Thanks, Jess for your continued reviews and support! It won't be much longer before you find out more about the backstory with Kit and meet the mysterious Kirsty. For now though, welcome to chapter 5

Andrea ran the straighteners through her lengths, and looked in the mirror at her shiny hair. Kit used to love her curls, so she was making herself as little like her younger self as she could. Good thing she didn't still own any of the crop tops, checked shirts or flared jeans. Instead, she pulled on a soft, worn, cotton tracksuit. After all, it was only the pub they were going to, not the Ritz. She hadn't spoken to Smithy since he'd walked out on her the previous night, and though she'd wanted to call him, go to his house, blurt out everything, she didn't. Kit knew where she lived, she had no way of knowing if he was watching her at any given moment. What if he took anything Smithy said to her out of context and decided he needed to be acquainted with a metal pole too? She'd keep him and everyone else at Sun Hill out of it; well out of it, at least until she had unquestionable proof. At least then, everyone would be safe.

The raid at the Cole Lane would be going ahead later that night, and Smithy was looking forward to it. Maybe finally getting to nick some of those drug dealing scumbags would release some of his pent up frustration. He glanced down at the minutes again, then pushed it away, sighing. He couldn't understand it. Even if it had been a year of deception, Andrea had been one of them, and she'd been a good one. She'd, as she'd rightly said, taken the job seriously; never slacked off, never given him so much as a roll of an eyes when he'd asked her to do something, and had always had a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. He could never imagine her sitting on the knowledge of who had the evil in them to beat a man half to death; and it looked as if that was the way it was heading for Bruce Malcolm. From what he could gather, numerous scans had to be completed before the hospital could determine that nothing could be done and one had already proven grim. She'd been to see the man, she'd seen what damage had been done to him. Did that not stir a conscience in her in the slightest? Maybe, for all that time, she'd just been showing him the side of her she wanted him to see. Maybe last night had been the real Andrea.

He had trouble believing that though, many times they'd drunk together; in a group with the others and more recently, just the two of them together. He'd always known her to be a cheery drunk, not surly and rude, but in all fairness, things hadn't been all that ordinary lately. He thought then about her flinch when he'd gone to catch her arm and he chewed his lip. He'd never given her any reason to think he'd hurt her, had he? He had a hot temper, and would be the first to admit that, but had never physically hurt anyone, and certainly not a girl. She knew that. Scowling, he put his focus back on his work. Or, maybe Gina was just right about her, and she was a manipulative little cow, just out for herself. Maybe he hadn't known her at all, and he, as Gina had rightly said, was just a pathetic sucker for a pretty face. Not that she'd said the 'pathetic' part, but he had a sneaky feeling she meant it. Well he'd meant what he said; if he found out she was deliberately holding back information from him, he'd personally see to it that she was charged with perverting the course of justice. Now, the raid, and then after, some celebration drinks or drowning sorrows at the Seven Bells, depending on how it went.

Andrea got to the Seven Bells a little after five. It was roasting in there, as usual, but she still felt as chilled as she would if she was dropped into the North Pole. Was he here yet? She cast her eyes around at the people playing pool, gambling on the fruit machines, and gathered in groups, talking too loudly than any would really need, even in a pub. Then, a lone figure caught her eye, leaning on the bar, looking down at their phone. She was thrown right back to 1995 and all the sounds around her became muted. The figure picked up their glass and straightened to finish it, catching sight of her. Yes, it was Kit, but he looked a different man from the one who'd caught her off guard in her room. He was clean shaven and his hair neatened. The long black coat and dark trousers made him look like any other hardworking citizen, having a wall deserved drink after a long day. Kit put down his empty glass and started towards her. Making herself move, Andrea met him halfway.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said and swooped down to kiss her cheek. He drew back, inhaling deeply, making her squirm internally. "You smell great. And you look fantastic. I like your hair like that."

Maybe she should have shaved her head and come in a potato sack. Andrea's palms began to sweat and she resisted the urge to wipe them, smiling awkwardly.

"Thanks. You look different. Smarter."

"Yeah," he said. "The backpacker look is so passé. Thanks for coming,"

"Sorry I'm a bit late."

"That's okay," he said. "See, this is just the beginning."

Beginning of what? She nearly asked, but didn't think she wanted to know the answer. She had to play this calmly, by ear, if she had any chance of proving his was responsible for what happened to Bruce.

"Come on," he said. "It's really noisy in here, don't you think? Let's find somewhere cosy outside."

Only he could make something so innocuous sound so threatening. She wanted to stay inside, in sight of other people, but followed him to the garden, where he led her to a bench table, watching as she sat down.

"What'll you have?" he said. "Surely not still alcopops?"

His tone was jocular, but there was a sneering look on his face. Andrea gave him a smile.

"Scotch, please, just with ice."

"Coming right up."

He walked back inside and she watched him go. Did she really just trust him to get her a drink from the bar without watching his every move? Who knew what the hell he could slip into it when she wasn't looking? She should have told someone she was coming here, even if it was just to watch her at a distance. Sam, Smithy, even Inspector Gold. She fought the urge to run away and sat, hands jammed under her thighs to hide the trembling until Kit came back. He put the glass in front of her, and settled opposite her, his own pint in his hand. She made herself smile.

"I'm sorry about the other night, Kit. You just really caught me off guard. It's good to see you again. I mean that."

"I bet you do," he said "Ten whole years of thinking you killed someone. It must be enough to send anyone crazy."

He stared at her then, and she fought the urge to look away; how had she never seen the emptiness in his eyes? Unwillingly, she took a drink from her glass.

"You spoke to Kirsty, told her I'm back?"

"No. We don't speak anymore, I told you that."

"Wow," he said. "The way the two of you were joined at the hip, she must have done something really bad, if you won't even speak to her to tell her she's not a killer."

Andrea had a strong suspicion her former best friend knew full well she wasn't a killer, but until Kit showed his hand, she was keeping hers under the table.

"It was self-defence, remember?" she said. "If she hadn't hit you…"

"Yeah, okay," he said, something of anger crossing his face. "Let's not go over it again."

"No," she said. "And you can leave Kirsty to me. When I tell her, we can all move on, can't we? You've obviously done well. "

"No chance of us getting together again?"

Andrea sincerely hoped the horror hadn't shown on her face as it set her entire posture on edge.

"I don't think that's going to happen. Do you?"

"Worth a try," he said, looking down at his half empty glass as if he were a sullen schoolboy.

"So…that's it, then? Unless there was anything else?"

"You can't wait to get rid of me, can you?"

She heeded the quiet resentment in his tone but couldn't hide her look of disbelief. He hadn't surely thought he'd waltz back into her life and they'd just pick up where they left off?

"Do you blame me?"

"Maybe it was a longshot," he said, breaking eye contact. "I just had this fantasy. That you'd still be waiting, with our child."

This was a bad idea, this man was all kinds of deluded and no matter what proof she did or didn't have, the police of Sun Hill needed to know her suspicions.

"I'm sorry, Kit."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Well, take care. And have a nice life, yeah?"

"Yeah. You too."

She left her barely touched glass where it sat and got up, resisting the urge to run to the safety of the pub, to more people.

"Just one more thing."

She stopped in dismay and turned back to Kit. He drained the last of his pint and got up, walking to her.

"What about what I'm owed? What about what's mine?"

"Kit, I…

"Kit," he said, the mimic coming out in a hiss.

He was in front of her then, and one hand snaked around the back of her neck. It was a tender move once, but his fingers dug into her skin.

"You and I have unfinished business."

The raid had been a success and five of the more troublemaking gang members had been arrested, caught, as they said, red handed. At least that gave him and the others some sense of euphoria, some sense that the job whey did was still worth doing. Smithy reached the bar, placing his hands on the bar.

"What's everyone having, then?"

Various requests were called from behind, which he relayed to the bartender, ordering a pint for himself.

"And a very large vodka and tonic, thank you very much, Sergeant," Gina said, coming to his side, lit cigarette in hand.

"Coming right up," he said, and called the order over to the bartender who waved his understanding. He turned to say something else to her, and the words died on his lips as Andrea walked into his sight from the beer garden, and immediately, the expression on her face bothered him. Gina turned to see what he was looking at and turned back to her, rolling her eyes.

"Leave it, Smithy, for God's sake. She's caused you enough trouble."

He went to reply, when he saw Andrea turn back as if someone had called her and a second later, a man walked into sight. He immediately didn't like the look of him. He reminded him of a snake and the vibes he got from him even from all the way over there were dangerous. When the stranger cupped a hand around her neck, he wondered if he might be wrong, but had no time to let the jealousy fully wash over him before he grabbed her arm with his other hand, yanking her towards him sharply. There was no mistaking the fear in her face. He pushed some money across the bar and started for the rear doors, just as furious as he had been when he'd watched the CCTV of her and Malcolm.

"Leave it! Let her handle it herself!" Gina hissed, then turned to look herself, lowering her cigarette when she saw the man bend to snarl something in her face as she tried to break free.

"No chance," Smithy said, walking to the doors, getting to them just in time to hear Andrea's voice.

"…what do you want from me, I don't have a time machine!"

"Hey!" Smithy said, storming towards them, startling the stranger enough for him to loosen his hold. "Get your hands off her!"

He got between them, shoving the man back and up close, he hated him even more. There was something in his eyes – or maybe there wasn't. Maybe there wasn't anything in him at all.

"Smithy, don't…." Andrea said, but he, without looking, pushed her behind him, shielding her with his own body.

"You like knocking girls about, do you?" he said, stepping right close to him, staring right into his empty eyes. "Wouldn't try me for size, would you?"

A nasty smile spread across the man's face and it even unnerved Smithy. He leant around him to make eye contact with Andrea.

"I'll see you around."

He left, walking through the back gate across the car park, lighting a cigarette as he walked. Smithy glared after him.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Smithy looked at Andrea in disbelief. "Well, a simple 'thanks Smithy' would do! Who the hell was that?"

"You remember those threats you were telling me about?"

"Surprised, are you?" he said, but noticed she was unable to look him in the eye. "Look, want me to go after him?"

"No!"

He was surprised by the force of her tone and stepped backwards.

"Just leave it. Please."

She glanced around, her eyes searching the car park, looking for any sign that Kit might be lingering.

"Want me to take you home?"

"No. Thanks. See you around." She'd walked only a few paces before she stopped and turned to him, anxiety all over her pale face. "Smithy. Please be careful."

She left then and he watched her go, his eyes staying on her until she was out of sight. Maybe he should go anyway, make sure she got some safely. He started forwards.

"Smithy," Gina said, stepping outside. "You heard her. Just let her go."

"He's twice her size," he said. "You saw."

"Yes. I saw," she said calmly. "He went the other way, Smithy, I watched him go. She'd be stupid not to expect from backlash after what's been in the papers. Come on, come and have your drink."

Her voice commanded no arguments. He followed her in and sat with his colleagues, joining in the occasional joke and laugh, but the unease of the stranger staying with him all night.

Andrea was still shaking when she got home and made sure to lock her door and secure the chain. She could still feel Kit's fingers on the back of her neck, and the pain as they tightened like a vice. She banged her head against the door in frustration. Why did Smithy have to jump in like that? Well, she knew why, because he'd never stand for anyone being knocked around, much less a woman, but he should have left it alone. Now Kit knew about him. Again, the thought of Smithy in Bruce's place filled her and she put a hand to her mouth. She dialled Kit's number from her home phone again, and it went straight to voicemail. She left a hissed message.

"Kit. Please. Leave him alone. This is between you and me. Nobody else needs to get hurt."

She replaced the phone, knowing she wouldn't get an answer to her message. It would be just Kit's style, to leave her on tenterhooks, second-guessing his behaviour. She should have gone straight to Sun Hill, told Sam everything. It would have to be done. Before Kit decided anyone else 'annoyed' him. She saw the smile on his face when Smithy had confronted him, had seen it on his face before. It wasn't one that meant anything good. She picked up the phone again and dialled Sam's desk number. She still remembered the extensions for them; doubted she'd ever forget them. Sam's phone went to voicemail and she closed her eyes, frustrated, but left a message anyway. If anything, she knew she'd be in touch as soon as she could.

"DS Nixon, its Andrea." She swallowed hard, and nearly slammed the phone down then, but carried on. "I need to speak to you about Bruce. Could you call me, please, as soon as you get this?"

She put the phone down and jumped as she heard a crash from her back garden. She ventured closer with bated breath and unlocked the door, stepping outside.

"Kit?"

She heard the fear in her own voice and picked up one of the pieces of wood, lying against the wall, and went closer to the source of the noise.

"Kit? Is that you?"

She heard the sound again, and screamed, muffling it with her own hand. The back gate was swinging ominously open in the wind, creaking back and forth. She ran to it, and locked it, securing the deadbolt. She never left it open, never. She'd been a police officer, for God's sake, no matter how everyone else looked on it now, it was real to her. She knew not to leave doors and windows unlocked, and apart from that one mishap the night Kit had gotten into her house, she hadn't repeated the mistake again. it was easy enough to open the gate by simply reaching over the gate and sliding the lock. She'd get a padlock, first thing tomorrow; turn this house into a fortress if that's what it took to keep Kit out. The neighbour's garden door opened, spilling lights onto their back gardens, and poked his head out, brow furrowed.

"Did you scream? Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm sorry. I thought I heard someone out here, but…" she gestured helplessly. "It was just the gate. The noise startled me."

"You'll want to get a lock on that, you know. Anyone could walk in without one."

He was about seventy, so she knew he hadn't meant it as a threat, but the words still chilled her.

"Yeah. I will. Sorry to disturb you. Have a nice night."

"And you."

He withdrew his head, closed and locked his door. She put a hand on her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. When had he done it? Before she'd met him? Swung by after, just to mess with her? Or had it not been him at all, just a chancer who'd left when they failed to get in. From there, she heard her phone ringing and went back in to answer it.

"Sam?" she said breathlessly.

"Who's Sam?"

"Oh. Mum," she said, and held the phone between her shoulder and face as she locked the garden door. "Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"A man?"

She heard the hopeful tone in her mum's voice and forced patience into her voice. Her parents were desperate for a grandchild to spoil rotten, but she didn't want to hear it right now.

"No, mum, Sam is Samantha. She's an officer from Sun Hill."

"Oh," said her mum, now worried. "You're not still in trouble, are you?"

"Yes, but it wasn't about that," Andrea said and sat at the table. "Bruce, you know the editor from the papers? He was attacked a few days ago. It's bad."

"They don't think you did it?" her mum said, and Andrea heard the fury in her tone; that anyone would dare think her capable. She was still the mama bear she'd been when she was a child.

"No, they just need to talk to everyone in his life, especially someone he might have argued with recently. That'll be me."

"Darling," her mum said, "please come home. Even if it's for a few weeks. Get some headspace."

"I will, mum, just not right now. If I leave in the middle of an investigation, it might look like I have something to hide."

Tell your mum. Tell her about Kit. Tell her everything.

Her own voice was screaming at her, and she wanted to, she really did, but she swallowed it back. Telling her parents everything would mean telling them why Kit was back, which would mean telling them about the abortion. Her parents, who'd been desperate for grandchildren, and had been so hopeful when she got with Marc, her ex, that they'd finally get them. Well, Kirsty had put paid to that. Telling her parents she'd aborted their grandchild, and kept it silent for a decade, she wasn't sure they'd forgive her for it, even though she couldn't have imagined them being thrilled with her being pregnant at eighteen.

"Andrea?"

"Sorry. I'm still here."

"Dad and I could come to you."

"No!"

Her shout seemed to echo the room. Her mum went quiet down the line; Andrea knew she'd shocked her, but she couldn't have anyone else in the path of the wrath of Kit.

"Mum? I'm sorry. I will come home to you and dad. I promise. Just not now."

"Something else is going on, isn't it?"

Her mum was no fool. And whoever else she might have lied to recently, she couldn't keep doing it to her mother.

"Yes. I can't explain yet, but when I can, I will. I promise."

"Are you in danger?"

"No, it's just…people haven't been happy about…about me being undercover, mum. I don't mean the police, I mean other people. The public. Apparently the news office was getting threats. They think the attack on Bruce might have been related."

She heard her mum's intake of breath.

"Dear God," she said. "The poor man. Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Be careful, darling. You know your dad and I love you very much."

"Yeah. I love you too. Night mum."

"Night, darling."

Andrea hung up and slid down the wall, burning tears running down her face, sickened at the thought of Kit taking a metal bar and brutalising anyone the way he had done to Bruce. But what proof did she have? It wasn't like he'd actually admitted it, and as he'd said to her, he wanted what was his. How was she supposed to give him that? She'd made her peace with having the abortion, but still, to some degree, regretted it. Kit wouldn't car about that, though. He'd only care that she did it, and he was going to make her suffer for it.

Sam hurried into CID, harried, as always, maybe today more so than usual. She'd been up most of the early morning, supporting Abigail, who was suffering from horrible morning sickness. She was exhausted, due in court in less than two hours, and very low on patience. Terry Perkins looked up from his desk, nodded a good morning and went back to whatever he was doing. Sam dumped the casefile on her desk and her eye was caught by the flashing of the voicemail icon on her desktop phone. She pressed the button to play it, opening the file to read it again, even though she'd memorised it.

"DS Nixon, its Andrea." There was a long pause, and Sam thought for a moment she'd hung up or been cut, off, then she heard her voice again. "I need to speak to you about Bruce. Could you call me, please, as soon as you get this?"

Sam huffed out a breath of annoyance. She'd known it. She'd known she'd knew more than she was letting on. She looked at her watch. She didn't have time for this, now. She had a trial to testify in, and an arrogant gang leader to send down, and she'd do it and wipe the smile from his ugly face. Then she'd go and see Andrea, get whatever the hell it was she knew out of her, and if she stalled on her again, she'd be arresting her for perverting the course of justice.

The Cole Lane estate was all quiet and calm, but Smithy had a feeling it wouldn't stay like that for long. They might have arrested some of the more troublemaking residents yesterday, but there was always someone ready to step in and take their place. Okaro and Gina wanted a police presence, though, to 'reassure the public.' Smithy wasn't sure that anyone could ever live on the Cole Lane estate and feel reassured. Or maybe that was just his own perceptive. As he passed the basketball court, he felt a pickle of unease, the hair on his neck rising. He stopped and turned sharply, looking around with narrowed eyes. Police weren't a welcome presence on the estate by most, even if they got rid of the scum terrorising them. Some of the residents thought they were 'bad for business.' He couldn't see anyone around, other than harried looking mums on the school run, but they were surrounded by high rise flats. Anyone could be watching them.

"Serge?" Yvonne said questioningly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," he said and walked the few paces to catch up with her.

"She's not your responsibility, you know."

"What?"

"Andrea. She's not your responsibility. She must have known she'd be found out, no matter how it might have happened. She can't not expect any repercussions."

"Like getting her head caved in, PC Hemmingway?"

His tone was sharp and she fell silent, something of resentment in her face. She'd been Acting Sergeant a number of times, then sent straight back to uniform when he or June were back for duty, and he thought she sometimes forgot she was back to PC. The uncomfortable silence was covered then by the crackle of their radios.

"All units from Sierra Oscar, reports of a disturbance at Flat 57, Twyford House, Cole Lane estate, can anyone deal?"

"We're near," Smithy said and pulled his radio to his mouth. "54, we can attend, ETA two minutes."

Yvonne was grateful for the timing of the call, kicking herself for putting her foot in it. She needed to learn to keep it to herself, sometimes. As the two approached the doors to the block of Twyford House, they heard running footsteps and a cry.

"Officers!"

A woman stood before them, hair all over her red, sweaty face and denim jacket hanging from one shoulder.

"Please. I think someone's broken into my flat. I can't go in there alone."

They had a shout, so they couldn't ignore it. Smithy nodded at Yvonne.

"You deal here. I'll go with this lady. If you need backup, call it in."

"Serge," she said and pressed the button for flat 54, disappearing into the high rise building.

Smithy followed the woman towards the lower rise flats. She kept pulling the denim jacket back onto her shoulder as she hurried, but it didn't seem to want to stay up. She led him to the stairwell and up three flights.

"You had trouble like this before, madam?"

She shot him a look as she went up a fourth flight.

"Can anyone live here and say they haven't?"

"Fair enough," he said. "What number?"

She stopped on the landing and pointed.

"41. Second to last at the end."

"All right. Wait here."

He walked to the flat she'd directed, pulling out his baton and extending it as he walked. Before he went in, he looked back and saw her pinched face still watching him. His neck prickled again, but he reached the door of number 41, which was ajar and called into the property.

"Police! Anyone there?"

There was no reply. He pushed the door open fully and ventured into the flat, holding his baton high. The kitchen was clear, as was the main bedroom and the bathroom. He walked towards the sitting room and pushed the door open. It was a small room with an old-looking television set and worn sofa. He took a step further into the room. The blow, when it came, was unexpected and hard. He yelled and crashed to his knees, involuntarily dropping his baton. A second blow hit his shoulder. Smithy pulled his radio to his neck, pressing the panic button.

"54, assistance required! Kingfisher House…."

He didn't get to complete the message. Hands grabbed the radio, wrenching it from him, and throwing it where it landed by a pair of feet. As the blows, rained down on him, he watched as the feet stamped on the radio, bits of plastic flying everywhere. As his eyes travelled up the legs, the torso, another blow made contact with his head, but through his swimming eyes, he saw the smirking face of the stranger he'd hated on sight.

Two of the area cars screeched to a halt outside Kingfisher House as Yvonne came running towards it. She huffed, angrily. The couple at Twyford House hadn't wanted police assistance, thank you very much, and had told her in no uncertain terms to go fourth and multiply, just not in the biblical sense. The doors flew open, and Tony, Gina, Gabriel and Sheelagh got out, rushing to meet her.

"What happened?" Gina demanded of her. "Why didn't you stick together?"

"There was a woman," she said. "Came to us as we got to Twyford, telling us her flat had been broken into. Smithy told me to stay there and deal, he went with her."

"Details?" the Inspector demanded. "Floor? Flat number?"

Yvonne shook her head helplessly. "I don't know. Sorry Ma'am!"

The five looked up a slamming nose and running footsteps. They made out the silhouettes of three people running along the balcony of the fourth floor.

"Tony, Gabriel, get after them!" Gina commanded. "Sheelagh, Yvonne, with me!"

Nobody dared to question her, not even Gabriel. He and Tony ran where they were sure they would head the figures off, and Gina led the way up four flights of stairs, and to the door she's looked up in time to see the last figure run out of. The three extended their batons in unison as they walked through the door.

"Police!" Gina shouted. "Smithy! Are you here?"

She was greeted by a pained groan and ran towards the source of the noise, burst into the sitting room and stopped dead in horror at the sight of Smithy, her golden boy, as good as her own son, lying on the floor, bloody and beaten.

"Get an ambulance!" she shouted to neither of the women in particular and knelt by his side, hearing Sheelagh relay the message.

"….urgent assistance, officer injured, ambulance required. 759 and 416 in pursuit of suspects, around three males, dark clothing, last seen leaving the area on foot."

"Ma'am," Gina said and pointed to Smithy's baton, lying on the floor, stained with blood.

"Make sure CID get here," she said. "And the CSE. Get the pope, get the queen, get help, Yvonne! Now!"

"I'll go and wait for the ambulance, show them where to come," she said and rushed from the flat.

"Smithy?" Gina said, a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Stay with me. You're going to be okay."

He groaned and took a deep breath, pain shooting through his ribs. He opened his eyes, and looked into Gina's face, then over at the balcony. Though he was now gone, he could still see the stranger watching coolly as he was beaten. He thought of Andrea and was filled with terror. He reached up and grabbed Gina's arm, leaving the imprint of his bloody hand.

"Andrea," he said and coughed, the effort of speaking was even painful.

"For God's sake Smithy, now is not the time to be worrying…"

"Listen!" he said fiercely, raising his head. "That bloke."

"What bloke?"

"The one who was pushing her around yesterday. He was here. He was watching. Destroyed me radio."

He gestured in the general direction, and she looked over to see his damaged radio set on the floor.

"Gina!" he said. "Find her. Please. Make sure she's okay. Please!"

"All right. Okay," she said and turned her attention to Sheelagh. "When the ambulance gets here, you take Yvonne, you find Andrea, and you bring her to Sun Hill. For her own safety, partly, but mostly so she tells us what the hell is going on!"