He held open the restaurant door for her, before following her inside out of the rain that had started right as they had left the car. It had been ages since he'd been there, years perhaps in fact, but when he'd phoned to book a table, hoping they would have one at such short notice, Charlie had remembered him straight away. He came forwards to greet them, his hand outstretched.

"Frank, good to see you again."

"How are you, Charlie?"

"I'm well thanks and you?"

"Can't complain, or if I did nobody would listen."

Charlie laughed, his gaze roaming over Christina. "And who's this lovely creature then?"

"This is Christina Lewis. Chris, Charlie Morris, an old friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you," Christina said, and he watched her blush as Charlie kissed her hand. "Lovely little place you've got here."

"Perfect for those evenings when you want a bit of privacy," Charlie replied, winking at him. "I've saved you the table at the back, Frank. I assumed you'd want that one."

"You're spot on Charlie, good man." He pressed his hand into the small of her back as they followed their host through the tables to an intimate corner where they wouldn't be disturbed. Charlie pulled out the chair for her and then draped her napkin over her lap.

"You'll be wanting wine, I would imagine?"

"Of course. Bottle of your best white please, if you don't mind."

"Coming right up," Charlie grinned and then hurried away from the table.

"So," Christina leaned forwards, "how often do you come here then?"

"Not as often as I'd like," he replied. "Like I said, only the special ones get brought here and it's been a long time since I had one of them."

"Your ex-wife then?"

"At one time."

"And…?"

He leaned towards her, "Why are you so keen to know?"

She shrugged good-humouredly. "I've not had a very adventurous romantic life, so I need to live vicariously through others."

"You don't think you're having a very adventurous romantic life now then?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"You suppose so?"

"Well…" she played with the cutlery on the table in front of her. "An adventurous romantic life would suggest multiple dates and multiple intimate encounters with multiple men and that's certainly not what I'm doing, is it?"

"You're young, beautiful, separated…you could do whatever you wanted with whomever you wanted a million times over," he said, part of him still slightly disbelieving at what had happened between them.

She met his gaze and smiled, "I'm not going to do that though, am I? I'm here with you."

"Me today, another one tomorrow…"

"Don't do that," she reached across the table and took his hand. "Come on, you must know me by now."

"Yeah," he said, stroking her skin gently. "I know you. I know you've changed so much in these last few months. I suppose I don't want you to feel as though you're beholden to me in some way."

She frowned, "Beholden? I don't understand."

"You were with Stewart for so long, now you've walked away from him. The world, as they say, is your oyster. Just because I was the person who helped you make that change doesn't mean you owe me anything, not really."

"Is that why you think I'm with you, because of some misplaced sense of gratitude?"

"No, I just…" he thought back over Ted's words, particularly in relation to how much her life had flipped on its head since Christmas and perhaps how fast he was trying to push things on. "I want you to be sure, that's all."

"I am sure," she replied. "I wouldn't have spent all this time with you, shared so much with you and allowed you to share so much with me if I wasn't sure. I don't know, maybe I'm just not built for casual relationships."

"There's a lot to be said for them, but there's a lot to be said for this too."

"And which do you prefer?"

"Well, there's no contest, is there? I'd pick you every time, over anyone else." He paused. "I love you."

"I love you too." The moment was broken by Charlie returning with the wine, pouring it for each of them and then placing it in the cooler next to the table, before disappearing off again whilst they perused the menu. "I suppose…" she started, her head bent over the small text in front of her. "I mean, we've talked to each other a lot about our lives over the last few weeks. I feel I know you almost as well as I know myself."

He caught the faint note of hesitation in her tone. "But?"

"I suppose I don't really understand the whole 'this one today, this one tomorrow' mentality. Sorry…" she shook her head, "I don't mean that how it sounds. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, in fact maybe I should have done a bit more of it myself, I just…I don't know, can't really imagine it. When Stewart and I got together, that was it. And now you…I suppose…I just always assumed there can't be much meaning in it."

"Can't be much meaning in sleeping around, you mean?"

She made a face. "When you put it like that…"

"You want to know what I get, or got, out of sleeping with lots of different women."

"Well, I mean you don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

"An ego boost," he said. "That was all it was. Knowing that a woman fancied me enough to want to go to bed with me made me feel good. Of course, once we'd actually been to bed together, well, the rush was gone so…on to the next one." He paused, thinking on how his words sounded. "I don't suppose it says much about my character, does it?"

"I can understand that though," she replied. "I think men are lucky in that behaving that way gets them kudos whereas, if a woman did it, well then she's just a slag, isn't she? I mean, if you knew that I'd slept with half of London, what would you think of me?"

"I haven't slept with half of London," he said quickly.

"No, I know but you'd think I was easy, wouldn't you?"

He nodded, well aware of his own double standards, "Probably."

"Equality's got a long way to go, I suppose."

Charlie returned to the table at that point to take their order and so the moment was broken with a flurry of hurried decisions requiring to be made. Once they were alone together, however, he reached across the table and took her hand again. "I meant what I said."

"About what?"

"About not feeling beholden to me."

"Frank…"

"Look, I want you to be happy, Chris. If that means you going out and shagging half of London, I won't stop you."

"It doesn't," she said, squeezing his hand. "You make me happy."

He felt a warm glow spread through him; the same ego boost he had just referenced, even though it was deeper and more long-term than simply a passing encounter. "Well, don't say I never gave you the opportunity."

"I won't." She sat back in her chair. "Good thing we got a result from Marsden."

"Yeah, creepy little git. I'll never understand some people."

"No, me neither. Makes me feel sick what some people can do to kids."

"Yeah…" he regarded her carefully across the table, mindful of the conversation they had had a few days earlier. "Straight question, straight answer; do you want kids?"

She blinked a few times, clearly thrown by the sudden direction of the conversation. "Uh…well…yes, I suppose I do."

"Just not with Stewart."

"Well, I was upset when I had the miscarriage all those years ago but, since then, I suppose it just never felt like the right time. Like I said the other day, when I had the scare, I knew I didn't want to be pregnant." She paused. "Same question to you then; do you want kids?"

"I always thought I didn't, but as someone pointed out to me the other day, perhaps I just hadn't found the person I wanted to have kids with." He looked at her. "Things change I suppose."

"I never really had you down as the paternal type," she said, resting her chin on her hand, "but when I think about it, you care about all of us in CID like we were your kids, sort of."

"Christ, don't say that. I can't imagine having to be Carver's dad. If I was Michael's, I would have cut him off years ago, and as for Ted…"

She laughed, "Well I didn't mean literally, obviously. Personally, I think you'd make a good father."

"I don't know where you get that idea," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment. Charming, good in bed, thoughtful…those were all qualities he didn't mind having attributed to him, but the potential to be a good father wasn't one he had really considered before. "Anyway," he said casually as their starters were placed down in front of them. "Rings and vows and all that have to come first before babies, don't they?"

"Mmmm…"

He looked over at her again, at where she was carefully studying her plate, and realised he may have gone slightly too far. He didn't want to scare her after all, not when she was still navigating her way out of her marriage. "This looks good."

"Yes, it does.

He lifted his glass and held it out towards her, "To us."

She clinked hers in return. "To us."

XXXX

To her relief, the conversation moved on to, what she would have considered to be, safer topics. They talked about work and generalities and for that she was grateful, having been thrown slightly by the direction he had taken them earlier. It was one thing to know that she loved him and to say that she loved him but talking about the future made her nervous. Him asking her if she wanted kids, alluding to marriage…it all seemed just a little on the quick side when she wasn't even halfway to being divorced yet. A very small part of her also couldn't help but wonder if he was right; if she should throw caution to the wind and embark on a journey of sexual exploration with countless nameless, faceless men having spent all of her formative adult years with one man. But when she thought about it, about hanging around bars hoping to get picked up whilst engaging in meaningless conversation, it made her shiver in horror. There was something safe about being with Frank, knowing him already as she did. It was almost as if progressing to an intimate relationship had been the exact right, next step for them, and there was something about safety that she craved.

When she thought about all the women he had been with over the years, yes she felt a certain sense of curiosity and perhaps, almost, disapproval. There had been times over the last few months when she had wondered if, given all he had said about his behaviour throughout his marriage, he was capable of being faithful to one woman. And yet, the way he looked at her, the way he spoke about them being together…she believed him completely, and that made her feel good. She couldn't help but wonder if she would be the last 'special' person he would bring to this restaurant.

The food was delicious and after three courses, two bottles of wine and an Irish coffee, she felt pleasantly tipsy, the edges of her vision blurred slightly by the alcohol, her inhibitions lowered and as they stood on the corner waiting for a taxi, she burrowed herself under his coat, pressing her body against his.

"I hope I'm not going to have to carry you inside," he laughed.

"Well, that would be romantic."

"Not if you're pissed it wouldn't be."

The very feel and scent of him was comforting to her and she found her eyes growing heavy in the safe circle of his embrace, only for her to be shaken back into full consciousness by him as the taxi pulled up and they got inside.

"Well, at least I know how to get you drunk and incapable quickly," he joked. "Wine seems to do the trick."

"Are you trying to suggest I can't hold my liquor?" she looked up at him.

He kissed the tip of her nose, "Of course not."

"Good, because we're having sex when we get back. Hot, passionate, wild sex."

"We'll see…"

"No, there's no 'we'll see' about it, Frank Burnside," she replied. "We are and that's an end to it."

"Well, far be it from me to turn a lady down," he kissed her, and she kissed him back, hard and demanding. She felt impatient, irritated that the journey was taking so long. Maybe they should just do it in the back of the car… "Calm down," he said quietly, and she suddenly realised she was halfway through loosening the buttons on her blouse.

"Sorry," she giggled, as the taxi pulled up in front of her flat. "I can't seem to help myself."

"You're a hussy," he said good-naturedly once he had paid, and they were beginning to make their way up the path. "A brazen hussy."

"Don't tell me you don't like it," she said, pulling him to her and kissing him again, her body shivering as his hands roamed under her coat and over her body.

"You know I like it," he replied, steering her towards the door.

Another wicked thought entered her head, "Let's do it out here."

"Here?"

"Yeah, round the back against the wall. Come on, it'll be fun!" she took hold of his hand. "Come on, you know you want to…"

"I don't actually," he pulled her back into him. "If you expect me to perform, then I need to feel a little warmer than I do right now."

"Hmmm…I suppose it is a bit chilly…" she rooted in her bag for her keys. "You'd better come inside then." She pushed the key into the lock, giggling again as he pressed himself up against her back, pushed her hair away and kissed her neck. She twisted round to kiss him, just as the door opened, and they stumbled inside together, mouths and hands in a breathless frenzy as they traversed the short distance to the bedroom, shedding clothes in the process.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" he joked as they fell onto the bed together.

"Are you complaining?" she asked, pushing him over onto his back and swinging her leg over his pelvis, hovering over him.

"Does it look like I am?"

She lowered herself slowly down onto him, accepting him inside her, already wet with urgent need and desire. They began moving together, his hands straying from her waist to her breasts, the heat flooding her, before he pulled himself up so that his mouth had access to her aching nipples. She let her head fall back, her body basking in the sensations. Every time…every time it was like this. She wished she knew how he did what he did to her, but it was almost as though her body wasn't her own when she was with him. The whole experience made her brain sing as well as her body and she couldn't help but think glorious, wonderful thoughts. Thoughts of the future, their future, when she would have this, have him, always and forever.

"I want to have babies with you…" she gasped, griding her hips against his and looking down into his eyes. "I want that…I do…I want you to make me fat and give me swollen ankles and massive tits and…whatever else happens when you get pregnant…"

"Oh yeah?" he asked breathlessly, "That's what you want, is it?"

"Yes."

"I can do that…. but you have to marry me first."

"Are you asking me?"

He lifted her up and pushed her down onto her back, still inside her, and pulled her legs around his waist. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Convince me."

Over the next few moments, he did just that, sliding one hand between them as he continued to move inside her so that pleasure shot through her body almost simultaneously to his own, before they collapsed in a sweaty, breathless heap, entangled in one another. She felt her head swim, a combination of the alcohol and endorphins and couldn't help but think that, all things considered, she was a lucky girl.

8 February

"Frank, I need to speak with you on a matter of some delicacy."

He sighed inwardly at the apparent melodrama of Kim's words and her appearance at his office door, but arranged his features into something resembling mild interest. "Of course, Ma'am."

"In my office please." She turned away before he could react, and all he could do was follow her, closing the door behind him once he done so. He waited as she walked around to her own side of the desk and sat down. "I've just had a rather concerning phone call."

"Ma'am?"

"At first, I could barely work out what the caller was saying because he was so drunk, but I got the gist of it eventually." She paused. "It was Stewart Church, Christina's husband, and he was very keen for me to know that, apparently, you and she have been having an affair."

His whole body froze, and he felt, for perhaps the first time in his life, what it truly felt to be like a deer caught in headlights. A thousand thoughts suddenly tumbled through his brain, but faced with Kim's arched eyebrow, he knew he had to remain as calm and detached as possible. "Well, that's just ridiculous."

"So, it's not true."

"Of course it's not true. The man's a raving lunatic, a drunk. He's upset at the fact that she's come to her senses and left him, so he's trying to lash out and I'm the nearest thing he can get to."

"Well, I can understand his anger and upset, as you say, but why suggest that the two of you have been having an affair? It doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it does. He wants to blacken her name, make it look as though she's at fault, make it seem as though her leaving him is for any other reason other than the one it is; his behaviour. He probably wants to try and screw her over in the divorce and he thinks that by saying this, it'll help his cause."

Kim sat forwards. "He said he'd seen the pair of you together."

"We work together, so that's hardly surprising."

"No, not at work. He said that he saw the two of you outside Christina's flat last night, that you were…friendly…with one another and that you then went inside and didn't emerge until much later. His conclusion being that you had slept together."

The magnitude of what she was saying hit him squarely in the chest, but not for the reasons she possibly imagined. Never mind the fact that they had been seen, it was the fact that Stewart had clearly been either following them or waiting for her outside her flat. He felt anger rise within him. "So, he's been following her?"

"Then it's true?"

"No, Ma'am, it's not true. I wasn't anywhere near her flat last night, but why would he think to make up such a thing if he hadn't been hanging around there himself? He sent her flowers too, a few days ago, with no card, and she's been getting strange phone calls here at the station which, I'm betting, have come from him."

Kim frowned. "You think he could be unstable?"

"He's a drunk; they're all unstable," he replied. "He's been here three times already in the space of a few weeks. Twice to talk to her, grabbing her in the front office for good measure the first time I might add, and once to talk to me. He asked me to my face if I knew if she was seeing someone else and I told him I didn't, so now he's gone and got himself plastered again and made up this story." He took a breath. "The fact that you've given it any credence is disappointing, Ma'am."

"I'm not saying I've given it any credence, Frank," Kim said. "But I have a duty to investigate if complaints are brought to me."

"This isn't a complaint; it's the drunken rantings of wounded male pride."

"Something I'm sure you know all about."

"The fact is, there is nothing going on. Do you think I'm ignorant of the rules? Not to mention the fact that Gordon Wray's seat in this very office is barely cold."

Kim nodded slowly, "All right Frank, I believe you, and I understand this is a very difficult time for Christina, but I can't have this sort of thing. All it takes is for one person to say something and that's how rumours start. I'm sure you don't want it all over the station that Church has accused you of this."

"No Ma'am, obviously."

"Well, I shall have to tell Christina about the phone call particularly if, as you say, her husband is following her."

"Perhaps I should tell her. She might take it better coming from me. If you pull her in here, it'll probably upset her, and she doesn't need that right now."

Kim nodded again, "Yes, I agree. Well, a quiet word then Frank, not to mention a reiteration that if there's any support she feels she needs, she must let us know. If Church is becoming a nuisance, then we need to nip it in the bud."

"Yes Ma'am." He left her office, his blood pounding round his body and anxiety churning in his stomach. There was still no sign of her in the CID office, so he made his way downstairs, through custody and out into the yard, immediately rewarded with the sight of her car pulling into an available space. He opened the driver's door just as she pulled on the handbrake, and she looked up at him in surprise. "We need to talk."

"What's the matter?"

"Not here. Interview room two, two minutes." Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and headed back through the custody suite and along the corridor to the interview room, opening the door and going inside, trying to stop the urgent need he had to pace. A few people walked past and glanced in before walking on and the last thing he wanted to do was give the impression something was wrong. He thrust his hands in his pockets and sat on the edge of the table.

Seconds later, she appeared in the doorway. "What's going on?" He motioned for her to come in and she closed the door behind her. "What is it?"

"Did you see anyone outside your gaff last night?"

"Last night?"

"Did you see anyone?!"

"No, but then I was pretty drunk, and my mind was on other things, if you remember," she replied. "Why?"

"I've just been in Reid's office. Apparently, she got a drunken phone call from your husband this morning alleging that we've been having an affair."

Her eyes widened, "What?"

"Apparently, he was outside your flat last night and saw us come back together. Then he waited outside and saw me leave." He watched as she processed the information. "He's obviously been watching you."

"I didn't think he knew where I lived."

"He must have followed you."

"Shit."

"Those phone calls you've been getting; the ones where there's nobody on the other end."

"You think they're from him?" She shook her head. "But I don't understand. He said he was sober."

"Well, he obviously isn't now."

"What did you say to Reid?"

"I told her it was nonsense, of course, that he was just projecting because you've left him and I'm an easy target. I told her about him coming here, about the flowers, the phone calls and the fact that he must be watching you. She told me to make sure you knew that you'd have all the support you needed."

"So, she believed you then?"

"I think so." He moved around the room, trying to harness his thoughts. "But I swear to God if I clap eyes on your husband again, I won't be responsible for my actions."

She sighed heavily, "I can't believe he's drinking again."

"Why not? You thought he was going to stop just like that?"

"That was the impression he gave me, that he was really trying."

"Oh, wake up!" She hung her head and he instantly felt bad. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just…angry…" The word barely covered how he felt. How long had it been going on? How long had Stewart been watching her, watching them? Was last night the first time he had seen them together? If not, why wait until now to report it? There were so many questions, most of which he had no answer to. "I won't have him harass you."

"So, what do you think I should do?"

"Report him."

"What, for sending a bunch of flowers, talking to me a couple of times and, maybe, calling me and hanging up? If I was a member of the public and I came to you with that, would you honestly do anything about it?"

"We can send uniform round, ask someone to have a quiet word. It doesn't need to come from CID level."

"And then he tells them what he saw last night? That's a sure-fire way to get it round the nick, isn't it?" She paused. "I think we should just leave it."

"He's just tried to ruin your career, not to mention mine!"

"Yeah, by telling the truth! You know that he saw us! We knew that getting found out was always going to be a possibility, didn't we? Surely doing nothing is the only way to kill it!"

"Well, if you don't like the uniform idea, I can think of another, but it involves me and a bloody baseball bat."

"Don't even joke about that, Frank, it's not funny! I don't want anything to happen to him."

"That's what you kept saying every time he got nicked for being drunk. That's what you said when he pushed you in the pub and when he threw that glass at your head. Not to mention when uniform turned up at your door and he whacked Tony!"

She let out a long breath, "Fine, I'll talk to him."

"Like hell you will. You're not going near him."

"Frank…"

"I mean it, Chris. He's not right in the head, especially if he's drinking again."

"You don't get to dictate to me what I can and can't do!" she exclaimed. "He's still my husband and if I want to talk to him, then I will! It's possibly the only way to stop all of this blowing up in our faces."

"So, what are you going to tell him, the truth? Are you going to tell him about us and ask him to keep it quiet?"

"I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I? Maybe I could persuade him…"

He snorted and turned away, almost unable to believe her naivety, "If you think you can persuade a drunk to keep his mouth shut then you're even more deluded than he is."

"Fine," she said, her voice quivering slightly. "Then the only other option is to put an end to all this. Put an end to us." He swung back around to face her. "If there's nothing going on, then he's got no story to tell."

"Is that what you want?"

"Of course it's not what I want! I want everything we talked about last night, but if I can convince him there's nothing going on…"

"So, you're going to tell him he imagined what he saw last night then?"

"Maybe, and if we…stay away from each other for a while, just until you get word about the Flying Squad, then maybe he'll accept that."

"No."

"Frank…"

"I'm not staying away from you just to make things easier on him."

"It'll make it easier on all of us!"

"Christina, he is not stupid! He's not going to believe that he just imagined seeing us together last night. We need to put this back on him, call him out on the harassment. If we do that and he persists, then we continue to deny it and he looks like the crazy one, which he is," he added on her look. "Then once I'm out of here, nobody will care what we do."

She paused for a long moment and then nodded. "Ok."

"Good," he let out a breath and pulled her into him. "I'm not letting him ruin what we've got, all right?" She nodded. "Ok, I'll have a word with Monroe, get someone to go round there discreetly." She pulled back and looked up at him. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

He kissed her gently. "Then let me handle it. I promise everything is going to be fine."