This is going to be my last update for a couple of weeks as I'm going on holiday, but I'll update as soon as I get back. Thank you to everyone reading this story and especially to my wonderful reviewer A for Antechinus. If anyone else feels motivated to leave a review, please do. I welcome all feedback, good or bad.

Frank sat in the car watching the house, contemplating what to do. As he had made the relatively short journey from the station, he had been gripped with anger. Anger at Stewart for trying to ruin what they had, anger at Christina for agreeing to meet him, anger at himself for allowing the whole situation to unfold as it had in the first place. In his mind's eye he had seen himself screech to a halt outside the house, run up the path and break the door down in a show of possessive fury, but, as he had drawn up outside, he had realised that that perhaps wasn't the best way to deal with the situation at all. If Stewart was angry, upset and, possibly, irrational, then a more tactful approach was likely to be required. Not that he really knew what he could tactfully say. "I'm sorry you've lost your wife, but she's mine now" didn't really seem to cut it.

Unclipping his seatbelt, he lifted the radio from the dashboard and stowed it inside his jacket. Then he got out of the car and slowly made his way towards the front door. In the past, he might have had to come up with some sort of outlandish reason as to why he would be at the home of one of his constables. Now, he would probably just have to be truthful if confronted; that he was worried about her because he loved her. Climbing the steps, he pressed the doorbell and waited, listening as it reverberated around the house. There was no sound, no movement from within, and so he rang it again, knocking the door simultaneously for good measure. Having elicited no response, he crouched and pulled open the letterbox, hoping that it might give him some clue as to what was happening inside, but all he could see was the floor of the hallway. Finally, he tried the door itself, but it was locked and refused to budge.

The fact that he couldn't hear or see anything was disconcerting. Christina's car was still parked outside, and he found his mind turning over the possibilities of what could be happening inside including, ashamedly, the idea that Stewart might have somehow won her over and that the two of them were intimately celebrating their reunion. As he moved back down the steps and around to the gate that would lead him to the back garden, he pondered on how he might feel if he found them in a compromising position. Angry, hurt, heartbroken…but after all, he was confident that she would never go back to him and even if she had, he reckoned he could still make a pretty good play for her.

The back garden was neat, if slightly overgrown and, as he rounded the corner of the house, he could see that the back door was lying open. A sudden fear gripped him, and he moved slowly, inching towards it, hoping that he wasn't about to come face to face with an angry Stewart Church and wishing he had thought to bring a baton. He paused momentarily, took a deep breath and then turned to step through the door.

For the rest of his life, he would never forget the scene that greeted him. In his time as a police officer he had witnessed many things, seen people hurt, seen people dead. But never someone that he cared about, never someone that he loved.

The kitchen was in disarray. Glass littered the floor, the kitchen table and chairs had been upturned and there was crockery and other utensils lying in a haphazard fashion, as though they had been thrown or dislodged during a fight. In the middle of it all, slumped against a corner cabinet, he saw Christina.

"Jesus…" he hurried forwards, his feet crunching on debris, and quickly crouched in front of her, pulling her chin up towards him, shocked by how deathly pale she was. "Christina! Chris!" he shook her gently and she moaned, her eyelids fluttering and opening.

"Frank…" she breathed his name, so quietly as almost to be inaudible, before her eyes rolled back in her head again.

It was then that he saw the blood, his first thought being that he couldn't understand how he had missed it. It was pooled under her, and he frantically began checking her, trying to find a wound to stem. As he ran his hands under her jacket, he felt a warm sticky sensation on his fingers and, pulling them back, saw they were stained crimson red.

"Jesus Christ…" He pulled the radio from his pocket. "Sierra Oscar from Burnside! Ambulance required at 108 Spicer Street!" He glanced onto the floor and saw the jagged remains of a scotch bottle, the edges dark with rapidly drying blood and the realisation of what must have happened hit him. "Chris Lewis has been stabbed! Repeat, she's been stabbed! Christina…" he took hold of her and began shaking her again, gently at first and then more forcefully. "Chris, look at me! Look at me! Open your eyes!"

Bob's voice came back across the airwaves, "DI Burnside from Sierra Oscar, ambulance is on way. Units tasked to assist. How bad is it?"

"She's unconscious…losing blood! Hurry up!"

"They're on the way, Frank."

He couldn't fathom how Bob could be so calm when he felt as though he was watching everything he cared about slipping away from him. "Come on darling, open your eyes…open your eyes, Chris!" he shook her again to no response and the silence around him suddenly seemed deafening. "Where the hell is the ambulance?!" he shouted into the radio again.

"Should be with you any moment," Bob replied, again, almost as though there was nothing to be concerned about when, in fact, she could be dying before his very eyes.

He couldn't sit there with her, he had to get her out, out of that kitchen, out of that mess…reaching down, he hooked one arm under her legs and the other under her shoulders and tried to lift her. She felt like dead weight, as though that's what she was, dead. Once he had a grip of her, he lifted her up into his arms and began slowly traversing the mess underfoot, back out of the door into the garden and around the side of the house, murmuring to her all the time, begging her to open her eyes, to talk to him, anything to let him know that she wasn't as close to death as she appeared. As he reached the gate, he heard the sound of sirens in the distance and a car skidded to a halt, Steve and Dave leaping from within.

"Oh my God…" Dave said. "What the hell happened?"

"He stabbed her, that's what happened!" More sirens cut through the air and, moments later, the ambulance joined them. He sank down onto the grass, taking her with him, as two paramedics ran over. "I think she's been stabbed in the back."

"All right, let us take a look at her," one of the paramedics said, and it took him a moment to realise that they wanted him to let her go. Somewhat reluctantly, he slid her from his grasp onto the grass, remaining close by as they started to work on her.

"Sir, are you all right? Sir?"

"What?"

"I said, are you all right?" Steve asked. "Were you injured?"

"No, I…" he paused and looked down to see his hands, the front of his shirt and suit saturated with blood. For a moment, he just stared at it, unable to believe that one person could lose so much. "It's her blood. It's hers…"

"Who did this?" Dave asked.

"Who the bloody hell do you think did this?!" he got to his feet and rounded on him. "Her husband did this! I thought you pair were supposed to have sorted him?!"

"We spoke to him earlier," Steve said, "we warned him off…"

"What was she doing here anyway?" Dave asked.

Somewhat irrationally, Frank saw red. "Are you trying to suggest this is her fault?"

"No…"

"Are you trying to say she deserved this?!" Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed hold of the other man's lapels "Is that what you're trying to say?!"

"Sir, stop it sir!" Steve grabbed hold of him, pulling him away. "No-one's saying that!"

"Right, we need to get her to hospital," one of the paramedics said. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"I'm going with her," Frank said hurriedly.

"All right, but we need to go now." A stretcher duly appeared, Christina was lifted onto it and hurriedly wheeled over and into the ambulance.

"You pair secure the scene, get forensics down here and get an all-unit alert out on Stewart Church!" he ordered as he climbed in after her, his panic seemingly no barrier to him doing his job. "I want him found!"

"Yes sir," Dave said, exchanging a glance with Steve that he could already tell held so much.

They knew.

The doors slammed shut and the ambulance jerked away from the kerb, its siren wailing. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, one hand grasped lightly in his own and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he prayed.

XXXX

It was like something out of a dream, or more likely a nightmare. He couldn't bear it, sat in those ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting area not knowing if she was alive or dead. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was her face, all he could hear was the way she had said his name before lapsing into unconsciousness again, all he could feel was terrible crushing guilt…

When they had eventually arrived at St Hughes, he had begged to be allowed to go with her into the treatment area informing the staff, none too pleasantly, that he was a police officer, not that it had made any difference. They had been firm with him; friends, relatives and colleagues had to wait.

"I'm her…" he had started to say the words and then stopped. What was he, after all?

"Frank!" He looked up suddenly at the sound of his name and saw Kim and Ted making their way through the chairs towards him, their expressions grim. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine Ma'am," he replied as calmly as he could. It wouldn't do to lose all control, not now.

"You're not injured?"

"No, it was all over when I got there."

"Right. Ted, go and see if you can find out anything about what's happening; how Christina is, whether we can talk to her." Kim ordered,

"Yes Ma'am," Ted said, shooting him a look before hurrying away again.

She sat down on the seat next to him. "Are you sure you're all right?" He nodded. "What on earth happened?"

"He called her, apparently. He wanted to talk to her about their divorce. I told you he'd been harassing her. Ted told her not to go but…but she went and when I found out where she'd gone…he trailed off and swallowed hard. "I went to the house to make sure that she was all right…and that's when I found her." He could almost hear the cogs turning in Kim's head beside him, though she said nothing. "The place was a mess…"

"You think it was her husband that did it?"

"Who else?"

"Right, have we got officers out looking for him?"

"I asked Quinnan and Loxton to put out an all-units alert."

"Ok, we'll need to put a trace out on his car. Is there anywhere in particular you think he might go?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "The nearest pub."

"I see…" Kim sighed. "Well, he was very drunk when I spoke to him on the phone…" she looked at him sideways. "Could this have anything to do with…that?"

He weighed up what to say in response, knowing that he had two choices: the truth or a lie. Lies, cover up, pretence…they had all contributed to things getting to this point in the first place. Perhaps if he had done something earlier about Stewart this would never have happened. Perhaps now was the time for the truth, the whole truth, and bugger the consequences. Not to mention the fact he could tell by the very tone of her voice that she had most likely worked it out for herself anyway.

"We're lovers," he said, the sound of the word making him wince with how inadequately it described what he knew they were to each other. "I love her…she loves me." He felt the air still between them as Kim took in what he was saying and mentally processed it.

"So…" she said slowly, "what Stewart Church told me over the telephone was true then? You and Christina have been having an affair."

Before he could respond, Ted reappeared, and Frank leapt to his feet. "Any news?"

"They're still treating her," he replied, "but from the initial examination they reckon she's got a serious stab wound to the lower left-hand side of her back, plus some other contusions consistent with some sort of physical fight."

He felt he might vomit at the thought of what he had done to her. "Bastard!"

"Ted, I want you to go back to the station and co-ordinate with the rest of CID," Kim said. "We'll need people at the scene."

"I told Quinnan and Loxton to secure it," he heard himself say.

"I'll get Jim and Tosh to go down there and have a look around," Ted nodded.

"Right, and we'll need to call forensics. Church is obviously our main suspect, but we don't want to overlook anything."

"I told them to call forensics." Kim looked at him but didn't say anything and he suddenly couldn't help but wonder precisely what she thought of him at that moment.

"I'll chase them up." Ted paused and looked at him. "Are you sure you're all right?"

It seemed a ridiculous question and yet he knew it was coming from a place of concern. "Just find the bastard, Ted" he replied tightly. "And find him quickly."

As Ted disappeared again, Kim pursed her lips. "You and I will need to have a conversation before long, Frank. I'm sure you realise that."

He nodded, well aware that there was a storm brewing on the horizon, one that he was going to have to get through by clinging on tightly to all the things that mattered to him. "Ma'am."

"For now, though, perhaps it's best that you stay here, in case there's any news."

He met her gaze, recognising that she saw his need to be close to Christina and seemingly had no wish to challenge it at that point. "Yes Ma'am."

"All right then," Kim said. "I'll check in with you later."

He felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards her, knowing that she could have insisted he leave the hospital and do his job instead, but as he watched her walk away, her heels clicking officiously on the floor, her back ramrod straight, he knew it was all only just beginning.

XXXX

It took the best part of three hours but, finally, a doctor came out to speak to him. In a calm, professional tone, he explained that Christina had been taken to emergency surgery but that, thankfully, there had been minimal internal damage and she was now resting comfortably in recovery. He had begged once again to be allowed to see her, but they had refused, saying that until she was moved to the ward, he had to remain in the waiting area. Even when he had explained what they were to each other, they had still refused, and it had taken every ounce of restraint he had had not to cause a scene, to throw his weight about, to make demands befitting of his rank. But, knowing that it wouldn't be what she would want, he had waited another hour before, finally, he had been shown to her bedside.

"She's heavily sedated," the nurse who had accompanied him said. "So don't expect very much from her tonight."

"How long will she have to be here?"

"A good few days at least, until the doctors are satisfied that her wound's healing and there's no infection. You can sit with her for a few minutes if you like, but no longer."

"Thank you." He made his way over to the bed, his stomach churning. She was propped slightly up on side and looked none the worse for wear, not really, except for her pallor, the oxygen mask over her face and the fact he knew she would have an ugly scar on her back. Pulling a chair across to the bed, he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently, hoping for a sign of recognition. There was nothing, not even a flicker of understanding that he was there, and it was only the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the bleeping of her heart monitor that could convince him she was still there at all. "Hello darling. You're all right now. You're in the hospital and they're going to look after you." He stroked her skin gently. "We're going to get him. I'm going to get him, don't you worry. I'm going to find him and I'm going to nail him to the wall, I promise you that." He swallowed hard, fighting back the emotion that he wanted to show and yet was too afraid to. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there. You shouldn't have gone on your own. I should have been there with you…"

He broke off, hating himself. Perhaps even more than he hated Church right at that moment. He should have done something long before now. He should have made sure the bastard had been arrested. He should never have listened to her protestations at not doing anything and reported him himself all those times, even against her wishes. He should have insisted that they told Stewart about their relationship together and then never given the other man any chance to get near her. He should never have been so concerned about what would happen when it all came out. He should have protected her. It was his fault, all of it. "I'll make it up to you darling," he said, squeezing her hand again. "Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. I promise."

9 February

He'd known the meeting was coming, he just hadn't thought it would come so soon. When he had finally been told that he had to leave, he had left the hospital and gone home, feeling as though he was only a shell of himself. He hadn't even realised that he was still soaked in her blood, dry and hard now to the touch. His flat had felt dark and cold and even after a hot shower, the lights and heating on and dinner whirring in the microwave, he had felt so empty. He would rather have been at the hospital. Would rather have sat all night on an uncomfortable chair next to her bed so that when she woke up, he would be there.

He hadn't expected the phone to ring at almost ten o'clock, just as he was thinking about going to bed. It had been Kim, pleasant but business-like, asking him to be in her office at nine the following morning. He had tried to protest, saying that he wanted to go to the hospital, but she had insisted and, for once, he felt as though defying her would probably cause more harm than good, not only for himself.

He had thought about calling someone…anyone…believing he needed an outlet for his feelings. But who would he call? Nobody at Sun Hill, that was for sure. Most of his other friends had no idea who Christina even was and as for his sister…somehow, he couldn't bear telling her how badly he had screwed everything up. She probably would just tell him it was all his fault anyway, something to do with his psychological make-up and his inherent need to destroy what he had. He might not have wielded the weapon that had hurt Christina, but he had left her vulnerable.

But those were thoughts he couldn't let Kim see, couldn't let anyone see. He had a persona to maintain, an attitude. So, at nine sharp, he found himself knocking on Kim's office door as requested. She invited him in, commented on how tired he looked, asked how he was and then told him to sit down whilst she clearly chose her first words carefully. He felt anger surge through him as he waited. What right did she have to make any comment on what he had told her? What business was it of hers who he loved or why?

"I can understand what you're going through…"

"You have no idea what I'm going through," Frank interrupted sharply. "You've no idea how it felt finding her like that, or how it feels seeing the damage he's done to her. I swear to God when I get my hands on him…"

"Well, that isn't going to help, is it? When we find him, and we will, he'll be properly dealt with, and you will have to stay well away from both him and the investigation."

"She's my officer!"

"Yes, and you've been sleeping with her, so it hardly makes you impartial now, does it?" Kim replied harshly.

"I wondered when this might come up," he lied.

"You say that as though I have no right to question you on it."

"You don't have any right," Frank said. "This is my business, mine and hers."

"Well, I'm afraid you made it my business by having an affair with a married junior officer and lying about it!"

"It didn't affect our work."

"I'll be the judge of that. You broke the rules, Frank…"

"Stuff the rules!"

"I'm aware that's your attitude in relation to most things, but not when it comes to this! Relationships between senior and junior officers at the same station are not permitted in the Met, you know that!"

"You can't help who you fall in love with, and I love her."

"You should have stopped it before it got that far."

"Easier said than done."

"Not to mention the fact that you lied to me! Both of you lied to me! I specifically asked you about this and you denied that there was anything going on!" He said nothing. "When did all this start?"

"Just before Christmas."

"Who made the first move?"

He shook his head, "Does it matter?"

"It very well might matter if you find yourself up before a disciplinary committee! So, who made the first move?"

"We both did."

"I see."

"We both knew how we felt." Kim shook her head and he glared at her. "I don't care what you think or what you say. I love her and she loves me and that's all there is to it."

"Well, that's not all there is to it actually. Quite apart from the professional ramifications for both of you, Church obviously did see the two of you together that night and so I'm assuming knowledge of this…relationship…is what tipped him over the edge to do this to her!"

Hearing someone else say the very words that had been rolling round and round in his own head made it all seem ten times worse and he fought for any kind of deflection. "He was a timebomb waiting to go off. Ever since he got shot, he's not been right in the head. Anything could have triggered this, anything."

"Only it wasn't anything was it? It was him discovering your affair with his wife."

"He made her miserable! With his drinking, the way he acted and getting fired from the job. He'd become an unreliable, unpredictable drunk. He wasn't the man she married; wasn't the man she'd loved all these years. She couldn't stand it anymore and she chose to leave, not for me, but for herself." He took a breath. "If our affair gave her the courage to be able to finally walk away from an unhappy marriage, then I'm not going to apologise for it."

Kim leaned forwards, "Do you have any idea, any idea how serious this is? An officer at this station has been stabbed by her husband because of an affair she's been having with her detective inspector!"

"You think I don't know that?!" he said before he could stop himself. "You think I'm not blaming myself for the fact that she was alone in that house with him?! That I wasn't there to protect her?!"

Kim said nothing for a long moment, "So, what were your intentions?"

"Ma'am?"

"You and Christina, what were your intentions?"

"Well, she was going to divorce him…"

"And then?"

He paused uncomfortably. "And then…she was going to marry me." Kim said nothing, and he felt the anger flame again. "What?"

"And this was all going to happen whilst you both worked here, was it?"

"No, I was going to leave." She raised her eyebrows. "There's a Flying Squad vacancy for a DI. A friend of mine has his ear to the ground and he was making enquiries for me. The job was as good as mine. I would have been gone and then none of it would have mattered."

"The Flying Squad?"

"Yes."

"Would that be the vacancy that was filled just the other day by DI Brian Donaldson from Bishops Lane?"

He felt his stomach crash to the floor. "You what?"

"I heard about it through informal chatter," she replied. "DI Donaldson got the post. I had no idea that you were interested in it."

He felt sick, not to mention furious at bloody Tommy. What use had he been? He looked at Kim again, at the expression on her face, and felt everything start to slip away. "It wasn't me that stabbed her!" he exclaimed, scrabbling for something, anything.

"I'm not suggesting for a moment that you did…"

"You're acting as though all of this is my fault!"

"You massively overstepped your professional boundaries, Frank! You had a sexual relationship with an officer under your command! For heaven's sake, you're her direct line manager! I'm struggling to understand how you can't see the difficulty over this, whether you would have gone to the Flying Squad or not! Mr Brownlow is going to have a field day when he hears about this, if he hasn't already!"

Frank tried hard to control his temper, knowing where she was trying to lead him and why. She didn't care about the personal, only the professional. She didn't care that the woman he loved had almost died at the hands of her husband. All she cared about was how it would look on her. "Whatever was going on between us didn't affect things professionally. I didn't ask her to do any more or any less than anyone else and I never treated her any differently. You can ask anyone else in CID. I bet you 99% of them had no idea there was even anything going on."

"Oh really? Who's the 1% that did? Ted Roach, I assume." He looked away. "Well, I hope it was all worth it and that Christina will understand when she gets transferred."

"What?"

"You know the rules. You saw it happen to Gordon Wray. You stood here in my office only the other day and quoted him to me! Only my gut feeling is that you're thought of more highly here than he was, God knows why, and therefore it's going to be Christina who'll have to pay the professional price for this."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to get you to think about the consequences of your actions, Frank! You're a detective inspector for a reason, because some time ago, a panel considered you worthy of the responsibilities that came with the rank! I'm trying to get you to understand that this isn't just something that can be swept under the carpet and forgotten about! I'm trying to get you to recognise that this is about more than your own personal desires!"

"No, you're thinking about yourself," he said. "How the top brass are going to react when they find out that this was going on under your nose and you never noticed. That's all that's bothering you. Not me or my rank and certainly not Christina."

Kim sat back and looked at him. "What a sad view you have of the world, Frank. Despite what you think, I care very much about the people under me. I care about you and Christina. I want both of you to reach your full potential…"

"Cobblers."

"You might think so. Or maybe you're just projecting."

"You what?"

"I've seen how you operate, even in the short time I've been here. Everything is for the benefit of Frank Burnside. Everyone works for Frank Burnside. Nothing happens unless Frank Burnside decrees it. I wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't seen this affair as benefitting you in some way. A younger, vulnerable, junior officer clearly enthralled by the roguish charms of her boss…"

Frank got to his feet, convinced that if she said anything more, he would lose the plot completely. "Are we done here, Ma'am?"

"For now," Kim replied. "But I want you to think carefully about what you do next, Frank. It'll have repercussions for more than just you, mark my words." The phone on her desk rang and she lifted it quickly. "Reid." He made to leave, but she held up her hand to stop him. "What, now? Well, what's he said? I see. No. No, I'll be right down, thank you." She replaced the receiver and looked up at him again. "Well, wonders will never cease."

"Ma'am?"

"That was the front desk. Stewart Church has just walked in and asked to speak to someone."

Anger surged through him again. "Right!"

"Frank! Don't you dare!"

"Don't dare what?" he retorted. "Don't go down there and pummel his face into the floor? Don't stab him in the back myself? You try and stop me!" he threw open the office door and started storming towards the stairs.

"I said stop, Inspector!" Kim yelled from behind and he paused at the swing door. "If you go down there now and do what you want to do you are only going to jeopardise this entire investigation, not to mention the possibility of a legal confession! Is that what you want? Do you want to make it worse for Christina than it already is?!"

He turned back to face her, painfully aware of the others, standing in the doorway to the CID office, watching the scene unfold before them like voyeurs. "No, of course not."

"Then you stay away, far away, and let us handle this." Kim paused and regarded him with something almost akin to sympathy. "Go to the hospital. Find out how she is."

He paused, the rage so close to the surface. He wanted nothing more than to do to Church what he knew he had done to Christina. Tit for tat, only he knew he could do it a lot worse. He knew he could kill him given half a chance. But, deep down, he also knew that Kim was right. How could he ever face Christina if he ruined the only chance she might have for justice? He took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine."

"Good. We'll keep you informed of any developments; I promise."

"You better." Glancing back at the others, he glared at them, hating their expressions, every single one. "What are you all looking at?" he demanded before turning away. Nobody knew, nobody could possibly understand what he was feeling. Nobody.

Thundering down the stairs, he suddenly caught sight of Stewart sitting in the front office, his head bent, and he had to put his hand on the wall to physically steady himself. Like a movie playing in his head, he could conjure up the scene in the house; Stewart with his hands on her, Christina fighting desperately to get away, him lifting the broken bottle…

"Frank." Turning, he saw Kim halfway up the stairs behind him, her expression grim. "Go."

"Ma'am." Swallowing hard he took one last look at the man who had destroyed everything, and then hurried outside into the morning rain.