A Closer Fate 2
by elfin


"Right!  Listen up."  DCI Michael Jardine faced the incident room full of yawning detectives.  "We've got three bodies.  The only connection between them seems to be that they were dumped between midnight and two am on three consecutive Saturday mornings.  Some of you might think that's enough to assume it's the same killer.  Most of you, I suspect, are sceptical.  The MO's different with each victim, the victims themselves appear to be completely different.

"Number one, Jamie McNash.  Male, twenty-seven years old, barman at Fossils Nightclub in the city centre.  Disappeared on the previous Monday morning after being seen leaving the club shortly after four am.  Sexually assaulted and stabbed sometime before being dumped five days later outside the Rose and Crown pub in Glenside.  Five days!  Where was he during that time?  He was killed no more than twelve hours before we found him.  Was he somewhere and then abducted?  Or was he abducted but kept clean, fed and watered?

"Number two, Isla Blair.  Female, twenty-two year old student from Glasgow University.  Vanished on the Thursday night.  Her clothes were torn but there was no evidence of any physical sexual assault.  She was strangled.  Pathologist report says that she was killed between twenty-four and thirty hours before we found her.  This means she was killed almost immediately and her body was kept somewhere before being dropped behind Wheels Garage in Erskine.

"Number three, Anthony Lang.  Male, thirty-five years old, a jewellery maker from Clydebank.  The last time anyone saw him was on Tuesday night; his business partner left him to lock up the shop around six p.m.  Pathologist report says he was kept somewhere dirty for at least two or three days.  He was raped before being stabbed and dumped out at Langbank."

Michael looked over the assembled officers.  To one side, DCI Matthew Burke was standing with his arms folded.  His new team was currently joined with Jardine's.  If they decided that this was a serial killer, both CID teams would work together to catch him.

Since the Kennedy case, Burke and Jardine's teams had worked side by side in Maryhill CID.  Usually one team on a case, it worked better, they'd found, especially with Jardine's team.  As they'd proved on the Kennedy case, Jackie and Robbie didn't work well under another boss. 

DI Pete Calder had transferred from Glenside, DS Graham Thomas from Langbank and promotion had brought DC Hayley Neill up from uniform branch downstairs.

Whatever glued Jardine's team together so closely, Burke could only hope that in time, the same would work with his little gang.  Calder and Thomas had good credentials.  And Neill came with her own qualifications.

Smiling at Burke, Michael stepped back and let him take the reins.

"Let's assume for a minute that there's one killer.  Two males, one female.  Males have been sexually assaulted, but not the female.  She was strangled, they were stabbed.  So why assume all three were killed by the same person?"

There was a general silence in the room, before a quiet female voice piped up, "He prefers men but he's uncomfortable with that.  He tries to rape a woman and fails, so he loses control and strangles her."

Burke smiled.  Michael was impressed.  Detective Constable Neill was on the promotional fast-track.  It didn't make life easy, as he knew from personal experience.  Jim Taggart had put him on that path and to be a DCI at his age was very rare.  Whether he was grateful or not was a different matter altogether.

But, for some reason, his own team didn't like her.  Robbie, Jackie and Stuart had been muttering about having to work with her the previous evening when they'd been in the pub.  They'd shut up, of course, when Burke had joined them.  But later, lying in bed with Jackie and Robbie, Michael had asked them for reasons.


"She thinks she knows everything!  She's always got an answer and it's usually right."

Michael glanced across at Robbie.  He'd expected that from Jackie, not him, but he wasn't sure why.  "So she's good.  Surely that's a plus for us?"

"Not if you decide to replace one of us with her," Jackie answered, settling her head on Michael's chest, flicking her tongue out over the hard nub of his right nipple.

For a second, he couldn't remember what she'd said.

"You could go and work for Matt.  Might be easier than working for me."

Robbie, lying next to him, pushed up onto his elbow and leaned over Michael, lips hovering inches above his lover's mouth.

"'Matt, is it?'"

Michael smiled, reaching up to comb fingers into Robbie's fine, dark hair. 

He and Matt Burke worked well together.  It was nice to have someone at his own level, not subordinates, not superiors.  Not lovers.  They'd started off badly, but they'd marked their own territory now, got their own teams, and with that all worked out, they tended to get on easily.

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer."

"Same here.  Think we want to go into work in the mornings, in the evenings, late at night, and not see you smiling at us?"

Michael was touched.  Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that Robbie would be the more romantic one of the threesome, but he was much better at it than either Michael or Jackie.

"Don't you see enough of me?" he countered, curious.

It was Jackie's turn to answer.  "Not nearly enough.  Like now, you're all covered in duvet...."


Burke was grinning proudly.  "Good.  I want you to keep in mind that she might have been killed by a different person, they all might have been.  But DCI Jardine and I have decided that for now, we'll treat this as a serial killer case.  Bear in mind DC Neill's suggestion that we're looking for a closet homosexual who isn't comfortable with his own sexuality.  You're working as a single team, so I want complete co-operation."

Michael stepped forward again, tone gentler.  "Work together on this one.  Robbie, Pete, start with the people who last saw the victims alive.  Where were they going?  Had they talked about meeting someone?  Jackie and Graham, interview anyone who might have seen anything when the bodies were dumped.  Stuart and Hayley, work on connections.  Heather, pull all the paperwork that any of this lot ask for.  If this is one person, there must be something that connects the three.  I want to know everything about all three of them.  Back here at five."

Turning back to the incident board to avoid Stuart's murderous look, Michael let his eyes travel over the six photos.  For each victim there were two; one as they appeared in life, a second as they were found dumped like any garbage.

Michael was determined to give their families at least the dignity of him finding the man who'd done this.

"We're sure it's a man?" Burke questioned, moving to stand at Michael's shoulder.

"Glenn's convinced.  He says that the spread of the finger marks around the girl's neck indicates a man's hand.  And then there's the nature of the rape.  There's evidence that a condom was used, and Glenn thinks the rapist might also have used a dildo on his victims."  A few seconds passed, and Michael became aware that Burke was staring at him.  He turned his head.  "What?"

"You're a lot more comfortable than me with this stuff."

"What stuff?"

Burke hesitated.  "When I read that path report I couldn't even bring myself to consider the meaning of what Glenn had written there."

Michael smiled wryly.  "A lot of women and a great deal of men own a dildo.  It's hardly a taboo any more.  There's an 'Anne Sommers' shop just opened on the city centre high street."


He knew that for a fact.  Jackie had surprised her two lovers by coming home on Wednesday night with a bright pink Anne Sommers bag containing two vibrators.  One was pink and red, with a long, firm main shaft and a shorter 'tickler' shaft.  The second was flesh-coloured, thicker and more rubbery.

His and Robbie's first reaction had been 'absolutely no way'.  But after spending half an hour that night watching her play with the tickler, their curiosity had been peaked.  Michael had been the first one to roll over.

It was the first time that Jackie had ever used a dildo on one of her two lovers.  She'd seen Michael's responses to Robbie fucking him, heard his cries and watched his movements.  But to be on the receiving end of that sensual reaction, to be the one to push him to that overload, was an intense feeling.

Robbie, though, still hadn't wanted to know.  The only thing that was going anywhere near his ass was Michael's cock, warm and alive.  Michael was flattered, and an hour later had given Robbie exactly what he'd asked for.


"Mike?"

He shook himself.  "Sorry."

Matt's expression was oddly curious, but he didn't voice whatever questions were lurking in his mind.  "What about you and I?"

Michael grinned.  "We get all the best jobs."

*

Dr Glenn Glen-Ross threw the green gloves into the waste bin and pushed the mask off his face.  He'd known Michael for years, ever since Dr Stephen Andrews had passed away.  But Matt Burke was a new face at Maryhill and like so many others, he was wary of new kids on the block.

Not that Burke could really be considered a 'new kid'.  He'd obviously been around somewhere for some time.  He just wasn't known to Glenn and that made the pathologist cautious.  Yet he remained candid.

"In both assaults the guy used a condom.  There's no semen traces anywhere on any of the bodies.  The girl, he didn't touch sexually, although as you've probably already worked out, I think he did intend to.  Her clothes were torn in the manner of the initiation of a sex attack."

Michael was used to Glenn's theorising.  Often, his own thoughts and ideas caught on to something that the doctor said and turned it around until it actually made some kind of sense.  But Burke wasn't used to it.

"Why don't you leave the detective work to us, ay son?"

"Matt...." 

But Burke ignored the other DCI, and Glenn was passed being insulted by know-it-all police officers.

"Can you tell us more about where they might have been held?"

"Well, I obviously wouldn't want to make any wild guesses," he glared at Burke, "but I would say number one, McNash, wasn't treated as, or maybe didn't even consider himself, a prisoner.  There are no signs he was bound.  His last meal was one of pizza, garlic bread and beer - real ale if I'm not mistaken.  There are very few signs of struggle."

"But he was assaulted?" Michael asked.  "It wasn't consensual."

"There's bruising around the mouth that I would associate with assault.  There's also bruising on the shoulders, the marks consistent to heavy pressure, as if he'd been knelt on."

"So you're saying he was forced to suck his killer off before he was killed?"

"Right.  In my humble opinion, of course."

Michael glanced at Burke, who was once again way out of his depth.  "What about number three?"

"Mr Lang was definitely bound and gagged.  There was dirt under his nails, on his hands and arms, and on his legs and knees.  I would say that he was raped where he'd been held and then moved.  But again, that's just summation."

Nodding, Michael tried to put the three victims in some sort of group in his mind, and once again failed.  "Is there anything obviously connecting the two men and the woman?"

"Nothing that I could find.  But I know they were dumped in the same manner and around the same time.  Doesn't take a detective to figure out that you don't get copycats after just one murder, and you don't usually find the killer sticking to a particular MO just because a second person has set a pattern in place."

Back on solid ground, Burke was back off on a tirade about doctors second-guessing senior police officers.  Michael let him get on with it, wondering off to get a coffee when he got bored.

*

The briefing that started at just gone five lasted over an hour.  There was a lot to report, a lot of details to start putting together, and a connection between the three. 

Fossils nightclub in town had been where victim number one had worked as a barman.  But it turned out that Isla Blair was a regular there on most nights, and Anthony Lang had been there with friends a couple of days before his disappearance.

"Right," Michael concluded.  "Today's Monday.  That gives us four days before he might continue his pattern.  The problem is that there's no telling when he's going to grab his next victim, he might already have done so.  There's a distinct possibility that he knew his first victim, Jamie McNash, well.  They weren't sexually close, but they might have been friends.  It seems that Jamie was happy staying where he was kept that week.  Maybe he wasn't being 'kept' at all, maybe he was staying somewhere with a friend.  No one missed him for a week - find out why."

For once, Burke let Michael have the last word.  He hooked up with his own team while Michael took his senior three to The Bull - Maryhill's CID local.

"Tell me everything," he instructed once they were happily sat with pints in front of them, except the boss himself obviously.

They regaled him, one by one, with what they'd found out. 

The victims were just people, going about their daily lives.  Until they were fatally interrupted.

When it came to Stuart, he looked from his boss, to his boss's boss, to Jackie sitting next to him.  "I can't work with that woman."

The venom in his voice surprised them.  Stuart got on with everyone.

"You mean DC Neill?"

"DC 'Call Me DC Neill' Neill, yes."

Michael couldn't help his smile.  "A bit formal is she?"

"She knows everything, usually before the interviewee has even had a chance to speak.  She cut three of them off before they'd said a word!  And she's completely homophobic.  She says she thinks that this is the only way our killer can get what he wants.  The idea of two men being romantically involved, actually wanting to make love, is beyond her."

The tirade was completely unlike Stuart.

"Maybe she's right."  Three pairs of eyes, each larger than the next, Michael's larger than anyone's, settled on Robbie.  He stared back for a moment.  "No!  I didn't mean....  Christ, you should know...."  He bit off that sentence, only just realising in time what he'd been about to say.  "I meant that maybe it is the only way our killer can get what he wants.  If he's not comfortable being gay, or bi-sexual, maybe he can't get involved in relationships or even pick up one-night stands."

Stuart sighed, and nodded.  "Aye, you're right.  I'm sorry, I just...."

"She winds you up the wrong way."  Jackie completely understood.

"But she's right."

"Not that it helps."  Michael sipped his mineral water.  "We need a break on this.  All we have is what we think we know about the killer.  Someone must have seen something.  Tomorrow, I want to retrace the last known steps of each victim.  Stuart -"

"I am not partnering off with that woman again."

Michael chuckled.  "All right.  Robbie -"

"Please, no!"

"Oh, this is ridiculous."

Jackie rolled her eyes.  "I'll do it.  Stuart can look after the gorgeous Graham."

Robbie and Michael both glanced at one another and then at her.

He heaved a sigh of relief.  "Thanks, Jackie."

Off the hook, Stuart happily bought the next round. 

*

Despite the late hour, Michael settled back in his bathtub.  One of life's simpler pleasures, he'd always believed.  The scented candles that Jackie had bought were filling the air with the gentle scent of sandalwood, the water was filled with bubbles.  He felt utterly relaxed as he let the day just wash away.

Jackie had taught him this.  It was the only way not to let the job completely take over everything else.

Not that it would happen.  Robbie and Jackie were far more important to him now than the job.  It might have his dedication, but they had his love, his heart and his soul.  He was aware of how lucky he was.

Closing his eyes, he could hear the other two knocking around the flat.  Jackie was going to bed to read.  Robbie was watching late night Channel 5 television in the company of a large whiskey.  This was how they lived most of the time, sharing one another's lives and houses, but appreciating that they all needed their own space.

Reaching down to the floor, he picked up the cold glass of orange juice from the floor and lifted it.  As he took a sip, a cold drop of water dropped to his chest.  The sensation, cold on his heated skin, made him shudder.

In his whole life he couldn't remember feeling so... sensual.  He'd been a rebel at school, taking booze and fags into the classroom, skipping classes, fumbling with willing girls behind the bike sheds.  For a cigarette, some of the girls would let boys touch their tits or kiss them with tongues.

When his father had died, he'd suddenly been shown that the way he was going he would either be in jail or worse, in a shit job at best, by the time he turned twenty-one.  So he went to college and then on to the police force.

He joined the church, started to sing in the choir.  Within five years, he was unrecognisable to his so-called friends.  He'd turned his life around.

Problem was, he'd gone too far.

Jim Taggart had knocked much of the arrogance out of him, taught him everything about being a detective that he knew and honed him for promotion.

And along with his blossoming career, Michael had tried to have a personal life.

He'd fancied Jackie from the start, but Taggart had put a stop to that.  So he'd dated other women on and off.  But they'd all been looking out for themselves, using Michael for one thing or another.  Finally, he'd given up and thrown himself into his work full-time.  Long hours, late nights, early mornings.  He got high on the stress and pressure.  He flirted with women but never tried to take it anywhere.

And then Robbie had come along.  He'd wanted Michael and wasn't going to take no for an answer.

The first night they'd slept together, the other detective had managed to get him to admit that he was in love with Jackie but hadn't got the balls to do anything about it.

The following night, after an Italian dinner that Robbie claimed at the time he cooked, but which had actually come from his favourite Italian restaurant around the corner from his home, Robbie, Michael and Jackie had ended up in bed together.

They'd been together ever since.

What the two of them brought out in him amazed him.  In all his life, he'd never been so horny so much of the time!

He let his hand drift over the cold spot on his chest where the water had fallen.  Putting the glass back down onto the floor, he plunged his cold hand down into the bubbles and grasped his own twitching cock.  The shock of the chill on his warm, happy dick sent thrills all the way down to his toes.

The flickers of the candle flames played on the surface of the water as Michael tightened his hand around his bludgeoning erection and began to stroke himself.  There was no hurry in his movements.  His lovers had taught him to take pleasure in himself and he was an excellent student.

Stretching one leg out over the side of the Bath, Michael stroked his other over his thigh and down over his testicles until he was fingering the tight ring of his own anus.

Taking a deep breath in, letting it out, then breathing once again, he slid his middle finger inside himself, all the way to the knuckle.

He moaned softly, tightening his fist, keeping the leisurely pace as he stroked over his prostate.  In his mind, he could hear Robbie's voice - 'some might think you get enough without having to masturbate.'  His excuse had been that he was making up for lost time.

And he always thought of his two lovers when he was playing with himself.  Tonight, he imagined Jackie kneeling between his legs, sucking him off while Robbie kissed him, played their tongues around each other in a wet dance.

When he came, it was long and draining, and he just drifted for a while.

Finally he heaved himself out of the Bath and dried off.  Wrapping his blue robe around himself, he padded downstairs.

"Ummm...."  Robbie smiled appreciatively as Michael walked into the lounge with his warming glass of orange juice.  "You smell gorgeous."

Robbie dropped the television remote and shifted back to let Michael lie down in front of him.  "I almost dropped one in the pub, didn't I?" he apologised in so many words.

Michael snuggled back when Robbie's hand reached for the knot in the robe's tie and unfastened it.  "I think Stuart should know."

Pulling the thick material from around Michael, Robbie touched naked skin.  "Think he should know or think we should tell him?"

"We should tell him."

Smoothing his hand over Michael's firm rump, Robbie squeezed each cheek in turn before teasing one finger down between them.

"Not something that slips easily into conversation," he pointed out.

"I know.  But I feel bad keeping it from him."  Michael sighed softly and closed his eyes as Robbie's fingertip started to ring his anus gently.  "If he finds out accidentally one day, he'll be hurt."

"Okay.  Although working out how to drop the bombshell might be an interesting puzzle."

Michael took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as Robbie's finger eased inside him.  "You think... it'll be a bombshell?"

"I think..." Robbie rotated his finger, hoping to take Michael's mind off the subject, at least for a while, "...it'll be a shock.  Especially after the grief I gave him when he told me he was gay."

It took Michael a few seconds to form his answering question.  "Yeah, what was that all about?"

"Defence.  I've been acting a very long time."  Leaning forward, he bit the back of Michael's neck lightly.  "And I'm not the only one."

"At least... I don't pretend... to be homophobic...."  Michael's breath caught as Robbie massaged his prostate.

Believing the conversation to be effectively derailed, Robbie grinned to himself.  "So tell me... was that a particularly relaxing bath, or did you find other ways of releasing the tension?"

Ignoring the question, Michael tried to focus.  "Don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry.  What did you want to talk about?"  Sliding his free hand between them, Robbie unfastened his loose suit trousers and freed his cock, pressing it against the bare flesh of Michael's ass.

Michael hummed his consent and reached down, wiggling his fingers under the sofa until they connected with a cold tube.  Dragging it out, he handed it back to Robbie.

"Let's talk about... how damn tight you always are."

Sliding his finger out of his lover, Robbie stroked along the inside of Michael's thigh, lifting his leg as he went, bending it at the knee.

Then he liberally coated his erection with the lube Michael had handed him, and dumped the tube over the arm of the sofa.

"How damned hard you always are," Michael ground out as the thick head of Robbie's cock pressed against the entrance to his body.  "I was... thinking...."

"You do far too much of that... ummm."  Robbie pushed in to Michael until he was sheathed to the root.  He wrapped his arm around his lover and took the partially interested cock into his palm.  "You've been naughty tonight already, haven't you?" he murmured, a cheeky tone in his voice.

"As I was saying...."  Michael gave himself time to adjust to the thick shaft inside him.  He covered Robbie's hand with his own, not stopping him, just loving the contact.  "I was thinking that... at our age...."

Robbie arched his back, pulling out until just the tip of his cock was holding Michael open.

"Our age?"

Michael moaned, a deep, drawn out sound, as Robbie thrust back inside in one smooth motion.  "We're at it like rabbits," he managed to say.

Repeating the motion, Robbie set a slow, loving rhythm.  He touched his lips to Michael's shoulder, nibbling a path along to the back of his neck.  "What's wrong with that?"

"I wasn't... this horny... when I was fifteen."

"That," Robbie thrust forward, a little harder this time, "is because... you didn't know the possibilities... back then."

After that, it was a few minutes before either of them spoke again.


Jackie smiled to herself, shaking her head in bemusement as she stood in the lounge doorway.  It was gone three am.  She'd dozed off while reading her book, and woken to find herself still alone.

It wasn't a surprise to see the men asleep on the sofa.  Michael was practically naked, except for the green robe pulled away from his shoulders, and open from the waist down.  Robbie was still fully clothed, except, Jackie guessed, for his dick which she imaged was still close to being, or actually still inside his lover.

Ducking into the spare room, she grabbed the single duvet off the bed there and carefully threw it over them.

They'd regret it in the morning, especially Robbie who'd have clothes marks all over him.  But she left them.  During the three weeks they'd been working this case, neither one of them had had too much sleep.  Michael had been working all hours, and Robbie seemed to get a sympathetic insomnia thing going when his boss and lover did that.

Switching off the light, she went back to bed, happy to spread herself out over the queen-sized mattress.

*

"Right!  Listen up!  We're goin'a put together an undercover operation.  Tonight, and for the next few nights until we either catch a break, or our covers are blown.  We're going into the Fossils nightclub. Robbie's going behind the bar.  Jackie's on waitress duty.  Pete, Graham, Stuart, Heather and Hayley are goin'a impress us all with their dance moves."

That got a laugh.  Pete Calder was a good-looking guy, but he'd struck his new companions as someone who preferred Blues, or maybe a back-street Jazz club to Jungle and House.  Graham and Stuart were more comfortable, spending much of their own free time in city centre clubs as it was, although neither of them had ever been to Fossils.

Heather and Hayley were already talking about costumes.  Heather hadn't done much to keep her interest in her DCI a secret, the opportunity to at least catch his eye was one too good to miss.  Hayley didn't seem as enthusiastic, but she was one for going above and beyond the call of duty.

"What about you and DCI Burke, Sir?"  Pete piped up, backed by Graham and Stuart's chuckles.  Robbie and Jackie were waiting for this one too.

"I'm goin'a be supervising from the sidelines, suit and all.  Matt'll be playing at bouncer."

The laughter was infectious.  Even Michael had a smile at the other DCI's expense.  Matt took it with in good humour.  That his superiors believed he could pull off such a stunt was a huge boost to his ego.

"Today, we stay on the ball.  Keep at the interviews, keep at the connections.  Maybe he didn't meet them at the club.  Back here at four.  Those of us posing as staff will meet at the club at six.  The only people at the club who knows who we are and what's going on will be the owner and the manager, just in case this guy's a member of staff."

"But all the staff have been interviewed," Stuart put in.

"I know.  And because of that, if our killer is staff, he might feel safer, might feel like we've passed over him and moved on with our enquiries.  The rest of you, get dolled up and arrive anywhere between ten and half passed.  Any questions?"

When there weren't any, he moved out of the firing line, watching Robbie stretch.  A hot shower this morning hadn't done much for the stiffness in both their necks.  But at least that had been the only stiffness or they'd never have got to work.


The day passed slowly.  Jackie found Hayley to be as annoying as Stuart had found her the day before.  Not only did she presume to know everything, and assume that everyone else knew nothing, but she seemed to be developing a thing for Robbie.

Not that she'd usually let that bother her.  It was just the crude estimates as to the size of his genitals over lunch that got to her.

The subject of their conversation actually called her mid-afternoon.  He had some more information that he reckoned may or may not be useful.  But he muttered about the split of the team, unhappy not to be working with Jackie, Michael and Stuart in close quarters.

Jackie thought it was sweet, and desperately wanted to tease him about being jealous.  But with Hayley hanging on her every word, she thought it best to keep it professional.  At least until they got home.


They met up at Fossils at just before six.  Michael was already there, looking stunning - in Jackie's opinion - in the full tux. 

"You look like something out of 'Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels'," she told him, winking.

"I'm not sayin' a word," he countered, indicating her own outfit.  Tight white T-shirt and black mini skirt over thigh-high boots.  It was enough to arrest any man's attention, and quite a few women.

Robbie eyed up the pair of them as he arrived for 'work'.  The barmen had to look smouldering, the owner had said.  The head barman, Ewan, apparently set a very high standard.

Robbie was in a pair of tight black jeans and a white shirt with the top two buttons open. 

Both Jackie and Michael wanted to nail him to the bar.  Figuratively speaking, of course.  Agreeing silently that they'd have him when they got home, whatever the time, Jackie and Michael went their own ways, and started crash courses in the tricks of their temporary trades.

All Michael had to do, it seemed, was walk around the edges of the club looking menacing.  Now and again he got to lean over the side of the bar and talk to the head barman, or greet important VIP guests which the Fossil, it turned out, got a fair few of, having once been featured in a 'Glasgow Nights' drama series on Scottish Television. 

When Matt arrived, immaculate in a black suit and black, collarless shirt, Michael gave him a lesson in looking menacing while standing around not doing too much.

Matt confided in Michael that it was an old skill he often put to good use.

The club didn't open until ten, but the time flew by, and before they knew it, the operation was in full swing.  The detectives posing as staff found themselves being beaten up by the bass beat of the jungle-style music and having to concentrate very hard to hear anything above the desperately loud treble.

The others were happily moving to the rhythm in amongst the usual crowd.


"What can I get ya?" Robbie asked the next face in the crowd.

"Two Metz."

Robbie smiled and turned, opening the fridge door with a flick of his wrist, grabbing the necks of two ice-cold bottles between three fingers and letting the door close again, ensuring it was shut with a kick of his ankle.  He was a natural, he'd already decided, and had missed his calling by about ten years.

But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself while he got the chance.

"Three ninety," he called back, flipping the tops off the bottles and dumping their gently on the bar.

A fiver was thrust into his hand, and when he looked up to swap it for change, he found himself staring into piercing dark eyes.

"Thanks, mate," the guy said, before pocketing the change, grabbing the drinks, and edging back out of the crowd.

Robbie didn't have more than a moment to commit his face to memory before he had to serve his next thirsty customer.


The club closed at three.  As the last of the dancers left, the detectives were still working, maintaining their covers for the next night.

"Rob, you mind ditching the empties?" Ewan asked him.  "After that you can go, you look knackered.  Wouldn't want you collapsing on your first night."

"Aye, thanks." 

Relieved, Robbie pulled two of the collection bins from under the bar and wheeled them through to the back exit.  Pushing the door open, he stepped outside and let the cool night air settle over him.  It was so hot in the club, that being outside - even with the aroma of urine, vomit, weed and cigarette smoke - was a pleasure.

Just as he turned to grab the first bin, he realised there was someone behind him.

Instinct kicked in, but before he could move there was an arm tight around his throat, cutting off his air supply as it squeezed.

"I haven't seen you around here before," a low, definitely male voice told him.

He couldn't speak.  The air was pressing against all the important bits in his throat, and already he could feel his vision start to cloud.  Clawing at the arm around his neck, he struggled.  But whoever was behind him was incredibly strong.

"A lot of new faces in there today.  Might have to sample them all.  Maybe the new floor manager.  Looked like he was as straight as they come.  I like 'em straight.  Not so sure about you though....  Well, we'll see."

Something - a pad - was being pressed over his mouth, and the arm relaxed.  Panic flooded him as he realised he was being chloroformed.  This was their guy!  And he knew in a flash of clarity that if he ever got to see the face of his attacker he'd recognise him as the same guy who'd bought the two bottles of Metz and paid with a fiver.

He was fading fast.  Nothing he could do about it.  Nothing he could do to save himself.  He could only hope he'd be missed quickly.  God alone knew what was going to happen to him.  Well, God and one other.

The world went black, and he never felt the ground as he hit it.

*

"Anyone seen Robbie?"

Ewan leaned on the bar and called out the question to the few remaining stragglers in the club.  The manager, Guy Marsden, was talking to his new floor manager.  Two of the bouncers were sharing double malts at the end of the bar.

Guy and his new friend turned when they heard the question.  "Why?  When did you last see him?"

"Couple of minutes ago.  Asked him to clear the bottle bins.  I just went out to check he's okay and the bins are still there but he's vanished."

In the stark lights of the club, Michael paled.  Turning on his heels he ran for the bar, sliding around it and taking the route Robbie had taken to the back door of the club.

Matt saw him go and excusing himself, he followed.

Only when he got outside, did he call out.

"Mike?  What's goin'on?"

"Robbie's gone!  He was...."  The sound of a car door slamming interrupted him, and with a wide-eyed glance at Matt, he took off again toward the sound. 

"ROBBIE!"

Michael rounded the corner of the club, coming out on the front pavement.  A young man was getting into the driver's seat of a car, all the time watching the mouth of the alley.  When he saw Michael, he threw himself into the car and slammed the door, keying the engine almost at the same time.

Whether Robbie was in that car or not, the young lad was definitely someone Michael wanted to talk to.

He ran to his own car, hands going to his pockets only to find he'd left his keys in his jacket, and his jacket was inside over the back of a chair.

"Shit!"  He could hear the panic and desperation in his own voice, and was just about to smash the Audi's window to grab the police radio when by some miracle, a red Rover was curbed in front of him and Stuart was leaning over to throw open the passenger door.

A heartbeat later, as Matt caught up, the Rover sped away after the speeding Ford.

Burke yanked open the door of his own car and picked up the radio, yelling for backup, giving all the details as calmly as he could while maintaining the volume of his voice.  Once that was done, he dropped into the seat and started the engine, swinging the car in a tight 180 to give chase.


Dark eyes glanced from the road in front to the road behind.

Two cars were already chasing him; blue, flashing lights illuminating the otherwise dim streets, sirens crashing through the late-night silence.

"Bollocks," he muttered to himself, sweeping the Ford around a tight bend but knowing in his heart that he wasn't going to loose them.

With a moment's regret, he looked down at the man crumpled into the passenger seat.

"I wanted you!" he moaned, knowing his sleeping companion wouldn't hear him.  Would never hear him now.  If he kept the guy in the car, they'd never give up.  He had to lose them, and there was only one way he knew.

Swearing brightly, trying to keep the car steady with one hand, he made a left hand turn into a side street.  As he did, he reached across and opened the passenger door.

The two cars behind him had become three. 

No choice now.

Swinging violently into the next left-hand bend, he pushed his unconscious passenger out of the car.  It was more difficult than it looked at the movies.  But taking the other hand off the wheel for a moment, he managed to push the heavy body out.

A part of him wanted to watch what happened when the wheels of the other cars went over the fragile human form.  The crushing of bones, tearing of flesh, popping of joints as the man was mutilated by the sheer weight and force of the vehicles would be beautiful.  Just thinking about it turned him on.

But there was no time, and leaving the door for the moment, he floored the accelerator and took the next turning.

Stuart slid around the Rover around the corner and was about to reapply the accelerator when he saw something roll from the passenger side of the front car.

He didn't hear Michael's cry, didn't even hear the squeal of his own brakes as he slammed his entire weight on to the pedal and held the car in a straight-line nose-dive.  He knew that in the next heartbeat, Burke was going to come slamming into his back of him, and yanking on the hand brake he forced himself to relax everything but his right foot.  When it came, it wasn't the jolt he'd expected.

Burke had seen it too, and had sent his car into a side-ways spin, clipping the back of the Rover before coming to a full stop facing in the opposite direction.

The Rover's back end swung out in the direction it was pushed, but the front wheels stayed locked.  An inch in front of them, Robbie lay with one arm trapped, broken, beneath him and his legs askew.

By the time Michael and Stuart were crouched down by their friend, Burke had an ambulance on its way.  Two marked police cars had pulled up onto the scene and the officers had already begun to assure the residents who'd come out to complain about the noise that the excitement was over and they should stay inside their houses.

Michael pressed two fingers to Robbie's bruised throat, finding a strong pulse.

A quick first-aid check revealed blood at the back of his head, scrapes to his knees, elbows, hands and feet where he'd been thrown from the car and had hit the road's surface at a fair speed.

He was out cold though, and the detectives could do nothing but assume he'd been knocked unconscious by the impact.

Glancing up at Stuart as they crouched there, Michael reached out and squeezed his arm. 

"You did good, Stuart.  You saved his life."

Stuart nodded quickly, but he might have been going into shock.  Michael knew what he was already doing; playing in his mind what would have happened had he not seen Robbie in time.

"Don't, Stuart.  He's goin'a be okay."

Another hand appeared on Stuart's shoulder as Burke squatted down next to him, arm slung around the young man's shoulders.

"Nice driving, son.  Is he all right?"

"He's alive.  Unconscious."

Burke could see the fright in the other DCI's eyes as clearly as it was written all over Stuart's face.  "Ambulance is on its way."  He let out a deep breath.  "We got a number plate, and hopefully when he regains consciousness, we'll get a description."

Michael nodded, Burke's words doing exactly what they were meant to do, provide him with procedure, some familiar order to his messed-up thoughts.

But when he looked back at Robbie, his chaotic emotions rolled back over him.

'Too close,' Robbie's words echoed in his mind, 'way too close.'  He'd been talking about Michael's near-death experience with Kennedy.

He felt as if they'd been a breath from losing Robbie.  They had no idea where their killer took his victims, they might never have found him.  Not until his body had been discovered....

Swallowing passed the sudden knot in his throat, Michael steadied himself.  Sure, it had been close, but Robbie was here with them, not trapped in their killer's car.  Thanks to Stuart, thanks to Ewan, he was safe.


It was only a couple of minutes before the ambulance sirens cut through the increasingly quiet scene.  It felt like hours.


"Go with him," Burke instructed Michael, feeling that he needed it right now.  "I'll follow with Stuart and get one of the uniforms to drive his car back to the station."

Michael glanced at his DC, leaning over the roof of his car, staring into the night.

"Thanks."  And he climbed into the back of the ambulance for the second high-speed journey of the night.

*

Jackie ran straight into Michael's arms as he stood in the waiting area at the hospital.

"How is he?  What happened?  Why didn't you call?!"

Kissing her forehead, stroking his hands down her arms, he calmed her.

"He's okay, they're just doin' some tests.  And I did call, as soon as I had the chance."

Taking a couple of deep breaths, she nodded, taking a step back.  "Sorry.  I know.  It's just... I was expecting to hear the two of you come in and when you rang...."

"It all happened so fast."  He briefly told her what had happened at the club.  "We thought it was over, that our man hadn't shown."

"Thank God for that barman."

"Aye."  He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.  "Thank God for Stuart's driving.  He was just leaving, apparently, when he heard something strange and went to investigate."

"Just leaving?  He was late."

"Well," Michael smiled tiredly, "he picked someone up.  But don't tell Matt, I think he'd freak."

"Don't tell Matt what?"

But the other DCI's tone was friendly.  He sounded whacked too. 

With Stuart at his shoulder, he'd come from the coffee machine.  He handed Michael a plastic cup of aromatic hot water and offered his own to Jackie, who shook her head.  She'd had far too many of them when Michael had been brought in after Liam Kennedy had abducted him.

"Any news?" Stuart asked quietly.

But just as he said it, the double doors through to the operating theatres swung open and a doctor who looked more exhausted than they felt stepped up to them.

"He's going to be fine," he started.  "He reason he was unconscious is because he'd been chloroformed."  There was a definite sigh to his voice.  "When we added the anaesthetic so we could set his arm, he threw up everything he'd eaten in the last, oh, month."  Rubbing his forehead, he finally smiled a tired smile.  "Not to worry.  Luckily our anaesthetist is on a shorter shift than the rest of us."

The supposed joke fell flat. 

"He's sleeping it all off.  We've set his arm, bandaged his ribcage - two broken bones there - treated the injury to the back of the head, done an MRI scan - which looks fine but we'll do another in the morning, and we've dressed the scrapes to his extremities."

He finished with a smile.

"Can we see him?"

"Don't mention it.  Yes, you can, but just one of you and only for a few minutes.  You can post an armed guard or whatever you want outside his room, but I don't want him disturbed for at least a couple of hours.  Go home, get some rest."

Matt watched him wander off in the direction of the coffee machine.  "That's usually my line," he muttered.

"Go see him," Jackie told Michael, squeezing his arm.

"Sure?"  He glanced at Stuart, who was smiling.

"Yes, Sir.  Just tell him we're all here for him."

"Wait for me?"  His question was aimed at Jackie, but they all nodded. 

Burke had pulled out his mobile and was ready to head out to call the station.  "I'll get a couple of uniforms over here to stand guard."

Jackie and Stuart shared a smile.


Robbie was in the first bed in a small, four-bed ward.  He looked far too pale against the white sheets, his skin the colour of the cast on his left arm.

Hovering next to the bed, Michael folded his fingers around Robbie's and squeezed gently.

"You're okay," he told the sleeping man, "we've got ya now."

It was a relief to see him breathing, to hear the soft bleep of the ECG machine.  Being there, kneeling in the middle of the road next to Robbie's twisted form, hadn't quite been real.  Everything had happened so quickly that he'd barely had time to think.

In the quiet of the hospital, the still of the room, it became real.

Sitting down in the chair next to the bed, hand still holding Robbie's, Michael let the fear, fright, worry and anger flow over him.  For a long time, he sat there, possibilities crashing into one another at the forefront of his mind.

When Jackie opened the door, and touched Michael's shoulder, he had no idea how long he'd been sitting there.

She looked at Robbie for a few long moments before turning her attention.

"Come on, del.  Let's go home, get some sleep."

Michael glanced at her, and nodded.  Sleep sounded like a good idea.

Before leaving, they both kissed Robbie's forehead, said goodnight to him, and wished him sweet dreams.  He didn't even twitch.

Stepping out into the corridor, Michael was surprised to see a uniformed officer sitting outside the room.

"That was quick," he commented.

"You've been sitting there over an hour," Jackie told him gently.

His eyes widened and he glanced at his watch.  It was just gone five fifteen am.  "Right....  Sorry.  Has Burke gone home?"

"Aye.  He took Stuart.  They're going to come back first thing after a couple of hours kip.  Just like we're going to do."

*

They'd chosen Robbie's flat so that they could take some clothes to the hospital when they returned.

When they stepped inside, it was silent except for the quiet ticking of the clock in the lounge.  A couple of minutes later the toilet flushed and the bedroom and hall lights were flicked off.

Michael and Jackie snuggled up together in the cold bed, Jackie's back pressed to Michael's chest.

"I should have stayed around," she murmured after a while.  She knew Michael wasn't asleep.

"Don't, Jackie.  I've done enough second-guessing for the whole squad.  And I know Stuart has too."

She fell quiet for a few minutes, before her soft voice spoke again into the darkness.  "Oh, God, Michael....  What could have happened to him...."

He tightened his embrace instinctively.  The very same thought had been plaguing his mind.  "He's fine, Jackie.  It didn't happen.  It won't happen.  Go to sleep."

*

After three hours shut-eye and a steaming hot shower, Michael and Jackie set off back to the hospital.  It was quarter to ten when they met Stuart in the ward where Robbie was apparently still sleeping.

"He had a good night," Stuart told them as Jackie went straight to the bed and squeezed Robbie's hand.  "He's been sleeping on and off since they woke him at six-thirty."

This morning, with the sun pouring in through the large window at the end of the short ward, the events of the previous night seemed a million miles away.  Stuart too looked better for the rest.

"Where's Matt?"

"He went back to Maryhill.  They've got a match on the number-plate and they're running it down."

"Good."  He let his eyes linger on Robbie's peaceful face.  The bruising around his windpipe was coming out now, deep purple marks where his attacker's arm had cut off his ability to speak, ability to swallow, ability to breathe.

Jackie watched as Michael attempted to collect himself, and failed.

"Why don't you stay with Stuart?" she suggested.  "I'll hook up with Burke, get the bastard who did this."

Michael made sure his gratitude was in his eyes when he thanked her.  "I'll call you as soon as we get some sense outta him."

"I'm not sure I want to wait that long."

Stuart turned to hide his smile.


She'd been gone only a few minutes when Robbie woke. 

Michael was perched on the bed, just staying close.  Stuart had sat himself in the chair that Michael had almost fallen asleep in earlier that morning.

They both sat up when Robbie sighed deeply and shifted slightly against the pillow.

With infinite care, Michael lay his fingers around the side of Robbie's neck, stroking his thumb along the jaw line.

"Robbie," he murmured the name quietly, "come on, wake up, I need you to talk to me."

Amazed, Stuart watched as his boss started to come round.  He was more than touched by the tenderness Michael was showing.

With a gentle groan, Robbie opened his eyes.  He moved his head and groaned again.  "Oh God...."  His head was pounding.  He hadn't felt this bad since drinking an entire bottle of Highland Park whiskey the night he'd been wrongly suspended by C&D.

Seeing Michael, he tried to focus and failed.  He closed his eyes again.  "Mike...."

"It's okay, Rob."

Robbie released another deep breath, obviously in pain.

"Could you find a nurse, Stuart?  Ask her if he can have some more pain killers?"

Stuart was on his feet in a second, "Yes, Sir."

As soon as he was out of the door, Michael slid his fingers up into the hair at the back of Robbie's neck and started to carefully massage the muscles at the base of his skull, knowing it would help.  "Stuart's gone to hunt down the pain killers.  I need you to tell me what happened."

"Mike...."  Robbie was pressing into the touch at the back of his head.

"It's okay, I promise."

"I thought...."  He swallowed painfully, and for a few seconds, he seemed to be reorienting himself.  And then he started to say what he knew Michael needed to hear.  "Dark eyes.  Brown... tight curly hair.  About... 5' 11'', maybe six foot.  Strong.  Couldn't...."  He took a deep breath.  "Couldn't fight him.  Couldn't move him."

"It's okay."  Michael kept up the soothing caress, and Robbie's eyes slowly closed.  "Rob?  Stay with me.  Just for a couple more minutes, eh?  Can you remember anything else?  Accent?  Anything he said?"

"He... he was local.  Glasgow accent.  He said... he liked straight guys.  He wanted... to sample them all....  He...." 

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up, held back by Michael's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey!  Relax, it's okay.  It's over."

"He said... he wanted you!"

Robbie's words sent a shiver through him, but he didn't let it show.  "It's all right."  He had the best bedside manner, Jackie had once told him, of anyone she'd ever met. 

Michael looked up as Stuart stepped through into the ward.

"No more pain killers for half an hour," Stuart relayed the nurse's message apologetically. 

Michael nodded, looking back at Robbie who had fallen asleep anyway.  For a short time he continued to press his fingers gently into the stressed muscles, hoped he was easing the headache almost certainly pounding behind Robbie's eyes.  He knew he was being watched with curious eyes, but he didn't care.

Finally, he stroked his fingers through his lover's hair and got to his feet.  "I need to call Matt.  Stay with him?"

Stuart nodded, "Of course, Sir."

Michael left the ward, wondering how only Stuart could make 'Sir' sound like an endearment.


"Matt?  Mike.  I've a rough description."  He gave him the details that Robbie had given him - such as they were.  "He also told Rob that he liked them straight, and that he was interested in me too."

There was silence of a sort on the other end as Burke thought it over.  In the background, Michael could hear a car engine and the sounds of traffic.  "You think the operation's in danger?"

"I think the men are in danger, yes.  Anything on that number plate?"

"Aye, we're on our way now.  Not holding out much hope though.  The car was reported stolen over a month ago."

"Shite.  Look, I want to leave Stuart here.  Robbie wasn't particularly coherent.  I want to find out if he remembers anything more once he's had some more pain killers."

Another pause.  "You want to stay there?"

Michael's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he just said, "Yes, to be honest.  But I'll meet you.  Gimme the address."


Robbie barely acknowledged Stuart's presence when he was woken to take his pills.  He drifted off to sleep again quickly, only to be woken a few minutes later by a doctor who came in to check his vital signs and injuries.

Banished to the corridor for the duration of the examination, Stuart couldn't help but think back on the strange intimacy the DCI had shown towards Robbie.  Certainly the dynamic of the relationship between the two men had changed over the years. 

At the beginning, they'd clashed over every little thing.  But if The Powers That Be had imagined that Robbie would get fed up with Jardine and leave simply the force, they'd been sorely mistaken.

Under the tension, a respect, an odd friendship, had slowly developed, Robbie easing off those things which obviously annoyed his boss, while Jardine started to give him more leeway to work as he did best.

And then, almost over night, the dynamic had shifted again.  Stuart wasn't sure to this day what had happened, but he imagined the building tension coming to a head in a loud, passionate, verbal fight that had once and for all cleared the air between them.

Not that everything had been entirely peaceful after that.  The accusation by Complaints & Discipline that Robbie had been taking bribes had shocked them all to the core, and Jardine had obviously been torn between his personal feelings, and his professional duty.  It had taken time for things to settle again after that.  But settle they had, until Liam Kennedy had abducted Jardine, and all hell had broken loose.

Since then, the two men had been closer than ever.

Add into all that, the seemingly accurate rumour that Jackie was sleeping with her boss, and the team became as close as a family.  Despite not having the obvious affections that Jackie had from Michael, nor the oddly intimate friendship that Michael and Robbie shared, Stuart had never felt left out.  He preferred to keep his social and professional lives separate.  It had always been that way.  And although Jamie had, now and again, joined them for a post-work curry or pint, for the most part, Stuart's two lives ran alongside one another more or less in harmony.


When the nurse indicated that he should join them, instantly started to fear that something was wrong.  But stepping inside the ward, he saw Robbie speaking to the doctor, looking more alert than he had when Michael had been with him.

"He's fine," the nurse whispered to him, and Stuart smiled his thanks before approaching the bed. 

"Hey."

Robbie turned his head slightly, the movement making him wince, but he managed a smile for his DC.  "Stuart," he greeted in a rough voice, "what a great... sight you are in the morning."

Stuart chuckled.  "At least you're feeling better."

"Umm."  Turning his attention back to the doctor, he asked, "When can I... get outta here?"

"Maybe tomorrow.  And no complaining!  You had a violent chemical reaction between the chloroform and the anaesthetic, you've got several injuries to your throat, you hit you head on the ground, probably more than once, so I want to do another MRI scan today...."  He trailed off, smiling at the expression on his patient's face.  "Lie back, enjoy the food, and let your colleagues do the chasing, okay?"

Sighing, closing his eyes, Robbie dozed until the doctor had removed the monitor from his finger and switched off the machines next to the bed.  They'd been monitoring him in case there were any side effects of the chemical reaction he'd experienced the previous night, but they were happy now that he was over that.

Once they'd gone, Stuart pulled the chair closer to the bed and waited for his boss to wake again.

It was only a few minutes before Robbie opened his eyes.  He attempted to turn onto his side and immediately realised that it was a bad idea.

Instead, Stuart moved to perch on the edge of the mattress.

Robbie smiled wryly.

"Where's Mike?"

"He, Burke and Jackie are following up the number plate from last night."

Robbie frowned as he tried to remember what had happened.  "How did you find me?"

"Jardine and I both saw you being dragged into a car.  We gave chase, followed by Burke and two pandas.  After about five minutes, he dumped you out of the car and drove off."

Taking a moment or two to process what he'd missed, Robbie asked, "You didn't get him?"

"We were too busy trying not to run you over."  He quickly summed up the end of the chase.

"I owe you one," Robbie told him.  "A big one."

"You gave Jardine a rough description this morning, but can you remember anything else?"

"I don't know....  Is Mike all right?"

Stuart smiled.  "He's fine.  Just worried."

"Jackie?"

"Feeling guilty, I think, that she missed the excitement."

"So she should be!"  But there was only affection in his voice.  "Thanks, Stuart.  I think you saved my life."

"Certainly did."  He was beaming.  "You should rest.  Your system's had a shock, you'll probably feel awful for a while."

Unable to think of a wise crack, Robbie just smiled and closed his eyes.  Stuart waited until his boss was breathing slowly and evenly, then moved silently back to the chair.

*

Michael parked at the deserted primary school grounds.  From the gate, they could see the fourth house in the row, the address where the Ford was registered, but from which it had been reported stolen.

There was a Ka in the driveway with 'Courtesy Car from Harolds Ford' stamped up the side.

Burke, Jackie and the troops were already there, ready to move.  Burke had a pair of binoculars trained on the house along with his concentration.  He almost jumped a mile when Michael stepped up to his shoulder.

"Jeez!  Mike...."  Shaking his head, he passed the bins to a smiling Jackie, who asked,

"How is he?"

"A pounding headache, and a bit out of it, but going to be fine."  But the expression in his eyes, the haunted look on his face, told her everything his words didn't.

When Michael had been released from the hospital after Kennedy had taken him, it had just taken time for them to let their lover out of their sight.  Robbie in particular had been physically closer than usual, holding, touching, stroking,

"What exactly are you planning on doing?"

"Covering my ass.  If he's just a law-abiding citizen who had his car stolen, he'll never know there were ten coppers surrounding his house."

Michael was sceptical.  "I've never known Strathclyde police do anything quietly."

Burke had to give him that one.  Handing the walkie-talkie handset to Jackie, Matt tapped Michael's arm.  "You and I'll go in.  Jackie, co-ordinate the troops.  You see *anything* suspicious, send them in."  She nodded.  "I'd rather look like an ass in tomorrow's papers than let that bastard get away a second time."


Michael drove them around the block and parked in front of the house, blocking the driveway.  Everything looked quiet, but Burke had seen someone moving around inside within the last fifteen minutes and no one had left the house as far as they knew.

They didn't speak as they walked up the slight incline to the front door of the respectable detached house.  Across the road, a dog barked, and a child, walking by its mother's side, started to cry.

Their hunt for a vicious killer seemed out of place in this tranquil centre of quiet domesticity.  But it always did.  How many neighbours had he interviewed only to hear, 'but he was always so friendly!  He never failed to say hello when we passed one another in the mornings.'

Burke rang the doorbell and they waited, taking in the scene.  They already knew about the gate on the right side of the house, the path that led up into the back yard, the stream that ran behind the house and the new estate sprouting up beyond.

When the door opened, a middle-aged man greeted them.  Dark, straight hair, brown eyes behind thin-framed, fashionable glasses.

"Can I help you?"

Michael produced his warrant card at the same time as Burke, but let his colleague do the talking.

"DCI Matthew Burke, DCI Mike Jardine.  You are Andrew O'Conner?"

"Yes."

"Could we ask you a few questions, Sir?"

"Of course."  Standing back, O'Conner let them into this house and closed the door.  "Come through."  He led then through into the lounge.  Like a lot of owners on the street, he'd knocked down the wall that had once separated front room and dining room, and they could see passed the dining table at the back out through the patio doors to the neatly kept garden.  "Is this about the car?"

"In a manner of speaking."  It always amazed Burke how many people took it for granted that a such a high rank of officer would be investigating the theft of their vehicle. 

The two DCIs perched themselves on the edge of the expensive sofa while their host sat down in a matching armchair.  The room was immaculate - definitely displaying a woman's pride for her home. 

"When did you report it stolen?"

O'Conner thought about it.  "Four weeks ago, give or take."

"And where was it when it was stolen?"

"In the Multiplex Cinema car park out at Clydebank.  My son had borrowed it for the night to take his girlfriend out, he often did.  When they came out from the film, it had gone.  Have you found it?"

Burke shook his head.  "No.  Sorry."

"I didn't think you would have.  I mean, it's been weeks, hasn't it?  It's probably three different new cars by now."  He sounded fed up and resigned at the same time. 

There didn't seem to be much more to ask.  This man was not a killer - years of instinct had told both DCIs that the moment they'd stepped into the house.

They rose.  "Well, thanks for your time Mr O'Conner, we're sorry to have bothered you."

O'Conner looked confused, like he wasn't sure he hadn't just missed something.  But he too got back to his feet and reached to shake Burke's out-stretched hand.

A photograph on the mantelpiece caught Michael's attention and crossing the narrow room he picked it up.  "Is this your son, Mr O'Conner?"

Their host peered over Burke who'd turned.  "Aye, that's David."  Instantly protective.  "Why?"

Michael handed the photo to Burke.  "Robbie's description.  Brown, curly hair, dark eyes, about six foot tall."  The photo had him standing next to his father, arm slung around the older man's shoulders.  Estimating Andrew O'Connor's height at 5'10'', David must have been about six-foot.

Burke was all business.  "Where is he now?"

"Why?  What's wrong?  You don't think he was lying about the car, do you?"

Yes, they did.  But neither said so.  "We'd just like to speak to him, eliminate him from our enquiries."  Not a line that worked on everyone, but it was safe on someone who assumed two DCIs working a stolen car case was normal.

"He's at work."

Michael was sliding the photo out of the frame.  "Where's that?"

"What are you doing?"

"Identification.  We wouldn't want to be questioning the wrong man."  Burke's tone of absolute seriousness seemed to work, much to Michael's hidden amusement.  "Where does your son work?"

"He's a trainee chef at the Longbridge Restaurant.  It's on Edinburgh Road."

"Thanks.  We'll get the photo back to you once we've spoken to him."

They didn't shake hands as they left.


Driving the short distance to the school, Michael swung the Audi into the car park.

"Jackie!"  She hurried over to them.  "Get to the hospital, ask Robbie if this is the guy who grabbed him last night."  He handed her the photo.

She glanced at it and nodded.  "Right."

Burke was already moving the troops. 


The Longbridge Restaurant was an expensive place just outside the main city centre.  Not much on the outside, olive green surround and small glass windows, inside it was candle lit and intimate.

Michael had once taken a girlfriend there, only a couple of days before she'd dumped him.

He and Burke sat in the Audi, parked opposite the Restaurant on the other side of the road.  Officers were silently spreading themselves out around the building.

It was a terrace property, small, with three floors.  On each side, shops.  A bookshop to the left, designer clothes store to the right.  Behind the restaurant there was a yard where the bins were kept and a gate out into a no-through road.

An unmarked police car was blocking the end of that back road.  Plain clothed officers were moving into the street, mixing with the shoppers.

Finally, Burke's mobile rang.

"Yeah?.... Right."

Ending the call, he looked at Michael.  "They're in place."  Michael nodded.  His hand went to the door handle.  "You don't think we should wait for Jackie to confirm we've got the right person?"

"We're not arresting him, Matt, we're just going to talk to him."

Burke hesitated, trying to read the edge in the other man's voice.

"Okay."

*

Stepping into the small ward, Jackie smiled at Stuart.

He sat up, putting down the book he'd been reading. "Have you found him?"

"We might have, I think."  She crossed to sit on the edge of the bed, sliding her hand up Robbie's bare arm where it lay at his side over the sheets.  He stirred, but only to frown.  She smiled to herself.  He was a bugger to wake up in the mornings under the best of circumstances.  And now she could see the bruises on his throat, deep purple surrounding a dark blue.

"Robbie."  Stroking her thumb up his arm, following the line of his bones, she called his name.  "Come on, Rob."

Her voice had woken him many times before.  When they'd been called out in the dark hours.  When she and Michael had been horny and had wanted some attention.  When the Sunday morning, fresh coffee had been going cold.

Now, she needed his help.

"Robbie."

Opening his eyes, Robbie gazed at her for a second before smiling.  "Jackie...."

"Sorry, but I need to know...."  She held up the photo.  "Do you recognise either of these men?"

Robbie blinked a couple of times, trying to focus while Stuart moved to stand next to the bed and take a look at the picture.  A second later, Robbie pointed to O'Connor's son, David, standing, smiling, next to his father.

"That's the guy."

"Are you absolutely sure?  Did you get a good look at him?"

"Yes, I'm sure."  He glanced at her, panic in his eyes, "Jackie, he's after Mike!"

Instinctively reaching out, she pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder.  "It's all right.  He's fine.  He's with Burke and a whole army of officers.  I have to go, but I'll be back soon, okay?"

He nodded, holding her gaze in a meaningful exchange before lying back, but not settling.

Checking that Stuart too was all right, she left the ward, waiting until she was out of the hospital building before calling Michael.

*

"Gentlemen, table for two?"

Burke's mouth curled into a wry smile while Michael held up his identification.  "We'd like to speak to the manager."

The waiter was surprised, obviously, but professional.  "Of course.  If you'd like to come this way."

The restaurant had only just opened for the lunchtime diners, and there was only one couple browsing a menu.  They didn't even glance up when the three walked past, and, cynically, Burke imagined that they were boss and secretary, making plans for an illicit weekend.

The idea of appealed and he found himself momentarily jealous.  Staring at the back of his colleague's blond head, he wondered if Michael was getting any, and then remembered the rumours about he and Jackie Reid.  Lucky bastard.

The waiter vanished for a moment, and a second man appeared from behind a dark door.  "I'm Martin Longbridge, I own this restaurant.  Can I help you?"

"You have a chef here named David O'Connor?"

The man visibly relaxed.  "Assistant chef, yes.  Usually."

"He's not here?"

"He called in sick this morning."

Michael sighed.  DSI Patterson, his boss, wasn't going to look too favourably on the number of officers who'd been drafted in to surround two locations, neither of which contained their suspect.

"Does he often call in sick?"

Longbridge shook his head.  "No, he's an excellent member of staff."

"How long's he worked here?"

"About... eight months.  He trained in Edinburgh, this is his first job, I believe.  He's a natural.  Why?  What's this about?"

"Just general enquiries.  Thank you for your time, and if he does come in, could you give me a call right away?"  Michael handed over his card.  Longbridge took it, nodding, confused.  Michael and Burke showed themselves out.

Standing in the street, Burke radioed for the officers to return to the station.  For now, the trail had gone cold.

*

From the bar of The Bull, Michael arranged for immediate surveillance on Andrew O'Connor's house, and the Longbridge Restaurant.  Burke bought the drinks.

Hayley, who had spent the last half-hour standing next to the dustbins of half a dozen shops and restaurants, wasn't speaking to anyone.  But the others were in high spirits.  They might have lost their suspect for now, but they had a definite ID and the man had to surface somewhere.

"After lunch, Jackie and I'll go and speak to the father again," Michael sipped his orange juice, "get some names of friends, places he might be."

Burke nodded, supping almost half his pint in the first mouthful.  "How long are they keeping Ross locked up?"

"Until tomorrow.  He's not happy about it either."

"I can imagine."

It was a good twenty minutes before their food arrived.  The detectives talked quietly amongst themselves.  Jackie managed to get Michael's ear while the others were too busy chatting.

"Robbie was convinced this guy's after you."

"Aye, I think he's a bit confused about last night."

"You're not worried?"

"If I worried about every man likely to come after me, I'd be in a constant state of paranoia."

Jackie thought about Liam Kennedy, absently touching the backs of her fingers to Michael's arm for a moment.  "Just be careful, ay?"

*

Burke accompanied Jackie back to O'Connor's house, while Michael returned to the hospital. 

Robbie was awake when Michael arrived.  He looked tired, beaten, but managed a smile when he saw his lover.

"Got him?"

"Lost him.  Sorry.  But we have an ID, an address for his home and work.  We'll get him."  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slid his hand under Robbie's, stroking the edges of the cool fingers gently.  "Are you warm enough?"  The expression on the other man's face warned him to stop right there.  Michael chuckled.  "Sorry."  He looked around.  "Where's Stuart?"

"Canteen.  Took one sniff of my excellent hospital lunch and buggered right off."  But there was a deep affection in Robbie's tone.  "You and he saved my life."

"He, mostly.  And Ewan, the barman at the club.  Asked if anyone had seen you, scared us all to death when we realised you were missing."  He looked closely at the mess David O'Connor had made of his lover's throat.  "Robbie, we need to know if the guy said anything that might link him to the other three victims."

Robbie shook his head.  "I was thought of that while I was lying here bored outta my skull.  But no, he just mentioned that there were a lot of new people around."

"You said you thought he might come after me?"

"That's what he said, that he wanted to sample all the new faces, and that... he liked them straight.  He said you looked straight.  Shows what he knows, doesn't it?"

Michael mirrored his lover's smile.  "I've got to go.  I'll come back later."

"Look, Mike, you don't...."  But he trailed off.  He knew the expression, playing across the gentle features, of old.  "Thanks."

"If you think of anything..."

"I'll get Stuart to call you."

Nodding, Michael reluctantly pulled his hand back and stood.  "Looking forward to getting you home," he murmured, the words private.

"You're not the only one."

"I bet."

For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to leave.  But he knew that not until the killer was behind bars, until they stopped, would it hit them how close they'd come to losing Robbie.


Michael passed Stuart in the corridor and told him that Robbie would fill him in on what was happening.  Stuart seemed happy enough to stay at the hospital, babysitting.  Anything was better than working with Hayley Neill anyway.

*

Five hours later, the small team of detectives sat on the desks in the Maryhill incident room.  They had a decision to make.

"What have we got to lose?"

Burke didn't like making decisions that way.  But Pete had a point.

"All right, we'll go back to Fossils tonight, same covers.  DI Ross thinks DCI Jardine might be a target, so I want your eyes on him all night, got it?  I don't want to be chasing another car across the city when the place closes."  Burke met the eyes of everyone in the room.  "Stick together.  That's in the club and going home.  Keep your eyes peeled.  Any questions?"

When nothing broke the silence, Burke nodded.

"Right.  Go home, get changed, be at the club same time you were yesterday."


Stuart had thought it best not to inform Robbie that the team was going back to the club.  He'd bought him a trash novel from the small shop at the hospital entrance and Robbie had spent the afternoon reading it and dozing.

Around three, he'd been taken for a second MRI scan from which the results, the doctor had told him, were clear.

He'd been asleep when the orderlies had wheeled him back in, and had woken just in time for the arrival of tea.

Leaving his boss for quarter of an hour, Stuart got himself slightly better faire at the canteen and took Robbie a bar of Cadbury Milk back to the ward.

"DCI Jardine called," Stuart told Robbie truthfully, handing him the chocolate and watching his face light up.  "He won't be able to visit tonight.  They're pulling an all-nighter on surveillance.  He said he'll send Jackie in tomorrow to take you home."  The last part was the lie.  Jardine had warned him that Robbie might not fall for it, but so far so good.

The ward had a television in the corner, and being the only patient there, Robbie got Stuart to manoeuvre it closer to his bed so that they could watch it properly.

Robbie was disappointed by the news about his boss, and as they sat watching The Bill, Stuart tried to work out why that should be.

What was on the television, however, soon took his mind from his musings.  Stuart was cheering, and Robbie was laughing as Luke and Gilmore kissed over the filing cabinet in the sergeant's office.

"On duty and in uniform!" Stuart was celebrating the breakthrough in television's homophobia.

"And over a filing cabinet!"  Robbie's smile was ear-to-ear.  He and Michael had stolen enough in the quiet of the office, late at night, when no one else had been around....

"Can you imagine the look on Jardine's face if he caught me in an illicit embrace with one of the uniformed officers!"

Robbie was still giggling.  "Aye, it'd just be like him to get on his high moral horse even after everything...."  He bit the sentence off.  That was the second time he'd almost said something to Stuart.  He'd become frighteningly comfortable with his DC since starting the relationship with Michael and Jackie.

Stuart had turned to him.  It was difficult enough to get anything passed Stuart under normal circumstances, but he was tuned in to everything Robbie had to say at the moment, in case he remembered something about last night without realising it.

"Sir?" he asked, disarming smile still playing easily on his face.

Robbie knew the expression.  He'd watched Stuart use his natural, gentle charm on so many criminals and victims alike.  They trusted him, even the bad guys.  They talked to him, because it was impossible to be anything but polite to him.  To be rude would be tantamount to kicking a puppy.  Mind you, anyone who did explore that path usually found the puppy sinking its teeth into their foot moments later.

Robbie had hesitated.  They'd been talking about telling Stuart.  It wasn't something like just slotted into normal conversation.  But given the opening....

"This stays between you and me."

Stuart nodded, knowing that the solution to his conundrum was close at hand.  "Absolutely."

Robbie thought about the hundred ways he could say it, and chose the most simplistic.  "Mike and I are sleeping together."  Stuart's mouth opened, but no sound came out.  Robbie smiled widely.  "Knew that'd leave you lost for words, Stuart."  He turned back to the television, although he kept his attention focused on Stuart.

"Are you having me on?" Stuart sounded hurt.

Robbie shook his head, eyes finding Stuart's.  "I'm not."

"He and Jackie...." 

Robbie nodded now.  "They are.  He and Jackie and I.  We never meant to leave you out, Stuart, and you shouldn't ever think that there's any favouritism on Michael's part at work.  He's a complete professional."

"Except over the filing cabinet?"

The cheeky question caught Robbie completely off-guard.  He couldn't help but laugh.  "Only when the office is empty."

Stuart smiled.  "I still don't believe it."  But the tenderness shown by Jardine with Robbie that morning, the worry and panic of the previous night....

"It's true.  I know I've been a complete bastard to you about you being gay.  It's a defence mechanism.  I've known I was bi-sexual since high school, but it never seemed like an easy thing to live with.  So I ignored it."

"Jardine doesn't strike me as the type.  Even if you did, which you don't.  My gay radar must be seriously malfunctioning."

Robbie laughed.  "Gay radar?"

"All gay men have it.  Like women's intuition."  He grinned.  "Jackie's a lucky woman."

"I feel like I'm the lucky one.  But Michael's really the one in the middle.  We're... it's not just sex."

"With he and Jackie?"

"And with he and I."

Robbie let that sink in.  It was good to admit it to someone else other than himself and his two lovers.  Stuart didn't look surprised.  Everything made sense to him now.

"I think he loves you too.  Sir."

Robbie tried not to leap on that statement.  "What makes you say that?"

But Stuart had that expression on his face, the secret one that said there was nothing more to be gained from questioning him further.

"I mean it about the favouritism, Stuart.  At work, Mike's my boss, Jackie's boss.  That doesn't change."

"Until you try to get yourself killed."

"Yeah."  Robbie closed his eyes, suddenly tired.  "When Kennedy took Mike... it took a while to get over what we might have lost."

Stuart leaned over and switched off the television.  He was happy to listen to Robbie's breathing as it evened out.  He had a lot to think about.  Never would he have come up with the real answer to what was going on between his boss and his boss's boss. 

It explained a lot but asked more questions than he'd ever have imagined.  How the hell did someone like Robbie Ross persuade a man like Michael Jardine into bed?

It was with that thought that he sat back with his book and carried on reading.

*

Michael stood on the edge of the dance floor, eyes closed, thinking that he was getting too old for this.

"I'm imagining myself at home with an expensive single malt and a Mozart CD."

Rolling his head along the wall, Michael looked over at Matt standing beside him.  He was imagining a completely different scene.

"I pictured you as a Jazz man," he told the DCI loudly, having to practically shout to make himself heard.

Matt grinned and wandered off.


When the club eventually closed, they followed the same routine they had the previous night.  But there was nothing out of the ordinary.  Around half past three, Burke decided to press the issue.

Closing up again on Michael, he tried the equivalent of whispering in his ear.

"Go for a cigarette."

Michael turned, frowned.  "I don't smoke."

"Go for a leak then!  Just go outside for a few minutes."

Taking the hint, Michael nodded.  "Right.  Don't abandon me."  Pushing off the wall, he headed for the exit.  He was aware of Jackie following him, keeping her distance but still close enough to raise the alarm if anything happened.

It was a relief to be out of the claustrophobic club.  He felt as if the music was clawing its way into his brain.  Outside, his ears rang in the quiet of the street.  Stepping up to the far wall, he pulled down his zipper and relieved himself, trying to ignore the chill on his bare flesh.

Every sound had him tensing for an attack, but none came.  He left it a few minutes, walking up and down in front of the club, but it was too cold to stay out long without causing suspicion.  Finally giving up, he went back inside, catching Matt's eye and moving his head to one side.

When the club closed at four, they wrapped it up. 

"Maybe the car chase last night scared him," Michael suggested as he and Matt they sat at one of the tables.

Matt nodded, tired.  "He's probably done a runner.  Whatever, coming back here was too big a risk now we know who he is."

"Aye.  Go home, get some sleep.  I don't know about you but my ears feel like there's a full symphony orchestra tuning up in them."

"Mine too."  Michael was toying with the idea of going to the hospital.  But bed seemed like such an incredible idea right now.  Robbie would be sleeping.  The nurses would be waking him in a couple of hours as it was.  "G'night, Matt."

Out in the car park, it took him a moment to locate his car.  Pressing the automatic unlock on his key fob, Michael slipped his fingers under the door handle and lifted it.

He never even heard the man whose arm wrapped around his throat from behind.

A man breathed in to his ear, long and hot.  "I wanted you yesterday, but I couldn't get close.  I took another, but I couldn't have him.  They didn't let me have him.  I can have you though."  As he spoke the last words, he tightened his grip.

Michael could feel the guy doing something with his other hand.

Digging a chloroformed cloth from his pocket.

"There are things I want to show you."

Taking as deep a breath as he could, Michael calmed himself, determining not to panic.  He didn't struggle, keeping his mind clear and thinking about everything they knew.

"That's the problem with straight men.  They don't know.  They don't understand the pleasures to be had with a dildo up your ass."

Michael had a flash of inspiration.  "I know..." he whispered roughly, barely managing to breathe.  "I... have a... boyfriend."

The movement stopped behind him, just for a moment.  "No.  You're straight."  But there was uncertainty there.

"No... Rob... his name's... Rob."

The grip around his throat loosened just a fraction, and Michael felt a moment of elation.

"Tell me what it feel like when he fucks you, when he's inside you."

He tried to swallow and couldn't.  Instead, he spat out the moisture in his mouth.  "He... fills me.  Stretches... like... he's... a part of me...."

"How do you feel when he does that?"

For a moment, Michael couldn't answer.  He couldn't find his voice.  The grip tightened and a wave of panic rolled over him.

"Taken," he managed, forcing sound out on breath.  "Owned.  Loved...."

There was a crack, like a cricket ball off a bat, and then the pressure around his throat vanished.  He pulled in two desperate, deep breaths and the pain flared suddenly.

Doubling over, he turned to see Burke standing behind him.  His attacker was out cold on the ground.

"Thanks," he muttered roughly, lungs and throat hurting like hell.

"You okay?"

"Yeah.  Fine."

"Nice misdirection," Burke's expression was set in awe.

Michael couldn't bring himself to think of a retort.


The car park filled with police cars and an ambulance in a matter of minutes.

At the sirens, the team that had just left the club had swung around and returned.  Now, Jackie sat in the back of the ambulance with Michael, holding his hand, letting him get over the sudden adrenaline surge and the shock it had brought.

Their unconscious suspect was on his way to hospital with two uniformed officers.

"Mike?" 

He looked up, eyes dilated and tired, and smiled wryly at Burke.  "Statement, I know."

"Tomorrow.  Go home, get some sleep.  Better still, go with Jackie and get some rest.  We'll get your car back to the station."

Grateful, Michael nodded.  "Matt... thanks."

"Don't mention it.  You owe me a bacon sandwich."

*

Robbie opened his eyes and gazed into the dark brightness of the hospital ward.  He could hear a soft breathing, and looking across he smiled to himself.  Stuart was lying on the next bed along, curled onto his side, fast asleep. 

On one hand, the babysitting was frustrating.  On the other, he was glad of the company.  Not in a long time had he slept alone.

Thoughts of Michael and Jackie prompted him to wonder how the surveillance was going.  Thinking of his two lovers sitting in a cold car somewhere watching a house in which the occupants were snuggled in warm beds made him ache for them.

He shifted uncomfortably.  Being used to a bed four times the size of the hospital one, and at least one, usually two bodies close by, he'd woken several times and taken a while to drop back off to sleep.

His side ached where his ribs were broken.  His wrist was throbbing, making him feel vaguely nauseous.  Every movement of his neck pulled at the bruises around his throat.

He just wanted to be home, with Michael cushioning him, Jackie lying close by, their sensual warmth wrapped around him.  He was tired, and he hurt. 

When tears gathered in his eyes, he swiped at them, berating himself.  One night, he told himself.  If he wasn't here, he'd be in a cold car somewhere too, probably with Hayley Neill.  The idea settled his churning emotions, and he closed his eyes.  Outside the ward, the sounds of the busy hospital kept the silence at bay.

*

The noise outside the ward woke Stuart some time later.  Watching Robbie for a second, making sure he was sleeping, Stuart swung his legs off the bed and dropped to his feet.

Stepping out into the corridor, he looked to the source of the noise and saw a couple of uniformed officers.  PC Grant and PC Lock.

"John!"  Stuart jogged over to the two men.  "What's going on?"
The woolies were surprised to see him, but John Grant smiled.  "Stu'rt!  Hoows things?"

"Okay.  What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"They get that attacker from 'club.  Fossils in toown.  One of the dicks crack'd him o'er heed.  We're no't' leave him alone."

"The guy from the club?  The man who attacked DI Ross?"

"Aye, th'd be 'im."

A smile cracked Stuart's worried expression.  "That's great!"

Neither officer seemed to share his enthusiasm.  "Nah, I hate hospitals.  We just wan'ed t'drag 'im doown t'cells, le' 'im suffer.  He tried to take another one of oours."

"Really?  Who?"

"Dunno.  E's ok though.  Leek I say, anoother of oours clonked him one on back of 'is heed."

Stuart smiled.  "Good." 

The doors swung open at the end of the corridor and DCI Burke burst through.  He looked like he was still on the high of the catch.

"Stuart!"  He grinned, slapping Stuart on the back before turning to the uniforms.  "How is he?"

"Slight concussion, nothing serious."  It was Chris Lock who answered the DCI's query.  Doc says he'll be moved to a ward in a few minutes."

"Good.  I'm not accepting amnesia as an alibi."  He turned back to Stuart, grin back on his face.  "How's Robbie?"

"Sleeping, Sir."  The reply came back quickly, protectively.

Burke appreciated the sentiment.  Stuart never did a job by halves.  "It's all right, son.  I was'na going to disturb him.  I'm gonna wait here until I can see my prime suspect."

Stuart nodded and headed back to the small ward on which Robbie was lying.

For the rest of the night, he sat in the chair by his boss' bed and watched over him.

*

When Jackie finally went to bed after a hot chocolate and brandy, Michael was fast asleep under the influence of mild paracetamol.

She stood for a few minutes and watched him by the bright moonlight.  Her eyes traced the bruising coming out around his throat.  She thought of Robbie, and realised that he was going to go mental when he saw them.

Comparing it, however, to what his reaction would have been if they'd wheeled Michael in to the ward beside him, it would probably be easiest this way.

Carefully, quietly, she undressed and slipped into bed, pulling the duvet up over her.

For a while, she listened to Michael's breathing.  Then, she leaned over, pressed a kiss into his hair, and finally settled back to sleep the few precious hours before Michael woke.

*

They were back at the hospital by eleven the following morning. 

Burke was already there.  He'd hadn't actually been to bed.  After speaking briefly to David O'Connor at the hospital, he'd gone to a favourite late-night bar of his for a couple of expensive malt whiskeys.  He'd been home to shower and change, and driven back to the hospital to wait.

When he saw the livid bruising on Michael's neck, he made a face.  "Should you really be here?"

"I'm fine."  He nodded at the two uniformed officers still hanging about.  "What's going on?"

"The doctor's doing his rounds.  O'Connor should be released soon, once he is we'll take him into custody."

"And Robbie."

"Stuart said he should be released this morning too.  Have you had that looked at?"

"No.  It's just bruised." 

"Still." 

They looked at as the doctor who'd looked after Robbie approached them.  He seemed more exhausted than they felt.  "You can take him - O'Connor.  He's fine.  No concussion.  Just a slight headache.  We've done an MRI scan and everything's okay."

Burke nodded.  "Thanks."  He moved off to speak to the two uniformed men, smiling at Stuart on his way back from the canteen. 

The doctor watched the activity.  "DI Ross can go too.  You lot have taken up enough of my beds."  When he turned back, he noticed Michael's injuries.  "Has someone looked at that?"

Michael rolled his eyes.  "No.  It's just...."

"Amazing how many policemen are doctors."

*

It was a long day. 

While Michael typed up his statement regarding the previous morning's attack, Matt interviewed O'Connor.

He didn't try to deny the attacks.  How could he when they'd caught him with Jardine?  But he flatly denied murdering anyone.

But the time Michael arrived back at Jackie's apartment, he'd also interviewed O'Connor, for four hours, and still their suspect denied the killings.

Jackie welcomed him home with a long kiss and a careful hug.

"Robbie's upstairs," she told him.  "He was exhausted."

Michael held her for a time, then jogged up the stairs.  Robbie was sleeping, curled up on his side in the centre of the big bed. 

Quietly, Michael changed out of his suit into the casual clothes he kept at Jackie's.  Leaving his feet bare, he sat up on the corner of the bed.  Robbie moved in his sleep, turned over at the disturbance and a minute or two later, opened his eyes.

"Mike...."

"Hi.  How are you feeling?"

"Sore."  Robbie reached for his lover's hand, frowning when he saw the purple marks around his neck.  "What happened?"

Michael caught his hand.  "You were right.  O'Connor wanted me.  And he risked coming back to the club last night to get me."

Robbie's expression creased.  "He hurt you."

"I was talking my way of it when Matt disabled him."

"Talking your way...?"

Smiling, Michael wiggled his eyebrows.  "You were my inspiration."

Robbie sighed, shook his head slightly and pulled on Michael's hand.

Half an hour later, Jackie found them asleep.  Michael had spooned up behind Robbie, arms wrapped around him, blond head dropped against the dark one. 

She watched over them for a few moments before closing the door with a quiet click.  Dinner would wait. 


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