him. "It's started then."

"Yes."

"Stamp's in seeing them now. I thought, seeing as you were next, we ought to have a little chat. Make sure we're giving the same story?" He felt his stomach turn over as she turned her back on him to look out of the window.

"Story? I'm just answering questions."

"Yeah, course." He waited as she crossed to the coffee pot, hedging his bets on what to say next, considering how she might take it, and how he could spin it to his advantage. "How long have you been at Sun Hill now? Four months?"

"About that."

She held up the pot and he shook his head. "Good department you've got here. Loyal. Someone's in trouble, we don't leave them out on a wire."

"We're all in the same boat Frank," Kim smiled ruefully. "I hadn't been here a week when Powell dropped in my lap."

"And you can count on me to tell them that," he pointed at her reassuringly. "Under the circumstances, you made the best of a bad job."

Kim gave a grimace of disbelief, and he could instantly tell that she had recognised what he was trying to do. "I'd be more concerned how things looked from your end, if I were you."

Shit. He waited as she walked back over to her desk and sat down. "So…how do things look, from my end?"

"They're going to want to know why you stood down the extra cover."

He shrugged. "Two armed villains sledgehammer the door at dawn. We get the drop on them. I thought it was sorted, didn't I? I mean, how was I to know it was only a blind to the real attempt?"

"You should have checked with me first."

"I tried; it was engaged."

"Come on Frank, I was expecting your call! Nobody else rang and I didn't leave it off the hook."

"Must have dialled the wrong number."

"It's not me you've got to convince, is it?"

He felt a slight panic start in his chest. "You could tell them I got hold of you, that we agreed to stand down the AFOs and the extra bodies together."

"You can't play that game with SCS Frank, you know that. They're not your usual rubber heels."

"You're leaving me to carry the can? Cheers." It was clear where she stood, and it certainly wasn't shoulder to shoulder with him. He had thought that it might have been possible to persuade her, just as he had persuaded Christina, not that that had taken much. A sliver of guilt pierced him, but he pushed it to one side. There would be time for that later.

"You made a decision," Kim said. "It's possible I would have done the same thing. It's just unfortunate that it gave an in to Whelan's hit man.

"Yeah, well I don't think they're going to see it as just unfortunate."

"I don't see how it could be anything else."

"Look, I've seen it before. It doesn't have to be concrete, just enough to cast a doubt. Suspension pending enquiry. And even if you come through the other side, you've still done your legs." He sighed, digging deep for one last attempt at persuasion. "It's just that, well I thought if we all pulled together…we could see this one through." They locked gazes as she took in what he said and he could only hope he had conveyed the right message; if I'm going down, I won't be alone.

The phone on her desk rang suddenly, spoiling the moment, and she hurried to lift it. "Reid? Right, I'm on my way down." Replacing the receiver, she moved towards the door, tucking her hair behind her ear.

He looked at her pointedly. "Are you now, or have you ever been?"

"Like the good book says Frank; tell the truth and shame the devil."

And then she was gone; gone to face SCS, gone to tell them that she had had no idea that the extra cover had been stood down because he hadn't bothered to check with her. Hadn't bothered to check with her because he had thought he had it covered, thought he had outsmarted them and because there was a woman he had desperately wanted to get back to.

"Shit," he swore softly to himself, alone in an office he would probably never now get to occupy. "Shit, shit, shit."