He followed Jack through to his office, his heart rising into his mouth. This was it. Stewart had done it. He had made a complaint about what had happened and now Jack was going to question him about it, possibly suspend him, and his whole future with Christina was about to go up in smoke. He wished he'd asked for a moment before the meeting, if for no other reason than to call and warn her that something had happened, but he found himself standing in front of Jack's desk before he had time to even process it and his immediate thought was getting out in front of whatever was about to be thrown at him.

"Listen, Jack I…"

"Yes?"

"I…erm…well, I understand how it might look and…"

Jack frowned, "How what might look?"

"Well, whatever it is that Stewart Church has said…"

"Church?" Jack frowned and shook his head. "Rod Patterson."

He paused and blinked. "What?"

"Rod Patterson," Jack repeated. "You know the name I take it."

"Well, yeah of course I do. We nailed him for trafficking a couple of months ago, just before you arrived at Sun Hill. He got, oh, ten years if I recall correctly."

"You do recall correctly, and it was a good collar," Jack sat back in his seat. "He's wanting to talk."

A sliver of cold relief shot through him, "What?"

"He wants to talk."

"About what?"

"Well, he didn't exactly elaborate…"

"You spoke to him directly?" Jack nodded. "Must be something tasty then."

"Mmmm…anyway, he said that he would only speak to one officer."

"Me?"

"No, Chris Lewis."

He paused, "I don't think that's a very good idea, Guv."

"Why not?"

"Well, she's got history with Patterson."

"She gave evidence against him."

"I don't mean that. I'm referring to what happened to her back in his club, when she was undercover three years ago."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. But the attempted rape was committed by a Vice Squad officer, not Patterson himself."

"He was complicit in it," he said. "He knew Ryan Brown was an undercover officer, he knew that she was an undercover officer, and he was quite happy to sit back and let him do what he wanted with her which, I have no doubt, would have included rape and murder if I hadn't been there."

"Yes, well…lucky you were, I suppose," Jack replied, eyeing him in such a way as to make him feel slightly uncomfortable, as though he was alluding to more than was strictly accurate. "But Brown and Patterson are both in prison and Chris helped put them both there. If Patterson wants to talk to her and her alone, he must have a reason."

"She went through a lot after that attack and Stewart, well he was useless as far as giving her support was concerned."

"She had you though."

He met the other man's gaze, aware of the challenge that lay in it. Despite the fact that Jack had read Christina the riot act about their relationship when he had first arrived, their own conversations had somehow managed to avoid the subject altogether, almost as though the other man was just waiting for the right opportunity to drop a bombshell on him. Suddenly, telling him in a few weeks' time that they were married didn't seem like such a good idea after all, "Nothing happened between us until much later."

"No…well I'm not really interested in the two of you going at it behind her husband's back, but I am interested in what Patterson might have to tell us. He's got a lot of connections and he could have taken his information elsewhere."

"I'm sure he does, but I'm just not sure that Chris should be the one to find out about them."

"She's a Detective Sergeant."

"I know that Guv…"

"She knows how to do her job effectively, unless you're suggesting that she doesn't."

"No, of course not. I just wouldn't like to see Patterson playing any mind games with her, that's all."

Jack looked at him curiously. "You care about her."

"Yes Guv, as I do with all of my officers. And I don't think we can pretend that female officers need slightly more protecting than male officers, whether they'd want to admit it or not." It seemed the safest tact to take, rather than give the impression that he cared more about Christina than anyone else, though he knew Jack was no fool.

"She's a big girl, Frank. I'm sure she can handle meeting a man in prison and putting any personal feelings she might have about him aside. Besides, it's not as if he's going to be able to do anything to her in there, even if he wanted to, is he?"

"No."

"She's back tomorrow, isn't she?"

He nodded, "She was going to be driving back up the road today."

"Well then, Longmarsh can be her first port of call in the morning I reckon. The sooner we can move on whatever it is he wants to tell her, the better." He paused. "I'm sure she would appreciate you giving her a heads up beforehand though."

"Yes Guv," he turned and left the other man's office, relieved that the conversation hadn't been about what he had thought it might be, but equally concerned as to Patterson's motives. Why would he want to talk only to Christina? Was it something to do with Ryan? Were they somehow in it together? Sitting back down at his desk, he lifted the phone and dialled Christina's number, relieved and frustrated in equal measure to get her answering machine. "It's me," he said after the beep. "Ring me when you get this."

XXXX

"Now, you drive safely love. Your dad wouldn't want you to be joining him in the afterlife quite yet I don't think."

She smiled at the older woman's concern. "I will, don't worry. I'll be back soon in any event to continue clearing out his things."

"Well, if I can help in any way, just let me know," Hilary replied, patting her shoulder. "I know it's difficult for you dealing with all this on your own."

"The curse of the only child I suppose," she replied ruefully. The lack of siblings had never really bothered her before. As a young child she had had plenty of friends to play with and subsequently having Stewart in her life had filled any hole that might have been there. But she couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to have a brother or sister to confide in, to help share the load of dealing with her father's demise. It was all good and well having Frank, but it wasn't quite the same as she could imagine it being with a sibling.

"Mmm…yes," Hilary replied, not quite meeting her gaze. "Well, the offer is always there."

"Thank you, for everything you've done to help. I wouldn't have managed to organise everything for the funeral without you letting me know who Dad's friends were."

"Not at all. I'll see you soon love."

She made her way down the stairs and back to the car, opening the boot and depositing the few boxes of personal items that she had elected to transport back to London for closer examination. The weather was warm and sunny, and she put the windows down and turned the radio up as she drove, losing herself in the mindlessness of the journey, putting all thoughts of the future, her job or their upcoming wedding as far out of her mind as possible. In those short hours, time seemed to stand still.

Back at home, she saw that the answering machine was blinking and, when she pressed the button, Frank's voice filled the air, asking her to call when she got the message. Automatically, she lifted the receiver and then paused, putting it back down into the cradle. There was nothing wrong with not being at his beck and call, especially on what was supposed to be a day off. Instead, she opened the backdoor and stepped out into the small garden, sitting down in one of the wrought iron chairs she had positioned in what was the sunniest spot and closing her eyes. As she sat and let the warm rays burn her skin, she suddenly wondered where she and Frank would live once they were married. Of course, most married couples lived together, but then their situation was so out of the ordinary, so different. It wasn't just that they would be apart, but the fact that it would be a secret. Would they flit between each other's flat, taking turn about? It had never been properly ironed out between them and she couldn't help but think on what his expectation might be.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there when she heard the strains of the phone ringing from inside. It stopped and then immediately started again and so she dragged herself out of her seat and back into the living room. "Hello?"

"Didn't you get my message?"

His tone instantly irritated her. "Yes, I did."

"So why haven't you called me back?"

"Because I've been sitting outside enjoying the sun on what was supposed to be a day off. I didn't realise that it was essential I rang my boss back straight away." He said nothing and she felt a slight twinge of regret at her tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded…"

"I wasn't calling you as your boss. Well…I suppose I was."

"What does that mean?"

"Meadows got a call from Longmarsh earlier today."

A ripple of panic swept through her. "Stewart?"

He paused. "No. Rod Patterson."

"Patterson? What did he want?"

"Apparently he's got some information that he'd like to share with us."

"About what?"

"No idea, he wouldn't say."

"Ok…"

"He told Meadows that the only person he would speak to was, well, you."

"Me?" she frowned. "Why me?"

"God only knows. And Patterson, presumably. Meadows wants you to go visit him in the jail first thing tomorrow morning."

"Right…" her mind turned over, filled with a thousand thoughts as to why she had been summoned. "Ok then."

"You don't have to."

"Don't have to what?"

"You don't have to go."

"Why wouldn't I go?"

"Well, you've got history with him."

She paused, Ryan flashing in her minds eye as he sometimes did when she least expected it. "It wasn't Patterson who tried to rape me."

"No, but he would have let it happen, and worse. I told Meadows that I didn't think it was a good idea, but he insisted. Only, I'm sure he wouldn't force you if you felt you couldn't do it."

"You told Meadows you didn't think it was a good idea? Why?"

"Because of what happened."

"That was over three years ago, Frank."

"So? You still could have been seriously hurt and I know how much it affected you, even if you didn't want to admit it at the time."

"I'm fine. Besides, I've seen Patterson since."

"Yeah, to put the cuffs on him. This is going to be different. You'll be in a room with him, alone. God only knows what strokes he might try and pull."

"I think you're getting carried away with yourself here. It's hardly Silence of the Lambs, is it? Besides, if you go on to Meadows about things that you're worried about me doing, isn't he going to get suspicious?"

"I told him that female officers need protecting."

"Wonderful. So, you made out to him that I can't stand up for myself?"

"No, it wasn't like that." He paused. "Why did you ask if it was Stewart when I told you the call had come from Longmarsh."

"I…" she trailed off, unsure even how to answer his question. They were divorced after all. Were anything of any consequence to happen, she would likely be the last person to be informed. "I suppose I thought something might have happened to him or…"

"Or what?"

"I don't know…that he might have changed his mind about wanting to see me." He didn't reply and she found herself wondering if the connection had dropped. "You still there?"

"Yep," he replied tightly. "I'll call and get you booked in for the morning then, save you doing it on your day off. Nine o'clock?"

"Yeah, that's fine," she replied, slightly discomfited by his tone. "Am I…?"

"Right."

"…going to see you tonight?" she said to no-one as the line went dead and the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Slowly, she replaced the receiver, replaying the conversation over in her mind. He certainly didn't seem keen for her to visit Patterson and she could understand his reluctance given the history, but the way he had responded when she had mentioned Stewart gave her pause for thought, both on his reaction and her own. If it had been Stewart who had requested she visit, would she have wanted to go? And if she had, did that say something – anything – about her relationship with Frank?

She turned to look out of the back windows at the ever-present sun and decided that it was all too much to waste her thoughts on at that moment. If he wanted to go off in a huff, that was up to him. The following day would be interesting in so many ways but, right at that moment, all she wanted was the warm oblivion that only the afternoon heat could bring.

XXXX

That he might have changed his mind about wanting to see me.

He replaced the receiver and stared at it, unsure how he felt about what she had said. Her unconcerned reaction to Patterson's request had surprised him, but then as Jack had pointed out, she was a very capable officer and the incident in question had been more than three years earlier. Yet, despite all that, he still felt the urge that he needed to protect her, to keep her away from anything or anyone that could harm her.

And then there was Stewart. Divorced, and yet she still seemed to care about whether he might want to see her. Of course, there were two sides to that coin; one being her still caring enough about him to want to visit and the other being what Stewart could tell her if she ever did visit him. If the other man did decide to speak up, would she believe him? Or would she disregard the idea that he might have had anything to do with keeping her from her ex-husband?

The afternoon dragged into early evening, the heat in the station oppressive to the extent that he couldn't wait to leave and, predictably, he found himself driving in the direction of her flat. There was no reply when he knocked the front door, so he made his way through the gate and around to the back garden where he found her sitting in the far corner, a box in front of her, the contents spread across the table. She started as he approached and let out a long breath. "You gave me a fright there."

"Sorry, I did ring the buzzer."

"I got the impression when we spoke earlier that you were in the huff with me?"

"Maybe I was," he admitted, pulling out one of the other chairs and sitting down.

"Because I said I'd go and visit Patterson?"

He shook his head. "No, it's your job after all. I suppose I was a bit surprised that you might still want to go and visit Stewart, that's all."

"You feel threatened by that?"

"I don't feel threatened by Stewart Church," he replied quickly, causing her to raise her eyebrows. "Like I said, I was just a bit surprised, that's all. I mean, we are getting married in a fortnight."

"As if I could forget."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "You don't have to feel threatened by Stewart, Frank. But if the opportunity did arise for me to visit him, ask him some questions, get some answers…I would more than likely take it. It doesn't mean I feel anything less for you. But, given what's happened in the past, I guess it's unlikely he'll change his mind."

"Yeah, I guess so." He shifted in the chair, keen to divert the conversation away from such a dangerous topic. "I spoke to Viv earlier."

"Oh yeah, what did she say?"

"She gave me a few home truths. Told me she thought Stewart and I were similar in many ways, expressed doubts about me being able to keep it in my trousers…" she gasped, and he laughed. "I suppose she might be right, historically speaking."

"I can't believe she said that to you!"

"She's got your best interests at heart, that's for sure. Reckon if I did hurt you, she'd be all over me like a rabid dog."

"Probably best you don't give her the opportunity then."

"Yeah, probably." He gestured to the items on the table in front of them. "What's all this then?"

"Some of my dad's things," she replied. "I thought I'd bring them back here and take some time going through them, rather than rushing at the flat. He kept diaries. I never knew that."

"Anything salacious?"

"Well, in the ones I've looked at so far, he does name some names. Pity they're probably too out of date to be useful to law enforcement." She fingered the edge of one somewhat wistfully. "Perhaps I might get to know him better by reading them."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For the fact that you didn't get more time with him."

She shrugged. "Just the way it goes, I suppose. I'm guessing he had his reasons. Do you want a drink?"

"Yeah, go on. G&T if you've got any." He watched as she disappeared back inside and then pulled one of the diaries over towards him. Opening it, he was greeted with, what he could only assume, was her father's scrawl, pages and pages of it, none of which he felt inclined to attempt to read. It was personal to her after all, the only thing she had left of the man. He flipped through the pages and then pushed it to one side, looking at another one to find the same again. One after the other, they all contained the same sprawling prose but as he leafed through the last one, he found that there were two white envelopes carefully tucked into the back page. They looked crisp and new and, turning them over, saw to his surprise that one was addressed to her…and one to him.

He opened his mouth to call out to her, to tell what he had found, and then suddenly stopped. Her letter was her own business but the one addressed to him…he stuffed it into his pocket, closed the diary back over and slid it across the table, just as she appeared back at the table with two glasses.

"I can't believe the weather of late," she commented, handing him a glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, "who needs Spain?"

"Mmmm…" she looked at him pointedly. "Where are we going to live?"

The question caught him slightly off guard, "How do you mean?"

"I mean, we're getting married in two weeks and I'd like to know where we're going to be spending our wedding night and beyond."

"Well, I might have something up my sleeve for our wedding night," he replied with a smile. "As to where we're going to live…I suppose I hadn't really thought about it."

"Don't you think we should? Are we going to live separately?" She raised her eyebrows, "Or, will we live together once we've told Meadows?"

"Yeah…" he played with his glass. "I'm still thinking on that one."

"What one, telling Meadows?"

"Yeah, maybe we should keep quiet after all."

"I don't believe you," she shook her head. "First you were adamant we couldn't say anything, then you said that we should tell him because it might help your chances of promotion…"

"That wasn't the only reason."

"…and now you're saying we should keep quiet again? Honestly, I'm going to start calling you Yo-Yo Burnside." She drained her glass. "I wish you'd make up your mind."

"Let's just wait and see how we feel," he replied. "When I spoke to Meadows earlier, he gave me the impression that he doesn't think particularly highly of our past indiscretion."

"Nobody at Sun Hill who knows does."

"I get that, but I hoped that if we told him once we were married, he'd be supportive. Now, well, I'm just not so sure."

"Well, do let me know when you've decided on a course of action," she rolled her eyes. "Another one?"

They drank more as the evening wore on, to the point that he could feel the pleasant edge of drunkenness start to envelop him and witness it do the same to her. Animosity forgotten, she sat on his lap, kissing him, allowing his hand to wander up underneath her flowing skirt and his fingers to graze against the edge of her knickers before slipping inside to find her heat. She moved urgently against him, and they might have made love right there had it not been for the likelihood of being spied on by neighbours. In a tangle of limbs and laughter they instead made their way to the bathroom, the mingled heat of atmosphere and desire brought to bear under the coolness of the shower. The water pounded down on top of them as he pressed her back against the tiles and pushed up inside her, the humour continuing as they fought to remain upright, before eventually traversing to the bed and collapsing in a damp heap. Sleep claimed her quickly, but he found his mind unable to rest and when he eventually managed to disentangle himself from her, he picked his way back to his discarded clothes, lifted the letter from his pocket and went into the living room to read it.

Frank,

Not much good at this kind of thing, but I just wanted to say thanks for being there for Chris. All those years ago, I thought Stewart was a bit of a dickhead, but I was too wrapped up in myself to say anything and she seemed happy, so I figured, 'let her go'. I regret that now, given what he did to her. Not that she would have listened to me back then anyway. I've written her a letter too and tried to explain why I've decided to do this. No point in hanging around to the bitter end. Hopefully my Eleanor's waiting for me anyway. It's been tough all these years without her. I know my Goldilocks is going to be all right now because she's got you. I know you love her, and she loves you. All you need is love, or so they say. Mind and do right by her. Marry her, give her kids, and encourage her to get on in the job. Don't let her down. I've never thought much about the Old Bill as you know, but she's the exception. You strike me as being all right too. I bet we'd have knocked heads a few times if our paths had crossed. I wish I'd chosen a different path sometimes, but there you go. Wishing won't change it. I can only hope for the best for her. You'll understand one day when you've got kids of your own. Mind how you go.

Bill

He read it through twice and then folded it carefully and placed it back into the envelope, secreting it once more in the pocket of his jacket. There was no need for her to see it, no need for her to know that her father written to him, unless it was mentioned in her own letter and, if it was, he would cross that bridge then and there. Stealing back into the bedroom, he smiled at her figure sprawled across the bed, eased himself down beside her and, gently moving her damp hair away from her neck, kissed her softly.