Arriving at bed number four, she took a breath before gently parting the curtain and stepping inside. June and Tony were standing by the bed and when she looked further, she could see Pat, sitting half upright, a large dressing on her forehead and dried blood caked to the side of her face. There were no other visible injuries but, if what Frank had said was true, they would all be hidden under the surface.

"Oh, that was quick," June said, catching sight of her. "Mrs Callaghan, this is WDC Christina Lewis from CID. This is Patricia Callaghan."

She saw Pat's gaze flicker between them, her eyebrows knitting slightly in confusion, but she merely nodded her head. "Hello."

"Hello," she replied, smiling gently before turning back to June. "Can I have a quick word?" The three of them headed back out of the curtain area and Tony drew it behind him. "So, what happened?"

"She's a nurse here," he said. "She was walking home from the bus stop near her house which is on Rankin Place. She took a shortcut through Fraser Gardens when she was grabbed from behind and pushed violently into a wall, hence the bang to her head. She says that she was dazed after that, but she's fairly certain that he penetrated her."

"Fairly certain?"

"As certain as she can be. They've done a rape kit, so we'll just have to wait for the results." He paused. "It's him again, isn't it?"

She paused, mindful of Frank's conclusion. "I don't know, maybe. If it is, this is the furthest he's ever gone and its out with the area we were supposed to be targeting this weekend. Was she able to describe the attacker at all?"

"Dark clothing was about as much as she could remember," June said. "Though she might be able to give us more in a couple of days once the shock has worn off."

"Look…I don't necessarily want this broadcast round the nick, but she's the DI's sister."

"What?" June gasped. "She never said a word!"

"He'll be livid when he finds out," Tony offered.

"He's outside with her husband just now and you're not wrong," she sighed. "Obviously, we can't really treat her any differently to any other victim, but she is family."

"No, of course," June said. "How did he hear about it?"

"Her husband called him at the station." She paused. "Is there anyone at the location?"

"Yeah, it's all been taped off," Tony replied. "Dave and George are down there, and forensics were called to see if they could pick anything up from the surrounding area."

"Good. Ok, well I'd best have a chat with her then. Thanks." Moving past them, she opened the curtain again and stepped inside, drawing it again behind her.

Pat looked up and met her gaze again as she pulled the chair by the bed closer and sat down. "Do your colleagues not know about you and Frank then?"

"No, well…they knew about us before, but not now." She paused. "Thank you for not saying anything." Pat nodded and though she could tell the other woman was curious, she knew it wasn't the time nor the place for a dissection of her relationship with her brother. "I know that you've told the officers some details, but would you mind going through it again with me?"

"Is Gerry still here?"

"Yes, he's outside with Frank. Do you want me to get him?"

Pat shook her head and then winced slightly. "I never thought something like this would happen to me, you know. You always think that rapists are going to go after young girls, not a middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform. I take that shortcut most days and I've never had a problem…" she trailed off as tears filled her eyes. "Maybe I should have got a taxi or asked one of the boys to meet me."

"This isn't your fault," Christina said. "There's nothing you could have done to prevent what happened."

"Maybe if I'd fought back…"

"A bash on the head like that is enough to daze anyone." She paused again, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It was one thing to question victims in this manner, but quite another when you knew them on a personal level. "You told my colleagues that you're fairly certain he penetrated you." Pat nodded. "I know this is difficult, but can you describe it?"

There was silence for a long moment as Pat clearly contemplated what to say. "When I hit my head, everything just went…fuzzy. But I could feel him pulling up my skirt and then, his hands on my bum…" she swallowed hard. "Then there was a sharp pain, but it didn't last very long…and then he was gone."

"His hands…can you tell me anything about them? How they felt, for example?"

"Rough, really rough. Gerry's always had really smooth hands…" she trailed off again and closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry to ask this, but are you certain that he penetrated you with his penis? I mean, could it have been a finger?"

Pat opened her eyes again and stared at her, seemingly lost in thought. "I don't know," she replied finally. "Maybe. God…I hope it was…" she closed her eyes again and laid back on the pillows.

"Ok, that's fine for now," Christina got to her feet. "I'll go and speak to Gerry and Frank."

"Is Frank angry?"

"Yes."

"With me?"

"With you? Of course not with you. He's angry with the bloke who did this, we all are, and we're going to catch him." Pat nodded again, and she pulled back the curtain, before making her way back into the reception area.

To her relief, Frank was now seated, though his head was bent, Gerry beside him looking pale and wan. They both looked up when she approached and got to their feet. "I think she'd like to see you now," she said to Gerry, who nodded and then disappeared back through the doors. "Are you ok?" she asked, turning back to Frank.

"What did she say?"

"That she was walking home from the bus stop when he attacked her from behind, bashed her head against the wall, pulled up her skirt and somehow penetrated her."

"Somehow?"

"Well, she couldn't be sure if it was his penis or a finger, but she did say that his hands felt rough when he touched her."

His jaw tightened. "So, it was him."

"Well…"

"Oh, come on! How many sex attackers with rough hands have we got on the manor?!"

"I think we need to be careful before jumping to any conclusions. Fraser Gardens is outside the area that we were focusing on…"

"The area you were focusing on," he interrupted her. "You were the one who came up with the surveillance plan."

"Yes, because the other attacks all took place within the area that we're due to hit tomorrow night."

"This one didn't."

"Well, I could hardly have foreseen…" she paused as he pushed past her. "Where are you going?"

"To see my sister, if that's all right with you," he tossed back over his shoulder, before pushing open the doors, causing them to slam back on themselves.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around at the other people waiting to be seen, many of whom were now looking at her. For a moment, she wasn't sure what to do; stay or go. It wasn't as though she was a part of the family and Frank's attitude so far was fairly clearly demonstrating what he thought of her in that moment, but something made her want to stay. Perhaps it was because, one day, they could be family and also because, despite what he had said to her, she wanted to be there for him, even if he didn't want her.

XXXX

He didn't want to pull back the curtain; didn't want to see her. Pat had always been the strong one, the one who had taken charge after their father had left and pulled the family together. So much had been placed on her shoulders at a young age, and even though he had become 'the man of the house', in reality, he knew he wouldn't be half the person he had become without her. She had helped him with his homework when their mother had been working, sorted out issues for him in his peer groups and personally posted his application to join the Met. He remembered her being there when he passed out, looking so proud and happy. He was going to be a policeman, going to keep the streets safe and now…now look at what had happened.

He let Gerry go in first, pacing up and down for a long moment contemplating what he was going to say, before finally working up the courage to join them. Their hushed conversation stopped when he entered and he tried, in vain, to keep his expression neutral when he first saw her up close. He could tell he had failed miserably however as her eyes filled with tears. He felt his throat close up with emotion and, for the longest moment, couldn't speak.

"I know I look a right mess," she joked finally, "but I never thought I'd see the day you were stuck for words."

He stepped closer to the bed and tried hard to remain stoic. "How are you?" It seemed such a ridiculous question, but it was all he could come up with.

"I'll live."

"I'm sorry."

"What have you got to be sorry for? You didn't do this, did you?"

He paused, "I should have stopped the person who did before he could get near you."

"You can't be responsible for every crime that takes place."

He opened his mouth, poised to tell her about the operation that was due to take place the following evening and then closed it again. What good would it do her to know that, if she had been walking home twenty-four hours later, it might not have happened? Not that that was any guarantee, however, given Christina hadn't even factored Pat's area into her plan. He felt another stab of anger go through him. If she and Boyden had just been paying more attention…

"Frank…" she held out her hand to him and he stepped forwards, taking it in his own. "I know you'll find the bloke."

"I will," he said, squeezing her hand and then stepping back. "I promise you that."

"Where are you going?" she asked, as he pulled the curtain back again. "Frank…"

Her words faded behind him as he pushed open the doors back into the reception area and made his way towards the main entrance, fuelled by rage and adrenaline. As he emerged out into the night air, all he could think about was getting his hands on the person who had done this, who had taken it upon himself to violate his sister in this way. He would get him, and he would kill him. He'd never felt as strongly about anything since Stewart's attack on Christina.

As though she knew he was thinking about her, he suddenly became aware of her behind him, hurrying to keep up with his pace. "Frank…Frank!"

"What?"

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"But…"

"Just get a statement from her, will you?"

"I did, but…wait!" she took hold of his arm, stopping him in his tracks and turning him to face her. "Where are you going?"

"I told you, I don't know!" Wrenching his arm from her grip, he started walking again, suddenly realising he had no idea where she had parked the car. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The car! Where is it?!"

"It's over there by the lamppost but…listen to me…Frank, listen to me!" he turned and started walking again, catching sight of the car where she had gestured. "You need to be here! You need to be here for Pat!"

"I can't."

"What?"

"I said I can't!" he turned back to face her. "You know and I know that she's been attacked by the same slag that we're supposed to be getting all tooled up to catch tomorrow night!"

"We don't know that, not yet."

"Of course we do! And I tell you this right now; when I catch him, it won't be a cosy cell down the nick he'll be getting, it'll be six feet of dirt over his head!"

"Don't do this…don't…"

"Give me the keys!"

"Frank…"

"Keys!"

She paused for a moment, then reached into her pocket and pulled them out, allowing him to grab them from her hand and continue walking. "If you do this, you're only going to make things worse!"

"Am I!"

"You know you are! You don't even know where to look for him for a start…"

"I'll find him!"

"Frank!" she grabbed hold of his arm again. "You can't just go around acting like a vigilante because he's struck close to home! Pat, and all the other women he's attacked, deserve justice!"

"You sound like her!"

"Who?"

"Kim bloody Reid! She said much the same thing to me after you got stabbed when all I wanted to do was kill Stewart for what he had done to you!" Her expression grew pitying, and it was the last thing he wanted to see. He didn't want her pity, hers nor anyone else's. "I made the mistake of listening to her that time, but this time, I'm going to do what needs to be done!"

"This is madness!"

"What else am I supposed to do?!" He felt the weight of helplessness bearing down on him. "I let Stewart go unchecked and he almost killed you! I've let this bastard walk the streets and he's raped my own sister!" Raw emotion bubbled up inside him again and he turned away, not wanting her to see it. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest so violently that it wouldn't have surprised him if it hadn't burst its way through. Then he felt her hand on his arm again.

"Let me come with you."

He paused and turned back to look at her. "What?"

"If you're going to do this, then let me come with you." She nodded. "Two pairs of eyes have got to be better than one."

He looked into her face, at the openness and earnestness of her expression and felt suddenly almost saddened at the fact that she was willing to put herself and her career in jeopardy purely because of what she felt for him, what he had allowed her to feel for him. Suddenly, it felt so wrong. Suddenly, he saw what everyone else had seen. "No."

"Frank…"

"I said, no! You want to do something, then be here for Pat and Gerry, make sure they get home all right. Forget about me."

"But…" her words were lost in the mist as he hurried over to the car and jumped in, gunning the engine and pulling out of the parking space without so much as giving her a second glance.

XXXX

"Are you sure about this?" Tony asked. "You just want me to cruise around the area?"

"Well, you are supposed to be on patrol, are you not?" she asked from the backseat as they made their way through the streets. "So, it shouldn't look too out of place."

"No, except we're looking for a rogue DI."

She bit her lip and tried to stop herself from responding too harshly. "He's upset, I told you."

"Yeah, and looking to thump someone."

"Are you willing to help or not? If not, drop me off and I'll look for him on my own."

"Give it a rest, Tony," June spoke up. "It's Burnside, after all."

"Yeah, which is why I won't be surprised if he does thump someone." He looked at her in the rear-view mirror. "If he does, are we supposed to arrest him or just let it go?"

She elected not to respond, hoping against all hope that it wouldn't come to that, praying that they would simply find him sat in his car on some street corner looking for all the world like a customer trawling for business, rather than in the midst of a full-blown altercation.

"Isn't your shift over now anyway?" Tony continued to niggle. "You seem to be going out on a limb here."

"Wouldn't you?"

"No, not for Burnside and certainly not for Monroe."

"Well, that's the difference between us, isn't it?" She looked out of the window as Tony muttered something under his breath that she couldn't quite catch. "Ok, slow down here."

"But this is near where Pat was attacked," June said, as they caught sight of the police tape and panda car at the end of the street. "He's not going to come back here tonight is he?"

"Who?" Tony asked. "The attacker or the DI?"

"Both."

"Ok, keep going," Christina said. "Let's take a look around the area we know he's attacked in before." Pausing at a set of traffic lights, she momentarily allowed herself to wonder what the two uniformed officers were thinking. Did they consider her simply to be a dedicated member of CID, loyal enough to not want to see her boss do something stupid? Or did they think there might be more to it? In that moment, she found that she didn't really care. All she wanted to do was stop Frank from making the biggest mistake of his life. Tony slowed down again as they reached the scene of the first attack and, to her immediate relief, she caught sight of Frank's car parked halfway down a side street. "Back there," she said. "Just drop me here."

"Don't you want us to take you all the way to him?" June asked.

"No, here's fine," she replied as Tony pulled into the side. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"I hope Burnside does," Tony grumbled as she opened the car door and stepped out, closing it behind her before making her way back along the road to the turning.

She was hoping for the element of surprise, mindful that if he saw her coming, he might drive away out of sheer bloody-mindedness. Fortunately, he seemed to be preoccupied as she approached, allowing her to quickly open the passenger door and slid into the seat.

"Christ!" he exclaimed, jumping. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry."

"What the bloody hell are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"It wasn't hard to work out that you'd come here hoping to catch him," she replied. "But I have to say, you do look a bit suspicious sat here on your own like this. Been approached by any toms yet?" He looked away. "Look Frank, I understand why you feel the way you do, but this isn't going to solve anything. The chances of you being sat here whilst he pulls off another attack right under your nose are slim to non-existent."

"I know that."

"So why are you here?"

"Because it makes me feel as though I'm doing something!"

"We will be doing something, tomorrow night on obbo."

"Yeah?" he turned to look at her again. "Maybe I'm better off conducting my own one-man obbo, especially given I'll not be able to come with you tomorrow night now."

"Why not?"

"I'm acting DCI."

"So?"

"So…as DI I could probably have gotten away with being involved in an investigation involving a member of my family, but as DCI…" he left the thought trailing. "I hate myself for even thinking it."

"Thinking what?"

"That I don't want to jeopardise my career by doing something stupid."

"So…getting involved in the obbo tomorrow night because one of the victims is your sister is stupid, but being camped out here in a car by yourself with no back-up isn't?" He didn't say anything. "It's natural to feel the way you do, of course it is. But sitting out here hoping you come across the bloke so you can give him a good hiding, isn't going to solve anything. Your career would be over the minute you laid one finger on him, and if that makes me sound like Reid, then so be it."

"Is Pat all right?"

"She was just waiting for the doctor to discharge her, then Gerry was going to take her home. I told her you'd call her in the morning."

"Thanks."

"No problem. So, can we go home now, or do I have to sit in this car with you all night?"

He didn't speak for a long moment. "I'm angry."

"I know."

"She's my sister."

"I know."

He looked over at her, "You'd better get him."

She nodded in response, hoping she was conveying more confidence than she felt. "We will."

XXXX

The journey back to her flat was undertaken in relative silence. He didn't feel like talking and she didn't push him to, but he felt comforted at least by her presence and, deep down, he knew that she had been right. As much as he'd wanted to kill Stewart that day he had handed himself into the station, if he had done anything to him, chances are he'd be the one serving the sentence. It gave him some sense of satisfaction to know that Stewart would be spending the next eight years behind bars and this bastard who was roaming the streets deserved the same, if not more.

As he pulled into her street, he suddenly realised that her own car was still at the station. "I should take you for your car."

"No, it's fine. I'll get a taxi or the bus in the morning and pick it up later."

"I'll pick you up."

"Don't be daft."

"It's not daft," he replied, pulling to a halt at the kerb. "I don't want you roaming the streets on your own."

"Getting into a taxi or getting onto a bus is hardly roaming."

"After what's just happened to Pat tonight, can you really be that blasé about it? Just because all the attacks so far have been at night doesn't mean he might not decide he fancies a bit of morning delight."

"Ok," she replied, in a tone that suggested she was placating him rather than agreeing with him. "I'm happy if you want to pick me up."

"Fine." He paused. "Maybe I should walk you to the door too. In case your brother-in-law decides to make an appearance," he added on her look. To her credit, she merely nodded and then got out of the car, allowing him to follow her up the path to the door.

"Come in," she said, sliding the key into the lock. "I reckon we could both use a coffee at least, don't you?" Nodding, he followed her inside, through into the living room where he found himself sinking down onto the couch whilst she moved into the kitchen. He watched as she flitted from side to side, getting cups, coffee, milk and sugar, walking to and from the fridge and kettle.

"I'm sorry," he said finally as she appeared at the door bearing two mugs.

"For what?"

"For saying what I said at the hospital about you and Boyden."

"It's all right."

"No, it isn't. I know you would have nicked him that night if you could have. I just…" he trailed off and shook his head. "I feel so useless."

"I think that's only natural when something like this happens. Friends and family don't really know how to react…"

"No, I mean I feel useless, inadequate. I can't even do my job properly." He put his head in his hands. "Part of my job is to keep the streets safe, and I can't even do that for my own sister. I'm supposed to look after the people I care about, and I can't even do that. I couldn't look after Tracy, you and now Pat…"

She put the mugs down on the coffee table and knelt on the floor in front of him. "But none of those things were your fault."

"No?"

"Of course not. Yes, Tracy had a questionable boyfriend who got her into drugs, but she overdosed, and you couldn't have prevented that. I was the one who stayed with Stewart as long as I did, despite all the times you tried to encourage me to walk away, and he is responsible for what he did to me. And as for this bloke…" she sighed. "We're not mind readers just because we're police officers. We can't stop every bad thing from happening."

He looked at her, wanting to believe that she was right and yet unable to banish how he felt. Tracy might be alive if he had taken more of an interest, she might never have been so badly injured at the hands of her husband and as for Pat…

"Please," she said, reaching up to stoke his face gently. "Don't punish yourself for things you can't change."

He drank his coffee and they made small talk, but the events of the evening remained ever present in his mind and every time he closed his eyes, he could see his sister's face. His body felt so desperately heavy, as though each limb was weighted down, and it was an effort to rise to his feet and carry his mug through to the kitchen where she was wiping down the counter. He slid his arms around her waist and pressed himself against her, burying his face in the cloud of her hair. For a moment, they simply stood there before she turned in the circle of his embrace to look at him.

"Stay," she said softly. "We don't have to do anything. I just don't think you should be on your own tonight."

"We don't have to do anything?"

"Of course not. Two people who care about each other can support one another without being physical, can't they?"

He supposed it was true, after all it wasn't as though he and Julie had had sex every night of their marriage and he had still cared about her, to a point. But every subsequent dalliance he had, had always been about the physical. It was what he was known for, after all. As he followed her to the bedroom, he realised that there had been few occasions where they had been alone together in an intimate setting and not made love, but the feeling of closeness he got from her had to be about more than the intimate physical act.

He lay in her bed looking at the ceiling, her body pressed against his, and had no memory of falling asleep, his dreams peppered with all manner of unidentifiable images until he woke suddenly with a start as the first faint morning light was starting to trickle through the curtains. She lay undisturbed beside him and, trying not to wake her, he stole out of the bed to the bathroom, returning only to find her awakened, her eyes tracking him as he crossed the room.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," he replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Hope I wasn't snoring."

"If you were, I didn't hear you," she replied, crawling across the bed behind him and sliding her arms around him. "Do you feel any better?"

"Not really," he replied honestly, "but I'm glad I was here last night."

"I'm glad you were here too," she kissed his shoulder and he found himself half turning to look at her, kissing her on the mouth as she slid onto his lap, his hands automatically sliding under the t-shirt she had chosen to wear to bed as he hardened against her. She pulled back and looked at him, her expression neutral, clearly leaving whatever was to happen next up to him.

"I haven't been with anyone since the night we were together before Stewart was sentenced," he heard himself say and her eyes widened. "I was waiting for you to be ready to come back to me."

Her expression softened, "Frank…"

"I wanted to take things slowly for both our sakes but…maybe I'm a bit out of practice."

"Well, that would make two of us, wouldn't it? Normally it's the bloke saying this to the woman but…I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. If you want to keep sex off the table right now, that's fine by me."

He closed his eyes and briefly pressed his face into her shoulder. There was something about her, about them, that always seemed to render his intentions completely meaningless. Spain had been the biggest example of that where, after lecturing her about keeping things platonic, he had been the one to make the first move. Now, here he was, having explained why he thought they should take things slowly this time around, desperate to be inside her, to feel the connection that being truly intimate with the person you care about the most creates. "I don't want this, us, to just be about sex."

"It isn't," she replied. "It's never been just about sex, not even at the beginning. If it had just been about sex, we would have leapt on each other long before we ever did. We already cared about each other, loved each other, long before that night in your office, even if we couldn't admit it." He drew back and looked at her. "Didn't we?"

"Yes."

"Whether we have sex now or…or six months from now, isn't going to change how I feel about you. I'm here. I'm in. It's you and me."

He had never wanted her more than he did in that moment, not in the run up to the night in his office, not the following evening when she had turned up at his door, not the night of Powell's shooting, in Spain or before Stewart's sentencing. Not at any other time between the first second he realised he needed her and now had he felt a longing as deep as he did at that precise moment, sitting looking up into her eyes. She was it for him; his beginning and his end.

But the present turn of events still slid insidiously into his mind and the last thing he wanted was their first taste of one another after so many months to be tainted by the shadow of sexual violence.

He let out a long breath, "I want nothing more than to make love with you but…do you mind if we don't?"

"Of course not," she replied, kissing him quickly before sliding away from him. "I'll just grab a shower."

Alone once more, he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling again, his sister's face swimming before his eyes. He would need to go and see her, comfort her, be her brother rather than a police officer; family rather than work, and yet it often seemed so hard to reconcile the two, in any of his relationships.

"I'll do better," he declared to no-one in particular. "I swear, I'll do better."