Again, some of the dialogue in this chapter comes from 'Caught Napping.'

"So," DCS Petch looked at her over the rim of his plastic cup. "You knew about the operation, but you weren't involved."

"That's right."

"Why did you know about it?"

Christina paused, "Sir?"

"Why did you know about the operation if you weren't involved?"

"All of CID were briefed, sir."

"By whom?"

"DI Burnside."

"And why were you not a part of the operation?"

"I…I had some personal issues going on at the time and my focus was elsewhere. Besides," she added hastily, "there were more than enough members of CID taking part. I suppose I wasn't really needed."

Petch kept his eyes trained on her. "How much did you know?"

"I knew the apparent name of the witness, Edward Price, and that CID had been tasked to keep him safe until he was due to go to court, but no more than that."

"You knew CID had been tasked to keep him safe?"

"Yes sir."

"And yet, PC Stamp, who was tasked to collect Powell and take him to the safe house, claimed he was never officially told that it was a safehouse. How did you know that was what was going to be happening, when you weren't involved, when he didn't, and he was?"

She felt a knot form in her stomach. She had been so focused on ensuring she said nothing incriminating about being at Frank's flat that she hadn't thought about the start of the operation or her state of knowledge at the time. "I don't know, sir. Maybe I'm misremembering. Maybe it was afterwards that I found out. I'm sorry, I'm really not sure. I did have a lot going on at the time."

Petch paused and looked down at his papers. "So, what did you do that evening?"

"The night of the operation?" He nodded. "I was at home."

"Alone?"

"Yes, my husband was out."

"Your husband…a former Drugs Squad officer?"

"Yes sir."

"Sacked from the force due to his conduct."

"Yes sir."

"That must have been quite upsetting at the time."

"Yes sir."

"You didn't discuss the operation with him? Make a passing remark about what was taking place?"

"No sir, as I said, he wasn't home at that point."

"At that point?"

"He came home much later."

"And did you discuss it with him then?"

"No sir."

"So, you were alone, in your house, for the entire evening."

She licked her lips. "Yes sir."

"And you had no information about the operation or the threat to Powell, other than what you've claimed you knew at the start of the operation."

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. "No sir, I had no other information."

He looked down at his papers again and she felt time slow in anticipation of him looking up, meeting her gaze again and telling her that she was lying. "All right, thank you for your time, Constable."

She felt her breath leave her body in one fell swoop. "Thank you, sir."

"Discuss this with no-one, understood?"

"Yes sir, understood." With as much haste as would appear appropriate under the circumstances, she let herself out of the incident room and hurried quickly along the corridor to the toilets, splashing cold water on her face and trying to bring her pulse back under control. She had lied, lied to a superior officer and she had done it because he had asked her to, because Frank had asked her to. Only he hadn't. But he had.

"You all right?" She jumped at the sound of a voice behind her and glanced in the mirror to see June standing just inside the door. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"No, you're all right," she replied, drying her face on a paper towel. "Just had my grilling from SCS. Even when you haven't done anything, they're really good at making you feel guilty."

"But you weren't in on the operation, were you?" June frowned.

"No, but they're looking at everyone in CID. I guess they figure you just don't know who might have blabbed."

"I suppose…do you think the leak did come from here?"

"Who knows," she fixed her hair in the mirror. "Anyway, I'd better get back upstairs. I haven't been able to concentrate all morning."

"No wonder. I bet the DI's pacing a bit and all."

"Yeah," she said to herself as she let herself out of the toilet and back into the hallway. "I bet he is."

XXXX

The time seemed to be passing at a ridiculously slow pace, Frank couldn't help but think. He was already on his third cup of coffee, the caffeine doing nothing except make him slightly jittery. Kim hadn't seen fit to give him any insight into what SCS had asked her during her interview and he had only caught a rear-view glimpse of Christina as she had been ushered into the incident room for her own grilling. He could only hope that she had held up her end.

As if by magic, she suddenly appeared back into the CID office, her gaze swivelling automatically to him. Raising his eyebrows at her, he was rewarded with an imperceptible nod, and he smiled briefly at her in return. He'd known she wouldn't let him down. One part had been sorted, now it was time for the other part.

He glanced at Ted, sitting in the chair across from his desk. "Well, I'm not losing any sleep over it. Storm in a teacup."

"You reckon?"

"It'll all blow over soon enough. Providing Reid doesn't stick the knife in…" he paused, "and you and me give a good account of ourselves."

Ted frowned and looked at him. "You and me? What do you mean?"

"Well, we stood the troops down, didn't we?"

"You gave the word."

"No, as I remember it Ted, you asked me if you could stand them down and I agreed."

"Oh, hang on a minute…" Ted protested. "That's not how I remember it at all."

"Oh, I do. Like it was yesterday."

"Oh no!"

"A trouble shared is a trouble halved, Ted."

"You're not serious."

He moved in for the kill. "There's no-one in this department doesn't owe me. Time to call in a few favours, that's all."

"You can't do that!" Ted got to his feet. "If I agree to this that's it for me. I'll have done my legs once and for all."

"You done your legs long ago, Ted."

Ted glared at him, "You bastard."

"Sticks and stones, Ted, sticks and stones. You should be pleased!"

"Pleased?"

"Well, if I'd done as you suggested in the first place and stood them down even before the first attempt, we'd all be in the shit. I am just trying to create a bit of confusion, cloud the issue. It's not just myself I'm thinking of."

"That's not how it looks from where I'm standing."

"Damage limitation, Ted. I'm trying to get us all off the hook." Ted shot him a final look of contempt before turning and walking out of the office and he wondered, for a brief moment, if he had gone slightly too far. Ted clearly wasn't as easily manipulated as some.

The moment the thought left his brain, he felt guilty. He hadn't manipulated her, not really, just pointed out to her the possible consequences of anyone finding out that they had been together during the operation. If she hadn't wanted to cover for him, she wouldn't have done it. He would have done the same for her in a heartbeat, even though he knew it was highly unlikely she would have got herself into that situation in the first place.

As though reading his mind, she rose from her desk and came into the office, occupying the space newly vacated by Ted. "Everything ok?"

"Fine," he replied. "How hard a time did they give you?"

"Petch asked me some pretty probing questions but, apart from that, it was fine. The only time your name came up was when he asked who briefed everyone."

"Good girl." She made a face at him. "Sorry, I guess that sounded patronising."

"Just a bit. What were you and Ted butting heads about?"

"Don't worry about it," he replied, watching as Ted lifted his phone then, seconds later, put it down before buttoning up his jacket and heading out of the room. "It'll all work out fine, just wait and see."

"I'm glad you're so confident."

"Confidence is my middle name, darling, remember?"

She smiled indulgently at him, "Yeah, I remember."

He suddenly remembered where she had been that morning, his attention having been taken up by his own issues. "How did you get on with the counsellor?"

"Fine. I think it'll really help."

"That's good." He paused, wondering if it was prudent to make the suggestion, given all that had been agreed, but deciding to make it anyway. "You fancy grabbing some dinner tonight, after this is all over?"

"Oh…ummm…"

"It's all right," he said quickly. "No pressure, sorry."

"I think it's just best if we carry on as we are for now…if that's ok with you."

"That's fine, sorry, I shouldn't have suggested it."

"No, that's all right." She got to her feet. "I should get on with some work."

"Yeah, you'd better. I don't want to have to get heavy handed with you." She shot him a final smile as she left the office, and he couldn't help but feel an increasing sense of unease, one that had nothing whatsoever to do with Lennie Powell or SCS.

XXXX

The tension continued to build for the rest of the day. Everyone was at their desks under the pretence of working, but no-one, least of all her, was concentrating. Every so often she would look at the others and see one of them staring into space. They would lock gazes and smile sympathetically at each other, all well aware that they were all under the dark cloud that SCS had brought with them to the station.

Occasionally, she would look into Frank's office and could tell that he was becoming more and more agitated the longer it was taking for him being called to his own interview. Over and over in her mind, she replayed the answers she had given Petch. There had been no flicker that had suggested he had known her true whereabouts that night and she was convinced that, if he had, he would have put it to her, but it didn't stop her from feeling nervous.

At that moment, Ted came back into the office and before he could open his mouth, Frank bellowed to him from behind his desk. "Well?"

"It never came up," Ted replied casually.

"You expect me to believe that? What did you tell them?"

"Nothing they didn't know already."

"I thought we had an understanding."

"I'm not lying for you," Ted said, turning to look out of the office window. She might have imagined it, but she couldn't help but think that his gaze chose to rest on her right at that particular moment, almost as though he knew.

"Oh, I see…" Frank replied, his tone dripping with contempt. "So, they said, 'who was it' and you said, 'Burnside.' Listen Ted, if I go down, I'm not going down on my own. You're on my list!"

"Look, this is ridiculous!" Ted exclaimed, turning back around to face him, his back now to her. "What are you getting so worked up about? God Almighty, it was just an error of judgement! We've all made cock ups in our time!"

"This is murder, Ted!" Frank rose from his desk and came around to face the other man. "They're looking for a whipping boy and I'm favourite!"

"You want to get a grip on yourself! If you've done nothing wrong, then you've got nothing to worry about."

She watched as Frank moved away from him, over towards the window and could only imagine what was going on inside his head. Did he think he had done something wrong? Had he done something wrong? Had he been so keen to try and get back to her, to try and talk about the fight they had had over Leicester that it had clouded his usual judgement?

"Or are they getting a bit too close for comfort, is that it, eh?" Ted snapped. "Whelan got you in his back pocket?"

"Now, don't push your luck, Ted!" Frank snapped.

"Don't you threaten me!"

"What are you going to do about it? Run and tell Reid? That's about your mark, innit? You've done me up like a kipper, the pair of you!"

"Well, maybe she can't stand bent coppers either!"

She heard her own sharp intake of breath at Ted's words, followed by Frank's sudden outburst of anger as he rounded on the other man again, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. "You slag!" The pair of them began tussling, Frank forcing Ted up against the office window, folders and papers falling to the ground in the midst of it all. Before she could move, or even think about reacting, Tosh and Jim leapt to their feet and rushed in, pulling them apart. "You toerag!"

Kim suddenly rushed in, her face etched with anger. "What the hell are you playing at?!" she demanded, bringing the ruckus to a halt.

"We had a disagreement," Frank replied, slipping out of Tosh's grip and adjusting himself.

"Ted, have you been seen?"

"Yeah," Ted replied, fixing his tie.

"Right, get out of this office, you've got work to do. I'll see you later. Now Ted!" she insisted upon his hesitation. "Well?" she glared at Frank.

"Well what?" he replied. "We're all a bit on edge today, that's all."

"Right, in my office this minute," Kim gestured behind her. "You two, tidy up all this mess."

She watched as Frank left his office, flanked by Kim, headed for her office where she knew he was likely going to receive the bollocking of his career. He glanced briefly in her direction and then kept walking, stopping only when Alistair appeared in front of him.

"Guv, they're ready for you now."

He turned back and shot Kim a smug smile, "Saved by the bell."

When he had gone, Kim turned back to face the rest of them. "I won't have behaviour like that amongst my team, is that understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," they chorused obediently.

"Right, get back to work."

"What the hell was all that about?" Viv asked her in a low voice once Kim had returned to her office. "Why did he kick off like that?"

"Ted goaded him, you heard him."

"Yeah, I know but…"

"Just leave it, Viv, ok?" she replied, lifting some more papers from her tray and studying them as though they meant something. She could feel the other woman's gaze on her far longer than was necessary but kept her head down. It would all blow over soon enough, she had to believe that.

XXXX

Frank paused outside the incident room door and took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment when he was going to stand or fall. He could only imagine what Kim and Ted might have said, resolute only in his knowledge that Christina hadn't let him down. If it all went pear shaped, and he found himself formally under investigation, he could only hope that she would stand by him.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," one of Petch's underlings said as he entered the room, never lifting his head from what he was writing, his tone clearly indicating that he felt anything but sorry.

In that moment, he knew that he needed to take control of the situation, no matter how unsettled he felt. Moving forwards, he lifted the chair that had been set out for him in the centre of the room and swiftly moved it so that he was sitting close up to Petch. "Best til last eh?"

"You know why we're here."

"Claimed too much on my petrol, have I?"

"You would be advised to treat this enquiry with the level of seriousness that it merits, Mr Burnside."

Petch tossed a folder down onto the table. "Doesn't make for very good reading, does it?"

"I wouldn't know," he replied, "Don't have much time for reading. Too busy trying to catch villains usually, know what I mean?"

"Are you deliberately trying to make things worse for yourself?"

"Worse than what? You've already made up your mind. I've been in this job long enough to know how it works. You're just going through the motions."

"I'm keeping an open mind at this stage, but you've got to admit, you made some elementary mistakes during this affair. Your actions, insofar as I can make out, led indirectly to Powell's death."

He felt anger flare through him. "I resent that implication."

"You're in no position to resent anything, Mr Burnside, you were caught with your knickers down!"

"Yeah? Well, maybe I should have been caught with my trouser leg rolled up!"

Petch glowered at him, "What do you mean by that?"

"I've not been idle," he replied. "Whelan was a country member. Work it out for yourselves. None of us lot knew Powell's original location over the river. Whoever put Whelan wise had access to that information."

"Rest assured, all avenues of enquiry are being pursued."

"As long as they don't lead to your own backyard, eh?"

"That is a serious allegation, one that I hope you wouldn't make without the necessary evidence to back it up!"

"You won't find any evidence," he shook his head. "Whoever was responsible will have covered their tracks."

"Let's restrict ourselves to the facts of the matter in hand," Petch said. "Why did you stand down the extra cover, Mr Burnside?"

Frank took a breath before answering, conscious that whatever he said was going to be scrutinised from now until eternity and could be the resounding knell in his own coffin. He met the other man's accusatory gaze. "In my opinion, it was in the bag. We had successfully foiled the murder attempt."

"Shouldn't you have cleared it with DCI Reid? Wouldn't that have been the appropriate course of action?"

Yes, I should have, but I didn't. His brain raced. "I was satisfied. No-one could have foreseen what was to follow. It's easy in hindsight to say, should have done this, should have done that…I was the one who was there. I followed my instincts."

"And so your complacency, not to say arrogance," Petch sneered, "left Powell's security fatally flawed."

"I did what I thought was best," Frank replied, meeting his gaze.

"The force is changing, Mr Burnside," Petch sighed. "Thankfully. It's no longer enough just to rely on gut reaction." He moved behind him to toss his cup into the bin. "The attitude that you've displayed today is sadly outmoded. You're as much of an anachronism as Powell ever was," he leaned over his shoulder. "Unless you're prepared to take a long hard look at yourself, I feel you really should be considering your future in the job, don't you?"

Frank turned to look at him again. "You want me out, sir. You're going to need more than words, a damn sight more, I'm telling you!"

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" Petch stared at him. "Thank you for your time, Mr Burnside."

"What, that's it?"

"That's it, for now."

He rose to his feet, feeling his legs turning slightly to jelly as he did so, and made his way out of the room, suddenly unsure where to go or what to do. He knew that he should return to his office, no doubt to face the wrath of Kim that his interview had merely postponed, not to mention the looks of the others, but he didn't want to. He needed some time to lick his wounds inflicted, in no small measure, due to his own actions. He wasn't naïve enough not to realise that.

He left the station quickly, getting into his car and driving to the nearest pub before ordering a large vodka and tonic and sitting in the corner. Being forced to look at yourself and your motivations wasn't easy. Why had he not contacted Kim to ask about standing down the cover? Why had he stood it down at all? Because he had still been irritated that she had been thrust upon them, thrust upon him. Because he'd thought he'd known better. Because he'd been angry with Christina and yet desperate to get back to her in equal measure. He'd made a mess of the whole thing. Perhaps his earlier idea of leaving the job had been the right one after all.

By the time he got back to the station, it was the end of the shift. Most of the others had left, Kim's door tightly closed. Thankfully, when he entered the office, there was no sign of Ted, but Christina lifted her head, her eyes searching his face for reassurance. When he didn't give it, she followed him into his office.

"How did it go?"

"As expected," he replied tightly. "The blame was placed squarely at my feet. Complacency and arrogance were the terms used, if I recall correctly. Well," he said when she remained silent, "I suppose we can at least agree on the latter."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You did your part and I'm grateful. As for Ted…"

"You should have known he wouldn't have lied."

"The times I've stuck my neck out for him," he shook his head.

"It wasn't fair to ask, Frank."

"I didn't ask. I just tried to remind him about what had happened." He paused on her look. "Yeah, all right, maybe I did ask. I didn't hear you complaining though."

"You didn't ask me."

"Oh, I see. Playing it like that, are we?"

"I reckon it's the safest way." She paused. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Like I told Ted, storm in a teacup. There's nothing that links the leak to here, nothing they can pin on us, no matter how hard SCS try. They can call me out on my decision making all they want, but I didn't tell anyone where he was, and even if there had been extra officers there, he was shot in the street by a sniper. No guarantee we would have been able to stop it."

"No."

"Or maybe I'm trying too hard to convince myself." He looked up at her again, wishing with all his heart that they weren't in 'that place.' Wishing he could take her in his arms and feel comforted by the sensation of her pressed against him, secure that there was at least one person on his side. "You'd best get off. It's been a long day."

"I've got a few bits and pieces to finish before I go." She paused. "The decision to stand down the cover; did you make it because of me? Was it because of our fight?"

He paused, weighing up the best answer and quickly realising that putting any of the responsibility for his decisions on her wasn't right, wasn't fair, particularly in light of everything else she was going through. "No, of course not," he replied. "I did it because I thought I knew best, better than anyone, that's why. Nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with us."

She smiled and nodded before turning away and heading back over to her desk. Knowing that she was there, seeing her through the glass even though he couldn't touch her, comforted him. He found that he was able to concentrate on the tasks before him and by the time she was biding him goodnight, he felt calmer.

There was still time, time to convince her that they belonged together, time to win her back. He just had to be patient again.

Good things came to him that waited.