12 February 1991

"Hi, Dad."

She held her breath, unsure how he would respond, wondering if he had any inkling as to how long it had taken her to pluck up the courage to lift the receiver and dial his number. She had thought about all the pros and cons of the proposal she was about to put to him and had concluded that the worst thing that could happen would be that he would simply put the phone down on her.

There was a brief silence at the other end of the line. "Hello, Goldilocks."

She cringed a little at the childhood name he had had for her, but part of her also felt a wave of nostalgia for the old days, the very old days, before things had gone so wrong between them all as a family. For so many years she had told herself that she didn't need her parents because she had Stewart. Now all that had changed.

"You probably think it's a bit weird me just ringing you up like this."

"A bit," he replied, "but it's good to hear your voice. How are you?"

How was she? It was such a loaded question and all she could think of to say was, "not good." Since Kim's visit, she had felt herself become more and more consumed with thoughts of the future and what she was going to do. Her marriage was over, Stewart would be going to prison and Frank…she knew that she had to let him go, for both their sakes, even if she also knew it was the last thing that either of them would truly want.

"What's happened?" her father asked, concern creeping into his tone.

In as sparing detail as possible, she told him the bare facts of what had taken place over the previous few months, the latest news being that Stewart's bail had been refused and he had been remanded to Longmarsh. To her father's credit, he listened and didn't say anything until she had finished and reached the whole point of her call to him in the first place. "So…I was wondering if it would be ok if I came and stayed with you for a little while. A change of scene might do me good." Even as she said the words, she wasn't entirely convinced it was the right thing to do. They hadn't seen each other in years. For all she knew, he could be at the epicentre of crime in Brighton and yet somehow, despite everything, she felt a pull inside her for her dad.

"Of course you can," he replied without hesitation. "I mean, you know it's no palace here, but you're welcome, anytime."

"Thank you," she said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "The doctor said I could be discharged as early as tomorrow so…"

"Do you want me to come and get you?"

"No, I can manage on the train if you could meet me at the station."

"No problem. You just let me know what train you're going to be on, and I'll be there."

He certainly seemed to be making an effort and saying all the right things, she thought to herself as she replaced the receiver and then lifted it again to dial another number, but there was also the question as to why he hadn't tried to contact her in the last few years. Perhaps it was because too much water had flown under the bridge. Perhaps he hadn't known what to say to her. Perhaps a crisis like this was what had been needed as the catalyst to bring them back together again.

"Brighton?" She could almost see the frown on Kim's face as she said the word. "Do you have a connection there?"

"Yes Ma'am, my father lives in Brighton," she replied, twirling the phone cord around her fingers. "We haven't seen each other in a while, and I thought it might be nice to go there to…convalesce for a bit."

"Well, it does seem like a good idea," Kim replied. "Seaside air and all that. You're entitled to at least six weeks sick leave given what's happened. Do you think you'll be in Brighton all that time?"

She shivered slightly at the thought, well aware that it was only a temporary measure. "No, but maybe a couple of weeks at least."

"Well, that sounds fine. I only ask that you keep in touch. We'll obviously have to get a medical assessment scheduled for when you're due to come back, just to make sure that you meet the fitness criteria before I can let you back out on the streets."

"Yes Ma'am, of course."

Kim paused. "By your response, can I take it that you've considered what we talked about a few days ago?"

She took a deep breath before replying. "Yes Ma'am, what you said made a lot of sense. My own career is important to me, and I would never, in any way, want to damage F…Inspector Burnside's."

"So, you want to stay at Sun Hill?"

"Yes, and I want Inspector Burnside to stay there too."

"I see. Then the relationship between you…"

"Will end." Even as she said the words, she felt the tightening in her chest and the ever-present threat of tears. The last few days, since Kim had been to see her, had felt like torture. Frank had been a frequent and attentive visitor, bringing her flowers and talking about what they were going to do once she was discharged. He had told her he felt confident that news of their relationship was confined to only a few in CID and, of course, the senior management and even if he didn't feel it himself, he had done a good job of trying to portray to her a future where everything would turn out fine. In reality though, when she had been alone with nothing to do but think, she had known that Kim had been right; the only way to protect both their futures was to end whatever was between them. She just hadn't worked out how she was going to broach that with Frank yet, but her going to Brighton might solve the problem.

"I see," Kim said. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you're being very sensible and demonstrating a lot of professionalism. I should say that counselling is also available, and I would advise you to take it up. You've been through a very traumatic experience."

"Yes Ma'am," she said, suddenly desperate to hang up the phone and limp back to her bed on the ward. She knew that the other woman was only doing her job and extolling the virtues of what the Met could offer by way of support, but she couldn't help but feel that she would need less support for what Stewart had done than she would for the aftermath of ending things with Frank.

Back on the ward, the nurse informed her that Frank had arrived to see her but having been told she was away to use the phone, he had said that he would go to the canteen for a coffee and then come back up. Her insides churned with anxiety at the thought of seeing him, knowing that given she had told Kim her plans, she now needed to tell him before anyone else did, and also knowing it would be one of the hardest things she had ever done.

XXXX

The hospital canteen coffee was terrible, even worse than some of the stuff they had at the station, but the weather had turned icy again that morning and he was in need of something to warm his extremities. He knew he was taking liberties by coming to the hospital so often, but none of the nurses seemed to mind and Kim hadn't said anything about it. So long as he got done what needed to be done, what complaint could she possibly have? Besides, he still couldn't help but feel that none of it was her business anyway. He hadn't known it was possible to dislike someone so much until she had arrived at Sun Hill.

The majority of his ire had come in the last few days, after he knew that Kim had visited Christina in the hospital. He had felt a noticeable change in her since that day, in the way that she had looked at him, the way she had talked with him, even in the way she responded to him when he held her hand or kissed her. Something had clearly been said, something that had only succeeded in unsettling her and though he had tried to probe her gently, she had been reluctant to say much other than the fact that Kim had expressed concern for her welfare, explained that she knew about their relationship and that clearly there would be issues requiring to be addressed as a result. Part of him had felt like storming into Kim's office and demanding to know the content of the conversation, but he knew that doing so would most likely only make things worse. It seemed almost laughably ironic that she had accused him of taking advantage of Christina when she was vulnerable and yet she had done exactly the same thing.

By the time he got back to the ward, Christina was back in her bed, idly flipping through a magazine and though she smiled when she saw him, he couldn't help but notice that she found it hard to meet his gaze. Leaning over the bed, he made to kiss her, but she barely responded, her lips brushing fleetingly against his before she turned her head away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He paused, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. "Has the doctor said anything about you getting discharged yet?"

"He said last night that it could possibly be tomorrow," she replied. "I'll know more once he's been round again this evening."

"Well, that's good news."

"Yeah. Listen, Frank…" she paused, sliding her hand from his and playing with the edge of the bedsheet. "I've decided to go to Brighton and stay with my dad for a few weeks."

He blinked, taking in her words and watching as her gaze flitted anxiously from him to the floor and back again. Of all the things he had expected her to say, that hadn't even made his list. "Your dad?" She nodded. "I thought you didn't speak?"

"Well, we don't…not really, but…I just felt after everything that had happened that, perhaps, I should make more of an effort. After all, he's the only family I've got now. Anyway, he seemed pleased to hear from me and he's happy for me to go down there, so…" she trailed off.

"Oh, well…" he wasn't quite sure how to respond. On the one hand, her forging a relationship with her father could only be a good thing but, on the other, her going away from him wasn't something he personally relished. "If that's what you want."

"It is. I think it'll be good for me to get out of Sun Hill for a while."

"Nice place, Brighton, though maybe not so much in this weather." He paused. "I'm due some annual leave anyway. I could come down and visit you." She looked away and he felt his heart sink lower, the feelings of misgiving that he had felt over the last few days rising simultaneously. "Be good to meet your dad, you know. Maybe you and I could even go away for a few days together..."

"Frank…"

"Don't," he said before he could stop himself. She looked at him curiously. "Don't say it."

"Don't say what?"

"What you're about to say."

"I just…"

"She's got to you, hasn't she? She said more to you the other day than you've been letting on, didn't she? What did she say? Did she tell you I was bad news? That would be just her style, wouldn't it? Stick the boot in, not to mention her nose, where it's not wanted."

"No, it wasn't like that. I told you what she said."

"Did you?"

"Yes." She met his gaze again and he watched as she visibly steeled herself to deliver the fatal blow. "I just think it might be for the best if we…call it quits."

"No."

"Frank…"

"You're not telling me we've gone through all this and you're just going to toss it all away. No, it's not happening. You and I belong together, Chris."

"I'm not so sure that we do."

"Based on what?"

She looked away again, "Based on how I feel."

He paused, waiting for her to say more, the words already spoken hanging between them, and he felt his heart thud painfully in his chest. "And how do you feel?"

"This, you and me…it was…something that we did, something that we fell into but…but we both know that it wasn't right, you being my boss and all and, well, I've been doing a lot of thinking since I got here and I just think it would be best for both of us if we just…see it for what it was and…and move on. Go back to the way things were…before. We always worked well together after all, didn't we?"

"I see, and you can do that, can you? Just pretend that we haven't had sex? Pretend that we haven't talked about having a future together? Pretend that we're not in love with one another?"

"Well, that's the thing. I'm…I'm not in love with you," she said quickly.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." She looked at him. "I thought I was, but I've had a lot of time to think in here and…in reality, it was just because of how I was feeling about Stewart and my marriage and everything. You were a good friend, are a good friend, and you were someone to lean on, someone who understood and…and the sex was good but…that's all it was. I'm sorry."

"You…you can't just…" he got to his feet, his brain moving faster than his mouth could, everything that he wanted to say, everything that he felt, running around inside him, desperate for an outlet. "You and me…we…you can't do this. You can't just…end it!" She looked up at him, somewhat beseechingly, and it only made him feel worse. This was Reid's doing, it had to be. "Look, I know she probably painted a…a black picture about what was going to happen but…we can fix it, I can fix it, all right? It doesn't…you don't have to…"

"You can't fix it, Frank, and I don't want you to. There's too much at stake here and you know it. Our careers…"

"Stuff my career!" He nodded as she turned surprised eyes on him. "Yeah, you heard me right, stuff my career! I already told you I'd go to the Flying Squad and, all right, that didn't work out, but there must be other opportunities out there and, if I have to…" he paused, gathering the thought into his brain, processing it, focusing on it, making sure he knew exactly how he felt before voicing it. "If I have to, I'll leave the job altogether." Her eyes widened. "I would do that for you, for us."

For a moment, she didn't say anything, merely stared at him as though she couldn't quite believe what he was saying. He wasn't sure he altogether believed it himself. The thought of leaving Sun Hill, let alone the Met…he had never thought about doing anything else with his life, never wanted to do anything else. But if was the only way that he could be with her, he knew he would do it in a heartbeat.

"I wouldn't want you to do that," she said, her gaze suddenly clouding over. "Not for me. There would be no point when I can't give you what you want. Besides, I'm not sure I want my record forever tainted by the fact that I slept with my DI. I know it's not just exam results they look at when they're considering someone for promotion."

He felt like he'd been slapped in the face, or punched in the gut, or shot in the chest or, indeed, all three. The casual way she was speaking, the lack of emotion, the fact that she could sit there and basically say that what they had meant nothing…this was all alien to him. He was the one who was supposed to do the dumping. He was the one who was supposed to stop calling when he couldn't be bothered any more. He was the one who had ended his marriage. He was the one who wasn't supposed to want commitment. He was the one who was supposed to put his career first and now she was…

"You're not well," he said, pointing at her. "You've been through a terrible ordeal and you're not well. You're not thinking clearly, Chris. Maybe some time in Brighton would be a good thing because you're not…you can't be…" He stumbled over his words and then settled upon the only thing that made any sense. "You're mine."

Her eyes flashed angrily, "I'm not your possession, Frank! I've never been your possession any more than I was Stewart's, regardless of how you might look upon me! I'm my own person, capable of making my own choices and there's nothing wrong with me!" Her voice wobbled slightly at the end, and she looked away, her bottom lip starting to tremble.

He opened his mouth to say something more and then stopped. Whatever he felt, now wasn't the time. She clearly needed some space to think about what had happened, to process it, to make a decision about her future. Pushing her now would only succeed in pushing her away and he couldn't bear that. "You're right. You're not my possession and I'm sorry if I made you feel that you were. You should go to Brighton and see your dad. I've no doubt you'll feel better if you mend that relationship." She looked over at him again. "Just please promise me that you won't make any hasty decisions about anything else. Please, that's all I'm asking of you."

She paused for a moment before nodding slowly and he felt a sudden rush of relief. She didn't mean what she had said, couldn't possibly mean it. All he had to do was tread lightly for a while, let her get her head around what had happened and then everything would be fine, everything would be normal, whatever normal now would be.

"Right, I'll…eh…I'll leave you in peace then. I don't mind taking you for the train tomorrow, if they let you out that is."

"No, it's fine," she replied quietly. "I'll have to go back to the flat and get some things anyway before I go."

"Well, I could…" he stopped on her look and nodded. "Ok then. Maybe you could call me from Brighton, let me know that you're all right. I am you boss after all." It was meant as a light-hearted comment, but she remained impassive. "Well, whatever makes you comfortable. I'll…erm…" he hovered, debating whether or not he should kiss her goodbye and eventually deciding it was probably best not to, lest she think he thought himself entitled. "I'll see you when you get back then." She nodded and before she could say anything else, he turned and hurried away from her bed, out of the room and back down the stairs towards the main entrance, resisting every urge within him to punch the nearest wall.

13 February

Victoria station was crowded, and she felt exhausted making the walk across the concourse to look at the departures board. The doctor had warned her not to do too much too soon, though he had been in agreement that a trip to Brighton would be beneficial, so long as she promised to seek medical attention if she had any difficulties, which she had of course agreed to. Alone in the descending night, she had cried herself to sleep, thinking back on what she had said to Frank and the look on his face when she had told him she wasn't in love with him. It had been a lie, of course as he predicted, but one that she knew she needed to maintain if either of them had any chance of salvaging their careers. Her own seemed inconsequential now, despite what she had said to him about promotion, but the last thing she ever wanted to be responsible for was the downfall of his. His offer to leave the job had completely floored her and had almost made her change her mind, but reality had quickly set in. How could he not end up resenting her if she let him make that choice? Frank was born to be a detective.

The very act of getting herself home from the hospital, packing some things and making her way to the station had taken every ounce of strength that she possessed, and she longed to be on the train and on her way. The board flashed up a platform number and she gratefully made her way to it as quickly as she could, gladdened to find a relatively quiet carriage.

Her conversation with Frank obviously wasn't the only thing playing on her mind given that, in just over an hour, she would see her father, a man she had barely seen or spoken to in the last ten years. One thing she had left out of their earlier conversation had been her affair with Frank, alluding only to a third party but offering no real details. She wanted to see how the land lay between them first before bringing that up, wary as to how far she could trust her own father. How would they be with each other? What would they talk about? Her mind whirred with all the possibilities and as the train sped south, she paid no heed whatsoever to the book she had brought with her, her gaze focused on the landscape, her stomach churning as the coast grew closer.

By the time she had arrived at her destination, her stomach was churning and part of her wanted to simply stay on the train and head straight back to London. But as the other passengers rose to disembark, she found herself following them out onto the concourse and, a few moments later, saw her father standing next to an information point. He hadn't changed much since she had last seen him, four or five years earlier. He simply looked a little older, a little more weather-beaten and when he saw her and smiled, she felt her insides turn over. He was still her dad at the end of the day, despite everything.

"Hello Goldilocks," he greeted her. "It's good to see you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, "It's good to see you too, Dad." He didn't make any move to hug her, for which she was grateful, but he took her bags from her and walked slowly beside her towards the exit, clearly mindful not to rush her.

"How's the back?"

"A bit sore, but getting better."

"I've got a taxi waiting. Figured it would be too far for you to walk, though it's doable if you're fit and well." She nodded and continued to follow where he led until they were sat in a taxi heading along the waterfront. The air was cold, the wind brisk, and the waves high and crashing against the sea wall, but already she felt slightly lighter simply by being in a different place. Five minutes later, the taxi took a turn down a side street and eventually pulled up outside a block of flats. "It's the third floor and there's no lift I'm afraid," her dad said, thrusting some money at the driver. "You think you can manage?"

"If I take my time," she replied. A few minutes later, exhausted from the effort, she was standing inside her dad's home, taking it in for the first time. It was a small flat, the décor having seen better days, but it was clean and tidy. Though small, the box bedroom he showed her into was ideal and he left her alone whilst she put away some of her clothes, calling out to her that there was a cup of tea waiting for her when she was ready. They sat together at the small table, initially saying little, but the awkwardness that she had feared never really manifested itself and the conversation grew, slowly at first from generalities to more specific topics. To his credit, he never pushed for anything, only dropping in the occasional comment.

"This third party means a lot to you, doesn't he?" he said, looking at her over his cup.

The weight and knowledge of her father's gaze made her feel ready to crumble. She was clearly fooling no-one, not even herself. "I'm in love with him, but he's my boss."

"Ah."

"He said he'd leave the job altogether so we could be together, but I can't let him do that." She looked down into the remains of her tea. "I can't be responsible for him giving up what he loves."

"Sounds like he loves you."

"He does."

"Well then."

She shook her head, "I don't expect you to understand, Dad. I know how much you hate the police."

"What does being the police have to do with it? He could be your boss in any job, and I'd still say the same. Life's too short, Chris. Sometimes you have to be selfish."

"Well, you'd know all about that." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she instantly wanted to kick herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, not when you've been good enough to put me up."

"No, you're right. I have spent most of my life being selfish, especially when it came to you. I've missed out on a lot of years of your life and in time with your mother before she died. I'll always regret that. But my selfishness is different to any you might attribute to yourself. If you love this bloke, you should grab happiness with both hands."

"But what if doing that actually ends up making us both unhappy?"

"Well, you won't know unless you try, will you? Anyway," he rose from his chair and lifted her empty cup. "I never liked that husband of yours. I'm sure he'll be having a grand time inside as we speak." He moved towards the kitchen. "Phone's on the side if you need it."