FANDOM;       The Bill
AUTHOR;       Kandie
TITLE;        "Chasm" (alternative version)
PAIRING;      Loxton/Slater
RATING;       I try never to go much beyond a PG-13, but since this is a slash
              story, it's 18 and up.
DISCLAIMER;   Characters are owned by Thames Television.
SPOILERS;     Set after the shift ends in the episode "Rift".
NOTE;         Quotations in Italics are more or less from the ep.
CATEGORY;     Definite soul-searching and angst.
FEEDBACK;     If you want to send me some, I'll be more than happy to
              Reply: kandie@tinyonline.co.uk

=========


"... he wanted to know what it was like."

Nick Slater paused with the key half-way to the Yale.

He could still see the tearful teenager.  Nula was dressed in the white, plastic
covering, her clothes long gone to forensics.

The stark, overhead lighting of the interview room had highlighted her
freckles, highlighted the redness surrounding her eyes, had made her seem
older than her nineteen years.

Nick shuddered, remembering what Nula had told them.

Ackland was good, Nick had to give her that.  The sergeant had hardly
blinked when Nula had finally gone into detail about her argument with her
friend, but Nick could barely look at her.  Ackland probably viewed the
distraught girl's revelation like a scientist, detached, cold.  Afterall, when
had Ackland lost her virginity ?  Twenty-five, thirty years before ?  She
could afford to be cool.  It was probably just a distant memory for her, a
distant, pleasant memory, if she was lucky.

But for Nick, the girl's story had opened up a whole, new train of thought,
one that he was not happy with.

Nick straightened his shoulders and pressed the key into the lock.  Steve
might already have left for the day-shift.  Nick almost hoped that he had.
He was not sure that he could face Steve right now.

No such luck.

Steve Loxton was hurrying down the stairs, Tote bag flailing open.

"Have you seen my black polo shirt ?" he demanded, as soon as he saw
Nick in the hall.

"Over the radiator in the shower room."  Nick gestured along the hall way.

Steve took off in the indicated direction.  Nick sighed and threw his own
bag over to the foot of the stairs.

Steve re-appeared, stuffing a dark garment into the bag.  He stopped by
Nick.  Nick rose on his toes to give the taller man a quick peck on the cheek,
but Steve dipped his knees, checking his reflection in the hall mirror.  Nick
sank back on his heels.

Steve flicked his fringe, still staring in the mirror, then, satisfied with his
appearance, he turned to go.

"Steve,"  Nick hated the pleading sound of his own voice.

Loxton stopped and looked back, surprised.  "What ?"

Nick dropped his eyes.  "Nothing." he whispered.

Irritation crossed Steve's face.  He had a long shift ahead of him.  He was
running late.  All he wanted to do was be on his way.  He did not have time
to wangle Nick's problems out of him.

Steve stepped through the door, he was closing it behind him when he
remembered that he had promised to go for a drink after work with Garfield
and Quinnan.  He opened the door again, and poked his head round.  Nick
had not moved.

"I won't see you later," he said in a rush.  Nick's head snapped up.
"Probably not for a while, the shift's being what they are."  Steve didn't
notice the blank look on Slater's face.  "I said I'd go for a drink after work,
you'll be gone by the time I get back, so catch you later, okay ?"  Not
waiting for an answer, Steve slammed the door closed and headed for his
car.

***

Nick did not know how long he stood in Steve's hallway, the wall the only
thing keeping him upright.

How could he have been so stupid ?

He should have known.

He should have known by now not to trust anyone.

Slater sank to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them
tightly.

"... she said they laughed about it.  She said that was the reason Paul came
to me, because he wanted to know what it would be like to ..., to ..., t-take
someone's ..., someone's v-v-virginity ..."

Nick groaned.  Nula was nineteen - that most intimate of secrets had been
confided to her best friend, and the betrayal of that secret had led, in part, to
Nula stabbing her.

Slater was seven years older, but not, it seemed, seven years wiser.  He
could identify with Nula.

A sick feeling roiled in his gut.

"I'm going for a drink after work ..."

Steve probably had a lot to talk about ...

"... she said they laughed about it, ..."

"You won't be here when I get back, ..."

"... they laughed..."

"You won't be here ..."

Nick sobbed, once, his hands tightening on his knees.  Maybe it was a joke ?
One huge, cosmic joke, make him think that someone really cared about
him.  Or, ... maybe it was a bet ?  Who would be the first to get off with one
of the probationers ?  Nick snorted, derisively.  "It would be a long-running
bet then, wouldn't it ?" he told himself.  His probationary period had been
finished months ago.  Then the insecurity came crashing down on him
again.  A bet was the most likely reason for Steve Loxton pursuing him, him
of all people.  Debbie Keane had more sense than to get involved with her
work colleagues.

Nick pictured Keane sitting in the dining room.  "...It is flattering, Nick.  He
is C.I.D, and he looks good in a suit, but I just don't believe in it."  She had
waggled her finger in his face for emphasis, "Nothing good comes of
sleeping with the guy you work with."

Nick had agreed with her, recognising that she was warning him off as well.
But he hadn't followed her advice.  Not when it came to Loxton.

Nick swallowed and straightened his head, decision made.

Steve was right, he wouldn't be here when he got back.  Leaving the keys
on the hall table, Nick picked up his bag and left the house, slamming the
door behind him.

***

What a boring shift !

Driving about the streets, not one call that required the use of the siren,
Steve was eternally grateful when the time for refs rolled around.  Although,
knowing his luck, that would be the one time there was call ...

No, Refs were as peaceful as the shift had been.

Loxton sat at a table with Tony Stamp, Polly Page and Reg Hollis.  Banter
flew across the table, sometimes good-natured, sometimes not, nothing like
slagging off C.I.D  to keep uniform happy.  Loxton was enjoying himself.

"Such a shame 'though," sighed Polly.

"What ?" asked Steve.

"That girl Nick and the Sarge had to charge last night."

Steve had to feign indifference whenever any of Nick's cases came up in
conversation.  "What about it ?" he asked round a mouthful of toast.

Page leaned conspiratorially into the table.  "The kid, stabs her best friend
with a screw-driver, over this guy."

Stamp grimaced, "A woman scorned ... ?"

Polly frowned, "Oh no, Tony.  It's more than that.  Apparently, the guy
persuaded the kid to steal from the shop she worked in and the friend found
out."

"They do say the female of the species is more deadly than the male."
opined Hollis.

"Who does ?" snapped Polly, annoyed that her story had been interrupted.

"That pop group for one." said Hollis.  " 'Universe', or 'Space', or whatever
they call themselves."  He looked at the blank expressions surrounding him,
"You know, "... the female of the species ..." he began to croon, but was
silenced abruptly by Stamp's hand across his mouth.

"We'll take your word for it, Reg." promised Stamp.

Steve grinned, then spied the distinctive blonde crop of Sergeant Ackland's
hair passing by the doors.  He pushed away from the table, "See you at the
car, Reg." he called, "If Tony let's you go !"

Reg Hollis rolled his eyes.


***

Slater sat on his bed and regarded the suitcase in front of him.  It did not
even have the decency to bulge.  Two pairs of Levi's, six T-shirts, one good
shirt, one suit (for interviews, weddings and funerals) four pairs of black
socks, three odd ones, a few pairs of boxers, a couple of briefs and a jumper
his gran had knitted him for going to college and which he just couldn't
seem to get rid off, no matter how many times he changed address.

His uniforms remained in the closet.  Wherever he ended up, he wouldn't be
a policeman anymore, and it was a criminal offence to impersonate a
policeman ...

He looked down at the three envelopes resting on the bed.  One had Steve's
name on it, another, Debbie's, the last one for Inspector Monroe.

He wasn't worried about Steve's.  Nick had convinced himself that Loxton
had got what he wanted - and more fool him for going along with it.  But he
was worried about Debbie.  They had been friends all through Hendon, all
through their posting at Sunhill.  At one time he had thought he was
attracted to her, until he realised it was a different, taller, male blonde he
wanted to get to know better.  He just hoped Debbie would understand.

Decisively, Nick snatched the envelopes up.  He picked up the sadly light
case and left the room.

***

Loxton hurried down the corridor chasing Ackland.  "Sarge !  Wait up !"

Ackland turned when she heard Loxton's call.

"What happened with that girl you and Nick brought in last night ?"

Ackland was too tired to wonder why Steve Loxton would be interested in a
night-shift case.

"Nula's being charged with murder," the Sergeant said, flatly.  "She took a
weapon with her, that's pre-meditation," Ackland turned away, "Although, I
know in my gut it wasn't her idea, she's just desperate to keep her 'first'."
The Sergeant continued down the corridor, shaking her head.

"Her first what ?" asked Steve, confused.

Ackland turned back.  She glanced around, checking that the corridor was
empty.  "Her first lover," she said.

Understanding crossed Steve's face.  "I see."  He paused for a second, a
horrible fore-boding stealing over him.  Faltering slightly with his words, he
asked, "What made her do it ?"

Ackland looked at him curiously, "I suppose she couldn't stand the thought
of them laughing about her, of Kyle using her.  She just didn't believe it."
Ackland took a step forward, alarmed at Loxton's suddenly pale face.
"Steve, are you all right ?"

Loxton ignored her question.

"And Nick, I mean Slater, was there when she told you all this ?"

Ackland nodded.

"How did he seem ?"

"Seem ?"  June frowned, trying to remember.  "Nick only glanced at her,
probably felt Nula would be more comfortable talking to a woman.  In fact
he was very quiet after that."

"Oh, god."  Steve turned and hurried away.

June Ackland stared after him, wondering if she should follow.

***

Loxton dashed through the station's corridors.

"Steve !  Time to hit the mean streets !"  Hollis's cry washed over him.

Steve reached the pay 'phone and fumbled in his pocket for change.  With
trembling fingers he dialled his home number.   All he could see was Nick's
dejected form, and he hadn't even asked what was wrong ...

The ringing tone echoed in his ear, once, twice, "Please, pick up, pick up,
pick up ..."

"Hi ! You missed me, but leave your name ..."

Loxton growled in frustration and slammed the 'phone back into its cradle.

A light hand tapped him on the shoulder.  He spun round.

"Thought you were going to break the speed of sound there, Steve !"
grinned Reg.  "Are you that anxious to get away from me ?"

Steve couldn't look at his colleague.  He pushed passed him, ignoring Reg's
concerned comments.  Steve's thoughts were focused on one man, and one
man only - but where was he ?

===

Loxton hung up the 'phone with a resounding crack.  He glanced around
guiltily, wondering if anyone had noticed, but thankfully the corridor was
empty.

He thought for a minute, then picked up the phone again, tried a different
number - Still no answer !

Impatiently he slammed the handset back.  * Okay, if Nick wants to play
silly buggers, so can I.  *

"Steve !  Ready to roll ?"  Hollis poked his head around the canteen door.

"Ready when you are, Reg."  Steve growled.

Hollis joined him and they made their way to the car pool.  "We've got a
choice," grinned Hollis, "A TDA in Holland Street, or a domestic in
Purchase Gardens."

"Whatever," snapped Steve.

Hollis looked at him, uncertainly.  "It's quite a nice drive to Purchase
Gardens." he ventured.

"Fine," returned Steve.

They reached the car and took their positions.  "Purchase Gardens it is
then."  said Hollis.  He looked at Loxton curiously as he got into the car.
Something must be bothering him, Loxton hated domestics.  Hollis
wondered ...

***

Nick Slater sipped at the bitter coffee and grimaced .

He'd been here for hours already.  Whoever said that you couldn't taste cold
coffee had lied.

He rested the cup back in the saucer, playing with it absently.

So, here he was.  Sitting in some lowly cafe across from the bus station,
wondering what to do next.

He'd posted his letters of goodbye.  First Class.  Tomorrow morning, Steve
Loxton would find out that he'd won his bet, Debbie Keane would know for
sure that he was gay, and Inspector Monroe would discover that Slater had
quit due to "personal reasons".

Nick sighed deeply and passed a hand across his brow.  "Let the good times
roll," he thought sourly.

Just as he was slipping deeper into his depression, Slater jerked  in his seat
as someone plonked himself  opposite.

"Anyone sitting here ?"

Silently Slater shook his head.  It was only when he looked up to see who it
was that he registered that the cafe was practically empty.

The other man grinned, "Yeah, I know.  You just looked like you could do
with some cheering up."

"Well, I don't."  Slater went back to playing with his cup and saucer.

The other man laughed and lit a cigarette, fanning the smoke away.  "That's
what they all say."

"You make a habit of this then ?  Talking to strangers in bus depot cafes ?"

"Only if I think they need what I have."

Slater's police instincts pricked up, "And what, exactly, do you think I need
?" he asked, sceptically, "The path to true enlightenment ?"

The man laughed delightedly, "Close, but no cigar."  He checked around to
see if anyone was watching, but the only other customer had her hands full
trying to feed a baby in a high chair, and the cashier was no where to be
seen.  Silently he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, clear packet,
filled with a fine powder.  He slid it across the table.

* For Christ's sake ! * thought Slater.  He made no move to reach for it.  *
Play it cool, Nicky.  *
"What is it ?" he asked.

The man seemed disappointed, "If you don't want it ... ?" he slid out his
hand, covering the packet and drew it back towards himself.

"I didn't say that," said Slater, slowly.  "It's just," he shrugged,
depreciatingly, "I've never been into drugs.

"There's always a first time," smirked the man, "And I guarantee, you'll
feel better for it."  He continued to cover the packet and tapped his fingers
against the table.

Slater's thoughts tumbled in his mind.  Under normal circumstances he
could have just flashed his warrant card and told the guy to piss off.  The
man would have caught a lucky break.  But these were not normal
circumstances.  He was not a policeman anymore.  He didn't have a warrant
card.  That meant he could actually buy himself some oblivion for awhile.
But then, he'd seen enough junkies in his time to know that, for him, it
would not be a simple experiment, he'd get hooked, he knew he would.  But
what if he could go out with style ?  What if this geezer was a big player, or
at least linked to the big players.  He could give his former colleagues a gift.
No matter what they might say about his personal life, they would not be
able to deny that he had come through for them ... really rub CID's
collective noses in it.  Slater took a deep breath.

"Sorry," he said, with what he hoped sounded like regret.  "Not interested."
He reached for his suitcase, but the other man's hand closed about his wrist.

"Not so fast." he smiled.  "What's the problem ?  Afraid of needles ?"

Slater pulled his wrist away and tried to look angry and ashamed at the same
time.  "None of  your business !" he snapped.

The other man dropped his hand, and lowered his voice.  "I know, I was
terrified I'd throw up the first time too, but listen, you don't need to inject.
I've got plenty of stuff that can help, and you don't need a needle."

Slater looked out at the buses in the depot.  "I don't need that," he
whispered, as if trying to convince himself.

The man smiled, "How do you know until you try it ?"  Gently, he passed a
finger across Slater's hand,  Slater turned back to face him, staring, wide-
eyed, into his blue eyes, *  So like Steve ! *  "Just try it." the man
murmured.

Slater drew back his hand, "What's in it for you ?" he suddenly demanded.

The man sprawled back in his chair.  "What d'you think ?  I might get a new
customer out of it."

Slater shook his head, "No way !  If I do this, I won't be coming back !"  He
hoped he sounded convincing.

The man shrugged, "That's up to you.  I'm on the level here.  If you don't
want what I have to offer after the 'test-drive', so to speak, then you don't
want it.  End of story."

Slater turned back to the window.  He paused for a few moments.  * Be
convincing ! *  "Okay," he said at last, keeping his voice low.

"Good.  I'm Ralph."  the man extended his hand.

Slater felt a wave of unreality wash over him, he'd never envisioned
something like this happening ! "Nick."

"Well, Nick.  Why don't you put your bag in the left luggage and we'll get
going."

Slater followed Ralph's advice.  He bought a ticket and shoved his suitcase
into the locker.  Whatever happened, he might need to keep his hands free.
He looked at Ralph, busy smoking another tab down to the filter.  * You
really are nuts, you know that ? *  he admonished himself.  He swayed
unsteadily, exhaustion creeping up on him.  But then he pulled himself
together, re-considering.  What exactly did he have to lose ?  He'd already
quit his job, more or less.  He knew his lover did not care about him.  This
was the only way to keep any shred of dignity.  One last dealer off the
streets ...

Slater's plan was simple.  Let Ralph lead him to the drugs, buy a small
amount, and then shop him.  Then he could leave with a clear conscience.

Ralph checked his watch and tapped it, impatiently.  Slater slammed the
locker shut, "Let's go."

"Okay."

They walked out of the room together.

***

Loxton tried not to worry.  There was no answer from Slater's room at the
sectionhouse, and no one had picked up his calls when he rang his own
house.  Okay, something had been bothering Nick when he had been leaving
this morning.  But how bad could it be ?  It was not as if one of their mates
had died on the night shift.  The only niggling doubt he had was this girl that
Ackland and Nick had charged with murder...

He walked impatiently down the hall.  He'd waited a lot longer than normal
to see if Slater had reported for duty.  Garfield and Quinnan would already
be on their second pints ...

He passed Inspector Monroe and Sergeant Ackland outside the briefing
room.

"Looks like we'll be one short, sir." that was Ackland.  "Nick Slater hasn't
showed."

Loxton slowed down.

"That isn't like him.  Has anyone tried the sectionhouse ?"  Monroe did not
sound worried, merely curious.

Ackland nodded, "No reply, sir."

Loxton stepped up to them, "Sorry, sir, Sarge," he nodded, diffidently,
"Slater called in earlier, he wasn't feeling well.  I should have mentioned it
sooner."

Monroe sighed with exasperation, "Yes, you should have, Steve.  There are
procedures for reporting absences !"

"Sorry, sir."

Monroe waved him away, "Very well," then turning to Ackland he
continued, "Since Slater's not here, we'll have to skip the hourly patrols of
the Maycroft, we'll make it every two hours ..."  Monroe's voice faded as he
and Ackland turned away, "We'll also have to stretch out the panda cover.
Jarvis will have to go solo for the time being ..."

Steve watched as the two officers turned into the briefing room.  His mouth
curled in annoyance.  Nick had better have a good excuse !

***

Slater still could not believe he was doing this.

*  What are you thinking ?  *  he screamed at himself.

Ralph deliberately closed the door behind them.

"This way."  The larger man pointed down the hallway.

Slater cringed back, suddenly terrified, "Actually, I've changed my mind, I
don't need a hit." he stammered.  Slater took a step back, straight into
Ralph's extended forearm.  He whirled round and met Ralph's gleaming
eyes.

"Where d'you think you're going ?"  Ralph whispered with deadly
emphasis.

"Out ?" stuttered Nick.

Ralph only laughed.  He called out gleefully, "I got one, boys !"

Slater didn't want to turn round, but his body had other ideas.  He looked
back up the corridor and swallowed as he saw two forms emerge from a
door way.

Ralph pushed up behind him, grabbing him firmly about the waist.  The
man's fingers curled through Nick's short hair and yanked his head back.
"You're not going anywhere," he promised, "Not until we say you do."
With a powerful shove, Ralph pushed Slater towards the two figures.

Nick stumbled and fell to his knees, but almost immediately felt a steel grip
under his armpits.  He started to struggle, but then there were two behind
him, each one holding one of his arms in a painful lock against his back.

Slater tried to get a breath, tried to yell out loud, but the two men holding
him dragged him to his feet.  The third shadowy figure moved towards him,
arms outstretched.

Nick finally managed to take a deep breath, ready to scream for help like
someone who'd just discovered a fire in their kids' room, but he never got
the chance.

The man reaching for him plastered tape across his open mouth.
Desperately, Slater twisted his head away, but it wasn't enough.

The tape caught and stuck to Nick's face.  *  They couldn't have got it from
a discount shop ?  * he thought, wildly.

The hands tightened around him, Nick snapped his head back and forth,
trying futilely to dislodge the restrictive gag.  His only reward was a throaty
chuckle from behind.

"I don't think he likes it."

The man in front of him again reached out.  But this time he went for the
crotch, rather than the mouth.  He cupped Slater's groin, gripped, and
twisted.  Nick screamed against the gag and collapsed in on himself as the
man let go.  He slumped down, mushroom lights going off behind his closed
eyelids.

Ralph looked down on him with satisfaction, "I don't think he likes it at
all."

***

Loxton worried at his lip as he listened to Garfield and Quinnan spin yet
another tale of derring-do.  Usually he enjoyed these post-shift drinks.  But
tonight he could not concentrate.  * Where the hell is Nick ? *  He turned
the beer mat over in his hands.

"What's the matter, Steve ?" laughed Dave Quinnan.  "Just been dumped ?"

Loxton looked up, sharply, "Who me ?  Never !"  The other two just
laughed and Garfield headed for the bar.

Loxton drained his pint in a gulp.  * If anyone is going to do the dumping, *
he thought, viscously, * It's going to be me ! *


***

The men had dragged Slater to a bedroom and thrown him down on the
mattress.  They circled for a moment, like vultures spotting a kill.  Nick
knew he had one chance, and one chance only.  He couldn't call for help,
the tape took care of that, but he could ...

He lashed out at Ralph as the man tried to crawl on top of him.  Ralph was
propelled back across the room, with a surprised "Oomph !" as he connected
with the wall.

Survival instincts kicked in and Slater didn't even stop to wonder if he'd
hurt the other man.

He scrambled to his feet, swinging wildly to keep the other two from him.
He ripped the tape from his mouth and yelled,  "Stay away from me !" as he
ploughed through the stunned men.

On the floor, Ralph rubbed his sore ribs.  "What are you waiting for ?" he
gasped.  "Get after him !"

The two men turned and scrambled out after Slater.  But Slater had not
wasted any time, he was already haring down the hallway.  At the end of it
he took a moment to grab the hall table *  Like Steve's *, and turned it over
sending the telephone and answer machine crashing to the floor.  The
obstruction was just enough to give him the extra few seconds he needed to
fumble the front door open.

Still, he barely made it.  A rough hand closed around his ankle and Slater
kicked back, feeling his foot connect with something, hearing an outraged
bellow of pain from behind, and then he was free, out the door and running
for all he was worth.

He fled to the bottom of the street and paused for a moment to see if he was
being pursued.  Sure enough the remaining man was already out on the
street.

Slater snapped his head back and forth wondering which way to go.  His
mind was made up when he caught sight of a London Transport bus pulling
away from the kerb.  * Thank you, God.  *  With a final spurt of speed he
chased after it, catching hold of the steel pole and swinging aboard just as
the bus was picking up speed.

Panting harshly Slater fell into a seat.  He could see the man emerge from
the street and look around wildly.  Then the bus turned a corner and he
disappeared from view.

"Just made it, uh ?" asked a friendly voice.

Slater jerked in surprise and then offered a weak smile to the conductor,
"Only just."

"Where you headed, son ?"

"End of the line ?"

"£2.25, please."  Slater fished in his pocket for change, "Word of advice,
son," continued the conductor, "Maybe you should take more exercise
before you try running for another bus.  You're far too young to have a heart
attack."

Slater snorted, "Couldn't agree more."

***

Loxton unlocked the front door and turned on the hall light.  If he needed
any more proof that Slater had gone he had it now - Nick always left the hall
light on for him coming in.  Steve slammed the door shut behind him and
stalked over to the answer machine.  The light was steady, no messages.
Then he saw the keys - the spare keys, Nick's keys - resting on the table.  In
a sudden fit of anger he swiped them off the table, * What the fuck is going
on ? *  Steve breathed through his nose, trying to calm down.

He turned away and stomped up the stairs to the bedroom.  It was exactly as
he had left it.  Duvet sprawled over revealing the sheet in a diamond shape.
Curtains half closed.  Discarded clothes draped over the end of the bed,  one
of Nick's uniform shirts hanging behind the door ... * He's not even been in
here ! *

For the first time Steve really wondered, really worried what had been going
through Slater's mind this morning.

***

Nick Slater stood under the street light outside the house he had called home
for the last two weeks.  Every window was dark.  He tried to think through
what had happened, how he had got himself into this mess.  It was pretty
easy once he started.

He'd allowed a case to get to him, he'd imprinted its elements onto his own
situation, he'd freaked out and fled.  He looked towards the bedroom
window of the house.  Was Steve home ?  Or was he still out on the tiles ?
He looked down at his shoes and sighed.  It didn't matter either way.  He
couldn't get in anyway.  He would just have to be content with tipping off
the police about a possible drug dealer, although it was Barton Street that
would get the collar, if there was one ...

Sick at heart, Slater turned away and trudged back down the street.

***

Steve Loxton sat in the shadows of the bedroom and watched as Slater
approached the house.  He watched as Slater paused under the street light.
He watched as Slater looked up to the window.  He watched as Slater
looked down to the ground.  He held his breath and willed Nick to walk up
to the door.

But Slater turned away, and suddenly Loxton was furious.  This was the guy
he had worried about ?  This was the man he had covered for ?  This was the
man he had put his career on the line for ?  This was the man who was
leaving with no word of explanation ?  Fuck that !

Loxton jumped to his feet and dashed out the house.  He knew the area
better than Slater and right enough he cut Slater off at a side street.

"Where d'you think you're going ?"

Nick scuttered back with a yelp.  Then he stepped forward, cautiously,
"Steve ?"

"Were you expecting somebody else ?"  Loxton's voice was tightly
controlled.

"No, not really."  Slater voice faded away as he checked the darkened
streets.  *  What if he saw me ?  What if they followed me ! *

Loxton had no time for niceties.  He gripped Slater's shoulders tightly,
"What the hell are you playing at ?" he demanded.

Slater twisted desperately in Steve's grasp, "Let go !  Let go !"

Loxton stepped back, surprised.  "What is it, Nick ?"  Then he noticed the
way Slater was looking around.  "Nick ?" he asked, softly.

Slater turned back, "I'm sorry, okay ?  I thought you wouldn't care if I left.
I thought I could do something good."  His eyes continued to scan the empty
street.  "I thought it would be all right.  I thought I wouldn't have to know.  I
didn't want you to laugh about me ..."

Tentatively Loxton reached forward, "Nick, you're not making any sense."

Slater gazed at him, eyes blazing, "Don't you think I know that ?"

Loxton held up his arms, "Okay, all right !  Let's talk."

"Talk ?  You don't talk !"  Slater was backing away.

"I do when it's important."  Loxton pleaded.

That stopped Slater in his tracks.  He looked at Steve with a mixture of
apprehension and hope, "You do ?"

Loxton nodded vigorously, "Come on, come with me.  You look tired.
Let's go back to the house, okay ?  You can tell me all about it."

At those words, Slater sagged.  When had he last slept ?  In fact, what day
was it ?  Steve caught him under the arms and Nick tried not to wince from
the bruises.  He rested his head against Loxton's chest, "So sorry." he
muttered, "So tired."

"It's okay." whispered Loxton.  Gently, but firmly he guided Slater back
towards the house.

"I got away," Nick murmured.

"Did you really ?"  Loxton tried to curb his temper.  He wasn't that
repulsive, surely ?

"They were going to hurt me, but I got away ..."  Slater was almost asleep
on his feet.

Steve tightened his grip, looking down on the bowed head with concern, *
They ? *  "You're safe now," he promised aloud.

"I know," whispered Slater contentedly.

===

Steve Loxton looked down on the sleeping man in his arms.

Nick was curled up against him, one arm flung across his chest, the other
snaking its way under his neck.  Steve knew that Nick would pay for that
posture soon - pins and needles would probably wake him - but he did not
care, it felt too good to have Nick close again.  Steve settled his grip around
Nick's waist and pulled him tighter.  * Take your partners please ! *  Steve
smiled, ruefully, they did look as if they were about to waltz away ...

Slater stirred in his arms.  It was not a pleasant movement.  His face was
creased as if he was in pain.  Then he kicked, catching Loxton a fairly good
wallop on the shin.

Steve muffled his cry and tightened his grasp.  Not a good move.  Slater
began to buck, and push, arms and legs seeming to move independently of
each other, but all of them driving Loxton away.  Small sounds emerged,
suddenly becoming words ... "No, No, No, Get away !"

Steve blinked at the ferocity of Slater's actions.  Quickly, he let go and
scrambled across the bed, almost falling out in his haste to give Slater some
space, but all the while he kept up a chant, "It's okay, Nick.  You're safe.
No one can hurt you here.  You're all right.  It's all right ..."

His words seemed to have some effect.  But only after Slater had kicked the
duvet from the bed.  Loxton looked down onto the crumpled heap of
material, then back at the shivering form in the bed.

Slowly, infinitely slowly, Loxton eased his way back towards Slater.
Tentatively he reached for one bared shoulder, "Nick ?"

Slater's body shuddered at his touch, the dark eyes opened for a moment
and gazed, sightlessly, ahead, "This wasn't supposed to happen," he
whispered.

Loxton recoiled, a bucket of ice over him could not have made him move
more quickly.  Slater's eyes closed again, and Steve let his hand drop.

* If that's how you feel, *  thought Steve, angrily.  But then he stopped and
looked, really looked at the man before him.

He had helped Slater with his shirt, socks and shoes when he had put him to
bed, but he'd let Nick sleep in his jeans, not wanting to strip him completely
when so much seemed to be going wrong between them.  Now Steve could
fully realise the damage.

Slater had drawn himself up into a foetal position,  his skin had goosebumps
rising in the chill of the air,  and bruises that reminded Loxton of handprints
were blossoming under his arms and around his wrists, * They * thought
Steve, * It's not me, it's "they". *

***

Three men sat around a battered coffee table.  One rubbed at his ribs,
another nursed a broken nose.

"A skinny, little runt like that !" mused Ralph.

A heavy pounding sounded at the door.  "Police.  Open up !"

The group looked up at each other in fear.  "POLICE !"

"Oh, fuck !" breathed Ralph.

***

Loxton had settled for sleeping in the chair.  It seemed a better idea than
being punched from the bed every couple of hours ...  He'd tried replacing
the duvet, just draping it over Slater's body, but even that seemed to set off
whatever IT was.

He slept, fitfully.  Sometimes dozing, sometimes seemingly caught in his
own nightmare, one where Nick was lost, and he could not find him, only
hear him screaming for help ...

Loxton jerked awake and automatically looked for the clock - 06:15.  He
sighed and turned to look at the bed.

Slater was still in the same curled position.  But now he was over on one
side of the bed, what Steve thought of as his side of the bed, wrapped
around what was definitely Steve's pillow.

*  Here goes nothing ! *

Loxton softly settled onto the mattress.  Slater only burrowed himself
deeper into the bed and clutched the pillow tighter.

Steve reached out and gently stroked the dark hair, "Nick ?" he whispered.

Slater nuzzled the pillow against his cheek, his lips turned upwards in a faint
smile, "Steve ..."

Loxton smiled, "Nick, time to wake up ..."  He kept his voice quiet, calm,
although quiet and calm were the furthest things from his mind.

Slater turned into Steve's touch.  Carefully Steve drew him over until Nick
lay on his back, one  arm still surrounding the pillow.  Lightly, Steve
continued to stroke the short hair, until at last he was rewarded and Slater
opened his eyes.

For a moment, there was only contentment in Slater's eyes as he gazed up at
Loxton, then the light faded, and an expression of fear replaced it.

Loxton did not give him a chance to act on that fear, "Ssshh, you're safe,"
he murmured.

Nick glanced around the room, verifying he was where he thought he was.
Then he drew his sight back to Steve.  He licked his lips.  "Hi," he said.

"Hi, yourself."  Loxton reached down and pulled the duvet from the floor.
He gathered it in his arms and then spread it over the recumbent man.

"Thanks," Slater whispered.  He turned his head away, "I don't deserve it."

Loxton caught Slater's chin in his hand and turned him back to face him,
"We'll see about that."

Steve began to pat down the duvet, tucking it around the shorter man, but
Nick's hands came round, gripping Steve's tightly.  "I'm not a bloody kid !"
he snapped.

Steve nodded, placatingly, "Okay, okay."

They looked at each other for a moment, both wondering where to start.  It
was Loxton who broke the silence.

"So.  Want to tell me what the hell's going on ?"

Slater closed his eyes, "I made a mistake." he muttered.

Loxton tried to ignore the chill that had settled in his gut, and, keeping his
voice steady, asked, "About what ?  Us ?"

Slater sighed, "Kinda."

"Oh," not a good comeback, Steve had to admit, but the chill factor was
dropping even further towards freezing and he was finding it difficult to
concentrate.  Then he realised that Slater had asked him a question.  "Sorry,
didn't catch that."

Slater sighed again, but it was a very exasperated sigh.  "See, this is exactly
what I mean," he said, angrily.  "You never listen to a bloody word I say !"
He started to get up, "Maybe I didn't make a mistake afterall !"

"Nick !" Loxton pleaded.

But Slater rolled away and jumped from the bed.  Hurriedly he snatched up
his shirt, "Forget it, Steve."

Loxton stood.  He could feel his temper rising, and that was better, that was
good.  It meant his body was heating up again, now he could think.  "No, I
won't just forget it !  Excuse me for being a tad pissed off that you think
WE are a big mistake !"

Slater turned round, "I never said that," he said, indignantly.

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Did !" snapped Steve.

"Didn't !"

They stopped and looked at each other over the bed, both glowering.  Then
Slater's lip began to twitch.  His shoulders began to tremble with the effort
of not laughing, "Bet you never wanted to share your toys in nursery either
!" he giggled.

Loxton replayed the last few minutes in his mind and started to laugh
himself.  "On a scale of 1 to 10, just how ridiculous did we look ?"

"Only a 7."

Loxton sank back onto the bed, "That's a relief."  He glanced up at Slater.
"Do you think we could start again, get this sorted out before I have to go ?"

"Go ?"

"Work, remember ?"

"Oh, yeah." Slater nodded.  "Oh, shit !  I never called in ..."

"It's okay," Steve interrupted, "I covered for you."

"Thanks," said Nick, quietly.

Loxton patted the bed, "Start at the beginning ?"

Slater nodded and sat down.  He took a deep breath.  "It all started when the
Sarge and I arrested this girl for assault ..."

***

A postman made his way up to the Sunhill sectionhouse, sorting out the
letters as he went.  Not much for the plods this morning.  What looked like a
mobile phone bill for Jarvis, a letter from his mother for McCann ... and a
couple of cards, must be his birthday or something.  The postman stuffed the
letters through the box.  He was about to put the rest back in his bag when a
name caught his eye, W.P.C KEANE - PRIVATE, "Whoops !  Nearly
missed you !"  He posted the letter through and turned away.

***

"And you accuse me of never listening to a word you say !"

"Sorry, Steve."

"So then what did you do ?"

"Well, I convinced myself that you didn't want me around, so I decided I
wouldn't be around when you got back ..."

***

Mike Jarvis yawned as he sorted out the post for the station.  One last, little
job and then he could go home and sleep.

"C.I.D, Brownlowe, Conway, Conway, Conway, C.I.D, Monroe ..."  Jarvis
paused and looked at the envelope, curiously.  Monroe did not get a lot of
post, certainly not by name.  He shrugged as he noticed PRIVATE &
CONFIDENTIAL across the top of the envelope.  "Must be a job
application." he mused and stuffed the envelope into the pigeon hole.

***

"I've never been so terrified in my life." admitted Slater.

"God, Nick."  Loxton squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

"Anyway, I got them back.  I phoned Crimestoppers when I got off the bus.
Anonymous tip."

"Just as well."  Loxton did not want to think about what could have
happened to Slater, nor did he want to think about what he would have done
to those bastards if Nick had been hurt.  Gently Loxton pulled Slater closer,
"And then you came back here ?" he asked, softly.

"Mmmn ?" Slater's eyes were far away, and Steve could feel a light tremor
beginning to shake the smaller man's body.  He rubbed Nick's shoulder,
"You came back ?"

Slater eyes focused again, "I s'pose so.  After tipping off the police
everything's a bit of blur.  I don't know what I did or where I went.  I just
remember looking up at the house, trying to get up the courage to knock ..."
He broke off and thought for a minute.  "Did I have a suitcase with me last
night ?"

Loxton shook his head.

"Must still be at the bus station then."

Below them the letterbox rattled.  Slater jumped slightly at the sound.  "It's
okay," soothed Steve, "It's just the post."

Slater relaxed again, although a fleeting thought skittered across his mind.
He frowned.

"You okay ?"

* What about the post ? *  Slater turned a reassuring smile on Steve which
turned into a yawn, "It'll come back to me.  I just need a few hours more
kip."

Steve returned the smile, "Share a cup of tea before I go to the station then
?"

"Sure."

The two made their way down the stairs.  Steve headed for the letters lying
on the mat, "I'll get the post, you get the kettle on ?"

"Okay."  Slater headed for the kitchen.  Loxton bent down and picked up the
post.  It was obviously that time of the month again - Bills, bills, bills, junk
mail...  He flicked through the envelopes looking for anything interesting,
even a post card would be nice.  Then he stopped.  Plain brown envelope,
addressed to S. LOXTON, in Nick's hand-writing.  * Oh. *

***

Slater rummaged around in the 'fridge, looking for a pint of milk that hadn't
gone off.  He heard Loxton in the door way of the kitchen and turned,
shaking a thick sounding carton of milk in his hand, "It'll have to be that
powdered milk stuff," he smiled, "We've only got cottage cheese here."  His
smile faded when he saw the expression on Steve's face.  "Steve, what is it ?
What's wrong ?"

"What's this ?"  Loxton held out the envelope for Slater to see.

The carton dropped from Slater's hand, spilling rancid milk over the floor.

Slater's face blanched, "Oh God, the letters !"  He couldn't look at Steve,
opting instead to reach for a cloth.

"Never mind that.  What about the letters ?  Come to think of it ..." Loxton's
eyebrow raised questioningly, "Letters, plural ?  Just how many letters did
you send ?"

"Three," whispered Nick.  "One to you, one to Debbie and one to Monroe."

"I take it the one you sent to Monroe wasn't a 'Dear John' letter."

"Resignation."

Slowly they both looked up at the kitchen clock.

"There's still time," said Steve in a decisive tone.

"To do what ?"

"Get those letters back, of course !"  Loxton looked at Slater, anxiously.
"You don't want to quit do you ?"

Slater shook his head with emphasis, "Not any more."

"Then let's get going !"

***

Loxton pulled up outside the sectionhouse with a screech of brakes.  Slater
was thrown back against the seat.

"I thought the idea was to do this quietly ?"

"And quickly," Steve reminded him.  He took Slater's hand and squeezed it
gently, "I'll see you at the shift change.  Don't worry, I'll take care of
Monroe, okay ?"

Slater nodded, "Thanks, Steve."

"Get going."

Slater hurried from the car.  Loxton waved as he pulled away.  Then Slater
turned and scanned the windows, anxiously.  They seemed to be in luck - no
curtains twitching, no one hanging out the windows.  Crossing his fingers he
sprinted for the front door.

***

Reg Hollis was adjusting his tie in the mirror, * After ten years, you should
have the hang of these damn clips, * when he heard brakes screeching
outside.  Curious, he moved across to the window and looked out.

Well that was definitely Nick Slater getting out of a car.  And it looked like
he was getting out of Steve Loxton's car.

* I thought Nick was supposed to be sick ? *  Hollis watched as Slater ran
up the front path.  * Doesn't look sick. *

Hollis turned away as Slater disappeared from view.  * There'll be a logical
explanation. *

***

Nick barrelled through the front door, and offered a heartfelt prayer of relief
when he saw the morning's post, undisturbed in it's little cage.  He
wrenched the catch open and feverishly searched through the letters, * What
if it's been delayed ? *  But there it was.  Slater snatched it from the pile and
kissed the envelope, "Thank you !" he breathed.

"Some one sending you love letters, Nick ?"

Slater stuffed the envelope away, guiltily, and turned to face Keane coming
down the stairs.  He managed a weak smile, "Yeah, that'll be right !"

"I thought you weren't well ?"

"I wasn't," Nick thought quickly.  "It's just that I'd run out of aspirin."

"You should have come along to me, I've got some."

"Didn't want to wake you."  Slater began to edge his way towards the stairs.

"Are you sure you're all right ?" asked Debbie with concern, "You look
really flushed."

"I'll be fine, really.  Just needed something for the headache."

"'Cos I can always tell Monroe that you won't be in tonight if you're not up
for it ?"

"No.  No need.  I'll just go back to bed.  Right as rain by tonight."  Slater
had reached the foot of the stairs.  "Don't worry.  It'll pass." he knew he
was beginning to babble, but he couldn't seem to help it, "On you go.  You
don't want to be late." * First step.  Second step. *

"If you're sure ?"

* Third step. *  "Sure, I'm sure !  Maybe I'll see you at the change over."  *
Fourth step. *

Keane shrugged and checked her watch, "Okay, but ring the station if you
can't make it."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

Keane smiled and sketched a little wave, "Catch you later then."

Nick waited until the doors had closed behind Keane before turning and
bounding up the remaining stairs, two at a time.  Above him he heard the
second floor landing door swing open.

"Happy Birthday, Gary !"

Oh god, that was Hollis.  Frantically he dived for the first floor landing door
and pulled it shut behind him.  Thankfully the corridor was empty.

"Got anything special planned for the big day ?"

"Yeah, Reg.  I'll probably spend the day waiting to be called in the Jessop
case.  And you know what his lawyer's like."

"I know.  I came up against Mr Markham once before.  He's a big a crook
as his clients.  You just have to stay calm."

"Easier said than done."

"I found imagining him in his underwear worked a treat."

"Reg !"

"What ?"

Hollis's slightly defensive voice faded down the stairs.

Slater breathed deeply, bringing his heart rate under control.  Cautiously, he
opened the door and checked the stair way.  No one around.  Taking another
deep breath he headed up the stairs, praying that no one else would choose
that moment to leave for the day shift.

At last he reached his own door.  Quickly he opened it, then closed and
locked it behind him.  He sank against it, gratefully.  He took out the letter
and tore it up into tiny pieces.  Now, if only Steve had managed to beat
Monroe to the post as well ...

***

Loxton sat at the lights and fumed.

* Come on, come on ...*  Why was it that whenever you were in a hurry,
every traffic light turned to red, every bus pulled out in front of you and
every bloody motor cycle courier tried to race you ... ?

He glanced over at the car pulling up beside him, and paled.

Inspector Monroe put on his hand brake and then reached down to change
the station on his radio.

Loxton looked up at the lights, willing them to change while Monroe was
distracted.

The amber light shone out, and Loxton was off.  He wasn't an 'Area Car'
Driver for nothing ...

***

Inspector Monroe looked up to see the line of traffic on his right moving
forward.  He checked the lights and saw them changing to green.  Almost
immediately a horn sounded behind him.  Such impatience !  Monroe
popped the hand brake and moved off, shaking his head in general
disapproval.

***

Loxton paused outside the door to the front office.  He took a deep breath
and wiped the sweat from his forehead.  Boldly, he pushed open the door.

"Morning, Nareeka !  Post in yet ?" he breezed.

"Hi, Steve.  Yeah, Mike's already sorted it.  Were you expecting something
?"

"Yes, I was."  Purposefully, Steve moved over to the bank of pigeon holes.
He grabbed the small pile of letters addressed to the Relief and shuffled
them through his fingers, all the while keeping an eye on his fellow officer.
At last Nareeka turned her back, and Steve took his chance.  There were
only two letters for Monroe, and one of them was in Nick's handwriting.
Steve stuffed it into his pocket, replaced the remaining one and turned to go.

"Get it ?" asked Nareeka.

"Yeah, no problem."  Loxton left the office and sank against the corridor
wall for a moment, breathing deeply.  He straightened as he heard the
buzzer go to let some one through from the public entrance.

"Good morning, Steve."

"Morning, sir."  Loxton watched as Monroe turned into the front office.
"No problem at all." he whispered.

***

Hollis sent curious glances at Loxton all through the morning patrol.  Steve
seemed in an inordinately good mood.  In Reg's experience, this was not
normal, not when they were sharing a car.

"You're cheerful." he ventured.

"I am allowed to be cheerful, Reg."  Loxton pursed his lips together.

Hollis expected a cutting remark to follow, but instead he heard, * Whistling
? *  He blinked.

"Sure.  Not saying that you can't be happy, Steve."  He frowned.  "But it's
not like you.  Did Slater tell you a really funny joke this morning or what ?"

The whistling stopped abruptly.

"What ?"

"It's just, I saw you dropping him off earlier."

Loxton thought furiously, "Yeah, I passed him in the street.  He didn't look
that well, so I gave him a lift."

Reg's face cleared, "I knew it would be something like that." he said
comfortably.  "Still, he shouldn't have gone out, not if he was feeling under
the weather ..."

"Lucky I found him then." interrupted Steve.

"You're right there.  I remember once when I was fed rep ..."

Loxton rolled his eyes and allowed Hollis to continue his story,  Although
he was praying for a call to come through.

***

The locker room was crowded.  Some changing into uniform, some out of it.

Loxton methodically cleared out his locker.

"You have to do that now ?" asked Jarvis, incredulously, as he squeezed
past.

"No time like the present." said Steve, briskly.  He paused as the locker
room door opened and Slater edged his way inside.

"Hey, Nick !  Feeling better ?"

"Yeah, cheers, Tony."

"Good.  'Cos Monroe wants to see you."

Slater froze.  "What about ?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"The proper procedures for reporting absences from duty."  Stamp quoted,
pompously.

"Right."  Slater continued through the melee.

Gradually, the room cleared, until only Loxton and Slater were left.  Slater
turned to face Steve.

Loxton held out the envelope.  "Your's I think.  I told you I'd take care of
it."

Slater reached for the letter and tore it up, just as he did with Keane's.  He
took a deep breath, "Thanks.  Tony had me going for a second."

"Trust me ?"

Slater nodded, "I should have done, right from the start."

Steve grinned, "That's something we'll have to work on."  He gestured
towards the door.  "On you go.  You'll be late for the bollocking."

"And what about tomorrow ?" asked Nick, answering Steve's grin with one
of his own.

"We'll just have to see, won't we ?" said Steve with a lurid wink.

Slater laughed, threw the torn pieces of his resignation letter into his bag
and slammed the door shut.  He heard the lock click.  "See you tomorrow
then."  He sauntered out with a wave.

"Yes, you will."  Loxton promised.

======

THE END