The first nausea had hit right after lunch, when she had been trying to meticulously plan her approach towards Harry. Part of her wanted to do it right away, but another part of her felt as though it would be too obvious, too odd to jump right in and contact him after such a brief meeting the night before. The last thing she wanted to do was blow the whole thing, especially when Kim had put such trust in her to get it right. Despite being handpicked for the role, despite the time she had already been there, she still felt as though she was on some sort of probation, as though Kim was still sizing her up to see if she had that 'independence of thought' that the other woman had often lauded that she needed.

It seemed to make sense to wait at least another day before trying to contact Harry and she needed to find a way to make any approach convincing. She had run a number of scenarios past David, and he had brought up advantages and pitfalls for each one, thoughts that hadn't even really occurred to her before he had said them. He was a good bloke, David. A solid family man who enjoyed his job but didn't let it define him. And he was quite pleasant to look at, which always helped. Although he had asked her questions about her past before joining MS15 and her current family life, he had never given any indication that he knew who she was, what had happened or who she had been married to and for that, she was grateful.

Being hunched over the toilet bowl the first time had, somewhat bizarrely, thrilled her. If it was morning sickness, and not simply the result of something she'd eaten, then it made the whole thing that much more real. The second test she had taken that morning, however, appeared to confirm it.

She was pregnant.

She was going to have a baby.

Frank's baby.

By the second time, however, the thought of it continuing ad infinitum grew less appealing. Particularly if, as had happened so far, the onset had been quick, and it had been a challenge to even make it to the bathroom in time. It also meant she would likely have to tell Kim sooner than she might have liked and though, a few years earlier, she had promised Frank that if she ever found out she was pregnant she would tell whoever was in charge of her, and not carry on as she had on that day in 1989, part of her still felt hesitant.

She was sat on the toilet seat, taking deep breaths and hoping that the particular bout had passed, when she heard the main toilet door open and two female voices float in. She held her breath, hoping that she wouldn't vomit again in the hearing of whoever it was who had entered, but if they were aware that her cubicle was occupied, they gave no sign of being concerned.

"It's just awful, isn't it?" one of them said. "I mean, you go out on a job and you fully expect to come home at night."

"Yeah, and to just be shot dead like that. I mean, not even a second to think about it or to have any last words…"

"Well, maybe it's better that way. Not knowing anything about it."

The sound of running water momentarily muffled the conversation.

"Imagine having to deliver that news to the family, though. I mean, it's the last thing you'd want to hear, isn't it?"

"God yeah. Have you heard any more details?"

"Nope. Just that it was something to do with an armed blag and that it was a CID officer from Sun Hill."

She froze.

"Sun Hill? They don't have much luck at that nick, do they?"

"No. I bet Reid'll be glad she's not in charge there anymore. The place is probably going like a fair."

"Isn't that new DS in her department from Sun Hill?"

"Oh yeah, I think so." The toilet door opened again. "Wonder if she knows who it is…"

The toilet door clicked closed, the silence around her deafening.

A Sun Hill CID officer…shot dead…an armed blag…

"Oh my God…" she whispered, her breath staccato, "Oh my God…Frank…"

It took three attempts to unlock the cubicle door with her trembling fingers, and when she stumbled out, she caught sight of her face in the mirror, her skin a deathly shade of pale. A faint buzzing noise started in her ears and the room began to close in on her, darkness creeping at the corners of her vision. Grabbing onto the nearest sink, she took a deep breath, trying to bring herself under some sort of control, willing herself not to faint.

"It can't be…it can't be…" she screwed her eyes shut. "It can't be…please…"

"You all right?" She hadn't noticed the toilet door opening again, but the voice came from her right hand side, and she swung her gaze to see who it belonged to, recognising DC Alison Bates from her own department. "Sarge, you look terrible!"

"I'm…I'm fine…" she let go of the sink and stumbled past her to the door, stepping out into the corridor and looking wildly left and right to see if she could identify who might have been in the room with her mere minutes earlier, who might know the information she needed. But the corridor was empty and all she could do was pick her way back towards the office, one hand on the wall for support.

As she reached the door, it opened and David appeared, his expression growing alarmed when he saw her. "What's wrong?" he surged forward to meet her, putting one hand on her arm. "What is it? What's happened?"

"Do you know…do you know anything about the blag?" her words sounded alien to her own ears. "I just heard…someone's been shot dead. A Sun Hill CID officer's been shot dead…"

"No, I…" he broke off, realisation suddenly dawning. "Come on, come in and sit down."

She allowed him to propel her back into the office and over to her desk, could hear him asking Alison, who had clearly followed them, to get her some water and, once seated, he crouched in front of her. "There were people talking in the toilets," she forced the words out. "A Sun Hill CID officer's been shot dead… Frank…"

"Ok," he passed her a cup of water. "Ok, let's see what we can find out. Alison, where's the Chief Super?"

"I don't know. I think she said earlier she was going to Area."

"Have you heard anything about this?"

"No, but I can try and find out."

"Ok, go and see if anyone knows anything." He turned back to her. "Just take deep breaths, ok?"

She nodded, doing as he suggested, and slowly feeling some sort of normality return to her body. The darkness receded, the buzzing grew more faint and her vision started to clear. Somewhat in charge of her faculties again, she turned and grabbed the phone on her desk, punching in Frank's number. To his credit, David didn't say anything, didn't try to dissuade her or take the task from her. Instead, he rose to lean against the desk, watching from a careful distance.

"Come on…" she said as the phone rang out. "Come on, someone answer…"

It was ridiculous, she quickly realised, to think that, if what people were saying was true, he would simply be sat in his office. He would be out on scene, doing something.

If he was able.

Pressing her finger onto the button, she redialled other numbers in CID, the digits forever committed to memory, hoping that someone might be able to tell her something, but no one picked up. Then she tried the main Sun Hill switchboard, but it was clearly jammed with other calls as the engaged tone buzzed in her ear.

"What was going on today?" David asked, as she replaced the receiver.

"They were expecting an armed blag on a building society. Frank was leading the team…he was keyed up about it…" She broke off as a sudden shiver ran through her and she reached for the cup of water again. Then decisiveness struck her. "I should go there."

"I don't think that's a very good idea. Christina…" he stepped in front of her, and she realised, without even processing the action, that she had risen to her feet. "If something has happened, then the last thing they're going to want is a bunch of people descending on them and getting in the way."

His words were rational, but this was an irrational situation. "He's my husband, David. He might…he might need me…"

Or he might not.

"I know, but if he's lost one of his officers, he's going to be up to his neck dealing with that, isn't he? As much as I'm sure he'd want to see you, he's not going to need any distractions. Besides, you're in no fit state to go anywhere. Sit back down." His words were said kindly, but there was also an air of authority to them that, despite everything, she could admire. He seemed strong…dependable.

Like Frank.

She felt her bottom hit the seat again and took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant." The words were out before she had a chance to stop them. She wasn't sure why she was even telling him. Was it because it highlighted just how additionally awful the whole situation was, as if it needed to be, or was it because, in that moment, she just needed someone else to know her precious secret? "At least, I think I am. The tests were positive and I've been sick today…"

David's eyebrows shot up and she watched him mentally process the news for a moment, before crouching in front of her again and gently squeezing her knee. "That's amazing news, congratulations. Frank's going to be thrilled."

"Yeah…" she nodded, knowing that she had to share in his optimism in that moment. To think anything else was just too terrible. "I hope so."

The main office door suddenly opened, and Alison came charging back in and over towards her desk. Though the distance was mere feet, her motions appeared to happen in slow motion. She watched the other woman approach and couldn't help but think that whatever she was about to say, would change the course of her life forever.

"It's a woman," Alison said. "The CID officer who's been killed. It's a woman."

She heard the words, processed them and then looked back at David, who smiled gently at her and nodded. "He'll be thrilled."

The emotion came then, the sheer release of relief and she bent forward in her chair, head in her hands, sobbing.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't Frank.

He was all right.

He was alive.

He would be there to be a father to their child.

She didn't have to face whatever was about to come alone. He would come home to her that evening and she would tell him, and everything would be fine.

And yet, it wasn't. Couldn't be. For him being alive meant someone else wasn't.

A woman had been killed. A female Sun Hill CID officer had been shot dead, and though times had moved on, they hadn't changed that quickly, not at Sun Hill at least.

It could only be one person.

One woman.

Viv.

XXXX

"Frank…I appreciate it's been a terrible day all round."

"Yes sir."

"The incident room's been set up?"

"Yes sir," he replied, failing to add that there seemed little point. The perpetrators were dead, killed in the fiery crash. There was no case to build against anyone, no collar to be won. There would obviously be a coroner's inquest in due course but, as far as Sun Hill was concerned, there was something of a full stop on the day.

"You should get yourself home then," Brownlow said. "Get some rest."

"Yes sir, thank you." He knew the other man was right, knew he should go home, aware that news had probably filtered out to other stations by now. Christina most likely had heard, and he could only hope that she knew he hadn't been the one to take the fatal bullet. He assumed she had, as there had been no hysterical phone call or appearance. For that, he was somewhat glad. He wasn't sure he could handle her feelings on the subject at the moment, given that he wasn't entirely sure of his own.

"I'll say goodnight then."

Brownlow departed, leaving the office empty, the rest of the team long since decamped either home or to the pub. But he knew there was a job to do and, as boss, also knew he was the one who needed to do it.

When he opened the desk drawers, he was actually surprised by how tidy they were. Somehow, he'd imagined that he would find bits of paper crumpled up or other general female detritus, but Viv had actually kept her workstation fairly neat.

He was able to easily separate out what was work related from what was personal. Viv's family would want any items back that might hold some sentimental value and so he carefully placed shoes, a scarf, perfume, lipstick and some other knickknacks into the box he had found at the back of the room. It was hardly a fitting vessel for such items, precious as they would be to someone, but it was all that was to hand.

So focused was he on the task, he didn't hear Bob approach him at first until the other man was in the room, saying nothing but simply looking at him. What was there really anything to say in these types of situations? Meeting his gaze, he shrugged slightly. "Someone's got to do it."

Bob nodded in understanding. "You coming over to the pub?"

"To watch Carver get legless? No thanks." Jim's sourness hadn't dissipated in the time since their altercation in Grove Road. He knew what the other man was thinking, perhaps even thought it himself. His words had been hasty…ill-chosen.

The other man nodded again, respecting his feelings on the subject and clapped him briefly on the shoulder. "Tomorrow then."

"Yeah," he replied. Tomorrow was going to be a whole new day. Tomorrow would be when the questions would start to be asked about what happened. About why Viv had been where she had been. About why he had removed her from the original operation. He had told Jack the truth; there had been a point to be made about her lateness. But right now, he couldn't help but wish he'd made a different call.

The grim task finally completed, he retreated back to his office, opened his desk drawer and poured himself a small scotch from the bottle within. It would be so easy to just sit there and drink himself into some sort of oblivion, pretend the day hadn't happened, but he was savvy enough to realise that, ultimately, it wouldn't help.

A noise at the end of the corridor signalled that someone was approaching, and he braced himself for who it might be. Maybe Jim, oiled up with courage, had returned to have another go at him. Or perhaps it was someone to offer sympathy. He wasn't sure which he would have preferred in that moment.

There was a mix of emotions therefore when he looked up in time to see her come into the office.

Her gaze immediately fell on the box sat on Viv's desk and he watched as she peered inside, her face crumbling slightly at the contents, before she looked up and her eyes met his. A thousand emotions ran through him at that moment, the main one being relief.

Relief that it hadn't been her.

She moved across the room and into his office, saying nothing and hesitating, as though she wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to react. She was pale, her eyes red and he wished he could tell her it was all some big mistake. That her friend wasn't lying dead on a mortuary slab.

"I came as soon as I thought I should. I didn't want to get in the way or…" He shook his head, not really trusting himself to speak, gratified when she came around his desk and stood in front of him, allowing him to put his arms around her and press his face into her stomach, breathing in her familiar scent. She felt warm…whole…alive. For a while, they remained locked together, until she eventually pulled back, bent and kissed him gently. "I'm so sorry," she said, her voice cracking over the words.

"Yeah, well…"

"What…what happened? I've heard different stories and…"

"She was late."

"Late?"

"Late for work. She missed the briefing, and I pulled her off the job."

"Wait, so…" she moved back around his desk and sat down in one of the chairs opposite. "This wasn't the blag?"

"Yes and no. The blag was a washout. Wrong information, wrong location…" he shook his head. "She was shot in Grove Road by the people we were expecting to turn up in Haldane Street."

"But why was…?"

"I told her to stay here! She was supposed to be manning the fort but Viv, being Viv, felt she knew better! She decided to go out with Tony to track down some bag snatcher who, unhappily, happened to live right where these clowns pitched up…she told them to move their van and one of them shot her. Point blank range..." he broke off. "If she'd been at the briefing, she'd have recognised Tom Varney!"

"Who's…?"

"It doesn't matter…" he rubbed his hands over his face. "It doesn't matter now." And yet he knew it did. Knew it would very well matter in the coming days and weeks.

Silence hung heavy between them until she spoke again.

"I was in the toilet of all places when I heard. Two officers talking about how a Sun Hill CID officer had been shot dead. I…I thought it was you until…until someone found out it was a woman…found out it was Viv." Her face crumbled again. "Frank, for a moment, I thought…"

"I know."

"I didn't want it to be her, of course I didn't, I didn't want it to be anyone but…" she put her head in her hands, and he rose from his seat, rounded his desk and pulled her up into his arms, holding her tightly against him. After a moment, she pulled back, wiping her hands across her cheeks. "It's not fair. Why Viv?"

"It could have been anyone," he said, more for himself than for her. "I would have pulled anyone off the job for being late, including you." He swallowed hard. "Don't think I haven't thought that it could have been you lying dead there."

"Don't."

"It's true though. Part of the reason I wanted you back at Sun Hill was so that I could watch over you, protect you, and yet…I would have done exactly the same thing if it had been you." He shook his head. "I would have put you in front of that shooter."

"Frank, don't." She looked at him squarely. "We had this discussion when Pat was attacked. You're not responsible for every bad thing that happens in life to the people you care about. As for you and I…this is the job we chose to do and when we joined up, we knew there would be risks…"

He pulled away from her, unwilling to hear her rational argument. "No, it's different now. The slags are worse, the violence is worse and, when I joined up, there were no women in CID."

"Right, we were just on the beat, on the front line."

"You know what I mean. Back then, female officers didn't have to deal with half of what they have to deal with now. You did the domestics, the kids…you didn't face down armed blaggers the way you're expected to now."

"But that's just the way it is!"

"Well, it shouldn't be! My wife shouldn't have to…" he broke off again and let out a long breath, aware he was about to say something controversial, but still needing to say it. "I liked Viv, a lot, but don't think for one moment I'm not glad it was her and not you."

The words hung in the air for a long moment before she too sighed and sat slowly back down in the chair. "I remember you telling me a long time ago that one of the reasons your marriage to Julie didn't survive was because she didn't understand what it was like to be in the job. Didn't appreciate the shift work, the sights you had to see…I'm guessing the risks played a part in that too. How could she possibly conceive of what it was like to be involved in something like what went down today? I do understand. I understand all of it."

"Yeah, I also told you that most police marriages don't last. This wasn't the scenario I was thinking about when I said it, but maybe it should have been."

"So, what are you saying? We get divorced because you can't handle the thought of me putting myself in situations where I might get hurt? Or maybe you'd like me to quit the force."

"I'm not saying that. I just…" A thousand different memories came flooding back to him. "Rod Patterson's club, Johnno Smith's flat, Mickey Owens' beauty salon, the Patel house…"

"You couldn't have foreseen any of those things."

"…not to mention Spain and everything that happened with Stewart."

She stared at the ground for a long moment, before finally meeting his gaze again. "You need to let go of the past, Frank, professionally and personally. Otherwise, you'll go mad, torturing yourself with things that you would have done differently. We need to accept that we're both going to find ourselves in situations, in life and in the job, where one or both of us could end up hurt, or worse. As terrible as it is, we have to find a way of being able to live with that possibility."

She was something, his wife. Beautiful, wise, intelligent…sometimes he wondered what she really saw in him when at times he felt so inadequate as a husband. What did he really bring to the table as far as she was concerned? And she was right. He could ask her to quit and maybe she would even do it, but much like she had once said, a long time ago, that she didn't want him to resent her for feeling he had to leave the job, the feeling worked both ways.

"I love you," he said finally. "More than I think you'll ever really know."

She didn't argue with him, didn't try to make it a competition of affection, but merely smiled gently at him. "I love you too."

Rising to her feet, she crossed the room towards him and allowed him to envelop her in his arms again. It felt good holding her, knowing that his life with her continued, well aware that whoever might have gained comfort from holding Viv would never experience that again.

"I don't know if this is the right time to tell you this," she said, pulling back and looking up at him, her eyes darting across his face.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm pregnant."