I've taken a few liberties and introduced some known characters that spent time at Barton Street before transferring to Sun Hill. They weren't necessarily at Barton Street in strict adherence with my timeline, but having them there now works better for the progression of the story in the long run. Some of the events of this chapter also relate to the series 8 episode 'A Scandalous Act' and I own no dialogue from that episode.

26 July 1992

She was a better actress than she had ever given herself credit for. Far from the positive façade she was doing her best to maintain over her impending transfer, inside, she had never felt more trepidatious. Taking herself into the bathroom after sex with her new husband, she had sat on the edge of the large bathtub and tried to convince herself of the wisdom of what she had told him; that she would be fine, that she could handle it. In reality, she wasn't fine and the thought of reporting to Barton Street the following day had led her to a sleepless night.

She had woken with a jolt, sunlight coming through the curtains and Frank's hand wandering lazily over her body. She didn't feel particularly inclined towards lovemaking, but she didn't protest and, true to form, he made her orgasm easily, which momentarily cleared her brain.

"I've been thinking," he said over breakfast in the hotel dining room.

"About what?"

"Our living arrangements. I reckon you should give up your lease and move into my place. Then we look at buying somewhere together." He paused on her silence. "You don't think it's a good idea?"

"No, I do…I suppose I've just grown fond of my flat."

"Well, it doesn't make any sense for you to continue renting, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Right, well that's settled then. Get onto your letting agent and see what notice you have to give. You might as well just move straight in with me in the meantime. No sense in us being apart if we don't have to be."

"No…" she regarded him carefully, suddenly all too aware that they were now married, and yet had never lived together. It was becoming more fashionable and less questionable now these days to 'try before you buy'. In her own situation, she had lived with Stewart and his family before they had wed, and yet maintained a slightly ridiculous façade of not sleeping in the same bed, even though his parents knew they were sexually active. It seemed slightly comical that, this time, she and Frank had technically done the complete opposite.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly. "It's just all a bit overwhelming I suppose."

"Look," he said after another brief silence. "Tell Brownlow to shove it. Come with me to Sun Hill this morning…"

"No."

"Well, what's he going to do? Have you huckled out of the building?"

"Probably." She put her cutlery down. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore. I'd rather just get on with it. The sooner I get there and get my feet under Barton Street's table, the better."

"If you say so."

"I do." The abruptness of her tone put paid to any further conversation on the subject, and it was only once they were packed and standing at reception waiting for taxis that she spoke to him again. "I'll try and call you later but, if I can't, I'll see you tonight."

"You'll bring your stuff to mine?"

"Yes."

"Good." He kissed her as the first taxi drew up. "You take this one then." He opened the door for her. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Sliding into the backseat, she gave him a brief wave before the driver pulled away from the hotel entrance and drove through the streets back to her flat, whereupon she changed quickly and then drove the as yet unfamiliar route to Barton Street, her stomach churning the entire way. It was all the little things; not knowing where to park or exactly where to go or who she would be working with. Frank's depiction of her new DCI, Paul Ferguson, as a 'grade A bastard and a letch to boot' didn't exactly fill her with confidence. Fortunately, the parking was surprisingly straightforward, and there seemed little other option than to simply head for the main office and hope for the best.

When she walked inside and made her way to the counter, she immediately recognised the uniformed officer on duty, clearly as did he, given the smile that crossed his face. "Well, well, well, it's you," PC Colin Hamilton said as she approached. "Fancy seeing you back here again."

"Fancy."

"At least you're not here for your drunk husband this time. Sorry, ex-husband."

"Mmmm…" she pulled out her warrant card. "WDS Lewis reporting for DCI Ferguson."

Colin looked at her card and then back up at her. "So, you're working with us now."

"So it would appear."

He smiled again, and she waited for him to comment on her newfound status, not only as a Barton Street officer, but as Frank's wife. Instead, he simply reached under the desk and pressed a button, causing the door at the side to buzz. "Through there, left up the stairs then round to the right."

"Thanks," she replied, momentarily caught off-guard, but focused enough to follow his instructions. As she pushed the door open, she reminded herself that it was only the first few minutes. There would certainly be more to come, of that she was sure. Climbing the stairs, she passed various other officers, all of whom looked at her quizzically, until she reached the top, then paused.

"You lost?" a male voice asked from behind and she turned quickly.

"DCI's office."

"Down to the right." The male uniformed officer smiled. "New here?"

"First day."

"Welcome. PC Mike Jarvis," he extended his hand and she found herself shaking it.

"WDS Christina Lewis."

"Oh, morning Sarge. I saw the DCI earlier, so he should be in."

"Thanks for the directions," she turned and made her way down the hallway, pausing when she came to a door marked 'Detective Chief Inspector'. Taking a breath, she knocked and waited, greeted only by silence. Pausing, she knocked again, feeling the first strains of stupidity begin to creep in.

"Can I help you?"

Turning, she saw a plain clothed female like herself making her way towards her. "I'm WDS Christina Lewis. I'm looking for DCI Ferguson."

The other woman looked her up and down, a small smile starting at the corner of her mouth that evolved into a more of a sneer than anything else. "Ah yes, we've been expecting you. Sun Hill's cast-off."

She felt her hackles rise and fought to maintain a pleasant composure. "Well, we're all the one force at the end of the day." The woman said nothing. "You are?"

There was another elongated silence before the woman spoke again. "WDS Sally Johnson."

"Nice to meet you. I assume we'll be working together."

Sally looked her up and down again. "Not quite what I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Someone a bit more…Morning Guv," Sally straightened slightly, her gaze going over Christina's shoulder, and she turned to see a heavyset man walking down the corridor towards them.

"Sally," he said, before turning his attention to her. "You must be Christina."

"Yes sir."

"Right, come inside then." He pushed open the office door and allowed her to go in first, before closing it firmly in Sally's face. "Well, welcome to Barton Street."

"Thank you, sir."

"Guv's fine."

"Guv."

He sat down at his desk and looked her up and down. "You'll understand that this was all arranged very hastily, so we haven't really had time to process your arrival."

"No, I can understand that. It was a fairly abrupt departure for me too."

"I can imagine." He paused and a smirk not unlike the one that had adorned Sally's face played at his mouth. "Frank Burnside, eh?"

"You know him then?"

"Of course, though I never really had him down as the marrying type. Once bitten and all that. But I can see how you turned his head as you climbed into his bed."

"It wasn't exactly like that…"

"No?"

"No." She met his gaze and tried valiantly to project the air of someone who was calm, confident and collected in the face of a smear, but her heart was banging wildly inside her chest, and she could hear a faint tremor in her voice.

"Your first husband certainly caused a bit of a stir a few years back. He was lucky not to get himself charged on a number of occasions, or so I'm told."

"He had a drink problem, yes."

"And now he's in prison. Shame."

"I suppose it is."

"Not so bleak for you though, eh?" He leaned forward. "Landed on your feet quite nicely."

"Well, if you call being shipped out here 'landing on my feet' then I suppose I have, Guv. But I'm here to work, not to have my personal life inspected."

"Well at least you've got a bit of backbone about you. You'll need that working here." He paused. "Lewis."

"Guv?"

"Not taking your married name then."

"No. I've always used my maiden name, even when I was married before."

"Wise," he nodded. "Especially now, given who your new husband is. Better not to start off on the wrong foot. You've already met WDS Johnson."

"Yes Guv."

"I suppose I'd better introduce you to the others then." He rose from his desk and made his way back out into the corridor, bidding her to follow him. He led her through a swing door into what could only have been the CID office, a room not unlike the one she had left behind at Sun Hill. There were various people scattered at desks around the room, and all conversation stopped when they entered. "Morning everyone."

"Morning Guv," came the chorus of replies.

"Meet our new recruit from Sun Hill," Paul said, touching her lightly on the back. "WDS Christina Lewis."

As she glanced around the room, there was little to commend her to her new team. No-one looked particularly friendly, though she smiled at them all for good measure.

"You've met WDS Sally Johnson," he said, gesturing to where the other woman was sat at a desk by the wall, leaning back against it and surveying her carefully. "Over here we have DC Anthony Cutler, this is DS Tom Wilson, WDC Morag Fraser and here we have DC John Boulton. DI Peter Norris is on annual leave today, but you'll meet him tomorrow," he turned to look at her. "Your desk is over there by the window and DI Norris and I have taken the liberty of reassigning some work to you so as you can hit the ground running. I'm sure John will be delighted to assist you with that." He turned to the other man.

"Oh, delighted Guv," John replied.

"Later today you're due to meet with Chief Superintendent Oliver and Chief Inspector Cato. I know they're both looking forward to getting to know you." A snigger went around the room. "Right, I'll leave you to it. Sally, when you got five, my office."

"Guv," Sally replied laconically.

After Paul had left the room, there was a long silence as Christina made her way across the room to her desk, feeling every pair of eyes on her. Putting her bag down, she shrugged off her jacket and laid it across the back of her chair before taking a seat and looking at the neat stack of papers that awaited her. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sudden scrape of a chair as it was pushed back, and a shadow fell across her desk.

"If you want me to run you through those cases, Sarge, now's probably a good time. I'll be headed out on enquiries soon."

She looked up into John's face, trying to read him. He couldn't have been much older than herself, yet his expression bore the hallmarks of someone who had seen more than he perhaps should. There was also a cocky air to his words and movements that automatically irked her. At Sun Hill, it had been nigh on impossible to stamp any real authority over the others since her promotion. Perhaps here, she needed to start as she meant to go on, aided in no small measure by the words of encouragement Frank had given her.

"Give me half an hour John, would you? That should give me time to get up to speed and we can then go over anything that's not clear. You can wait to go out on enquiries until then, yes?"

John looked momentarily surprised and glanced around at the others before nodding. "Yes Sarge, not a problem."

"Good." She watched through lowered lids as he made his way back to his desk and sat down, irritation oozing out of every pore, and felt a faint sense of satisfaction.

"Coffee Sarge?" Looking up again, she saw Morag Fraser gesturing to the door. "How do you take it?"

"Milk and two sugars, thanks," she replied.

"No problem," Morag smiled genuinely at her.

Turning back to the papers, she took a deep breath and lifted the first one. Perhaps things wouldn't be quite as bad at Barton Street as she had anticipated.

XXXX

It felt unnatural, being there without her.

Of course, there had been times when she had been on leave or otherwise not in the station but knowing that she was technically no longer a Sun Hill officer, made his view of the CID office seem somewhat bleaker. He found his gaze travelling frequently to the door and, every time someone entered, he kept thinking that it was her, though her desk sat, unoccupied and forgotten in his eyeline. It was crazy, especially given that she was his wife, but he felt somehow emptier at her departure.

As the minutes ticked by, he couldn't help but wonder what sort of reception she had received at Barton Street, especially from that git Ferguson, and the feeling that she had been unfairly treated never seemed to leave him. It felt as though he had gotten the better outcome of the two of them, although it was still early days and who knew exactly what Meadows might have in store for him.

As though he was psychic, a shadow suddenly fell across his desk and Jack appeared in front of him. "Morning Frank."

"Guv."

"We've got a slight issue."

"Oh yeah? That's putting it mildly, don't you think?"

"I'm not talking about your personal strife. George Garfield arrested a young girl in the early hours of this morning, Amanda Jones?"

"Teenage tearaway."

"You know her then?"

"She's got previous for theft and she's on probation, I know that much."

"She was at a doss house with a load of other teenagers causing a noise disturbance. Uniform raided it and she apparently did a runner. George collared her."

"Good for him."

"Only now, she's claiming that he indecently assaulted her."

"George Garfield? No chance. He hasn't got it in him."

"Well, that's as maybe. But MS15 have been called and they're on their way."

"Don't tell me…not Kim Reid."

Jack smiled, "I thought you'd be pleased. Something to take your mind off your own woes."

He grimaced as Jack walked away, wondering if the day could really get much worse. Having Kim back in the station wasn't exactly top of his list as to how to spend it, and no doubt she would have heard what had recently befallen him and Christina. Hiding in his office seemed to be the best course of action, but that brought its own issues as the others were clearly dying to talk about the events of the previous day.

After an hour or so, Tosh rose from his desk and wandered over, knocking briefly on the door. "You got a second, Guv?"

"For you Tosh, always."

"Gary Nelson."

"That little weasel. What's he up to now?"

"There's been a few muggings recently on the Cockcroft estate that have all the hallmarks of his MO. Balaclava, using a knife…four in the last two weeks."

"Any other evidence other than gut instinct?"

"Not really, but I know it's him."

"Well, you can't bring him in based on that."

"No, I know. I thought about sending out a few feelers though, seeing if anyone might be willing to talk."

"Good luck with that. The Cockcroft's been locked up tighter than a nun's habit these days."

"Yeah, I know. Worth a try though."

"Fill your boots." Tosh hovered in the doorway. "Something else on your mind?"

"Christina."

"What about her?"

"We'll miss her. You, more than most I would imagine."

He met the other man's gaze, unsure if his words were coming from a place of genuine concern or if he was being baited and decided simply to meet whatever his purpose was, head on. "Course I will."

"You kept it quiet anyway, getting married that is."

"With good reason, given yesterday's fall out."

Tosh nodded. "Seems a bit unfair to me. Not that I'm suggesting that you should have gone, but…"

"Well, I'll not argue with you there. I'm the last person who wanted her to leave."

"Barton Street?"

"Yeah, not really anybody's first choice for a transfer, is it?"

"She's a tough cookie is Chris. She'll be all right."

"I hope so," he murmured to himself as the other man loped back to his desk. It was hard doing nothing, hard not trying to make things right, or at least better. Hard not to contact Ferguson, throw his weight around and warn him in no uncertain terms how he should treat her. But he also knew that it would achieve nothing and, most likely, only make things worse for her.

Finally in need of coffee, he left the office and made his way along the corridor, suddenly coming face to face with Kim on the other side of the swing doors as she came up the stairs. "Morning Ma'am, this is a pleasant surprise."

"My colleague DS Paul McCourt," Kim gestured to the man accompanying her. "DI Burnside."

"I've heard mention of you sir," McCourt said, shaking his hand.

"Yeah well, don't believe everything you hear."

"I tend not to, sir."

"You know about this allegation against George Garfield I suppose?" Kim asked.

"I think I heard it on Jackanory."

"It certainly doesn't sound like the George Garfield I know."

"Well, even if it is a non-starter, I suppose you've still got to spin through the motions, haven't you?"

Kim paused. "Paul, do you want to go along to the conference room?" Once they were alone, she turned back to him. "Frank, I'm here to investigate a serious allegation and I intend to conduct a thorough and rigorous inquiry and I don't care who's in the frame."

"I wouldn't expect anything else Ma'am."

"Good. Because, if you know anything, a bit of cooperation would be appreciated."

"Well, nothing springs to mind. But you do know that our Miss Jones has got form for theft."

"Yes, I checked her PNC record to see if she'd made any previous allegations."

"What about the surgeon's report?"

"Well, she hasn't been examined yet. She's waiting at the rape suite for her father to turn up."

"Which no doubt he will, baying for police blood."

"Complaints are all the rage, Frank, it's a cross we have to bear."

"Not exactly what you joined the job for though, was it Ma'am?" He looked at her pointedly. "Policing the police?"

Kim surveyed him coolly. "It's part of the job Frank and as long as I'm asked to do it. I will."

"Rather you than me."

"Yes, well…" she paused. "I heard a little rumour this morning that congratulations are in order."

"Ma'am?"

"Come on Frank don't play the man of mystery with me. I'm talking about the fact that you and Christina Lewis got married yesterday."

"Oh yes, Ma'am, we did."

"Part of me was surprised and another part not surprised at all. I think it was always very clear how you felt about her."

"Well, I never made any secret of that Ma'am, not to you at any rate."

"Mmm…kept it well hidden after her husband was sentenced though."

"It wasn't going on at that stage."

"No, of course not." Kim smiled. "Well, I hope you'll both be very happy together. I'm pleased to hear that she made Sergeant too. Well deserved."

"Thank you, Ma'am, I'll be sure to pass your congratulations to her on both fronts."

"Yes, please do." She turned back to him. "Shame she had to transfer to Barton Street though."

"Yes, well…a necessary evil as it turns out."

"Mmm…I hope this won't affect your future prospects, Frank. I'd hate to see you go the same way as Gordon Wray, especially given the pains you went to to protest that you weren't alike in any way."

Before he could reply, she swept away down the corridor towards the conference room, and he found himself seething at her words. She was a Superintendent now, a mover and shaker if everything was to be believed. If there was anyone best placed to wreck whatever future prospects he had in the job, it was her.

XXXX

"The shit's hit the fan."

"What shit?"

"Reid's here. Some little tart's only gone and accused George Garfield of indecently assaulting her."

"George? Really?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction and all. I mean, he's the last person you would say would be capable of something like that."

"So, what's Reid doing there?"

"Well, she's in charge of Complaints now, isn't she? MS15's poster girl. Oh, she sends you her congratulations by the way."

"For what, making Sergeant?"

"For that and for marrying me which, of course, is the greater achievement."

She smiled down the phone. "Of course."

"Anyway, how are things going for you over there?"

"Could be worse," she replied, glancing around the room. John and Anthony had long since disappeared, Morag was down in custody and the only company she currently had was Sally. "Everyone seems nice enough."

"Well watch Ferguson; he can be too nice."

"Yeah, I know."

"He's not tried anything, has he?"

"No."

"Good. If he lays one finger on you…"

"He won't. Anyway, I'd better go. I've still got a lot to get through today and I'm supposed to be meeting the Chief Super after lunch, not to mention Cato."

"That bald headed bastard. He makes Conway look like a fluffy bunny."

She laughed, causing Sally to look up from her desk. "I'd better go. I'll see you tonight." Replacing the receiver, she turned back to the papers, only to become suddenly aware of the other woman rising from her desk and coming over towards her.

"Your husband?" Sally asked, perching on a desk opposite.

"Oh, yes."

"Checking up on you?"

"Just seeing if I'd settled in."

"Must be nice, having someone care about you like that."

"I suppose it is."

"I've met him once, your husband. Not a bad looking bloke. Fancies himself a bit though."

"I think that's typical of a lot of men in his position," she replied neutrally.

"Mmm…he tried it on with me, but then I hear he's tried it on with most women, so I don't consider myself special in any way." Sally smiled as she looked at her. "But they must have struck something within you."

"What must have?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

"His advances. I mean, Frank Burnside's not without a reputation. Most women know to steer well clear, but you…" she cocked her head on one side. "You clearly couldn't resist. And a married woman at that to boot!" she tutted.

"My personal life isn't really any of your business, is it?" she replied coolly.

"See, I think it is," Sally replied. "Especially when I'm getting side-lined to make way for you."

"What?"

"I've been here for three years and, as of next week, my next stop is Stafford Row."

She blinked, "Well, I don't see how that's got anything to do…"

"Don't you? I'm only being moved because you've been transferred here to take my spot," Sally's tone was icy. "I've worked hard to get where I am. You know how difficult it is for women in the Met, and the colour of my skin hasn't always helped me either. So, you'll forgive me for being a little put out that I'm having to bear the brunt of the actions of a slag like you, someone who couldn't keep her legs closed around her boss."

She got to her feet at the same time as Sally, and they stood facing each other like opponents about to take on each other in the ring. "I'm not a slag."

"Aren't you? You climb into bed with him, then get promoted to Sergeant. I'm guessing you only married him to try and legitimise yourself towards Inspector."

"Now you listen to me…!"

"No, you listen!" Sally stepped forwards. "I might only have a short time left here but mark my words I'm going to make it as hard as I can for you. You might have been able to coast by at Sun Hill because of your length of service and all the mates you have there, but here at Barton Street, everyone just knows you as the slag who slept with her boss, and not a very discerning boss at that. I'm sure it must be heartening to know that you've set female advancement in the job back by about thirty years." She looked at her contemptuously. "I hope he's worth it."

Before she could even formulate a reply, Sally turned and swept away out of the office, almost knocking John over in the process.

"Woman on a mission," he quipped, heading for his desk.

She stood rooted to the spot, Sally's venomous words threatening to envelop her. The worst part of it was that it was likely true. Everyone no doubt did consider her a slag because of her relationship with Frank and she found herself torn between anger at how he was being depicted and despair at the slurs tossed at herself.

"You all right?" John asked.

"Fine," she replied, sitting back down at her desk.

"Sally been giving you a hard time?" he nodded. "She's not too keen about being moved on to Stafford Row. The DI's looking for promotion in the next year or so, and I reckon she thought she was tipped for the job."

"Being transferred doesn't mean she wouldn't still get it," she heard herself say.

"No, but there's other politics at play."

"Oh?"

"Not that it's any of my business," he replied, turning back to his own work.

She opened her mouth to ask him to elaborate and then closed it again. It was only day one after all, and something told her that there was more to come. A lot more.