13 March 1992

"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow night," Jim muttered. "I hate getting stuck in the rain, especially at this time of year when it's freezing cold and there's no sign of spring and you end up chilled to the bone."

"Yeah…ow!" She jerked slightly as he elbowed her in the ribs. "What did you do that for?"

"Because you haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you? You've just been staring off into space like some sort of druggie who's high on her stash."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been away with the fairies," he clarified. "What's up?"

"Oh…nothing, not really." She looked down into her cup, swirling the dregs of her coffee around the bottom, her mind still focused on the conversation she had had with Stewart's personal officer that morning. After two days of trying to get through to him she had finally managed to catch him and ask if he thought she would be able to visit Stewart. Ordinarily, prisoners required to send out passes before a friend or family member could visit and she had hoped that news that she wanted to see him would have been welcomed. A few hours after she had made her request, however, she'd received a phone call back saying that Stewart had no wish to see her. For a brief moment, she had considered going in on some sort of official capacity, where a pass wouldn't have been needed, but she could just imagine Frank's face if he found out she used underhanded tactics.

"It can't be nothing," Jim pressed. "You look really upset about something."

"I'm not upset. I'm just…" she sighed heavily. "I wanted to go and see Stewart, only his personal officer told me that he didn't want me to visit."

"Why on earth would you want to go and see him?"

"Because his brother told me that the family are worried about him, concerned that he might do something stupid. I don't want that on my conscience."

"It wouldn't be down to you."

"I'm not so sure," she sighed again. "I can't help feeling responsible for the fact that he's there."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jim snorted. "He put himself there by attacking you. You didn't force him to do that, regardless of what you might have said to provoke him." She glanced over at him. "Not that I'm saying you provoked him, only…"

"Only that the news his wife was having an affair with her boss was never going to go down well?"

"Something like that," he shifted in his seat. "Anyway, what would be the point in raking it all up again? You and Burnside are consigned to the history books and Stewart's where he belongs. It's been six months. Maybe you should take his refusal as a blessing in disguise."

"Maybe."

"Anyway, I thought all the counselling you had was supposed to help you accept that what happened wasn't your fault."

"It was…it did…" she trailed off. "Half the time I think I'm doing ok and then something happens to set me back, like David showing up unannounced. If Stewart does end up doing something stupid like topping himself, you can bet your bottom dollar the pitchforks are going to be out for me."

"Well, if that happens, you call me. I'll come round and nick the lot of them."

She laughed in spite of herself, "You're a good mate, Jim."

"Yeah, when it suits you. I didn't hear you confiding in me when you were dirty dancing with the DI, not that I'm still holding a grudge or anything."

"Of course not."

"Anyway…this obbo tomorrow night; you reckon it's a goer?"

"Best chance we've got, isn't it? Other than waiting around for another attack." Over the course of the previous few days, plans had been put in place to start the surveillance the following evening. Suitable observation posts had been identified in the likely areas and the teams were pretty much good to go. Frank had paired her with Ted, somewhat unsurprisingly, but she knew who she would have rather spent time in a dark car with, even if she hadn't yet told him about the news from the prison. After their conversation earlier in the week, she wasn't entirely sure how he would take it. He'd said that he would support her, whatever the outcome, but she wasn't convinced that she believed him.

"Yeah, it's something when women don't feel safe to walk the streets."

"I don't think women have ever felt truly safe walking the streets. These attacks are nothing new."

"No, I suppose not. Anyway, I can't sit around here gassing to you all day. I've got work to do." Jim got to his feet. "What about you?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," she followed suit, glancing at her watch as she did so. "I need to nip out for a bit."

"Not doing Ted's dirty work for him again, are you?"

"No, not this time. I've just got someone I need to see." The truth was, she had agreed to meet Frank for lunch spending the day, as he was, at a conference at Area. "I'll catch up with you later."

Jim nodded good-naturedly and then wandered off back through the canteen doors leaving her alone with her thoughts once more. She couldn't decide whether or not to let the whole Stewart issue lie. Maybe she should contact David or Elizabeth. Maybe if one of them spoke to Stewart he might be more willing to see her.

It was a thought, if nothing else.

XXXX

As much as he craved the role of DCI and the status that it brought, one of the things he truly detested about management was the endless round of dull and uninspiring meetings and conferences that he was expected to attend. That day's particular excitement had been in relation to the policing practices when dealing with ethnic minorities, not something that he had ever considered really needed separate consideration. Whoever he arrested, black, white, pink or polka dotted, they were arrested for a reason. For once, however, had to admit that some of the conversations were vaguely interesting, particular in relation to how ethnic minorities viewed the police in general and what more, if anything, could be done to encourage assistance from their communities.

That being said, he was gratified when the lunch break was called and felt almost smug at eschewing the usual practice of making small talk with the other attendees and declaring that he had an appointment elsewhere. Even if it might have helped bolster his standing, he found himself far more enticed to spend an hour alone with her.

It was a café, nothing salubrious, but his heart lifted when he saw her waiting for him, and she got to her feet and allowed him to kiss her as though they hadn't a care or concern in the world. "You got away then," he remarked, sitting down opposite her.

"Yeah, no problem, especially when the boss is away," she joked. "How has it been? Deathly dull?"

"It's been all right actually. Some of the stuff they're talking about is nonsense, but other parts of it are actually quite interesting."

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, surprised me and all. Everything ticking over all right at the factory?"

"Yep."

"Everything still ready for tomorrow night?"

She nodded. "I wish I was going on obbo with you though, rather than Ted."

"Best that we don't get distracted. This bloke's nasty and I want him caught."

"I know," she nodded and then looked away out of the window, immediately raising his suspicions.

"What's wrong?"

"It's…" she paused and looked back at him. "You know I called the prison the other day?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I heard back from Stewart's personal officer, and he said that he doesn't want to see me."

A curious sense of relief flooded through him, not to mention gratitude that his wishes had been acceded to. He'd have to buy old Malcolm Henderson a drink next time they met socially. "Well, I suppose that wasn't totally unexpected, given that he refused to see you before."

"I know, I just hoped this time might have been different," she looked down at the table. "I was thinking that I should maybe contact David, or his mum, see if they could persuade him. I'd just feel better if I could talk to him."

"Would you though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what if he says something that only ends up making you feel worse? Or he gets angry and starts blaming you? Or he hurts you?"

"He's in prison, I'm not sure he could hurt me."

"Stranger things have happened. Viv got taken hostage in there once, remember? And if he's not stable…"

"Who said he's not stable?"

"Well, you said that his brother said they were worried he might do something to himself. That in itself would suggest he's not stable." He paused as she looked down again. "Look, it's admirable that you want to help him, and you've done what you can. Maybe you just need to let it go."

"Maybe."

"Anyway," he fought for a new topic of conversation, keen to divert her. "I spoke to Pat last night and she couldn't stop raving about you."

Her expression brightened, "Really?"

"Really. Said she thought you were lovely and that you'd be very good for me in the long run."

"High praise indeed."

"Of course it is. Not to mention the fact that she also told me to watch myself and not screw it up." He leaned across and took her hands in his. "Like I said, she's been a second mum to me all these years. What she thinks matters to me, not that it would have changed anything if she'd turned around and said she didn't like you, but it's nice knowing that she does. Makes it all seem that bit more…I don't know…right. Meant to be, if you like."

"Do you think we were always meant to be then? That, even all those years ago, when we were marrying other people, there was some little voice somewhere saying, 'ah, but this isn't going to last. They're not who you're meant to be with?'"

He paused, the thought intriguing. He could remember his wedding day as clear as though it was yesterday. At the time, he'd really believed that Julie had been the one for him and that they would grow old together. It had only been once the celebrations were over that he'd come to know the reality of life with her. If he'd known then that, somewhere out there, there had been someone else that he was destined to be with, how would that have affected the choices he had made?

"Earth to Frank."

She broke back into his thoughts, and he focused on her again, "Sorry, I was miles away. It's a thought, isn't it? Knowing that each of us was out there at the time, not knowing one another or what was going to happen in the future. I think you know what I want."

"What's that then?" Gently, he tapped the fourth finger of her left hand, bare now since she had removed her wedding and engagement rings, and her face pinked. "One step at a time, eh? I'm not divorced yet. And I'm starving. Can we eat lunch or are you going to make me survive on fresh air?"

All the way back to the afternoon session of the conference his mind was taken up with thoughts of the future. If she could just leave the whole Stewart issue alone, move on and let the legal process take its course, become free and available again, then there was no stopping them. What could anyone do if they were married anyway? Oh, they could still shift one of them out of Sun Hill to God knows where, but it would be different if they were married. No-one could call it a dirty little affair. It would be a proper, legally recognised relationship.

His thoughts were so consumed by his own plans that, at first, he didn't hear a familiar voice calling out to him and when he eventually realised and turned to look, saw that it was Kim.

"I didn't see you earlier," she greeted him, "but I suppose it's no surprise that you're here in your new role."

"No, I suppose not," he replied. "How are things at Discipline and Complaints…Ma'am?"

"Good, very good. Very different from being on division, but in a good way. I take it things haven't fallen apart at Sun Hill since I left?"

"Well, it's only been a week, Ma'am, give it time."

"Hmmm, yes…" she looked him up and down. "Well, you're looking good on it anyway, Frank. Must dash back to my seat before we start again. I've found the whole event fascinating so far."

"Yes Ma'am," he muttered to himself as she turned and walked away from him. "You would."

XXXX

Her fingers had hovered over the phone so many times, the digits from the phone numbers echoing in her brain as she considered whether or not to contact her in-laws. She knew, on some level, Frank was right when he told her to let it go, but she also knew that he was coming at it from an impartial opinion and, at the end of the day, it had to be her decision. Finally, in a quiet moment as darkness was starting to fall outside, she took her courage in both hands and dialled Elizabeth's number, it ringing out five times before being answered.

"Hello?"

She paused, momentarily frozen, before finding her voice. "Hello Elizabeth, it's Christina."

There was a short silence at the other end of the phone. "Oh."

"I'm sorry to just call like this…"

"No, no, it's fine. What can I do for you?"

She had hoped for the stalling exchange of pleasantries, but clearly her mother-in-law wasn't interested in prolonging the conversation any longer than necessary and so, she took a deep breath before speaking again. "David came to see me the other day."

"Yes, he said."

"He said that you're all worried about Stewart."

"We are."

She had expected more but was quickly realising that she was going to have to do all the leg work herself. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'd thought about going to visit him."

"Really?"

"Yes. I contacted his personal officer, but he told me that Stewart doesn't want to see me."

Elizabeth paused. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well, that's what he told me."

"Stewart has said before that he'd like to see you. He won't tell us why or what he wants to talk to you about, but he definitely said that he wanted to see you."

"Well, the problem is, as you know, I can't visit him without him agreeing to it. If he won't agree, then I can't go."

"When did you speak to his personal officer?"

"Just the other day, why?"

"Leave it with me. I'll contact you when I can."

Before she could say anything further, Elizabeth put the phone down and all she was left with was the relentless monotone of the dial tone. Slowly, she replaced the receiver, her mind working overtime again. If Stewart had told his family he wanted to see her, why would he refuse her visit? Unless he was just telling them that to, somehow, make her look bad for not visiting, which she couldn't completely discount.

"Well, that was ninety-five percent a waste of a day," Frank said, coming into the office. "You know they made us fill in a questionnaire at the end so we could 'put into words what we'd learned.' I could have given them one word, if they'd asked."

"So, there was at least five percent that was useful then?" Mike asked.

"Maybe, but don't quote me on that." He paused. "Where is everyone anyway?"

"It's past five, they've all gone home."

"Except you pair," his gaze swept over them. "Trying to get in my good books?"

"No," Mike replied, "trying to finish some paperwork before the obbo this weekend."

"How very diligent of you Michael. What about you?" he looked at her.

"The same. I'm due in court two days next week too so that's two days when I won't get anything else done."

"Better time management, that's what the pair of you need," he said, walking into his office. "I mean, look at me. Got it down to a fine art."

"If you like having bundles of papers on your desk five feet high, Guv, then yes, you really have got it down to a fine art," Mike said, looking at his watch. "Anyway, I'd better dash. I'm supposed to be going to the theatre tonight and the curtain goes up in less than an hour."

"Oh, anything interesting?" she asked, as he switched off his desk light and stood up.

"Well, it's not Cats or Miss Saigon or anything like that," he replied. "It's a French play actually. Le Petit Fleur."

"The Little Flower?"

"You do surprise me. There was me thinking nobody in here knew any French beyond asking for a Big Mac."

"You know something Mike, maybe if you weren't such an offensive, patronising git at times, you might be able to hold down a relationship for longer than a few weeks," she said, irritated.

"Said by the woman trying to persuade her mother-in-law to get her into prison to see her wastrel of a husband."

"What was that?" Frank said, coming to his office door, his gaze sliding between them.

"If you ask me, Chris, you should just let it go. He's not worth it."

"Well, I didn't ask you, Mike, did I?"

"Anyway," Mike grabbed his coat from the rack. "Have a nice evening, the pair of you."

As he swept out of the room, Frank turned to look at her. "What's up with him?"

"No idea," she replied, though she couldn't help but think that the slight pause before he had said, 'the pair of you' meant something. Before she could voice anything however, Frank came to stand in front of her desk.

"You called Stewart's mother?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"She said that he apparently wanted to see me. That she couldn't understand why he would say he didn't." She shook her head. "I don't know, she said she would contact me again so…we'll see."

"Yeah…" he shifted slightly. "Though I still reckon you should leave it."

"I know, maybe I will…I don't know." Her mind felt so jumbled about the whole thing that it was starting to give her a headache. "Anyway, once I've finished this I'm going home."

"Lucky you," he turned back into his office and sat down behind his desk.

Pausing for a moment, she got up and wandered in after him. "Got a lot to do?"

"Michael wasn't wrong about the piles of paper five feet high," he replied, gesturing to the mound that sat on his desk. "You know, I'm starting to realise why the higher you climb in this job the less you're in touch with real policing. There's never any time to do any."

"You'll be out on obbo this weekend though."

"Yeah, well I wasn't trusting you lot on your own with that. This time, if we catch someone in the act, we're going to nick them."

"Cheeky git," she replied, knowing his comment was, at least halfway, said in jest. "If you're ever hoping to get back in bed with me, you're going the wrong way about it."

"I thought you mentioned before that there was something to be said for men in positions of authority."

"Well, there's giving off an air of being in charge and then there's just being an arsehole."

He sat back in his chair and surveyed her critically. "And which one gets you off more?"

"Some days, it's a toss-up."

"Come here."

"Where?"

"Here." Slowly, she moved around to his side of the desk and stood looking down at him. "I meant, here." Turning to face her, he reached out for her hand and guided her closer to him, causing her to realise, almost at the very last minute, what he was meaning.

"Oh…here…" she lifted her leg and swung it over his, sliding down into his lap and instantly feeling him harden against her as a shiver went through her. "This is a bit naughty, isn't it?"

"Is it?" he asked, looking up at her, his eyes liquid with desire.

"Well, yes. Not only are we on work premises, but you said that we were going to take things more slowly this time around."

"We've got up to things on work premises before," he reminded her.

"Mmmm…if Tosh hadn't interrupted us…" She laughed as his hands slid to her bottom, pulling her pelvis tighter into his. "I'm not sure that this is a good idea."

"I never said that we were going to have sex."

"So, you're just trying to frustrate me then?"

"Something like that." He reached up and touched her hair, gently encouraging her lower where his mouth could find hers. "Think of it as the warm-up act."

"I see…" ever so slowly, she began moving against him, gratified at him swelling with each light touch. "So, this is as far as we're going to go, is it?"

"Yes."

"Well, whenever you want me to get off, just let me know."

"I will," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers as she continued to slowly work against him. She could feel his breathing quickening under her, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of her skirt, not to mention the dampness she could feel between her own thighs. Given all that happened, she knew that they should stop, but there was something about the feeling of the intimate act that held her there.

The phone on his desk suddenly rang, startling them both and causing her to break her movements. Somewhat reluctantly, he lifted the receiver, his gaze still on her. "Burnside." In a split second, his expression changed. He jerked away from her, causing her to rise quickly from his lap and stumble back. "What? What's happened? Gerry…Gerry slow down…slow down!" A sudden panic washed over her as he got to his feet, and she moved closer to him again, as though her physical proximity could be something of a comfort. "When did this happen? Is she ok? Gerry is she ok?! No, no I'll be right there. I'll be right there!" he slammed the phone down and, for a moment, stood with his hand still on the receiver, unmoving.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's happened?"

He looked at her quickly, the colour drained from his face. "It was Gerry. Pat's been attacked."

"What?! Oh my God…"

"They've taken her to St Hughes."

"Is she all right? I mean…what happened?" He jerked into movement, hurrying around his desk and grabbing his coat from the stand before turning out of the office. She followed him, having to jog to keep up with up. "Frank!"

"I don't know!" he tossed over his shoulder. "I don't know what happened. He just said that she'd been attacked, that's all."

She followed him as he thundered down the back stairs towards custody and hurried out into the yard. "I'll come with you."

"No."

"Frank, I'll come with you. Please." He paused and turned to look at her before nodding. Pulling open the passenger door, she barely had time to get seated and buckle her belt before he slammed the gears into reverse and took off at speed out of the yard. As they drove in the direction of the hospital, she wanted to say something comforting and yet she couldn't think of anything beyond platitudes that she knew he wouldn't want.

"Uniform must have attended," he said suddenly. "Why wouldn't they tell us?!"

"Maybe they just hadn't had a chance, if it's only just happened…"

"She's my sister!"

"Yes, but she'll be using her married name. They wouldn't necessarily…"

"Why wouldn't she tell them I was her brother?! Unless…" he paused. "Unless she couldn't." The thought seemed to agitate him more and he put his foot down, driving well in excess of the speed limit until they turned into the hospital car park, and he roared up to the main A&E door.

"Give me the keys," she said as they got out. "I'll park." He tossed them to her over the roof and then hurried away from her towards the door. It was clearly visiting hours and the car park was busy, so it took her three circuits before she found a space, hurrying in after him once she had done so. Initially at first, she couldn't see him for the throng of people that were already waiting to be seen and then, in the far corner, she saw him standing with his back to her, both hands pressed up against the wall, an ashen faced Gerry beside him.

"How is she?" she asked, hurrying over to join them, panic gripping her. "Is she all right?"

"She's got a nasty bump on the head," Gerry replied, "and some cuts and bruises, but she's conscious at least."

"Well, that's encouraging," she replied, glancing at Frank who never shifted position. "What happened?"

"She was on her way home from the bus stop, and she cut down Fraser Gardens, like she always does. It's a shortcut near the back of our house…" Gerry broke off as Frank suddenly slammed his hand against the wall, causing her to jump and a horrible sensation to wash over her.

"A shortcut?" Gerry nodded. "So was she…?"

"She was raped," Frank said, his voice quivering slightly, his tone angry. "Bastard…bastard raped her."

"No…"

"Yes!" he turned and looked at her. "And it was him!"

Though he was probably right, she knew she needed to somehow remain professional, given he would clearly be unable to. "We can't know that for sure yet. Are there any uniform…?"

"It was him!" Frank shouted again. "I know it was him!"

"Frank…"

"If you and Boyden had been doing your job properly that night instead of poncing about drinking coffee and acting like bloody lovebirds, you'd have caught him, and this would never have happened!"

She knew he was lashing out, pain and anger clouding his judgment, but she would have been no human at all if his words hadn't stung. She could feel the weight of Gerry's gaze on her too and she took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to argue with either of them. "Are there any uniform here?"

"Yes," Gerry replied. "They're in with her now."

"Ok, I'm going to go and see what's happening, all right?"

The question was directed more towards Frank, but he turned away and it was Gerry who nodded. "She's in bed number 4."

"Thanks," she put her hand briefly on his arm and then turned, heading through the doors into the treatment area, trying hard to leave the personal behind.