Til The Small Hours

      Sharon's POV - 8pm 
      
      All those times I've looked into his eyes, I've always been aware there is 
      something there. In those early days I tried my best to deny it, wouldn't 
      be seen talking to, or even looking at him over the breakfast table should 
      our gazes dare to meet, something within us both connect. I was always too 
      afraid, too sensible and rigid in my ways to even think about upsetting 
      those around me. But now, God now I curse myself for those lost 
      opportunities, would give anything, just to snatch secretive glances with 
      him over that damned breakfast table.

      See, now I'm here, trying to concoct a reason to go up to him, tap him on 
      the arm, whisper something to him that he can't fault or query. Just so 
      he'll follow me. Into the office, and close the door. And I'll wait. I'll 
      close my eyes, take a deep breath and wait, surviving only on the memory 
      of Dennis with his arms around me. God, I miss that feeling so much.

      Maybe, maybe I do have the courage, if... if I want him enough. I can't 
      deny it. If he were to touch my skin now, I swear it would sizzle. The 
      biggest agony in my new life with Dennis is that I have to pretend all the 
      small things mean nothing when they mean so much. Him helping me on with 
      my jewellery in the mornings, feeling his hands brush up my neck... When 
      he sails into the kitchen in the mornings, his hair all ruffled, and pulls 
      the kettle from my grasp.

      He knows I understand why he does it. Because we still have moments. When 
      we can hold each other's gaze just a second too long, and someone has to 
      look away. Usually me. Why am I so stupid? Why can I not, for all my 
      fantasies, tell him that he means the world to me? That he is my world?

      Draining my drink and shuffling my glass to the back of the shelf, behind 
      the whiskey barrel, I dare to look across at him. So perfect. Stalking 
      the perimeter of the club like some wild cat in the shadows, as sharp as 
      anything in that suit. For someone who probably wasn't even aware what a 
      suit was before he rolled up in Walford, he looks incredible. The image is 
      just enough to send me flying right into the middle of one of my most 
      frequent fantasies. The belief I can tell him how I feel.

      "Another one over here when you're ready please Sharon, love!" Paul yelled 
      over the thumping music that was tonight flooding the main bar, courtesy 
      of Ronny Ferreira. I really must have a word with Dad about that contract.

      But right now, that's not my primary concern. I remind myself, looking 
      back over to Dennis, who is at the moment, oh so subtly, ejecting the 
      compulsary trouble-makers for a Friday night.

      "Sorry darlin', you'll have to wait a sec, I need a word with that brother 
      of mine." I say, sporting a look of feigned concern as Dennis hurls a lad, 
      who couldn't have been any older than fifteen up the stairs.

      "And don't come back!"

      "Nice to see they went quietly!" I chuckle, sidling up to him.

      "Yeah well," Dennis answered, mopping crystals of sweat from his brow. "I 
      don't think we'll be hearing from them again in a hurry."

      "What would I do without you eh?"

      And I mean it. I don't want to think what I would do without him, and he 
      knows it. So what can he do? He's not brave enough to broach the subject, 
      is too scared to let me in again. After all, it was me who made him knock 
      me back. Why, I don't know. I think it was because I believed it was what 
      was to be expected of me. But no-one knew, so how did I come to that 
      assumption?

      Maybe it's just that I believe I shouldn't be granted happiness. I can do 
      dangerous things with such a gift.

      He doesn't answer me though, and I can't say I blame him. I suppose you 
      could say he was afraid to get back in the water, because last time he 
      tried the current took him under. Me. And I chose to destroy him. Oh God, 
      why do I make such stupid decisions? If only I were brave enough to right 
      my wrongs.

      "Dennis?" 

      Dennis' POV - 8pm

      "Nice to see they went quietly!"

      I freeze as I hear her behind me. My heart starts to race at hearing her 
      utter a mere word, and I stand there for a couple of seconds, murmuring, 
      "Get a grip Rickman, get a fucking grip."

      See the thing is, I can't let her see she's been getting to me ever since, 
      well she knows when. Sharon's problem is, she knows just how to dig her 
      nails in, and I don't necessarily mean in the sense of her hands clawing 
      my back back as she struggles to fight the unbelievable pleasure of us. Me 
      and her, together. I mean she's burrowed deep under my skin, and Christ 
      I'm trying hard, but I can't seem to shake her off. Like her presence runs 
      like a drug in my veins.

      She's something special, she really is, but now is not a time I can 
      confess that. But there's still some nights I stay awake, just remembering 
      her nestled in my arms, hearing her moan my name in my ear as we made 
      love.

      She's special because she made me different, took me away from a place, an 
      existence I was made too afraid to say I didn't want to be. I admit, the 
      changes were slow, but to look at me now from when I first arrived in 
      Walford, all scruffy jeans and attitude, the differences are more 
      noticeable. Because of Sharon.

      I'd never thought much of sex before meeting... falling for Sharon. It was 
      just a way to have a good time after a few vodkas on weeknights... and 
      weekends.... all the time if I'm honest. But then I met Sharon, and I 
      loved her. Even sat in the corner of Angie's Den, before I even knew her 
      name, or who she was; what she was like. I couldn't believe how sexy she 
      was, how much I found myself wanting this stranger. If she'd just been an 
      ordinary woman, just Sharon, and she'd sat down to a drink with me that 
      night, I guarantee I would have shagged her. I would have found a way to 
      make it happen, because I wanted her so badly. Even if she'd told me then 
      that she was my supposed sister, I don't think I would have cared, because 
      I was just so het up for her, and God, it had to be her.... I would have 
      had her. Right up against that bar if needs be. Because my only concern 
      was to feel myself move inside her, hear her scream my name....

      But then, suddenly she was my sister, the only woman I couldn't chase. The 
      feeling of being restricted in my conquests was new to me. And because I 
      couldn't have her, well, I just wanted her more, and with each passing 
      day, she was all I thought about. I guess I matured as I waited for her, 
      because it turned from lust to love.

      And the night we slept together, Sharon and me, well that was when sex 
      stopped being just sex. For me anyway. Not for her. Not then. But we 
      changed. With each other, & for each other. Eventually anyway. There was a 
      time that I thought I must have dreamt it, and that it really wasn't worth 
      her snappy comments and hateful glances. But come Valentine's Night, it 
      changed. I got to know her as just Sharon, the woman I'd lusted after 
      before I even knew her name...

      Oh God, I'm off again. My forehead is matted with sweat and I don't think 
      for a second it's the product of physical exertion. No, just the memory, 
      just the memory. So I turn to Sharon, plaster that hateful "brotherly" 
      smile on my face.

      "Yeah well.. I don't think we'll be hearing from them again in a hurry."

      "What would I do without you eh?"

      I don't, can't bring myself to answer, just stare at her. Because we both 
      know the answer to that question. If I'd never showed up here, it would 
      just be her and Vicki, leading a normal life. Because that's what she 
      wants, I know it is. Fuck, if I didn't know it, I'd still be with her, 
      clinging on to what we had with all my might, too aware that it was too 
      precious to let go. But I had to, for her sake. If she wanted a family 
      that badly, we had to move on.

      Her lips flicker, like she's battling with herself, trying to find the 
      courage to speak. I wish I could give it to her, there's so many things we 
      might finally say. But I can't, the last thing she needs is "help", 
      especially from me. So I stand there, shuffling awkwardly on the spot, and 
      staring at my shoes like the complete idiot I am. Just waiting. Waiting.

      "Dennis?"

      Sharon's POV - 8:10pm

      "Dennis?"

      So the word's out, the start, a start. And he hears it, looking to me. But 
      at the same time, but it's not my voice, at least not only my voice. Zoe's 
      stood behind him, her hand raised to tap him on the shoulder like a 
      perpetulant child. Shit, damn, well that's it isn't it? I curse inwardly. 
      Another opportunity to have passed me by. Bloody fantastic Sharon, well 
      done.

      And Dennis looks to me just for a second. A second that needs no voice for 
      me to understand he's sorry. Sorry that he has to turn to this girl, slide 
      those arms around her waist, look at her like he cares. But then, maybe 
      it's me, and maybe, maybe he does care.

      "Hiya." he says to her flatly, looking back to me. I pretend not to have 
      noticed, scuttle back off to the safety of the bar. But I don't take my 
      eyes from them. I'm numb, sailing around happy-go-lucky, as if I'm on 
      autopilot. He slides that tongue into her mouth, and it's like she's intent 
      on swallowing it. Ugh, it's disgusting. Just not right, I mean, for god 
      sake, he's nearly ten years older than her. But then, I am five years 
      older than Dennis. Y'know, that's never really occured to me, but seeing 
      him now, worked into a girl so young, and way too naive to understand the 
      complexity of Dennis for even a moment, it really doesn't matter.

      What does matter is the fact I have bottled out once again. Why is it that 
      every fucking time I finally build up the courage, he has to find some way 
      of reminding me it's a 20 year-old he's taking to bed every night? I'd 
      give anything to be in Zoe's place right now. Because I know how it feels 
      to have Dennis mash his mouth against mine, his hands exploring my thighs. 
      I miss every contact more and more, especially when I see him with Zoe. I 
      have nothing against her personally. No, it's just the fact that were I 
      given the licence I'd like to split her lip and break both her legs. I'd 
      like to see him try and screw her then.

      See? See what wanting Dennis has done to me? It's made me into an 
      extremely horrible person. I remain nice as pie to the outside world, but 
      inside, where no-one can see me, it feels as if my heart is slowly turning 
      black. I don't even know how long it is that Dennis has been with Zoe. No, 
      the time only passes in my mind when I take to bed alone every night, and 
      I hear them. In that room, in the same bed where I lay so happily once. 
      And that girl, she's having such a good time, and she wants the world to 
      know it apparantly. Because I can hear that headboard making contact with 
      the wall, and more often than not, I have to run to the bathroom to be 
      sick. I am literally sick with jealousy.

      But there is one thing I know, even if Dennis isn't man enough to admit 
      it. He doesn't love her, and the sad thing is the poor deluded kid doesn't 
      have a clue. If he loved her, he wouldn't want her to be so near to me. 
      Because I could tell a few stories he'd rather never have told. Dalton, 
      for instance. Of course I'd never do it, because he had the guts to tell 
      me, but sometimes I really think that Zoe should know.

      She's with him for the thrills, as something to show off to all her giggly 
      mates. She thinks the worst thing he has ever done is punch Andy in her 
      defence. She doesn't know that she is happily fucking a killer.

      I did. I knew. And I loved every moment in his bed. Every touch, every 
      kiss. Every moment we spent making love together. And believe me, with 
      Zoe, it's lust. I hear it every night as she screams his name, not even 
      trying to suppress it. Pure lust. It's just sex.

      So why am I here, shrinking into the shadows of the bar, wondering whose 
      face it is that Dennis sees every night?

      "Sharon?"

      There she is again. A simpering little girl, trying to make sure I realise 
      just what I am missing. No Sharon, don't let her get to you. You are 
      better.

      "Yes Zoe darling?" I smile.

      "Dennis has erm... left his keys at home, so could we borrow your spares?" 
      Then she giggles, looking back across the club at Dennis, flicking her 
      hair as she turns.

      And something inside was wailing: "He's taking her to bed again Sharon. He 
      wants you to know it. So why won't you say something?"

      "Because I'm scared." I whisper under my breath. Zoe looks at me, 
      furrowing her brow in confusion. 

      "Sorry... what?"

      "Nothing Zoe!" I quip brightly, handing over my spare keys. "Have a good 
      night yeah?"

      "Cheers Sharon." And she's already halfway across the club, jangling the 
      keys at Dennis like she's just won a Ferrari. He doesn't so much as glance 
      at me as he ushers her out the club.

      The selfish bastard. 

     Dennis' POV - 10:45p.m

      I'm just lying here now, Zoe lain like a dead weight across my arm. I hate 
      to say it, but it still feels totally unnatural to have Zoe here, 
      especially seeing as some nights, if I close my eyes tight enough, I can 
      still remember the time when it was Sharon's perfume lingering on the 
      pillow next to mine. But I rarely get to do this. Zoe is always here, 
      reminding me that she is not Sharon. That Sharon is just the woman in the 
      kitchen, trying her best to ignore the fact that Zoe is here at all.

      Believe me, I know it hurts her, and I'd give anything to get close again, 
      try and take that pain away. But if I tried, I know what she'd say. And 
      she'd be right.

      "It was you who ended this Dennis. You made your choice."

      Yes I did, but why can't she understand I did it for her? I knew how much 
      we hurt Dad & Vicki, and I know how much that hurt Sharon in turn. I was 
      the one who held her when she cried. It almost made what we had seem 
      worthless, because I had never meant to make her cry.

      But now it's gone, I know how much it meant. That's why I need Zoe. 
      Because without her, I'm so scared that I won't be able to stop myself 
      telling Sharon what a massive mistake that decision was, how much I still 
      want her. She won't take kindly to that, me messing with her head. But 
      that's what the image of her lying in my arms does to me every night. 
      Zoe's a nice kid, and she fills the void. She's my distraction. Every time 
      I take her to my bed, I imagine Sharon. It's cruel, but what she doesn't 
      know can't hurt her.

      Sure, she can get irritating and too clingy, but she's just a kid in all 
      honesty, I should have known what I was getting myself in for. I'll just 
      have to grin and bear it until Sharon finally leaves my mind. I don't know 
      when this will be, so Zoe and me, we could be in for the long haul.

      Sharon came in at ten. I heard the door go, and I just knew it was her. It 
      had to be. Vicki's staying at Spencer's tonight. So it was Sharon, 
      stood down there in the hall, Zoe with me upstairs still in full flow. 
      Sometimes that girl is so loud I just want to smother her. But it 
      doesn't matter. Sharon always hears. I know because almost every night, 
      when Zoe has finally settled, Sharon races across the landing to the 
      bathroom. She locks herself in, and runs the taps, but I still hear her 
      retching.

      Tonight was no different, except the retching was worse. Much worse; very 
      violent. I knew it would have been best to leave her be, but she sounded 
      in such an awful state, I couldn't do it. I lifted back the covers, 
      pulling my arm gently out from underneath Zoe and slipping into my jeans, 
      in their usual messy heap on the floor.

      "Mmm... Dennis?" Zoe murmurs.

      "Go back to sleep Zoe." I mutter quietly.

      She didn't seem to notice the edge in my voice and rolled over. Slowly I 
      opened the bedroom door and crept across the landing, listening to what 
      was going on within for a few seconds. Then I knocked, couldn't stand the 
      thought of Sharon being so ill because of me.

      "Sharon?"

      Sharon's POV - 10:50p.m

      "Sharon?"

      No Dennis, no, go away, leave me be, I can't have you here. But he is 
      there, and I don't know for how long. What has he sussed out? Oh God, I can't 
      breathe.

      Sharon, calm down. Breathe.

      "What?" I splutter. "What do you want?"

      "Are you OK?"

      What do you think?

      "I'm fine. Dennis, please, just go back to bed."

      "No Sharon, I'm worried about you. I want to see you, just to make sure 
      you're OK!"

      "And I said I'm fine!" I snap, wiping my chin. Christ I feel so dirty.

      "Yeah well," he says calmly, so fucking calmly. "I know you Sharon, and 
      saying it doesn't make it true."

      Want the truth do you Dennis? Fine then, fuck you. I wish you'd just take 
      your concerns somewhere else because I just don't need them. I don't need 
      you. I don't need to hear you and that slapper at it like rabbits almost 
      every night. I don't need you standing outside the bathroom door at nearly 
      11 o' clock at night, wanting to know exactly why it is I'm throwing my 
      guts up. Because I need anything but to tell you the the thought of you 
      and that girl... yes, the one lying in your bed right now, her, it makes 
      me this sick.

      "Are you going to let me in or do I have to kick the door down?"

      I'd love to see you try.

      "Dennis, I've just been sick. That's all you need to know OK?"

      "No, it's not OK. Now open the fucking door."

      And I do. I don't want to, but what's the point of this fight? I don't 
      hate him, so why argue so pointlessly? See, I've even confessed it to 
      myself. I don't hate him. I hate what he is doing to me, but not him. I am 
      only trying to gloss over the fact I am in still completely in love with 
      him. He won't see it. I am not strong enough to let him see.

      I perch on the edge of the bath, aware that the bathroom now reeks 
      unpleasantly of vomit. Dennis knows it too, but he chooses not to show it. 
      He just stands there, looking at me, the total mess that I am.

      "Oh Sharon."

      "I know I look a state Dennis, you certainly don't need to tell me."

      "I'm not going to. You just don't look well."

      "Strange that, because I'm feeling peachy."

      He didn't say anything in response to that, just carried on looking at me, 
      as placid as ever. Then pushing down the lid of the toilet seat, he sat 
      there, clasping his hands together and popping his knuckles.

      "Can't you talk to me Sharon?"

      "What's the point?" I sigh. "There's nothing much to say."

      "It doesn't matter." he told me, giving a little shake of the head. "Say 
      anything."

      "Honestly Dennis, I'd rather not."

      "Why?"

      Oh for fuck sake, why does he always want to go further into things than 
      is needed? I mean, I'm sat here, my own vomit in my hair, at eleven o' 
      clock at night, trying so desperately not to have to converse with the man 
      I love. The man I have to pretend I feel nothing for. When all the while, 
      he's sat there, and he knows it's all still there.

      Reaching for some loo roll, Dennis crouches down, wiping vomiting-induced 
      dribble from my cheek. So humiliating but at the same time so 
      painstakingly caring. Why does he have to do it? Why does he have to mess 
      with me like this. His touch... I miss it so much.

      "Dennis," I manage finally. "I'm not a child."

      "No I know."

      "No, I think you must have me confused with Zoe-"

      "Sharon-"

      "You know, the willing little tart tucked up so nicely in your bed? Does 
      it feel good Dennis; did she scream loud enough for you sweetheart? Does 
      it feel nice seeing me in this state? Well does it?!"

      "You're ranting." he says forcefully, like he's choosing to not hear what 
      I say.

      "Of course I'm fucking ranting you prick!" I yell, making him flinch. "You 
      know why that is? Because your little whore makes me sick! She's the one 
      who sends me here, coughing my guts up every night. You ought to teach her 
      to keep it down a bit, because we both know you ain't that good."

      "Are you jealous Sharon?"

      Bam! Like a ten-foot wave, there it is, finally. How can he only just have 
      realised? Why do I not have the courage to just yell "Yes!"

      Well Sharon, that's simple. You shouldn't need to. If he knows you at all, 
      he shouldn't need to ask. 

      Dennis' POV - 11:00p.m

      She looks so unwell. Her skin is tinged almost a shade of grey, and her 
      eyes have lost all their sparkle, like hunching over the toilet and 
      retching so bad has taken everything she had out of her. Her vomit matted 
      her hair, and the way she whimpered proved she was feeling sluggish and 
      very unattractive. But even with the stench of her ill-feeling hanging in 
      the air, to me she was still so very beautiful. That's why I thought 
      nothing on tenderly wiping residue from her cheek, my fingertips poised on 
      her warm flesh. It felt so wonderful to me, but Sharon exposed no emotion.

      "Dennis," she states coldly. "I'm not a child."

      I want so badly to laugh at that. But her eyes are so empty, it just isn't 
      funny. "No, I know."

      And I honestly thought that would be it. But she's not finished. "No, I 
      think you must have me confused with Zoe-"

      I knew then this was going to be something big. It was strange, but the 
      way her voice was so calm meant she was going to become so angry. Over 
      Zoe. Yes, it was the thought of Zoe that her eyes flare with such anger. 
      So I took a deep breath and prepared myself.

      "Sharon-" 

      "You know, the willing little tart tucked up so nicely in your bed? Does 
      it feel good Dennis; did she scream loud enough for you sweetheart? Does 
      it feel nice seeing me in this state? Well does it?!"

      No Sharon, it doesn't. I just want you to stop. Don't waste your tears on 
      me, I don't deserve them. You know I don't.

      Because we both knew this is what I wanted out of Sharon. If I couldn't 
      come right out and say of my own accord that by abandoning her I had made 
      the single most biggest mistake of my life, then she would have to give me 
      reason to say it.

      I don't move an inch from where I am sat, just inches across from her. 
      "You're ranting." I tell her, trying to force it into her mind. She 
      doesn't want to tell me this, because I can't listen.

      "Of course I'm fucking ranting you prick!" she yells. There's such passion 
      in her voice, I'm unnerved. "You know why that is? Because your little 
      whore makes me sick! She's the one who sends me here, coughing my guts up 
      every night. You ought to teach her to keep it down a bit, because we both 
      know you ain't that good."

      She's bitter and she's angry, which is so understandable, and at least 
      we're talking about it. A lot more loudly than I would have hoped, and 
      secretly I am worried that Sharon will wake Zoe. That is one confronation 
      I don't want to referee. But I can't say anything, for fear she will just 
      clam up, refuse to tell me ever again what goes on inside that head of 
      hers, what she chooses to torture herself with night after night. And 
      maybe, just maybe, what I'm praying for is true, really true.

      "Are you jealous Sharon?"

      Finally, I've said it, said the one thing I've needed to for so long. That 
      one thing that would tell me whether I really have lost her or not. So I'm 
      watching her, waiting for any flicker of recognition. But she's so cold, 
      just staring at me as if I'm stupid, that she couldn't know what to say 
      even if she wanted to. So she just jumps to her feet, tries as quickly and 
      as quietly as she possibly can to race past me, down the stairs. I'm up 
      after her straight away.

      "Sharon!"

      She's masqueraded by the dark blanket of night enveloping the hall, as she 
      pulls on her heavy winter coat the only light filtering out from the 
      bathroom. She's like a rabbit caught in the headlights, frozen with fear 
      as she just waits for me to speak.

      "Answer the question." I whisper, unable to project any certainty in my 
      voice.

      And she's shivering, her damp hair stuck awry across her cheek, her 
      shallow nervous breaths almost materialising in the air as she reaches for 
      the latch on the front door, silently turning it. 

      "I-don't-have-to-listen-to-this." 

      Dennis' POV - 11:05p.m

      I let her go. I stand there, and I watch her run. She needs it. But it 
      won't stop me running too. Right after her. Suddenly, I'm thundering 
      across the Square, the outline of her form never leaving my view. Not a 
      thought crosses my mind for Zoe; she'll be OK, she has to be. I just need 
      Sharon, to talk to her, to make her see how sorry I am for being such an 
      idiot. Pausing in Bridge Street I dive behind a stall, all packed up for 
      the night, watching her. She looks nervous, her gorgeous glassy eyes 
      getting caught in the moonlight as she looks around. Is she looking for 
      me? She hurries into the cafe, the door slamming shut, flakes of aged sage 
      paint fluttering off the door.

      I stride across the dank pavement, the smell of threatening rain in the 
      air. I'm careful to avoid the big rippling puddle in the gutter as I step 
      up the kerb into the cafe. The door clicks shut behind me and I stand 
      there, concealed by the beaded curtain. Jane's working at the till, and 
      each little rickety table laid out in front of her is abandoned. Only 
      Sharon is here. Only I'm looking around, and she's not here.

      "Jane?"

      "Yes love?" she sings brightly, not even looking up and yet still smiling. 
      "What can I do you for?"

      "Uh, nothing. Not yet anyway."

      "Oooh, sounds ominous." she muses.

      "Look have you seen Sharon?" I mutter irritably.

      She draws back from me, her smile slowly vacating her face. "She's in the 
      loo. Alright?"

      I smile, failing to really apologise for my shortness. "Yeah cheers. I'll 
      have a tea then."

      She turns away and lifts the pot.

      "Dennis?"

      I follow the voice, and Sharon's stood by the door to the ladies, looking 
      as rough as hell. I wouldn't be surprised if she's been throwing up again. 
      I feel so bad. I can really see what I've done to her now. She looks so 
      tired and ill.

      "Sharon." I say, clearing my throat and struggling to remain casual.

      "What are you doing here?"

      "I fancied a cup of tea. Not a crime is it?"

      "We have teabags at home. Zoe knows where they are."

      "Yeah well-" I want so badly to say something clever, something she can't 
      argue with, just so I can keep her here, make her tell me why she's been 
      letting the thought of Zoe and me keep her up at night. If only she could 
      just tell me she wanted me.

      "You're following me aren't you?"

      Jane looks awkwardly between us both now as she takes the money for the 
      tea from me. She's totally unsure of where it would be best to fix her 
      gaze.

      "You're not very well Sharon. I need to make sure you're OK."

      "How many fucking times? I'm fine. Sure, your girlfriend screaming in 
      ecstasy at eleven at night doesn't do much for my sleeping pattern but I'm 
      fine!"

      I keep looking at Jane from the corner of my eye. I can't look straight at 
      Sharon; there's such hurt in her eyes. She can tell that Sharon's not 
      feeling particularly sisterly and she's not liking being caught in the 
      middle of it, many words getting caught in her throat as she thinks better 
      of trying to create a peace between us. Instead she pulls at the strings 
      on her apron, throwing it onto the counter.

      "Er, listen. Guys, I'm sorry but I have to go." she stammers, backing out 
      towards the door. Sharon looks up immediately and trys to follow her out. 
      "No! No Sharon, stay. Stay, have a cup of tea, a cake, anything you like. 
      Just stay for a bit yeah darlin'. You need to stay."

      Sharon's opened her mouth, ready to expel a whole line of excuses, but 
      Jane's not gonna listen to 'em, having already thrown the keys to the cafe 
      up in the air towards me. I catch them straight away and I stow them deep 
      into my pocket.

      "Cheers Jane."

      "No worries."

      "No Jane, I really don't think you need to do-"

      "Sorry Sharon. Have a good night yeah?" 

      Sharon's POV - 11:15p.m

      We're alone here now. Jane's fucking well left me and Dennis in the cafe 
      all alone. I doubt Ian would be too pleased to hear about that. We could 
      do anything. Images of the old flat spring to mind, Dad's photograph 
      trampled over, the lamp knocked clean off the display cabinet as I try my 
      best to tear Dennis' clothing from his back. Much of the same Sharon? says 
      a suggestive voice in my ear. I'm looking at him, and I'm trying to hate 
      him. He's broken my heart moving that little tart into our home. But I 
      can't let him know it, because it was me who gave him licence to treat me 
      like such shit. I want to hate him, I should hate him, but I only want 
      him.

      I don't want to be here because it'll just give me time to go over these 
      thoughts as I try and get away from him, pretend all our chemistry is 
      gone. But at the moment, there's silence. He won't even look at me, so the 
      silence is even more unnerving. Makes me want to just cry out.

      But then, it's like we haven't moved an inch from our cold exchange of 
      words in the bathroom back home.

      "Are you jealous Sharon?"

      "Me sweetheart? No. Just sick."

      "Of?"

      "You."

      That was uncalled for.... No! No it wasn't - he bloody well deserved it, but 
      my words sting, he's trying to disguise the hurt in his eyes, but he knows 
      it's to no avail. I know those eyes too well. I'm in love with those eyes.

      But they're awash with a defensive coldness right now, reaching out 
      towards me in the darkness, the inamnimity of our surroundings like shafts 
      of silvery moonlight.

      "What's up Sharon?" he drawls stiffly, "Didn't I do it for you darlin'?"

      I have to close my eyes for a moment, take a deep breath and imagine that 
      he is not here as I try and collect myself together. Because he knows he 
      did. I never tried to suppress the utter perfectness of being with Dennis. 
      We were magical together, and I miss it so much. He is the most.... 
      incredible lover. I just can't bring himself to let him know it.

      "I never asked you into my bed Dennis."

      Our silence was broken then as he let out a ringing laugh.

      "Shut up Sharon. You practically threw me in!" 

      "You begged me to sleep with you!"

      "I know. But at the same time, I knew it wasn't what you wanted to hear. 
      It was killing me, so I had to say it. I never expected us to...."

      "Have sex?"

      He cringes slightly at my offering. It wasn't how he wanted to hear it 
      phrased. But I'm not letting him in again. My wounds are still too raw.

      "Yeah, if you like."

      And suddenly, as if I can't stop myself, I'm on the defensive. He seems so 
      casual about it all and it makes me want to fly at him in a rage and pound 
      my fists into him. He has to show me all this pain is for something... 
      something that once meant something so wonderful to the both of us. 

      "So you're saying you didn't want it?" 

      Dennis' POV - 11:25p.m

      "I never asked you into my bed Dennis."

      She didn't want me in her bed? Well fuck, she hid that well. I mean the 
      first night yeah, maybe I could believe that, amongst her screams and the 
      need to feel herself against me. She regretted it. It was my own stupid 
      fault for jumping in with my plans too quickly. But then... what about the 
      Valentine's Ball... oh God she wanted it, she wanted it as much as I've 
      ever wanted her, the scratchmarks are practically etched in my back.

      "Shut up Sharon." I laugh, for fear if I don't, I might cry. "You 
      practically threw me in!" 

      "You begged me to sleep with you!" she protests.

      "I know. But at the same time, I knew it wasn't what you wanted to hear. 
      It was killing me, so I had to say it. I never expected us to...."

      "Have sex?"

      Sex? Ouch, that stings. After Den came back, it was never sex. But she's 
      not going to see that hurts. I have to stay cool, for myself as well as 
      her.

      "Yeah, if you like." I shrug, trying to sound so casual, and I'm so sure 
      I'm failing. But she buys it, I can see the pain, the confusion in her 
      eyes. 

      "So you're saying you didn't want it?"

      I'm staring at her, and I'm aware there's tears brimming in my eyes, try 
      furiously to blink them back so she won't see. Want it? I've never wanted 
      anything so much in all my life.

      "Sharon, when I was a jumped up little kid, rushed out of care, I wanted 
      to show the world I knew it all. I wanted fast cars, drink, drugs and 
      women on tap. I was way too overindulged. then you and Vicki found me, I 
      came here, and eventually I stopped being that little brat. I grew up. 
      Then all I wanted was you. I've never wanted anything so much in my life." 
      Then I stop, trying to make light of the situation. "Well, maybe not since 
      I asked my first foster family for a Scaleletrix set for Christmas."

      "Did you ever get it?"

      "No. Social never stumped up that much."

      "What are we doing here Dennis?"

      "I'm trying to make you see sense. You have to stop torturing yourself 
      every night. I'm not worth it."

      Her breath catching in her throat, she nods. "OK."

      Then she moves past me. But she stops dead in the doorway, her heel 
      scraping on the floor as she suddenly whirls round.

      "Maybe.... maybe I am jealous Dennis. Maybe I miss you."

      Dennis' POV - 11:30p.m

      "Maybe.... maybe I am jealous Dennis. Maybe I miss you."

      I'm a strong bloke, because that's what this bastard life 
      has made me become but, just at those words, I wanted to run at her, throw 
      my arms around her, never let her go and just stay here forever. Lock the 
      rest of the world away, pretend that morning didn't have to come, that Zoe 
      wasn't at home lying in my bed. I wanted so badly to take Sharon there, 
      right now, and remind myself of all the things, all the simple pleasures I 
      had missed, wasted these past few months.

      "Just maybe Sharon?" I whisper, stepping up to her and taking the ends of 
      her hair between my finger and thumb. "C'mon, I know you haven't chosen to 
      tear strips out of me recently for no reason, tell me what that reason 
      is."

      "OK." she shivers. "I am jealous. And I'm angry because you couldn't see 
      it."

      "I saw Sharon. I just wanted to hear you say it."

      "Well, it doesn't matter does it? I'm not the one you'll be going home to. 
      It could never have been like that. I'll just be the one across the hall. 
      I promise I'll try not to listen anymore."

      She's so brave to say it, and at the same time, so stupid. Makes me feel 
      so dirty, so fucking cheap and selfish. Sharon's said nothing about how 
      she's been feeling, just the odd snide remark to Zoe in the mornings, and 
      now she's finally opened up to me, I know that she's felt exactly the 
      same, all this time. God, if I had to hear Sharon, screaming out for 
      another man... I'd have to kill him, no question. I've already killed 
      once, one more wouldn't make any difference would it? A few more sleepless 
      nights...

      I never want to have sex again. Not unless it's with Sharon.

      Sighing, and simultaneously smiling a little awkwardly, she moves back 
      towards a table, curling her hand over the back of a chair. I catch her 
      other hand quickly. She jumps, as if she's no longer aware that I'm here 
      too.

      We're here, together, as if we've been frozen in time, just staring at one 
      another. She still looks so tired, and I'm so sorry. I just want to make 
      it better for her. It's all I've ever wanted.

      Her lips are so soft, and yet so neglected. I try and think to myself this 
      is wrong, she doesn't need this. And that is as it may be, but she wants 
      it. She's working my own mouth with equal passion and I'm wondering why I 
      ever left. My hands unknowingly slide over her perfect buttocks, and I 
      can't stop myself pushing her, with the force of my own longing form, 
      against the telephone mounted on the wall. She whimpers a little as it 
      digs uncomfortably in her back, but she doesn't pause at all, still 
      dragging her hand through my hair, the other curling perfectly around my 
      neck.

      I want to undress her now, I want to make love to her, right here, right 
      now if needs be. I need her. I always have, just been too stupid and proud 
      ever since she made me choose. I chose so wrong.

      But then she leaves my mouth, tilts her head away from me. "No Dennis."

      "What? Why?"

      "We've done this remember?"

      "But this'll be different!" I bleat immediately, without even pausing for 
      thought.

      I'm stupid, but I'm wound up and needy. I shouldn't have said it like 
      that. Sharon and me, we've been here too many times to know it will be no 
      different "this time." Her beautiful eyes grow wide with forming tears. 
      She stumbles back, clamping her hand over her mouth as if she may be sick 
      again.

      "It won't be different darlin'." she chokes. "It never is."

      I turn, my own emotions threatening to spill over into this bastard 
      reality too. I punch the wall in frustration, letting out a strangled cry. 
      Why am I so fucking stupid? I've lost her again, I know I have.

      I look around, way too aware that I'm alone again. I could try and follow 
      her. Or I could go home, slip back into bed beside Zoe, pretend tonight 
      never happened. Maybe.... I look down at my feet, dropping my head into my 
      hands and sighing, staring at Sharon's bag, thrown under the chair. 

      Shit! Sharon's bag... 

Sharon's POV - 11:45p.m.

I wasn't gonna try and run now I was out of the caff. There's very little point. If a girl runs, she always gets found in this damned little Square. Because everyone concerns themselves with learning everyone else's business. That's what it's always been like living here. So I just stop. Trundling miserably along the damp kerb. I look back over my shoulder a few times. The lights in the caff are on now. They weren't. So Dennis must be making a coffee or something. I'm safe for a while then. So I stop outside Pauline's back gate, my heels scraping along the floor as I push my feet out towards the gutter, tilting my head back against the dirty brick wall, and letting out an angry little scream at my own fucking stupidity. Why had I done that? Why had I let him kiss me? Why had I kissed him back?

"Sharon?"

I kind of give him a sideways look as he slides out of the caff. I don't want to look him in the face. That beautiful face. He has my bag in his hand. Shit, my bag! I look away immediately. I drop my cold reddened hands into the fleecy lining of my coat pocket. I concentrate on placing one foot in front of another as I wobble along the kerb.

"Sharon!"

I won't listen to him. And as my phone bursts into life, I daren't look back at him, see if he heard, too scared that he'll be at my side in an instant.

"Hello?" I whisper nervously down the line.

"Sharon sweetheart, it's me."

"James." I mutter knowingly, struggling to keep the guilt out of my voice. "Hi."

"Just ringing to say sweet dreams."

I'm shivering now. I feel like shit. James is wonderful. We've only been seeing each other for a week or so, but he's kind and he's gentle, and he's a welcome distraction from Dennis. But then again, maybe he's not doing such a great job, because the thought of being with James hasn't stopped my vomiting attacks has it? I have myself a new lover in James; and it's so nice to hear someone not too scared to express their affection for me.

But there still comes that niggling little voice in my ear. If James is that good Sharon, why have you just snogged the one you're supposed to be calling your brother?

As much as I'd like to be able to, not even I can answer that. "That's really sweet James. N'night darlin'."

"Can't wait to see you Sharon."

"Me either. Night."

Burying my phone back into the lining of my pocket, I turn and see Dennis stood off the kerb in front of me, stuffing his hands into his pockets, the way he always does when he's nervous. "Was that James?"

"Yeah. He was just ringing to say goodnight."

"That's nice." He gnaws on his lip, like the words spilling from his mouth were alien in comparision to his thoughts, which, when I think about it, probably isn't that far from the truth. "Is he OK?"

"Great thanks." God, I really am not comfortable with this. He's noticed though, looking left, then right, as if the right thing to say or do will come rushing him and punch him in the face, just in case otherwise he might miss it.

"Do you want a drink Sharon?"

Sharon's POV - 11:55p.m.

Oh God, yes, a drink! That's exactly what I need right now. He knows I won't say no and I start off towards the club, my hands already encased around my keys. I see out of the corner of my eye that he's hung back, rolling back on the balls of his feet and obviously waiting for me to do or say something. Then he extends his hand, and I realise. He wants me to take his hand, he wants me to hold it, he wants me to stroll across this Square like he is my lover. Well, I won't do it, walk quicker. Because he's not. Not anymore.

He doesn't say anything, just keeps a steady pace up alongside me, dipping his eyes until he dares to sneak a few glances in my direction. Fumbling with my keys, I push open the main door to the club. I hear Dennis rush behind me, his feet pounding rhythmically into the damp pavement as he pushes against the door too, holding it open as he waits for me to pass. To me it feels awkward, but I'm not going to make anything out of it. It's easier that way. I slip past and as I rush down the stairs, I sense Dennis pulling on my hand. I whirl round, but then he drops my hand and smiles at me apologetically.

I look around the club and cry out. "Oh for God sake, doesn't anything get done around here?" What exactly am I paying the night staff for? There's a whole sea of half drunken lager bottles and smeared glasses left on the bartop, just waiting, begging to be cleared up. But I'm tired. Easing my foot out of my Stiletto, I hop onto a chair and lean across the bar, clearing as many dirty glasses as I can reach. Dennis realises and practically lunges at me, easing the glasses from my hand and clattering them around so that there's finally a space cleared for my bag.

"Don't you dare Sharon! You're not here to work." Then he gave me that twinkling smile. "So what can I get you madam?"

He's playing barman, just like his shift hasn't ended, but I know he's tired and it just makes him even more attractive. I hate myself for that, the fact that after all we've been through, the way it should make me feel, that I still fancy the pants off him. But this is all I'm going to get, so I play along.

"Ooooh!" I muse. "I'll have a vodka and tonic with-"

But he cuts me short. Damnit, he already knows what I'm going to say. "No ice?"

I smile weakly as I nod, running my toe along my throbbing sole. It feels weird now. No ice in my drinks was a trait that Dennis taught me himself. It almost feels wrong to use it now that it's not an exchange of intimacy anymore.

He's fixed his drink too, swishing it round in the glass as he turns back to me and thinks momentarily of something to say. But, fucking hell, there's no way I'm prepared for the conversation he's got planned for us. As casual as if he was talking about the weather, he said:

"Sharon.... this James.... he's good right?"

Other people might have been confused. After all it could have meant so many things. But I knew Dennis too well to mistake his meaning. And this was one place I didn't want to go. Why the bloody hell should I?

"Dennis-"

"What?" he chuckled apprehensively, "It's a perfectly innocent question."

"You know it's not."

"Yeah well-" he answered, quickly knocking back the contents of his glass and gasping as it burned the back of his throat "--little white lies never hurt anyone did they?"

"Except yourself."

"I'll live." he said, turning back to the dispensers and refilling his glass. "So come on."

He wants an answer, but he's not going to get one. Not from me. It's not fair.

"Wouldn't expect you to be so interested Dennis. After all, you have Zoe don't you?"

Dennis' POV - 12:05a.m.

"Sharon.... this James.... he's good right?"

Maybe it's wrong of me to try and push the conversation in this direction, but I don't care. All I'm concerned with is the fact that when I look at Sharon I see a woman, perhaps the only woman I've ever enjoyed being with, loved. Even through everything, everything that was done by the people around us to wrench us apart, that feeling has never gone away. Even when Zoe arrived. And I don't believe for a second that it's changed for Sharon either, so maybe, just maybe, now I need to know for sure.

"Dennis-" she starts, as if she wants to try and stop me making a prat of myself. She's probably right to try, but she won't stop me.

"What? It's a perfectly innocent question."

"You know it's not." she points out matter-of-factly.

"Yeah well-" I tell her, downing my vodka as quickly as I can to make the impending rejection, knock-back, whatever, easier to bear "--little white lies never hurt anyone did they?"

"Except yourself."

"I'll live." I mutter, getting myself another drink. I can feel myself getting wound up, so I think I'm gonna need it. "So come on."

"Wouldn't expect you to be so interested Dennis. After all, you have Zoe don't you?"
 
"And you think she's all I need right?" I prompt cruelly.

"I didn't say that." she says, quickly sweeping up her drink.

"Is it what you mean?" I push. For fuck sake, just tell me!

"No." comes her eventual cool response. "But she's what you have Dennis, what you chose."

No! That's not what you were supposed to say! Give me a break Sharon please, I can't do this on my own, I can't say it. I need your help!

But she just looks at me like it'd be better if I'd never come here, and yes, she's probably right, but it's too late for that. I'm so frustrated at her reluctance to help me get the words out. Why doesn't she want to hear them? I grab my glass and hurl it with all my might onto the floor, feeling a surge of satisfaction as I watch it shatter into a million pieces.

"Fuck off Sharon, just fuck off!" I yell.

She leaps back like I've just dropped scalding hot water into her lap, giving me this odd look. "What's happening to you in there Dennis?" she says quietly.

"You, Sharon." I manage, feeling horribly close to tears.

She looks away immediately at that, a scowl playing on her lips. Then she gets down off her stool, her shoes kicked underneath in a little heap. "I'll go get a dustpan and brush.

But I don't want her to do that. I move forward and grab her hand, pulling and pressing on it a lot harder than I ever intended, until the point where she cries out. 

"Ow! Dennis, you're hurting me!"

"This is what's wrong with me. You. Not being able to look at me. What is so wrong with me that you can't do that? What have I done?"

She pulls her hand away then, obviously having discovered a new strength, her eyes flaring with ill-feeling.  "Don't you dare play that one Dennis. You've done everything and you fucking well know it."

"I can't help it!" I cry, pulling at the back of my neck as I pace in front of her. "This Sharon, me, you, tonight, everything - oh God! You have no idea how much having you here right now is annoying me!"

And her whole face seems to change in that moment, twisting into an expression I never thought possible for her. Despisement. Jamming her feet hurriedly back into her shoes, not taking her angry little eyes off me for an instant, she grabs her bag off the bar and shoves past me, trampling through the broken glass.

"Cheers for the drink Dennis. I'll just fix that little problem for you then shall I?"

Sharon's POV - 12:20a.m.

"This is what's wrong with me. You. Not being able to look at me. What is so wrong with me that you can't do that? What have I done?"

I'm looking at him, and he's so confused. In himself because he's screwed everything up so badly all his life and he doesn't have a clue how to put it right. I could feel some compassion for him. I could find that within me couldn't I?

Agitated, he starts to pace. I feel quite dizzy just watching him.

"I can't help it!" he rants. "This Sharon, me, you, tonight, everything - oh God! You have no idea how much having you here right now is annoying me!"

Me annoy him? Well that's compassion out the window then. Evil little bastard. I really dislike him right now, can't even bear to be in the same room as him. I hurry into my shoes, keep looking at him, fixing him with the coldest most unnerving stare I can muster. His face falls, almost with confusion, like he's only just realised he's said anything wrong. My hand throbs as I reach for my bag, turning wildly to Dennis.

"Cheers for the drink Dennis. I'll just fix that little problem for you then shall I?"

And I stomp off, in typical Sharon fashion. I can hear him mumbling to himself.

"Sharon! Please come back here!" he calls.

I won't listen though, hurrying up the stairs. But I hear as his foot makes contact with the first stair, this dull thud. I want to get away, I don't want to be here with him, but I know he's coming and it's almost as if I'm paralyzed. And he tugs on my hand again, more gently this time. I'm transfixed by the idea that we're touching again, barely notice as he moves forward against me, pushing me further and further into the corner. He grips my wrists firmly and presses them up against the wall.

I'm breathing heavily, trying to keep my temper under control. At least that's what I tell myself. But now that he is so close, his breath hot against my skin.... I want his lips. I want them on my own... on my breasts.... my thighs.... anywhere they want to go. I stare at him hard, willing him to just do it.

"I'm sorry Sharon. That came out totally wrong. I didn't mean it."

"I think we both know you did."

"No. You're wrong."

"Am I?" I gulp.

As he nods, he runs his forefinger down my cheek, and he makes sure that I track his every moment from then on. I am very aware of his fingertips dancing up the inside of my thigh. It almost tickles. Before I can even register it, Dennis' thumb is doing circulatory movements over my clit. I seem to lose all strength in my leg muscles as he slips his forefinger inside me too, neither action pausing for a moment. I hold onto him, scared I will fall otherwise. His lips brushing my earlobe, he whispered: "Let me know where it is Sharon."

It's a miracle I can even utter a coherent word. "Where what is?"

"That spot that drives you wild."

Silence reigns for a few minutes as he continues rubbing me. I know I'm wet now and Dennis wants to be sure I can feel him, withdrawing his forefinger from inside me for a few seconds and sliding it comfortably back in.

I tilt my head back against the wall, moaning gently. Oh bollocks, how can just one man have the power to do this to me?

His actions become more and more vigorous now and I know I'm nearly there.

"Oh shit!"

"What?"

"That's it Dennis! There."

And I cried out with all I had then, willing him to work his magic for a few seconds more. But it had to end. Fuck, it made me quiver like I never had before, but soon I'd spent everything I had. There was no room in my mind for thoughts at that moment, only that I needed a drink, steady my nerves, regulate my breathing.

Dennis just grinned boyishly at me, spreading his hands across his thighs as he leant against the wall next to me.

"You were so wrong Sharon."

Dennis' POV - 12:35a.m.

Oh God! I can't believe I just did that... that she let me... but fuck it was good. She knows it.... she's hardly breathing, let alone managing to bring any pattern into it. I'm slumped against the wall next to her, my ear pressed to the cool brick as I turn and look at her, daring to let a bemused smile grace my lips. She knows I'm looking at her, but whatever level of pleasure I brought her to hasn't left her yet, and she hasn't the energy to turn her form in my direction.

I laugh nervously as I watch her.

"What?"

"I dunno," I say softly. "What can you say after that?"

I'm not sure if she knows it, but that's her cue to say: "I miss you Dennis. I love you Dennis." But she says nothing, and let me tell you, it's so fucking confusing being with Sharon. Tonight, I've implored her. She ran away. Tonight I've kissed her. She ran away. Tonight, I've tried to show her pleasure, and I know she received it well, her soft moaning playing continuously in my ear. But does she know it means I'm sorry, sorry for all the times I've made her cry in frustration, turned away from her and made the wrong decision by returning to Zoe?

I don't think she does, because she's turned to me, sadness rounding her big beautiful eyes. "That Dennis, that was the wrong decision." she murmurs, stealing the words from my mind as if she can read my very thoughts.

A knot of fear tightens in my stomach, making me feel sick. "What?"

"Darlin', I came back to that house not even two hours ago. You must know I could hear."

"Zoe." I grumble knowingly.

"No. You and Zoe." She projected a heavy sigh from her throat. "She's the one in your bed. Not me."

"I know but-"

Sharon shakes her head, her sunny strands bouncing from her cheeks. "No buts Dennis. I won't be someone you come and find whenever you get bored. It's not fair. On us, or Zoe or-"

"James?" I coax bitterly.

"Exactly." she says, unable to meet my eye.

"If it's not fair on him Sharon, why did you let me-" But I know. "It doesn't feel that good with him does it sweetheart?" I edge closer to her, my lips brushing her lobe: "Does he not know you like I do?"

"Of course he doesn't." she hisses, tilting her head away. But I move quickly, resting my head next to hers again in an instant. "He's only known me a week."

"When are you going to realise this is all wrong?"

She shoots me a contemptuous look, her beautiful lips fixing into a most unaccomodating scowl. "Oh I'm realising alright Dennis. I was stupid to come here..." She straightens up and heads up the next stair. Thankfully, I'm a lot quicker than she is, cut her off straight away, clamping my hands around her arms.

"I don't mean me. I mean him."

"His name is James."

"Whatever. He's not right for you Sharon."

"Oh please! What is this Dennis? I know you don't want me, so you're just deciding for your own enjoyment that no-one else can have me either? I'm past all this, so excuse me-"

Oh shit! After all that she still thinks I don't want her. For God sake, bloody well say it Rickman!

"Who says I don't want you?"

Sharon's POV - 12:45a.m

"When are you going to realise this is all wrong?"

Cheers Dennis. Case of wam bam, thank you ma'am is it? Oh I feel so worthy...

"I don't mean me. I mean him."

I love looking in his eyes when he gets like this. The anger as he is forced to mention James' name is nothing compared to what is burning in his eyes. It's like he's been immersed in Hell, and if looks could kill, James would be stone cold dead by now. I suppose, if there was a chance that I could be with Dennis again, that I could try and make us happy, that I wouldn't care. But it was Dennis who ended this, I've never forgotten that and it's suffocating. Definitely still has the power to make me cry. And down right angry. I won't waste my tears.

"His name is James." I tell him forcefully.

"Whatever. He's not right for you Sharon."

Fuck you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't need him. I won't let you tell me I'm wrong for trying to move on.

"Oh please! What is this Dennis? I know you don't want me, so you're just deciding for your own enjoyment that no-one else can have me either? I'm past all this, so excuse me-"

I try and force my way past, but he still has a grip on both my arms, tightens it just to make sure he keeps me there. He pulls me back and stares at me with those cold glittering eyes. I don't know what I'm seeing in them anymore. Hatred, determination... what?

"Who says I don't want you?"

I'm not even sure if I've heard him right, go to question him, but before I can form the words, his lips are upon mine, his mouth mashing against mine until my jaw starts to ache with the effort of keeping myself against him. I'm an idiot I know. I should just pull away, get out of here, but I can't. No matter what I hide behind, I need him, and I'll take whatever he'll offer me. My sense is always the last thing to awaken when Dennis is around. 

He's thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth, framing my face firmly with his hands. My head starts to swim and I swear I almost fall forwards, but he doesn't stop. Not until he sees fit, happy to feel me propel myself into him. I said I was weak, and this proves it. I forget James, and for a moment I forget Zoe, and that has been so hard to do recently, I just enjoy the realisation that this is Dennis. Here with me.

Then he pulls back gently, tilting his head forwards and resting it against my own.

"Well Sharon?" he coaxes, rushing the pad of his thumb along my cheekbone. "Who said? Because I never did."

Sharon's POV - 1:00a.m.

Oh God. It's not fair. I'm looking at him, and I love him, I want him, and I want to be able to say so. But my sense is back. Great timing.

"You didn't need to. You finishing what we had saw to that pretty well."

He says nothing, looking at me like I'm mad, confusuion clouding his face. Then he turns flat against the wall, smacking his head purposefully as he laughs.

"You're un-fucking-believable you know that Sharon? I know I've done some stupid things, but you're stood acting like I've done this on my own. See, you've always been quite happy to talk to me, flirt with me..." He gives me a piercing look as he speaks next "....on the odd ocassion shag my brains out-"

I hated hearing him talk about it all like that, because I know that somewhere, it meant so much more to us both. What he is saying hurts, and he is going to have to feel it.

"Don't worry Dennis, because let me tell you that no amount of flirting with you or screwing you makes up for how much this hurts."

"It must do." he shoots back.

"What makes you say that?"

"If it didn't make up for it, it wouldn't hurt that much."

"You're twisting my words."

"No I'm not. I'm taking it for what it is."

I fall silent, having no idea what I can say to redeem myself. His reasoning is too damn strong. 

"Sharon," he says apprehensively after a while. "Why can't you just tell me it hurts?"

"I just did. You're just trying to make it worse."

"No I'm not. I want to say sorry."

"Well you're making a pig's ear of it."

"I know." he confesses, dipping his eyes as he chuckles. He stops abruptly, then comes out with it. "Sharon, I'm sorry OK? I'm really sorry."

"What for?" C'mon Dennis. I want to know if you know exactly what it is you're apologising for. 

"Everything."

"Everything?" No, don't be sorry for everything, please. "So you're sorry for coming here, for meeting me, ever kissing me, sleeping with me-"

"No." he blurts, shaking his head feverishly. "I won't apologise for that. Any of it. I'm not sorry I know you Sharon. I'm not sorry I love you."

"What?" I manage. Fuck, did he just say-

Yes, it appears he did, like he's only just realised, his mouth forming into the most perfectly kissable gasping "O".

"Shit." he mutters under his breath. I give him a nervous twitching smile trying to reassure him. He steps back from me, shaking his head in disbelief, dragging his hands through his hair. But then he sees me, and his hands drop immediately back to his side, and he returns my smile, with that lopsided grin. "Can I not love you anymore?"

"Zoe might have something to say about it."

He turns away at that, crying out angrily, thundering down the steps and whirling back round to face me as soon as he is back in the main bar.

"Why do you always do this Sharon?"

"Do what?"

"Bring it all back to Zoe. Why do you have to screw perfectly good moments up?"

"Because this is reality Dennis," I bite back. "Get used to it."

"No!" he yells, pulling at his fists and trying his best not to pick up a chair and hurl at the wall in frustration, much as he did with the glass. "I won't get used to this Sharon, because it fucking sucks! I know I've buggared this whole thing up, and I'm sorry OK? I never meant to do it. Why can't you see I'm wrong? Me and Zoe, it's wrong, it ain't real! I made the wrong choice, and I'm sorry!"

I have to press myself back against the wall for my own stability as I watch him, his eyes glittering with fresh emotion. Oh my God. I stumble towards him, keeping a short distance. He stays silent, his expression not changing at all as he clocks my approach.

I take in deep breaths, my chest heaving as I try and clarify what I'm so certain I've just heard. "What did you just say?"

Silence. He bows his head, scuffing at the floor and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Dennis!"

He pushed down hard on his knuckles for a few seconds, savouring the loud crack, before he looked straight up at me, his lips barely moving as he spoke. "I said.... I made the wrong choice. Zoe's the wrong choice."

Dennis' POV - 1:20a.m.

Oh fuck, what have I done? She's looking at me with those awfully imploring eyes, barely daring to believe what I'm trying to tell her. Maybe I shouldn't have? Oh shit Rickman, it's too late, well done.

She's light on her feet as she comes towards me. "What did you just say?"

I look at the floor, chewing on my lip, going over and over in my mind how much better it might have been if I hadn't let the words fall from my mouth. Why couldn't I have just done that? This is going to get too messy.

"Dennis!"

Very messy, she's angry now, wants me to tell her what I mean. I feel quite scared, my throat's running dry. But doesn't she deserve to know? You asked for this Dennis, you twat.

I'm not sure if I'm actually saying the words, maybe I'm just too scared to. But I can see her face is awash with anger and confusion, as, out of somewhere, she hears me.

"I said.... I made the wrong choice. Zoe's the wrong choice."

She doesn't have it in her to laugh at that, she's shaking feverishly. I just want to grab her, make her stop, for fear she may be about to be sick again.

"Dennis, why are you doing this to me?"

I stay silent, widen my eyes in question as she pushes the tears away with her fingertip.

"Why do you always make me feel so guilty?"

"Guilty?" Eh?

"I tried to keep us together. I tried so hard, and that was only because I wanted to be with you - you made me believe we were worth it - and then you decide that going back on that and breaking my heart was completely the wrong thing to do. What the fuck goes on in your head, because I don't see what the "right choice" could be anymore, and whatsmore, I don't believe you do either."

"Oh you don't?"

"No, I don't."

"If you don't know Sharon, why is this happening at all? Why did that happen in the caff, why did that happen on the stairs?"

"Because you made it!"

"There you go," I tell her, raising my hands and gesturing that she herself has just confirmed my case. "Always me ain't it? You could have stopped things between us Sharon, right from the moment I first kissed you-"

"I did!"

"I know you did." I nod. "But you didn't stop me that night at the flat did you? You didn't stop me the night I came into your room; you didn't stop me in the caff and you didn't stop me on the stairs just now."

"I should have." she gulps immediately.

I cry out angrily, pulling at clumps of my hair with my fists. "Oh for God sake! I know you should have Sharon. But you didn't. And that's because you wanted it, you wanted all of it."

"So now I led you on?" she snaps.

"That's not what I said. We.... that's us Sharon... we made this happen together."

"No! No! I'm not having this Dennis!" she protests.

I can't help but think: you've already had it darlin'.

I give out a protruding little sigh as I place my hands lazily on my hips, waiting for her latest emission.

"What are you not having?"

"You... this! The night of Andy's wedding... I didn't want that..."

"Liar."

She shakes her head, tears very visible now. "I didn't want you to leave. If you were going to do that, you shouldn't have come."

Well, what was I going to say? That I'd missed her, was still hoping she'd accept my offer of "being back at her side like that".

"That's why.... to me... this is your fault. You're the one who walked away from me. You're the one that plonked Zoe slap bang in the middle of my life.... you're the one who's suddenly decided you made the wrong decision because you're bored of screwing a little girl-"

"It's not like that-"

"-and you're the one under some sad illusion that I'll want to be with you just because now you've clicked your fingers. I'm moving on too remember?"

"Are you?" I ask, "Are you really?"

"Yes."

"Well I don't believe you."

"No, course you don't. Don't wanna be stood there thinking you've missed out on your chance do you Dennis? I suppose being knocked back must be new to you.... how you liking it?"

"I'm not." I growl through clenched teeth.

"Good," she spits back. "Good."

"Alright then," I say, dragging in deep breaths through my mouth, trying to forget how much I need a fag. "I'll leave you alone shall I? I'll go back to Zoe, plaster a smile on my face and pretend I'm happy?"

"Why not? She can give you things Dennis... things I can't."

Don't you dare say it Sharon.

"Sharon, if we're talking about kids here...."

She looks away immediately. "I might be. Dennis, I know how much you want kids.... I saw it when we were looking after Bobby that day."

"You saw wrong Sharon. It was a dream, a moment that's all. Besides, I don't want kids with Zoe. I spoke about it, and I meant you. I meant our kids."

"Exactly. I wanted to give you that, but I can't, and it's my own stupid fault. But Zoe can... give you children..."

"Yeah," I mutter gruffly, "she can give me earache an' all, but it doesn't mean to say I want it."

"Difference is, people can't choose to have earache." she answers scathingly. "You chose her."

My humour is withering dramatically, but it's still the only thing I have to save myself. "Yeah well, if you can write me a better prescription to shift it-"

"You're pathetic you know that? Talking about me & Zoe like we're boxes of pills that can just be swapped over a counter. We're real people Dennis, with thoughts and feelings. Being with someone isn't like pulling copies of Playboy or Maxim out from under your bed and deciding which one's best to wank off over. It's not fair."

When will she bloody well get to the point?

"So what do I do then Sharon? Come on darlin', tell me, because I'm interested!"

"You have to stop doing this. To all of us. What we had Dennis, it's gone. That's it."

"Shut up." I won't hear her saying this. She's lying... she's wrong... she has to be...

"Gladly." she sighs, heading towards the stairs again as she looks at me. "I won't talk about this again Dennis."

Sharon's POV - 1:40a.m.

I hate this. I hate all of it. I just want to get away from it. The fact that I can't be with him.... the fact I can't have his children... the fact that I can't make him happy because of that. But most of all, I want to escape the fact that there's a woman, fifteen years younger than me that has the chance.

"You have to stop doing this. To all of us. What we had Dennis, it's gone. That's it."

Oh God, this isn't what I should be saying. I should be grabbing at this with both hands, I shouldn't be backing out... 

"Shut up." he hisses, blinking furiously, his lips twisting. I think I'm about to make him cry. Can't see that.... won't feel guilty, mustn't...

"Gladly." I gabble, knowing this is my cue to just go, to be gone, out of everything, this whole mess.... his mind... This has to be made final, so as I hurry up the stairs, I look back to him, everything once deemed beautiful in his facial features awash with hurt.

"I won't talk about this again Dennis."

He nods solemnly, squeezing his eyes shut to force back the tears. Then I leave him. When I get out onto the street, my chest suddenly feels unbearably tight, like it doesn't want to take in the suddenly freezing air round me. It's like a shock to the system, and my legs buckle, causing me to fall uncomfortably against the boards plastered with our latest promotions. I tilt my head back against the peeling poster, only then aware that my face is splattered with raindrops. It makes me colder, but I barely notice, just stumble out into the pouring rain. I want to scream, but I can't. I want to run, but I can't, just stand there, looking desolately around, getting soaked to the skin.

I've spent my life in this Square, somehow drawn to it with every moment I spent away. But it's a poisonous place, I know that now, can see it clearly. It makes the people that live here do poisonous things.

Albert Square, a place where love has never dared to prosper. Not for me. Not for Sharon Watts. To my right, there's the Vic. I learnt to love Grant there. Phil, too. Remembering leaving him there, staring so tempted into a glass of booze... those years, that effort, it was for nothing. I stagger forwards, around the corner, by the Community Centre, and if I crane my neck far enough, I can see the old flat. Tom. Oh God, I loved him. More than I'd ever thought it was possible to love a man. I wanted more than anything to be his wife, something I had taken too lightly with Grant. Even when I knew Tom was going to die, I wanted him, needed him even more. Maybe, if I'd clung to his hand a little tighter that night, I would be happy, Mrs Sharon Banks. And if Vicki had still turned up, if she still wanted to find Dennis, then that was fine.

But what if, a married woman and all, Dennis had arrived, and I'd still fancied him? Oh hell, I'd have just as much trouble denying it as I had done already, but what if I still found my way into his bed? What if I loved it? Where would that leave Tom?

It took a steady stream of the pelting rain sliding off my cheeks to bring me back to my senses. Dead in the ground Sharon. Where he's been for the last two years.

Roughly pushing the rain away from my eyes, my mascara showing knowingly on my palms, I fall to the gutter in a melodramatic heap, howling like a wounded dog. I don't know exactly what it is I'm crying for. I just know that everything hurts, and as ever, I'm alone.

I pull my coat tighter around me, fighting the overwhelming urge to sneeze, cough and sob all at once. The material is soaked through however and offers me no warmth. I'm so cold it's not real. Can't be. Just want to sleep. To forget. Spluttering on my own reluctance to move, I rest heavily on the fence surrounding the playground, and haul myself to my feet. This shower's coming down so rapidly and so violently now that I can barely see in front of me. Make it to one of the tyre swings, it moves immediately and I'm sure I'm going to hit the floor in a matter of seconds. I have a firm grip around the rusting chains though, my hands feeling burnt with the pressure. Kicking softly against the ground, I swing gently back and forth, crying and crying. Ignoring the shrill tones of my mobile...

Dennis' POV - 1:45a.m.

I bite down on my knuckle as I pace the floor. She's gone and left me here, telling me that she won't talk about it again. It being everything, everything we were both thinking and feeling. Us. God, I need her so much right now, but her in a different form. Submissive, ready to tell me she loves me and forgives me. But she's walked out on me, there's no mistaking this cold lonely reality. I'm forever aware that Zoe is still waiting at home. She may even be awake by now, wondering where the hell I am. I grab my mobile, punch in the number. My thumb hovers over the call button, but I'm stood here wondering, do I really care? And the answer, unfortunately for Zoe, and her pathetic little simpering looks, the answer is a resounding no.

I clear the screen and hurry up the stairs, not giving a toss about the uncleared bar. I just hurry up the stairs, slamming the lights out. I get outside, and I wish I was wearing a friggin' coat, it's fuckin' freezing, the rain pouring down like a tropical storm. I don't know where Sharon's gone. She's het up and she's unwell, I don't want to think of her out in this. So I dial her number, pressing the phone hurriedly to my ear as it rings.

"Come on!" I mutter imaptiently. "Please Sharon, pick up."

Crack!

I've just rounded the corner by the playground, and stood on something shuddering on the pavement. I move my foot hastily, looking down, seeing my name staring back at me through a massive split. I've just trodden on Sharon's mobile. She must have dropped it. Great. No fucking hope of getting through to her this side of Christmas then, I curse as I stoop to pick it up and stuff it in my pocket, still holding my own mobile hopefully out in front of me. Beaten, I end the call. 

I don't want to give up, but I geniunely don't have a clue where to start looking. The sound of the thundering rain is all I can hear, is restricting what I can see. I just need some time to get things straight in my head.

So I head towards the playground. Fucking great cliche that is. Everyone comes here, when they're depressed, suicidal, needing time to think or just downright miserable. At the moment, I feel as if I am all of the above.

But (and oh thank God!) it appears I'm not the only one. Sharon's slumped there on the the tyre swing, deathly still. I don't want to startle her, so I creep towards her. Settling down on the swing opposite her, my legs stretched out in the opposite direction to her own, so that if she starts to scream and shout, I can easily get up and leave. Because that's what she gonna want me to do ain't it? Just buggar off back the way I came, stop messing with her head. I know even as I sit here, looking at her... looking so horribly like a drowned rat that it would probably be best all round if that's what I did. But I can't. Even if I can't be with her, I still need to be around her. I couldn't handle the withdrawl. It would probably kill me. 

"Sharon?" I say, projecting more courage into my voice than I feel.

She flinches as she hears me. No, I'm wrong. She's shuddering. I guess with cold, but as I lean forward to touch her again, I realise she's crying. Hard. She's not doing a very good job of disguising it.

"Sharon-"

"Leave me alone Dennis." she whimpers. "Christ you'd have thought you'd have got the message when I threw my bloody mobile halfway across the Square. I don't want to know. I won't do this."

"I know that. But don't you think that we should just talk-"

"No! Dennis, do you remember what happened the first time we ever tried to talk?"

"Yes."

"You tried to kiss me."

"I know." I sigh, moving backwards a little so I can see her better. "But what about the second time Sharon? Who was kissing who then?"

Knowing that I'm watching her, she wipes her eyes furiously and sniffles a little. "I know. Me. I know."

"Well look around you Sharon. I'm freezing cold, you're soaking wet. I'm not going to try anything here am I?"

"Where'd you rather we were then Dennis?" she snipes.

"I don't know. A happier place I guess."

"We could have been there if you'd just come with me." she whispers, and it's proving very hard to hear her above the rain.

"Stop it." I say simply. "Don't do this to yourself." She turns and smiles meekly, nodding as if to admit defeat.

I wish I had a jacket to give her. She looks freezing. She's got such strong will inside her, but right now all she looks is vulnerable.

"So what happens now Sharon?" Come on baby, tell me what happens now you refuse to acknowledge what we have?

"We go home."

"What, and pretend that tonight never happened, pretend we haven't done the things we've done?"

"Exactly. Just go... to Zoe... home..."

And she gets to her feet. I'm up too, straight away, pulling on her hand before she gets too far away. "I'm sorry Sharon, but I can't do that."

"Why not?" she asks, her eyes pleadingly unknowingly with me.

"Because I know it'll hurt you. Won't do that anymore."

Dennis' POV - 1:55a.m.

She takes in a great gulp of air, and seems to stop letting her sobs take her over. 

"That's very noble of you Dennis." she says cruelly. "So where exactly have you been these last few months babe, because that's when I needed you to stop hurting me."

"I was wasted Sharon, I'm sorry."

"Empty fucking words!" she hisses, wrenching her hand away. "I might think I love you Dennis, but I don't need you. I don't need you." she repeats, a little shocked at her own certainity. She turns to walk off, again, but I'm after her again, a thousand questions buzzing furiously in my mind.

"Alright," I call, skidding to a stop alongside her. "Maybe I don't need you either."

"Course you don't," she agrees darkly, "you've got Zoe waiting for you at home after all."

"Just shut up Sharon," I tell her, determined to get these words out. "I might not need you, but I love you. Just tell me how I'm supposed to do that. Because it won't go away. I need to know how I'm supposed to love you, without hurting you or messing with your head-"

"You have to leave me alone."

"That ain't love Sharon and you know it."

"No Dennis. That's just it, I don't know. I thought I knew, but thanks to you, I've never been so uncertain in all my life."

Ouch.

I go to answer her, but she just stares at me. "Don't you dare say sorry. I'm sick of apologies."

"Well what else can I do? I'm sorry babe, I know this hasn't been easy, but it's still here;" I tell her, tapping my chest, trying to ignore the irregular hammering of my heart. "And just because it would take the pressure off doesn't mean it will ever really go away. It will always be there, for you as well as me."

"How dare you!" she fumes, her face twisting into contempt as she lowers herself shakily back onto the tyre swing. "How dare you play out my feelings so it sounds like all I have to do is tell you I want you, like nothing else matters - like no-one else is standing in our way!"

"They're not! Not if you don't want them to be."

"Oh, so you'll dump Zoe then will you?" 

"If you want me to."

"No." she tells me, shaking her head feverently. "I want you to do it only if it's what you want. I don't believe for a second you'd do it."

"Nice to see you have faith in me Sharon."

"I did once." She gets up again. "But not anymore."

And again, like some vicious animal, I'm up and ready to follow her. Fuck, I've been following her all night and I'm getting tired, but I'm not letting her go, not yet, not until she sees that I'm sorry I fucked up. Sorry enough to do whatever I have to.

"Sharon-"

She turns back to me, placing her hand on my chest and pushing me forcefully back. "Give up Dennis. Just give up."

"Can't do that." Surely she knows I can't do that? I won't do that.

"You might just have to."

"No I won't!" I call after her determinedly as she starts cautiously off, still battling against the rain. "I'm not giving up on this. Not until you believe in it again."

"We're not a fairytale Dennis!" she calls back, her heel scraping rhythmically across the kerb. "Live with it."

Sharon's POV -2:10a.m.

No Sharon, you won't do this, you will not cry.

But I can't help it. I wish I could, I wish I was stronger than whatever it is I think I'm feeling for Dennis right now, but I'm not. I'm cold, I'm shivering, and it's still pouring down with rain. And here am I, stood a little way from the club, the balls of my feet aching, my eyes stinging with tears, and my legs feeling so weak with all this running away from my bastard reality that I don't feel like I can stand up anymore.

It's like a bloody pantomime, tonight. It's like I'm always waiting for to hear him call my name, feel the thrill of him still chasing me. That's what I want isn't it? That's why I keep running away isn't it? To wait for him to follow, to make sure he still wants me.

But why? What's the point? I'm not an insecure little girl anymore, I'm an indecisive spinister, and it's not a place I want to be, not at all. I know more than anything I want to be with Dennis, have known it, even if I wouldn't admit it to myself, from the moment I met him. Brother or not.

I know what I'll do. I'll go home, go to bed, go to sleep. Hopefully then, I'll wake up tomorrow, and all this will seem like a nasty dream that won't be too hard to shake off (except it's tomorrow now, and I know this is no dream)

I finally reach home,  promising myself with each step that I will see this soon enough as a forgettable lapse. The hall's dark, and I know that everyone has to be asleep. Kicking off my shoes and leaving them in a messy heap in the hall, I creep up the stairs and into the bathroom, pulling a towel off the rail and towelling my soaking wet hair and drying my neck. I walk across the landing rubbing the rain away in vain, there's just too much. I'm too cold and tired.

Gradually, I manage to get changed. I take a shirt from my dresser and put it on, inhaling the scent on the cuff as I pull back my duvet and collapse into bed. This is one of Dennis' old shirts. I don't think he knows I've got it, and I don't think he'd care either. I'm sure Zoe would have something to say about it, but still I don't care.

I close my eyes, just hoping that sleep will come and envelope me, and I'll slip happily away with it, my troubles gone for the next few hours at least.

But I know that my surroundings are still all too "here", and I'm still wide awake, however much I wish it was otherwise. I look at my clock. 2:40. I've spent 30 whole minutes staring into nothingness, the inky blackness, praying that the perfect solution to this agony would materialize. But no. Sleep is still what I need. I need to make it go away, even if only for a few hours, before I have to get up tomorrow and pretend tonight passed uneventfully. Until I have to plaster a smile on my face as I serve the regulars, pretend I feel nothing as Dennis squeezes past me to go and sign for the latest delivery.

So I snuggle down into my sheets, curling up and grappling my pillow case in my fist, and holding it against my streaming eyes.

"Hey."

Sharon's POV - 2:50a.m

I'm so surprised to hear Dennis' gentle voice come from the shadows, I flinch so badly that I feel almost like I'll be sick again. I leap up, swinging my legs to the cold floor in preperation for the mad dash to the bathroom.

"Get out."

"I plan to in a bit darlin', I just want you to hear me out first-"

The door creaking on its hinges as he steps into the room, he comes towards me and settles on the bed next to me even though I instinctively move back from him. The moonlight is highlighting his face, the tiredness and the sadness evident. I feel a weak stirring of compassion in my stomach but I push that feeling away too.

Drawing the loose shirt tighter around me, I curtly tell him, "Do you not think maybe I'm a bit sick of all your heartfelt speeches? Cos y'know, in my experience they tend to be long boring and meaningless."

"Anything else you'd like to tell me about your experience Sharon?" 

"Maybe there is..."

"Hey hang on, isn't that my shirt? Still er... still really suits you." Then he checks his thoughts as I glare at him. "Sorry go on."

"I actually thought I wanted you tonight. Not the whole relationship interluda... christ no, why bother eh...? But I thought-"

"How did you want me?"

"Sex Dennis." I  tell him, giving him a patronising glare. "I kept looking at you when you were at the club, and I just wanted you. Wanted to think of something really clever so I could have some time alone with you; I knew Zoe was around and I thought if I could just get you to come into the office-"

"Then you could have your wicked way?"

"You know, I really could give up with being honest with you darlin', cos you ain't funny."

He nods as if he's taking in the information. "OK."

We fall into an awkward silence for a while and I'm aware of the sensation of my cheeks flushing red, and am glad that Dennis can not see.

"Call me shallow Sharon, but I'd have let you have anything you wanted, yesterday, today..."

"Yeah well, you can go now."

"No, hold up-"

I go to protest, but out of nowhere, a wave of nausea hits me, and my stomach lurches. "I can't. I think I'm going to be-"

I get up and push past him, my hand pressed to my mouth as I stagger into the bathroom and once again sink to my knees before the toilet bowl, gripping the sides fiercely.

"Sharon?" Dennis sounds my name softly, almost sounding concerned as he steps into the bathroom and stands there, listening to me retch. He clambers down and lifts my hair from where it hangs about my face and holds it firmly in his hands, waiting for the ill-feeling to pass. He simply stays there, making gentle "shush"ing noises and rubbing in comforting circles with his hand across my back. It takes him a while, lulled into this sense of deep caring, to realise that I'm not actually being sick. I'm heaving and feel crap, but nothing untoward will rise up from my stomach. I gulp in a cold breath of air, that I receive almost like a frightened gasp, falling back against my knees, my palms creating slapping noises as they come to rest against my thighs.

"Ugh."

Dennis chuckles and lets go of my hair and I feel it fall down against my shoulders once more. "You feeling better then?"

"Hardly." I mutter, casting him a dark look out the corner of my eye. It is then I realise he's been staring intently at me, a warm glow about his face the whole time. Only clocking me when I'm at my worst, that's charming that is. 

He gets to his feet, brushing off his trousers. I just look up at him, and he gives me a half-smile, the corner of his lip pushing only slightly upward. He offers his hand and I take it; let him guide me from the floor to my feet. Level once again; I just stay there, admiring the way the moon casts light across his face. Damn him for being able to look so gorgeous when I should hate him so much. It's no fuckin' wonder he's managed to get half the Square into bed looking like that. Even his own supposed sister fell so easily.

I squeeze his forearm and smile weakly. "Night then."

And I wander shakily out of the bathroom. I lean flat against the wall to steady myself. The door is still open, and I seem to stare at Dennis, stood shuffling on the floor; his hands stuffed into the pockets of his creased jeans. His eyes flicker and for a few seconds, our gazes meet; and he smiles weakly, ambling towards me and propping himself casually against the wall next to me. Somehow, his hand catches mine and he lazily clasps it. I don't know why, but I don't think to pull away. This is the man I love, what is more natural than this?

"Do you.... er.... do you still want me Sharon? The way you said...?"

"What?"

"You heard."

"You're asking if I want you Dennis? As in sex?"

"Well, that's what you meant wasn't it?"

"Yes."

He smiles weakly, feeling really awkward now and scuffing the toe of his shoe against the carpet, obviously waiting for me to speak.

"Dennis?"

"Hmmm?"

"Kiss me."

Dennis' POV - 2:55a.m

"Kiss me."

Oh God. I let those words wash over me. I want to berate myself for knowing that I will, for knowing that anything that happens will end up in a memory marked "Meaningless". But I want her so much. Right down to her jealous sniping, I want everything she is. And whatsmore, however brief her agreement is, right now, she wants me too.

I move gently back from the wall, rounding on Sharon. Her eyes glitter in the moonlight and as I move in towards her, I'm sure I hear her whimper, but she still reaches to meet my lips, but I barely feel her and am sure I imagined it. But almost instantaneoulsy she returns, bruising my mouth fiercely with her own, her hands already running up my back.... across my shoulders, down my arms...

Her tongue invades my mouth and it feels like the most delicious battle, a heat rushing through my body as she pulls her hand through my messed hair, drawing me in deeper still. I break away however, and begin an exploratory trail across her jaw... her cheek. Her hand pressed firmly against my head she guides me down to her neck, crying out as my teeth graze her flesh. She leans further back into the wall, arching into me. I pull her arms, with some force, from where they have become entangled around my neck and pin them against the wall above her head. She doesn't even try and resist me, and there's something incredibly attractive about that fact alone.

I swirl the tip of my tongue into the dip of her collarbone and she writhes against the wall a little, her eyes burning into me as her breathing grows just the tiniest bit heavier. She tastes so sweet.

I begin to tease open the buttons on her blouse and kiss the skin I expose until the blouse hangs open, hiding only her nipples, which show through the thin fabric. I can't seem to resist the urge to run a hand across each of her breasts in turn, keeping one arm held across Sharon's hands, which she readily curls around my forearm; her fingernails ready to be used as weaponry.

My fingers fleeting brush over her nipples, for a few seconds, she almost screams. Somewhere, I am aware we could still wake Zoe, and move quickly to claim her lips again and silence her. She propels herself further against me, obviously frustrated at having been robbed of the use of her hands. "Please...." she breathes against my mouth. She winds her leg around mine, pushing further into me as I draw back from her mouth.

I smile knowingly at her and all that looks back is her passion, still she moans and wriggles against the wall, as if she's suffering from a relentless fever. I move my arm from above her head and she immediately wraps her arms tight around my neck again, now seemingly content to let me do whatever I want. I drop my hands to rest on her hips, moving her trousers slowly down her thighs, bringing her knickers down too. I stop the movement a few inches above her knees, looking back up at her and realising her hands no longer trace lazy circles on my neck, but are tugging desparately at my jeans and the waistband of my CK's.

"I want you so bloody much."

"Good," I grin, my hands curling around her perfect buttocks and lifting her up against the wall. She wraps herself completely around me for stability. I move slowly into her and she moans appreciatively, burying her head in my shoulder."Does that feel good darlin'?" I murmur into her hair, establishing a pace.

"Uh hmmm..." she shudders, rendered incoherent by the bliss of my movement. "Oh. My. God."

And we can say nothing more, and we both seem to lose ourselves in the fantastic feeling building inside each of us. Only with Sharon has it ever felt this good. It's like nothing else in the world can matter as long as she keeps murmuring my name dreamily in my ear, the moonlight cast over us, all our frustrations at one another gone in these few perfect minutes.

But soon the sensation overcomes us both; Sharon calling for me is just the most delicious sound. I feel like I am far away, no capacity to worry, to have problems to consider or consequences to suffer. Sharon falls, exhausted, onto my shoulder, biting into my flesh to smother her screams, I savour the pain it induces.... so perfect. Her hands slide down my back, drenched in a feverish sweat. 

Sharon shifts on my hips and finally, strength returns to my arms to lift her back down to the floor. I pull up my jeans, button the fly and gaze down at her, love flooding through me. "You're so amazing." I tell her gently.

She runs the pad of her thumb across my cheekbone and stretches up on her toes to brush my lips again.

"Wh- What the hell is this?"

Sharon's hand falls away from my face, my spine locks as I register that voice.

"Zo...."

Dennis' POV - 3:15a.m.
     
 Sharon leans against the wall as she gazes at Zoe. Her eyes are wide, and seem to implore me to rectify a situation I never expected to find myself in. A silence envelopes us, punctated only by Sharon gasping heavily as the aftershocks of her orgasm flood through her, making her twitch.... making me want her all over again.

But as I look away from her, I am met by Zoe's furious glare as she looks between me and Sharon, whose blouse till hangs open, revealing her breasts.

"Dennis?" Zoe whimpers. "What's going on? Wh-why does she look like that?"

"Er...."

Shit! Dickhead that I am, I can't even think what to say. What can I say? "I just had my ex-girlfriend up against the wall and I loved it Zo, sorry."

But Sharon does. There's even an air of amusement in her voice. "Why do you think sweetheart?"

And Zoe scowls venomously at Sharon; ugly tears glistening in her big eyes as she steers herself to look back at me. "Did you just- with her? Here?"

"Well I didn't do it by myself-" Sharon quips.

"I saw you.... you kissed her..."

Sharon wraps the shirt tighter around herself, and Zoe begins to shiver angrily, her mouth twisted in the most ugly way, and tears are readily built in her eyes. Ugh.

"Yes... I know... Zoe; I-"

"Don't "Zoe" me, you bastard - you just fucked her didn't you? Didn't you?"

I nod, only meeting her eye to mutter "I can't help it."

"No, can't keep it in your bloody trousers can you? Wha- did she jump on you then? Is that it?"

Sharon smirks again. "I could I suppose."

"Shut up! You filthy little slag!"

"Oh Zoe, come on, that's not fair is it? After all, Dennis here's "fucked" your mother too hasn't he? Never mind him keeping it in his trousers, what about you keeping your legs shut?"

"I don't have to listen to this; I'm not the whore who spread 'em in the hallway!"

Sharon straightens up away from the wall and steps towards Zoe, her arms folded casually across her breasts. "Zoe, Zoe, Zoe; I could slap you for being so fucking foul, but y'know what? You're right.... I did... and-" she lets out a passionate sigh "-it was fantastic."

"You bitch!" Zoe shrieks, rushing at Sharon and shoving her with a lot of force to the floor before raining crazed blows down on her. I'm stunned, am watching this like it's a scene from a film, happening to someone else, before I come to my senses and try and pull Zoe away amidst Sharon's whimpers of pain and Zoe's expletive screaming.

"Zoe!" I yell, finally pulling her back and she struggles against my arms, screaming to be released until I lie her down, leaving her hunched on the floor and helping Sharon straighten up, pushing the hair from her face. "Sharon! Sharon, are you alright?"

She nods, murmuring quietly. "Yeah, yeah, course-"

"Don't you dare touch her!"

I ignore Zoe, realising that Sharon's lip is stained with blood. "Sharon... you're bleeding..."

"I'll be fine."

Wrapping my arms around her, I gently help her up. As soon as she can, she steps away from me, glaring at Zoe just as Zoe stares at her. Her question is however, directed at me.

"Explain this to me Dennis, why?"

"I don't have a reason Zoe, and I'm not gonna humour you by making one up... I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?" she repeats scornfully. "Tell me what you're sorry for. For not having the strength to say no?"

"Yeah.... no! It's not weakness Zo, you have to understand that."

"I'm trying! But I don't even wanna look at you-"

"You know where the door is." Sharon mutters, barely raising her eyes.

"Shut it." she sneers in reply, her eyes not moving from me. "Tell me why."

"You're bright enough Zo, you know the truth."

"Oh!" she scoffs, laughing bitterly, indeed barely able to meet my eye, "Haven't I always? You've been screwing her all along haven't you?"

"No. No, he hasn't."

"Did I ask you?"

"No. But last time I checked, this was my house... you're just some... inconvenience- and since you're asking now, more's the pity that we haven't been cheating you; the look on your face is fantastic, wish I could have seen it sooner!"

Zoe's lip seems to curl further inward, telling sincerely of the hatred she has reserved for Sharon. "I can't believe you'd want such a conivving little whore Dennis.... you said this was all over!"

"Yeah I did. But I only said it because it's what you wanted to hear."

And seemingly out of nowhere, she slaps me hard across the face, tears present in her eyes. "I fucking hate you."

I can't say anything in response. I just let Zoe turn and rocket down the stairs, a sob jumping from her throat. Sharon & I remain silent, not even daring to exchange glances until the kitchen door slams shut. Letting out a sigh, Sharon quickly moves across the landing, but I grab her hand, pulling her back before she is out of reach.

Dennis' POV - 3:30a.m.

"Sharon.... Sharon, I need you to tell me something. You have to be honest."

She looks at me expectantly. "What is it darlin'?"

"I need you to tell me.... was.... was that.... was it just sex?"

"I thought you'd like it like that Dennis.... unbridled passion's more your thing isn't it?"

"Sharon!"

She giggles lightly, pressing herself against me. "Calm down!" Standing on her tip-toes, she brushes her soft lips against my cheek. She says not a word, however, and just drops my hand and carries on moving down the hall and down the stairs. I sprint after her, barely managing to stop her opening the kitchen door, where Zoe can quite audibily be heard cursing both me and Sharon as she throws what I guess where the many glasses and plates that had been stacked on the draining board.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whisper hurriedly, pushing her against the wall.

"I'm going to talk to her." she replies, cocking her head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Are you mental?"

"I believe so. I just think she needs to understand... maybe get some of it out her system-"

Smash! Bang! Crack!

"And if she breaks Chrissie's crystal flutes, Chrissie will break her neck; they cost a fortune!"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea.... Zoe's hardly your greatest fan-"

"The feeling's mutual Dennis, so don't worry. I'm a big girl now, I can look after myself."

"Doesn't mean you should have to."

She sighs again, tipping her head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. "Dennis, stop OK?"

Confused, I ask "Stop what?"

"Stop with all the concerned boyfriend lines- that's not you."

Sensing impending rejection, by now so very used to it, I mutter; "What; the concern or the boyfriend?"

Sharon quickly straightens up again, stepping towards me. I so wanted to have the will to step away, but as ever, Sharon is spell-binding. I can't move, fixed to the spot as she presses her cold hand to my cheek, caressing my cheek with her frozen thumb. "Poor baby, always so defensive."

"What do you expect?"

Her eyes sparkle wickedly, and I relax a little. "Well, if I dare be optimistic.... once I'm finished with madam in there.... I'm expecting to sleep in your bed tonight.... if that's OK?"

I chuckle. Perfect, perfect Sharon. "Not on your own I hope?"

"Oh no, I don't think that'd be very wise.... see, I have a problem with the dark.... and I don't think I ever quite got over the idea that there's monsters hiding under the bed.... I'll need protecting."

Mocking her, I salute her. "I shall try my very best."

"I look forward to it."

Sharon's POV - 3:40a.m

Hardly able to stop myself grinning at Dennis over my shoulder as I slide into the kitchen, I tear my eyes away and back up against the door, Zoe flinching as it clicks shut. As soon as she registers my presence, in the place of Dennis I suppose, she scowls.

"I need to talk to you Zoe."

"Bollocks. You've got nothing to say I wanna hear Sharon, so just piss off."

I just stare at her, not saying a word and not moving a muscle. She stares back, her big eyes glittering manically. She leps to her feet, knocking the chair back.

"Didn't you hear me? I said piss....off...."

"And I said I want to talk to you."

"Why?! Why do you want to talk to me?"

"Well, I can't really explain it.... something inside's telling me you deserve an explanation.... some bastard thing called a conscience. Me, I'd be quite happy just to go back out there and say "Never mind Dennis, screw this"."

"Why not?" she mutters darkly. "You've screwed everything else haven't you?"

I smile weakly. "It wasn't deliberate."

"Don't patronize me! You think I don't know I'm second best? It's horrible."

"Then why are you still here?"

Her eyes flash again as she steps towards me. "Because he's mine Sharon."

I shake my head slowly. "No Zo, he's not."

"What do you know?"

"I know what's happened between me and Dennis tonight. That's all I know."

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment as she swallows what looks like a sob pulsing in her throat. "He's been chasing you hasn't he?"

"Maybe." Then I'm surprised to find myself wringing my hands and staring at a spot on the floor, struck by guilt. "But only because I've been doing the running."

She understands and laughs bitterly. "Oh, well why aren't I surprised?"

"Look Zoe, I know we've never exactly wanted to be friends, but I didn't wanna find myself doing this, it's not fair. That's why I ran, can't you understand that? I tried to stop it."

"You didn't try very hard."

"I know. But I want him."

"I saw." she answers, her eyes flashing angrily. "Everyone wants him."

"But the difference is, he wants me too. I can't let that go by, not again."

"He's with me!"

I lick my cracked lips nervously. "Zoe....."

"And just because he's screwed you.... don't you even think you've won!"

I blink, shifting my weight to my other foot and straightening my back as I stare at her. "He didn't screw me."

"Oh no?" she hisses. "Well, what do you call it then?"

"We made love...."

And she laughs, leaning forward as she releases the mocking sound that sounds suspiciously like a cackle. She's pounding her fists hard against the table, unable to the cope with the way the shuddering laughs were taking over her body and making her twitch uncontrollably.

"Up against the wall? Oh, how romantic. It was a fuck, Sharon, a straight forward, meaningless fuck."

"Really? If it's so meaningless, why did it happen at all? I'm not drunk... and neither's your boyfriend...."

"Yeah, my boyfriend!"

"Hmmm." I nod, gulping back the tirrade of abuse she so deserves. Smug bitch. "Your boyfriend, Zo. Don't think I've forgotten that." I pull out the chair opposite her, and she straightenes up, glaring at me with cold glittering eyes as I sit. "But it was your boyfriend holding me up against that wall, let's not forget that. Him, asking me if it felt good.... and it did Zo.... you must know it did.... and then when you stomped down here and began having this little hissy fit-"

"Hissy fit?" she shrieks, but I just dismiss her with a wave of my hand, not even caring as she gets more irritated.

"I'm up there.... with him.... and he asks me.... was it just sex? Not a meaningless fuck, sex - and even he doesn't wanna believe that's all it was. He knows we made love... and yes, that's your boyfriend Zo.... cheating on you when you're sleeping not even five feet away. And loving it."

"No! You're just... he can't forget, cos you're here-" She pulled at the ends of her hair, bunching it into her fist. "-you're always here!"

"This is my home!"

"You need to get over him!"

"Oh, like he's over me you mean? Bloody hell Zoe, you've got the concentration span of a gnat! He told you he couldn't lie to you - he wants me - and you said yourself you know that's how it's always been."

Her lip curls. "Yeah well.... I thought I..."

"Thought you could what? Change him?" I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to smother a laugh as I mutter, "Of all the stupid things..."

"Well I'm sorry I'm not thrilled this is happening! But I didn't realise I was still living in your fuckin' shadow..... I thought I had... something!"

"Be honest with yourself will ya?" I scoff, unable to hold it back anymore. "You were his meaningless fuck, can't you see that? You were his distraction... nothing more!"

"I don't believe ya!"

"Well of course you don't - it's not summat you're gonna wanna believe is it? But you know how I know he wants me?"

"I just caught you shagging him Sharon, I think I know!"

"But you don't! He.... He said to me once "It'll never be that good with anyone else." He said that. I tried to tell myself he was wrong, cos at the time, I didn't wanna believe it anymore than you do right now.... but he was right. He meant it, and he was right. It won't."

"That's bollocks! How do you know he meant it.... how do you know he still means it?"

I sigh. You'd have thought she'd gotten all the proof she needed. There doesn't seem much point me answering, there's only so many times I could spell it out before I lost her and had to start over again. I didn't really blame her, but it was getting irksome, her refusing to accept defeat. So the frosty silence sets in between the both of us. Until a third voice drifts into the room.

"I do."

Dennis' POV - 3.55a.m.

Standing out in the hall and listening in on this obviously wasn't one of my best ideas then. I really am a total absolute shit! I want to think I'm sorry, that Zoe hasn't deserved any of this. Because it's true. But she knew. She knew where my heart was and it wasn't ever with her. I... I don't even remember how I ended up in such a mess.

"....it was your boyfriend holding me up against that wall, let's not forget that. Him, asking me if it felt good.... and it did Zo.... you must know it did.... and then when you stomped down here and began having this little hissy fit-"

See, Rickman? I think, as I feel this smirk coming up on my lips in spite of myself. You don't care. Cos all that mattered was her...

I wish I could stop listening, but I can't. Because Sharon's fighting my corner with every breath. She's fighting for us.
 
"You were his meaningless fuck, can't you see that? You were his distraction... nothing more!"

I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear that. How can she know that, when... when I couldn't so much as admit it to myself for so long? Because she's right.

"....you know how I know he wants me?"

"I just caught you shagging him Sharon, I think I know!"

"But you don't! He.... He said to me once "It'll never be that good with anyone else." He said that. I tried to tell myself he was wrong, cos at the time, I didn't wanna believe it anymore than you do right now.... but he was right. He meant it, and he was right. It won't."

I remember saying that. She'd fought me on every word. Denying it as vehemently as she always had. It'd ended up being a proper row, and I've always hated rowing with Sharon. That was never what it was meant to be about. But I had to make her see what it was really about and it was there that the rowing came in. But finally she knew it was true.

Save us, darlin', please save us.

"That's bollocks! How do you know he meant it.... how do you know he still means it?"

I should have known Zoe wouldn't give up without a fight. I can't say I blame her, or that I like it, but this is still my mess. Sharon doesn't reply. Maybe she doesn't have the words to fight such stubbornness. Well, I'm not leaving her on her own anymore. I draw in a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for this and not being able to shake the feeling that this is just like walking onto a battlefield. My hand's shaking as it falls around the doorhandle.

Don't be weak. Be strong. Win.

I straighten my back as I open the door, sliding into the room. Thankfully, the words come out with a lot more confidence than I feel. But I can't fight the truth.

"I do."

They both turn towards me, Sharon sighing warmly in relief before getting up off her chair and leaning against the counter, daring to smile at me. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch involuntarily. Then I realise Zoe is glaring at us both, pure venom in her eyes, her lips set in hate.

"Oh I see, looking to do her in here as well are you?"

"Zo..."

She looks away in disgust, her hand falling away from under her chin and thumping against the surface of the table. "Don't. I don't wanna hear it. For f*ck's sake -I love you, Dennis." she mutters.

I stare at the floor, guilt kicking at my chest again. I raise my eyes guiltily to Sharon and she tilts her head in the direction of the chair she has just vacated. I sigh, which makes Zoe turn round and glare at me again. So I guess that that made it sound like this is a trial then? Ooops.

I fall heavily into the chair and pull at my thumbs, anything to occupy me and stop me having to look up at her and realise what I have done.

"No, you don't."

"Yes I do." she whimpers. Oh God, please don't make me have to watch her cry. She looks so ugly when she cries. "I love you so much and I-"

"You don't." I tell her forcefully. "I'm not the kinda bloke you love..."

"Oh no?" And she whipped her head round, her gaze settling decidedly upon Sharon. "Then let's ask her shall we?"

Sharon flinches, looking away and covering her mouth with her palm. I can see she's started to shake, unnerved by Zoe's immobile stare. After several long and tense moments, she pulls her hand away and snaps "What do you want me to say eh? Want me to lie? Cos I won't do it."

I push my feet further under the table, sliding forwards in my seat. "Sharon...?" I coax, scared and yet excited at the same time at the idea of what's coming.

"I won't." she repeats, shaking her head at me before looking back at Zoe. "Yeah, I love him, happy?" And she meets my eye again, blanching her lip nervously as she says. "I love you." before staring at the floor again.

And I'm acutely aware how stupid I must look, my mouth hanging open. There's so many things I could say right now, but they're all moving by so fast in my mind, I can't pick one, so many stupid sounds tumbling out as I try and begin just one sentence.

Zoe waits, just for a moment, before hissing "I don't hear you telling her she can't love you... so tell me why I can't?"

"Because... Because I'll hurt you..."

Dennis' POV - 4:05a.m.

She laughs mockingly, irritatingly high-pitched. "Did he ever hurt you Sharon?" she asks, twisting in her chair to try and catch Sharon's eye. But she won't be met, even when I look at her, feeling my throat tighten as I wait for her to speak.

"Yeah..." she mumbles finally, so quietly the gentle jangling of her bracelet as she pulls at it almost drowns her out. "Yeah he did."

I close my eyes, trying to ignore the way her breathing has gotten so heavy. I'm petrified she's about to cry, remembering all the things I did to hurt her. Too damn right you should feel guilty Dennis, you're a twat.

"So... let me get this straight... she's allowed to love you and get trampled on.... but I just get trampled on?"

"Yeah well," Sharon mutters heavily. "if you'd get out of the way..."

"What?"

"I said-" she continues, her voice suddenly seeming to blast angrily even though she still isn't talking above an annoyed mutter. "-get out of my way. You lost. It's as simple as that."

"No! No way! This ain't over til I say it is!"

"Oooh, I'm scared!"

I try not to laugh as that dry taunt fills the room. And the urge to is culled as Zoe storms to the draining board and throws a glass across the room. Maybe she didn't mean to go for Sharon, but then, she threw too low to make me think otherwise. Not that I'm exactly thinking. I just flinch as the glass shatters all around Sharon's bare feet.

"Shit!" I yell, knocking the chair back onto the floor as I leap up, surveying the dozens of shards.

Zoe's slumped against the draining board, taking in deep, angry breaths. "Get her out of here before I smash her fuckin' face in!"

That goes totally over my head as Sharon lifts her foot.

"Don't move! Don't move."

So her foot just hovers there, and she looks at me, uncertainty taking her smile. I go round and crouch down on the floor, cupping her heel with one hand and aiding her balance, while I sweep out the shards from underneath her.

"Be careful." she whispers huskily.

"Yeah."

"Awww well, look at that!" comes this sarcastic drawl from behind us. "Gonna suck her toes while you're down there as well?"

"I'm telling you Zo;" I say gruffly, not even concerned with turning round and looking at her as I speak. "if she so much as loses a skin cell cos of this..."

"Ohhh, and what exactly are you gonna do about it?"

I don't answer. There's just no point wasting my breath, I just sweep the glass away with my hand, feeling some of it bite into my skin, before guiding her foot back down to the floor.

"Alright?" I say gently, smiling awkwardly at her.

"Mmm."

"Done?" Zoe hisses. "Great. Now about this trampling thing... d'you ever lie down just to make it easier for him to do it Sharon, or do you, er... always take it standing?"

"You're sick."

"Me?! I'm not the one shagging my brother!"

"Oh please!" I spit, unable to stop myself straightening my back and staring across her, suddenly aware how much I dislike her as I let the words spill out. "That's beyond desperate! You think you can sort this that way? You think for the amount of times we've heard that line that it still gets to us? Cos you're wrong!"

"Us?"

"That's what he said isn't it? Him... and me. Not you.... me. That's the way it's always been." 

I'm watching her, mezmerized by the determination flaring in those beautiful eyes. I'm completely in awe. How can she always be so right? Was I really so blind, so desperate not to see the truth?

But then, a chink in her apparant armour as the strength of her voice falters and she sneaks a glance at me. "Isn't it?"

For a moment, I just look her up and down, my gaze flitting from her long legs and pretty painted toes. Then, there's the rumpled shirt she's wearing, my shirt, the buttons done up all wrong in her haste to cover herself, to conceal the fact I'd just made love to her. Then... God, then there was that face. I could look at her forever you know, even when her hair's a mess, just pinned to her head, even when her skin seemed to be grey-ish, proving she really hadn't been well. How can I have done that to her? Her eyes are still sparkling and yet they're pleading with me and she's nibbling on her lip, much like I am as I admire her. But she's nervous. She needs to know what exactly it is she's fighting for.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Sharon's POV - 3:55a.m.

"Did he ever hurt you, Sharon?"

Ouch. What am I supposed to say? I'm here with him too after all. I just stare at the floor as I hear the words leave my mouth. I can't lie. I've always been so rubbish at it.

"Yeah. Yeah, he did."

Guilt stabs, but... but he knows it's true... he can't deny that he hurt me. I can feel tears prickling in my eyes, a lump rising in my throat. Oh God, oh Sharon, please don't cry. Not in front of her.

I force myself to look up at her, just for a second, and all the hate I've ever felt towards her, for stealing Dennis away, for the time she has been with him when I prayed with all my might that that could be me, swells in my throat, and I have to gasp to keep the sob down. Dennis' gaze flickers to me as he hears the sound, but he stares at the table again almost immediately, pulling on his fingers.

"So... let me get this straight... she's allowed to love you and get trampled on.... but I just get trampled on?"

"Yeah well," A new resolve kicks in as I mutter. "if you'd get out of the way..."

"What?"

"I said-" I mutter again, louder this time, making sure she can't miss that bite of irritation in my voice. I'm not afraid anymore. "-get out of my way. You lost. It's as simple as that."

"No! No way!" Zoe yells, looking as though it's taking all her strength not to stamp her foot. "This ain't over til I say it is!"

I can't help it. She just sounds so pathetic. She wants to turn this into a playground fight then that's fine. "Oooh, I'm scared!"

Not the cleverest move, when I'm sure I hear an albeit restrained snort of laughter from Dennis. Because I think Zoe heard him too, snatching a glass off the draining board and throwing it at me, her face twisted angrily. It comes so quick, I don't have even a moment to think that I should move - get out of the way. Suddenly, I have a million times flakes of glass falling around my feet.

"Shit!" Dennis leaps up so fast, leaning across the table to look, that he knocks his chair back against the floor. I jump as I hear the sound, feeling at least six bits of glass cut into me. 

Zoe's slumped against the draining board, taking in deep, angry breaths. "Get her out of here before I smash her fuckin' face in!" But I'm more concerned with the warm stickiness I can feel on my foot, suspecting it is blood. I wince and lift my foot.

But Dennis cries "Don't move! Don't move."

So I hold my foot there, smiling at him awkwardly. He doesn't realise it's too late for that. He comes round the table and crouches down on the floor, cupping my heel with one hand, so I don't try and stand, while he sweeps away the shards from underneath me.

"Be careful." I whisper. I don't want him to get hurt too.

"Yeah."

"Awww well, look at that!" comes this sarcastic drawl from behind us. "Gonna suck her toes while you're down there as well?"

Oh God, why is she so pathetic? Can't she just accept that she lost?

"I'm telling you Zo;" Dennis mutters, not looking up, "if she so much as loses a skin cell cos of this..."

"Ohhh, and what exactly are you gonna do about it?"

He sighs. Nothing then. Poor darlin', this girl's bloody draining! He just guides my foot back down to the floor and I try not to wince again. I don't want him to realise I'm hurt. There's more important things to sort out.

"Alright?" he asks gently, giving me this nervous little smile.

"Mmm."

"Done?" Zoe hisses, suddenly glaring at me again. "Great. Now about this trampling thing... d'you ever lie down just to make it easier for him to do it Sharon, or do you, er... always take it standing?"

"You're sick." I answer steadily. I mean, I know she doesn't wanna understand, but... she'll have to accept this, nothing she can say is gonna...

"Me?! I'm not the one shagging my brother!"

I scoff. That old chestnut eh? Such a shame it just doesn't work anymore. If this had been the first time I'd ever wanted to be with Dennis, then yeah, maybe. But's it's stronger than that these days. Because I know what I'm missing. And I refuse to miss it anymore. I want it back. I want him back.

I hear this ugly hissing sound come from Dennis' mouth, like he's trying to get rid of a nasty taste in his mouth. He's staring at the mess that this has created. The glass he's swept mindlessly away, the mugs and plates that Zoe has smashed in yet another bout of rage, the chair still rattling flat on the floor. And somehow, as he's looking at all this, these deep frown lines all over his face as he scowls, he finds words.

"Oh please!" he spits viciously, as he gets up. "That's beyond desperate! You think you can sort this that way? You think for the amount of times we've heard that line that it still gets to us?" As he looks quickly back at me, I feel my stomach flip. "Cos you're wrong!"

"Us?"

I step up behind him, placing my hand on his shoulder, just to let him know I understand. Finally, I understand what he wants, what he needs me to do. "That's what he said isn't it? Him... and me. Not you.... me. That's the way it's always been." 

He steps forward, away from me, and I panic. Shit! Have I gone too far? Have I read it wrong? He turns back, staring at me, completely and utterly astounded, and I stare at the floor, knowing I'm flushing in embarrassment. Oh God, baby, no; please don't tell me I've got this wrong.

I have to check, so I sneak a glance at him, absolutely petrified of what I'll hear. "Isn't it?"

My stomach is more churning than flipping as he looks me up and down. The tiniest little smile sits in the corner of his mouth, but still I can't relax. Wha... Why's he doing that? Stop it, stop it please! Just tell me!

Then, finally;

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Sharon's POV - 4:05a.m.

Just hearing him say it, I could have rushed over, flung my arms around him and kissed him then and there. And I'm not sure that's where I could have made myself stop. But I don't. I just stare at him, hardly aware that Zoe is stood between us, guaging every flicker of our eyes.

She forces in a massive breath of air, coughing on it as she sits back down, glaring at Dennis. "Kat was right... I can't believe it, all this time she was right. You're a user!"

He glances quickly at me, and I can see the unease in his face as he sits opposite her, thinking better of reaching for her hand even though her fingers twitch expectantly.

"I never... I never pretended to be anything else..."

"I thought you loved me!" she screams, the sound catching in her throat and sounding somewhat strangled.

He watches the tears pulsing down her crimson cheeks, biting down on his lip, before reaching across and stemming their track by brushing them away with his thumb. "I like you Zo, yeah? I really like you... you're a great girl, it's just-"

"Girl?" She moves back from him, scowling. "So what's she?"

And she's glaring at me, the venom in her eyes intended to burn right through me. But, no. I step round  the table and up behind him. His hand against his head, he draws in a sharp little breath as I touch him, his shoulders tensing underneath my hands.

"Me? I'm the victor darlin'. You lose."

"Sharon..." he sighs heavily. And suddenly I'm the one tensing, well aware of Zoe's smug look as my smiles crashes. I step back, staring at the floor.

"Do I Sharon, do I really?"

"Zoe..." His gaze snaps to her and he speaks her name in the same tired fashion as he did mine. She notices just as I do, her hair flying about when she moves so fast to glare into his face.

"What?"

"This... it doesn't change anything... not for us." And I almost laugh. Because she won't recognise that when he says "us", it's me he's looking at.

"No, good. Just get rid of h-"

"No!" He throws up his hands as if he's trying to claw through the confusion flooding the room. "Zo... I'm meant to be with Sharon."

She throws her head back, laughing mockingly, so high-pitched it goes right through me.

"So you screw her once and that's it? Dennis, I'm your girlfriend... and her... you were with her for what... three weeks... a month?"

"It don't matter. There's no point tryin' to hide it anymore is there? Or are you gonna pretend you didn't just find me all over her?"

"Yeah." she nods, crouching down and grappling for his hands, and he's just a second out and he can't move away. "Yeah I am. Babe, I know what she does to you..."

I can't stop myself muttering, "Don't you mean what he does to me?"

She glares at me, but I just smile, watching lazily as she turns back to him, this disgustingly sweet and simpering look on her face. Oh God, I think I might be sick. Again.

"We... We could get our own place... If you'll just get away from her... we could really make a go of it... I know we could."

Dennis presses his hand against his forehead, rubbing at his temples as he groans. "You're just not hearing me are you Zo? I lied to you, I'm sorry but I did, I've lied to you all the times I've been with you. And I wanna tell you I'm sorry, but you're really starting to get on my nerves, so I ain't gonna be nice about it! I didn't trip with my trousers convienently round my ankles, and Sharon didn't climb her way up the wall. I did that - I wanted her just as much as she wanted me, and I'm not sorry we've done what we've done, and y'know, I'm not sorry you saw it either. I might have been, cos I never meant any of it to happen, but I coulda stopped it. I coulda thought about you, and I coulda walked away. But I didn't. Because I wanted it. You weren't enough to stop me then and you ain't enough to stop me now."

He looks over at me, an uneasy smile stretching out from the corner of his mouth. I return it, suddenly feeling light headed. He's almost mine again.

And finally, after what seems like years, she stops staring at the floor and her lips twist into a sneer as she glowers at him., pushing against her knees to pull herself up. I listen to her feet pounding against the floor and praying she'd cut her feet open on all the shards.

But the next thing I'm aware of is her palm stinging my cheek as she slaps me.

"You bitch!"

"Zo! Sharon.. are you..."

I don't pay him any attention. I hit her right back. She isn't gonna get the better of me. "You pathetic bitch. You lost! He doesn't want you! Get over it... and get out!"

"Nah! You're a poisonous witch Sharon, and you couldn't wait to sink your talons back into him-"

I shrug. "Yeah. I'm not ashamed, and I ain't denying nothing, I couldn't wait. But neither could he. And as for my nails... you should get him to show you his back-"

With a cry, she launches herself at me, and it hurts. She's definitely got some will inside her, her own nails scratching at my face. I wince and try and fight her off. I'm not trying too hard though. Cos I ain't a victim, I'm a contender, and f*ck, it feels good to let fly at her and all, to make her feel the scale of pain she made me feel by stealing Dennis away - being so fucking smug about it! I throw my bodyweight forward, my hands wrapped in her hair, content on pulling it away from her scalp. She screams, and I can feel myself smiling with satisfaction as I shove her against the draining board, hardly caring as the precious few items left stood there tumble off and shatter all over the floor. I'm trying to wrestle myself away and have to tug my hair out of her hands. She's done a good job, knotted dry, and broken, I feel several hairs rip slowly and painfully from my crown.

I somehow manage to restrain her, and it's good job I didn't need Dennis' help cos he's barely a foot off his chair, almost looking terrified. I revel in yanking her arms behind her back, the pain it causes her as I knot them.

"Now you listen to me, and you listen good, or I promise I'll break ya. You're a clever girl, and as much as even thinking about you makes me wanna vomit, I do know that. So that means you know he's always been mine. And I'm not fighting a jumped up slag like you for what I know belongs to me. I have more grace than that. So here's what's gonna happen, yeah? You're gonna get out of my house and you're not ever gonna even think about coming back, or I'm not just gonna break your arms, I'm gonna break every miserable, desperate little bone in your body. Alright?"

"You're hurting me! Dennis, please!"

"Sharon... Sharon, ease off her will you?"

"Why?" I yell, glaring at him. "Why the hell should I? Don't you dare go doubting me Dennis, or you can have your little slag back. And she'll have ya an' all cos she's so desperate... but she'll never forget that it was me you were screwing up against the wall... that I still live here... cos I won't let her... so do you want her? Do you?!"

Sharon's POV - 4:15a.m.

He looks gultily to the floor, blanching his lip. "No."

I knew that, baby.

"No!" Zoe cries, her voice shaking. Brilliant, she's about to turn the taps back on. "Babe, you don't mean that..."

"I think you'll find he does. Now c'mon, get out!"

And she shrieks in pain as I shove her through to the hall, deliberately kicking at the backs of her legs, so she keeps moving. She reverts to proper wailing sobs that go right through me as I tear open the door, shoving her out onto the stairwell and barricading her way back into the house.

"You... can't do this... to m-me!" she snivels, the sound cracking as she tries to turn it into a scream, but failing as she shivers, stood there in a flimsy night-shirt. Oh I can, and why didn't I do it sooner? Serves the little slag right.

"N'night."

"Sharon, no! What about my stuff?"

At last, she knows she's going then?

"Sharon-"

I whirl round to Dennis' summons, quite deliberately making sure the door slams in her face as I do so. She is not getting back in here. Not ever.

"What?" I hiss, falling back against the door and trying to pay no attention as Zoe hammers on the door furiously with those little fists, screaming and crying.

"You can't just... it's the middle of the night... and she's out there in..."

"Go on! Go after her if that's what you want, make it all better for the pathetic little bitch - just don't expect me to keep the bed warm for you!"

And I shove past him, almost grateful as he pulls at my arm, wanting to draw me level with his gaze. "What's the matter with you? This is what we wanted isn't it? I mean, not like this, but this is it, isn't it?"

"I don't know - is it?" God, I wish I could make it stop sounding like I'm attacking him.

And his resolve to speak seems to leave him and he drops his hand and heads for the door.

"What the f*ck do you think you're doing?"

"Sharon... whatever's happening with me and you... wherever she's going... she's gonna need her stuff..."

I roll my neck, consoled little by hearing several little bones crack as I laugh bitterly. "Oh, her stuff. Right, of course..." And I turn and rush up the stairs, crashing into his room, barely hearing his panicked voice behind me as I wrench open the window.

"Sharon...?"

"Zoe!" I call, smiling as she stares up at me, venom in her eyes. "Let me give you a hand darlin', eh?"

And I spin round, feeling the adrenaline pulse through me as I pull open his wardrobe and yank out drawers, rifling through and grappling for everything unmistakably Zoe... knickers, tops, bras, dresses before flinging them out the window. Again, I feel quite satisfied as I hear her scream, oh how I wish I could see her with a G-string on her head.

"Sharon, this is crazy!" Dennis barks sternly, trying to make me stop. But he won't. Not unless her wants to follow her size 6's out the window. Ah, it's fun chucking shoes into the street. I can imagine her getting her eyeballs skewered on her own Stiletto heels. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting your whore out of our lives - get out of my way!"

"This isn't fair!"

Oh my fucking God - he really just said that.

"Fair? Fair? Dennis, I'll tell you what ain't fair - what's not fair is you telling me you love me and chucking me just like that! And now, here you are, and it seems like you realise now you love me still, and I want you right, maybe that makes me just as desperate as her out there, but I wanna believe we have something. But the thing is - what's not fair is that I believed that the first time round.... what's this gonna become if I don't get rid of her? You shoved her slap bang in the middle of my life trying to tell yourself you didn't want me - you think I appreciated that when I love you so much? So, excuse me if this makes me feel better... but she deserves it... deserves it for thinking she was gonna keep you!"

"This... it's not a competition - Sharon, I chose you!"

I glare at him. Idiot. I storm my way past into the bathroom, muttering "Shampoo" before snatching up all her irritatingly lurid bottles and marching straight back to the window, shrugging off Dennis' impending touch as I click open the first bottle, squeezing it out over the windown pane, smiling to myself as I hear it splatter somewhere - the pavement, on her? Fantastic!

"Almost done darlin'!" I shout down, and she replies with a string of expletives. I evidently got her then.

Sharon's POV - 4:20a.m.

I look round the room as I let the last bottle empty out and slip from my grasp. She's almost gone but, aha! That pathetic little teddy bear tucked under the duvet - that last sickening reminder she ever lay in Dennis' bed. I lunge for it, clawing at it with both hands, perversely glad to hear it tear, the head falling off in my hands. It wasn't deliberate, but it doesn't half feel good. I'll have broken the little girl she is, just like she broke me.

The stuffing flutters out into the bowl of my hands, and I pour it out the window, watching a non-existent breeze pick them up as I throw the two halves of the bear out after it. I stretch up on my toes to watch millions of feather spill from it, becoming caught in her hair. The noises she is making are brilliant, I'm almost hoping she'll succeed in waking half the Square up - I'd love them all to see her reduced to this.

I spin round again, rocketing back down the stairs before Dennis can even find the power to put one foot in front of the other. See, I like to think I have some compassion. I clatter through to the kitchen, pulling up the rim of the liner in the bin, shaking down the rubbish and pulling the whole bag through before heading towards the door.

Dennis is stood frozen on the stairs. He made it so far then. 

"Oh Jesus, what are you doing now?"

"Getting rid of the trash." I shoot back, not missing a beat as I slip out the door.

"Sharon!"

He almost slams into me as he follows. Cos I've just stopped at the top of the stairwell, my hands on my hips as I clutch the bin liner, smugly taking in the image of Zoe, hair heavy with globs of God knows what, feathers still stuck fast, scrambling round in bare feet picking up her knickers. She can't hold it all - serves her right for hoarding so much crap, and she keeps kicking the bear's severed head, and that's when you can't help but hear the sound of her tears falling.

"Breaks your heart don't it?"

"Don't you think you've humiliated her enough?"

It takes a lot of my strength not to turn around and lamp him. "What about how she humiliated me? What about how you humilated me... or do I suddenly not matter anymore just cos Little Miss Hiss Fit has got herself into a state?"

"But she.... she didn't do this to herself..."

"Oh believe me she did. As far as I'm concerned, this has been a long time comin'. It's the bear I feel sorry for... I'd have much rather ripped her head off. He just... got in the way... poor bastard.... looks good on her though..."

And I bounce down to the pavement, throwing her piteous looks I can see are making her squirn as I lift the lid on the dustbin. "Alright?"

"Piss off!"

I smile tightly. "You know, that would be so much easier if you had a bag... here... call it a leaving present."

Replacing the dustbin lid with a clank, I draw my arm back and sling the bag at her instead, sniggering as she ducks to avoid it and somehow only managing to pull open the sides and shower herself in dirty, stinking rubbish. Well, well, I didn't do a thing! Good one, Zoe!

And I head back up towards my uncomtaminated home, pushing my hand against the door and realising that Dennis is lingering. Stupid twat has a conscience then - but only when it comes to that bitch? Not me... the woman he supposedly wants to be with? His gaze is shifting uncomfortably between the both of us, because Zoe's imploring him with those wide, bright eyes, calling his name with that sickeningly sweet whimper.

"If you help her, you're not coming back in this house, never mind back to me. Got that?"

He sighs and nods, stepping towards me.

"Dennis?"

And the weak-willed prick follows her whiney voice. I can feel myself scrunching my palm into a fist, wondering who it is I'll find myself slamming it into.

"I hope you're not expecting me to keep quiet. If she's what you want.. you wanna spend your time with a bitter twisted old cow like her, go ahead. But Vicki's with Spencer tonight yeah?" She looks over her shoulder, gesturing towards the Vic. "I think she deserves to know how sick you two really are - in fact I think she deserves to know right now."

Dennis' POV - 4:20a.m.

Oh my God. Sharon's officially lost it. I have actually driven her mad, with Zoe... with everything. I dunno what's wrong with me - but I wish I could move. I mean, I keep chasing her up stairs, down stairs, across the landing, wherever, but then, I'm behind her, and she's doing whatever she wants to do - crazed even. But then, I suppose she has right to be - Zoe practically jumped her. It was like they'd wanted to scratch each other's eyes out, and there's me, frozen right in the middle of it, not knowing who I should at least try and pull back. But my choice doesn't matter because she doesn't give me time to think about it. Barely dressed, Zo gets shoved out onto the street, and the first thing that hits me is sympathy. I'm not sure why, it's not like I still want her to be here but... f*ck, she'll freeze.

I do try and reason it out with Sharon, but she just snipes at me and the next thing I know, I'm stood in my room, watching her grab anything that belonged to Zoe out of the wardrobe, out of drawers and flinging it out the window amid Zoe's shrieks. I know I should stop her, and I want to, but I'm paralyzed again. This isn't like Sharon, I just don't know what I'm meant to do - except wince when I realise Sharon's just torn Zoe's pathetic scraggly little bear in half. That's harsh!

But still I don't find myself saying anything til I'm stood on the stairs, wondering why Sharon's just bolted from my room and is quite audibly bashing around in the kitchen. My stomach seems to drop and knot simultaneously as I realise she's clutching the bursting bin-liner. Shit, shit shit!

"Oh Jesus, what are you doing now?"

"Getting rid of the trash." she calls back, not even pausing for breath.

"Sharon!"

And I leap the half a dozen or so stairs to the floor, and am practically falling over myself to rush out after her, almost ripping the front door off its hinges as I fight to get through. And I almost send Sharon flying down the damp stairwell, flying into her. I wonder why she's stopped; surely she wants to get right back in there?

But she's just watching Zoe scrabbling around in her bare feet, fuck knows what in her hair, choking on the insides of her favourite toy, trying to pick up everything she's ever owned. I should help her, but I don't know what Sharon will do if I do. And besides, I'm so ashamed - embarrassed for the poor cow even, squirming as I watch. This truly isn't fair. I'm the one in the wrong here, and I do know that...

"Breaks your heart don't it?" Sharon says warmly, catching the look on my face. Yeah, she's truly heartbroken, can barely keep the grin from her face.

"Don't you think you've humiliated her enough?" I hiss, before I can stop myself.

She whirls round, her hair whipping my face in the process. And her beautiful eyes are glittering with such fury and she... her chest is heaving like anything. Could she be sick again, or is she just trying to stop herself making me sick - breaking my neck kind of sick.

"What about how she humiliated me? What about how you humiliated me... or do I suddenly not matter anymore just cos Little Miss Hiss Fit has got herself into a state?"

"But she.... she didn't do this to herself..."

Sharon scoffs. "Oh believe me she did. As far as I'm concerned, this has been a long time comin'. It's the bear I feel sorry for... I'd have much rather ripped her head off. He just... got in the way... poor bastard.... looks good on her though..."

I want to say something, but my mouth is dry and the words just aren't there. So I'm resigned to just watching her bound down to the street, calling sweetly across to Zoe in a way that makes me cringe and Zoe quite obviously glare at her like she wants to kill her. And she probably would if she got another go.

"Alright?"

"Piss off!"

She smiles, her lips letting the menace slide free. "You know, that would be so much easier if you had a bag... here... call it a leaving present."

And... oh my God! Sharon's... thrown the bin-liner at her, and almost in slow motion, Zoe screams as what really don't bear thinking about rains down on her. That really was too far, whatever the image of Zoe has done to Sharon... I'd never have done that to any bloke Sharon was with. Shit! She is - she's with James. She'll be having a fun conversation with him soon then.... but she's known him what, five minutes? We run deeper than that, we always have, but still, I don't have to like what she's doing to Zoe right now. So, she was just my distraction, but I do like her, I'm not callous enough not to give a damn about her at all, I've been with her too long to still be that cold.

But Sharon just dusts off her hands with a self satisfied smirk as she turns around, striding back up the stairwell and back through the door. I can see her looking over her shoulder at me out of the corner of my eye. And I know what she wants but... but Zoe... I can't... I can't just do this to her. I'm halfway down to the pavement when I hear Sharon's steady voice behind me.

"If you help her, you're not coming back in this house, never mind back to me. Got that?"

Ah. So she's turning on me to make this work huh? Nice trick. Nasty, but it works. I mean, what choice do I have? I can live without the house but I can't... I can't let Sharon go again. I'm beat, and she knows it. So I turn back, hearing Zoe finally form steely words just as I do so.

"Dennis?"

God, what is it about voices only coming from all sides when your back is turned. She coulda said whatever when I was looking at her. But as she speaks, I'm glad she didn't, because she would have seen the terror in my face. I could feel it paralyzing my facial muscles.

"I hope you're not expecting me to keep quiet. If she's what you want.. you wanna spend your time with a bitter twisted old cow like her, go ahead. But Vicki's with Spencer tonight yeah?" She looks over her shoulder, gesturing towards the Vic. "I think she deserves to know how sick you two really are - in fact I think she deserves to know right now."

Dennis' POV - 4:30a.m.

It's Sharon I'm looking at as the words hit me, and her lips are flickering as she looks back at me. She's trying to make it seem that she's not fazed, because Zoe's waiting to gauge her reaction. It's her she wants to get at the most. But I watch her gulp something back and the way her eyes sparkle like that, I can tell she's just as scared as me. I nod slightly, and turn, just in time to Zoe flinging her hair across her shoulders as she stalks off towards the darkened pub, kicking her clothes out of her path and just leaving them strewn across the road amongst all the rubbish.

"Zoe!" I call, running after her. "Zo!"

"Vicki!" she yells determinedly to counter my own voice as she hammers so hard on the doors of the Vic, I think she's gonna break through the glass. "Vicki!"

"Zoe!" I'm closer now, but still have to yell to get myself heard above her hysterics. "What good's this gonna do eh?"

"Good? Good? Well, it'll make me feel a whole lot better! Vicki!"

"Zo, please!" And I grapple at her arms, just wanting to pull her hands away from the door. She tries to fight me but settles for just tearing her arms away, her eyes looking as crazed as Sharon's had.

"Wha'smatter Dennis, not ashamed of her are you? Want to keep her your dirty little secret?"

"I love her."

"Then you won't mind me telling Vicki that eh?"

"Telling Vicki what?"

My stomach drops through to the just the second before I realise that this voice, although it's not mine or Zo's, it ain't Vicki's either. It's Spencer, poking his head out the door, and still looking as gormless as ever as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

Zoe grins this cruel and twisted grin before she beats her way past Spencer with her hands, forcing her way into the pub. I bolt in after her. God, I'm actually scared. I just shrug Spencer's confused look as he looks Zoe up and down, as if wanting to check he hasn't mistaken the image of her... the state she's in.

"Where is she, Spence? Where's Vicki?"

"Upstairs, where do you think?"

"Right..."

"Zo!" he squeaks, rushing up to the door and somehow managing to pull her back. "You can't go up there!"

"Oh shut up will ya? I need to see Vicki."

"Zoe... you heard the man. Let's get you out of here, get you cleaned up eh?" 

I stand behind her and she realises she's caught between us both. "If you touch me, I swear I'll be screaming this place down faster than you can say "arrested"."

I laugh, looping my arms around her waist and pinning down her flailing hands. "Don't be stu-" 

Mocking her obviously wasn't a good idea. I don't mean to... I just didn't think she was serious, I mean... this is me. But yes, she screams. I'm almost amused by Spencer leaping a foot into the air, not able to make it anymore obvious that he wants to cover his ears with his hands if he'd tried.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?"

This isn't Vicki either. It's Kat, looking as orange as ever, her silk dressing gown wrapped around her and her full mask of make-up. She really should learn to lay it bare at night cos she looks rough; every line and every colour smudged and awful. She slams on the lights, stumbling into the bar, her mouth gaping as she takes in the scene lain out in front of her.

"Kat..." Zoe whimpers, in that thick and miserable way that lets the whole world know she's about to cry again.

"Zo? Oh Zo... what happened to you?"

I obediently let her go before Kat puts it upon herself to tell me to, my arms falling to my sides. Zoe stands frozen for a moment, almost as if she's surprised, but then she comes to life again, rushing at her mum, throwing her arms aeound her before she dissolves into full-out choking sobs.

"Dennis... over... Sharon...chucked m-me o-o-out... what she did to me..."

"Wow, baby slow down!" Kat soothes, pulling back, her gaze shifting just for a moment as she glares at me. "Sharon did this to you?"

Gasping back another sob, Zoe snivels instead, nodding her head furiously.

"Why?" The question comes slowly, and Kat's still looking suspiciously at me, not knowing whether to smile like this is all a big joke or frown because ever since I rolled out from her bed, she's never trusted me.

But Zoe says nothing, gulping again as she wipes her eyes. "I need to talk to Vicki."

"Alright darlin', alright..."

"Dennis?"

Oh God. That is Vicki, stood sleepily in the corridor, having just padded down the stairs. She got woken up then. Oh great... Oh no... Oh f*ck!   

"What's going on? What's all the shouting for... what are you doing here and... Zo!"

Dennis' POV - 4:35a.m.

My sister rushes out into the bar and looks like she wants to throw her arms around her, but daren't because... well, just because.

"Oh my God - what happened?" And she follows Zoe's unfaltering gaze in my direction. She can definitely feel the unease in the room as she slowly turns to face me. I wanna be able to look her in the eye. I'm not ashamed, I know I'm not, but... oh, I love Vicki. I do. I don't wanna hurt her. And this will. "Wh-What's going on?" she asks nervously. And all that answers her is the silence - the silence I should be filling with words, with explanation.

"Ain't you gonna tell her Dennis?" Zoe drawls.

"T-Tell me what?"

"Yeah, tell her what?" Kat raises, sounding sickeningly interested. Interfering bitch.

"Dennis..." An awkward laugh bubbles in her throat as she calls for me again. "You're really scaring me. What is it? What's happened?"

And still the moments drag by. I can't... I can't find the words.

"So you're not gonna tell her? Too afraid to tell her you're screwing Sharon again? Fucking her sister... your own sister?!"

Vicki's laughter is more high pitched and desperate... manic even this time. "What? You... Sharon... no, no... this is a joke... that's over... you're with Zoe... Dennis.... tell me this is a joke! TELL ME!"

"I can't." I manage finally, my gaze still stuck half between the floor and the waistband of Vicki's pyjamas, like I can't make myself look any higher. I can already see she's shivering... she's so angry. And I'm stood there, hating how unbelievably pathetic I sound.

"You... You and Sharon have... have had sex?"

"Y-Yeah."

"When?" she blasts, in that furious way that tells me she's gonna keep firing questions and demanding answers even though each one is gonna be the last thing she wants to hear. 

"I... I don't know."

"I do." Zoe hisses. "Three o'clock. I woke up, needed some water... but what do I get? Five steps to the doorway and there's him... kissing her... and she ain't even covered... tits out and everything... that's what..."

"B-B-But he's with you." Vicki stammers, looking round at her before meeting my eye again, seeming really dazed. "You're with Zoe."

"I was... but Sharon..."

"I don't wanna hear about Sharon!" she yells, stepping towards me. There comes the thought that I should step back, but it's as if I'm rooted to the spot, my legs are locked - I'm not gonna be moving anywhere. "She's our sister Dennis... I thought you knew that... I thought you'd realised! You can't have sex with your sister!"

"Vicks... I tried. I swear I did. I wanted it to work in the same way you did, but... I can't. Cos it won't. I... I have to be with her."

She ignores me pointedly, turning back to Zoe. "Look at her. She's a mess - she doesn't even have shoes on for fuck's sake... Zo, what happened?"

"Sharon happened Vicks. Threw me out-"

"You attacked her!" I seethe, hearing the words slip into the tense atmosphere before I realise what I've done. It's not the smartest thing to be on the defensive right now.

"You'd just screwed her up against the wall - what did you expect me to do?"

"The wall?" Kat chuckles, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Well, the dirty bitch... I don't think even I've done it up against the wall... especially not when his girlfriend is sleeping on the other side of it!"

"Shut up!" Vicki cries, raising her hands and looking as though stamping her feet was her next course of action. "Just shut up all of you!" She draws in a deep breath, making sure each of us take in her steely glare before she turns back to Zoe. "What happened?"

"Sharon... rubbing my nose in it. Then in he comes and lets her put words in his mouth and before I know what's 'appening, Sharon's onto me, pulling my hair, scratching me, anything, then she throws me out onto the street in this-" She throws out her arms heavily for a moment to gesture to her rumpled night-shirt. "Starts chucking all my stuff out the upstairs window... all my clothes are scattered round the Square... emptied out all the fuckin' bottles she could find onto me and she tore up Kat's bear... I've had that thing since I was born... she's mad Vicks, she's obsessed with him, and I..."

"You wanted to come and stir it!" I growl out the corner of my mouth. If I lose Vicki, I'll never forgive her.

"Yeah!" she snipes back with a certain nod of her head. "I ain't denying it, maybe I did... but you deserve this and so does your slut!"

"Don't you ever..."

"Dennis!" Vicki flings herself into my path, Kat not far behind her. But Kat wouldn't have stopped me... God, stopped me what? Why don't I know... have I completely lost it?

"And Vicki... she's my friend... she deserves to know what a pair of perverted psychos she's living with! How does she know you're not eyeing her up everytime she bends over eh?"

"You're sick."

"Oh, my daughter ain't the sick one mate! That's you!"

"I ain't talking to you."

"No, but I am." Vicki says calmly... well as calm as she can be while she looks like that, shaking like she is. "And you're coming with me!"

"What?"

"I want you out of here. So I'll go get dressed and we'll go somewhere... I don't know where... anywhere... but you will get out of here!"

I nod, my eyes closed as I savour the idea of this chance. OK, so the prospect makes me want to punch my way through a wall, to cut myself open on, to bleed over the jagged edges, but Vicki's gonna have to listen to reason if we're alone. I think she knows that, that's why she's wants out. She'll never get anything straight in her head while she's forced to listen to us all screaming at each other.

"Vicki no!" Zoe grapples desperately at her as she goes past to head back upstairs. She leaps back, swerving round her and holding up her hands apologetically.

"I'm sorry Zo. I really am. Look, thanks for telling me. Go... Go have a bath or something yeah, get some clean clothes... just let me do this my own way eh? They're... Dennis, he's my family... and Sharon is too... I have to listen... however much I don't want to. I have to because I need to make this right."

Dennis' POV - 4:50a.m.

So I'm stood there, Zoe stood in front of me, with the same omnipresent glare in her eyes as her mother. Spencer's stood there, looking like he's been kicked. Cos he's out of place and pathetic. Someone needs to remind me again what Vicki's doing with him. No-one says anything as we wait for her and that's almost harder than everyone screaming at each other. Yet, just a minute ago, this was what I wanted, and now... I feel like causing trouble would make this feel easier. I'm used to trouble... thrived on it even. But then I remember the conversation I'm going to be having in a couple of minutes time.

Then, she's here again, looking more tired than ever as she wipes her face with her hand, sighing as she pads back into the bar.

"Dennis." she says, almost looking right through me as she meets my eye. I nod again, feeling more uncomfortable with every second that I lose, every second that brings me closer to the moment I'm petrified I will lose her.

She slips past me towards the door, looking back at me and gesturing for me to follow. I claw back my lip apprehensively as I draw in a breath and head towards her. She steps out heavily into the Square. My hand is wrapped around the handle on the door, and I'm aware that it's slipping... that my palms are drenched with sweat.

"I hope she tears you apart." Kat sneers as Zoe flies upstairs, presumably to the bathroom.

I can keep up with Vicki's most accelerated pace easily, but somehow I just don't wanna. She's not speaking, she's not looking at me. She just strides towards the harsh light of the caff, only addressing me as I slow up behind her, hovering outside.

"Inside."

I slide in. And I'm immediately thinking about Sharon, kissing her, forcing my tongue into her warm mouth, having her receive me... having her pull away. I turn away from the wall and clamber obediently down into a chair, the one opposite clattering as Vicki throws herself down too, straightening her back and pulling nervously on her hands.

"So you've been lying to us all... you and Sharon... just so you can f*ck?"

"It's not like that."

"It's not?" she hisses, not believing me at all.

"No, it's not. Before tonight, I'd barely spoken to Sharon since..."

"Since the last time you were doing your own sister up against the wall?"

"Vicki!" I cry, gritting my teeth and feeling myself instinctively curl my hands into frustrated fists. "She's... she's not my sister. You know that."

Her otherwise pretty mouth falls open with a gasp, and she presses her palms pointedly against her heaving chest. "Do I? How am I meant to know that when... when you don't even know it yourself? Can't... Can't you see this is wrong?"

"No." I tell her honestly, shaking my head slowly. "I can't... and I'm sorry."

"No, you're not!" she scoffs. "If you were, Zoe wouldn't be back in the Vic half-dressed, covered in... I don't know what! You chose her Dennis, you wanted to be with Zoe!"

"I love Sharon. I always have... it was just hard."

"What? For you? Don't make me laugh, bet you loved it! You loved cheating Zoe... me... chasing Sharon because..."

"I love her Vicki... can't you see that?"

"What, you mean like Zoe saw it?"

"You... You were alright with it last time... you came round..."

"Only because I thought I had to! I really don't know why, but I love Sharon too... and I love you... and I believed you loved each other. I didn't like it - but I was stupid enough to believe it! So yeah, I got used to it cos I thought you must have meant a lot to each other to risk hurting everyone you knew... but then, Dennis... you saw sense..." She reaches across the table for my hands and I let her take them, pending only what she says next. "...you wanted Sharon but you wanted me too... you knew we were family... that that's all we're meant to be!"

"No!" I tear my hands away. "You're wrong! That's all we're meant to be... me and you... but Sharon... Vicki, I can't keep going round in circles like this darlin'. I didn't know this would happen... not like this..."

"Not like this...?" she echoes slowly, trying to catch my eye as I drop my gaze to the tablecloth. "So, it was gonna happen then... somehow?"

Oh shit. Is she putting words in my mouth or is she telling the truth? "I don't know... I don't know!"

"You must know! Did... Did you want to have sex with Sharon, or were you drunk... on something? Was she?"

I choke out a dry laugh. Talk about clutching at straws. "No. No, neither of us were."

"What so that's it? You're gonna rip our family apart again just because you can't keep it in your trousers?"

"Vicki, please... we didn't mean to hurt you... ever. We love you darlin'."

She huffs doubtfully as she glares at me. "Do you know how you're meant to love me?"

"What?"

"Cos you're meant to love Sharon the way you love me..."

I sigh, pressing my hands to my head and rubbing my temples. This is like beating my head against a brick wall, and it's beginning to feel like that too. "I can't keep doing this." I repeat slowly. "I love Sharon, I know that. And I know now that I shouldn't have left her."

"But you don't mind leaving me?"

"I'm not leaving you! Not if you'll just..."

"Accept it? What, you and Sharon screwing each brains out on the other side of the wall? Dennis, hearing you at it with Zoe was disgusting enough cos she's my friend, but I'm not listening to you fuck our sister, no!" 

Dennis' POV - 5:00a.m.

I can't stop myself bashing my fist into the table as I throw my chair back, leaping to my feet. "Oh, stuff this!"

Crashing out the caff, I hear her jump up and come after me, yelling "Well, why not?"

Dirty bitch, I mean I know she's angry but... 

"Leave me alone Vicki!" I cry viciously without turning round. There's no need, I can still hear her feet pounding against the pavement as she follows me. And I can't be near her if...

"Please... please don't do this... not again! Everything... it was alright as it was wasn't it? We were happy!"

I slow up guiltily, and she pulls desperately on my hand, so I force myself to turn round and face her, feeling as if she's kicked me in the stomach as she looks at me with those big sparkling eyes, tears brimming behind her eyelashes. I lift my thumbs and tenderly wipe away the stray droplets trickling down her cheeks.

"Don't do this to yourself." I tell her gently.

"I have to." she chokes desperately. "You have to see."

"No! No, I won't. There's nothing for me to-"

And it's like I'm paralyzed. I see her coming towards me, and I should have pushed her back then, but... never would it have occurred to me she'd do what she does next. She stretches up on her toes, those big eyes searching my face, her pretty lips quivering as she takes in every detail, and her shivering palms curl around my neck before... before she's forcing her mouth on mine, kissing me urgently where her lips just don't fit. And as she's shaking more and more, but she's not the only one! I shove her back, shell-shocked.

"Vicki! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She splutters, as if she's gagging on the realisation on what she's just done. But then she lifts her chin defiantly, sniffing back her tears and wiping her eyes. "Do you want me? C'mon, Dennis, I'm your sister, I'm just the same as Sharon, why don't you want me like you want her?"

"Oh my God. You can't think like that!"

"Why not? You must have thought like that about Sharon to want to be ripping her clothes off! So c'mon!" And she's wrenching at her clothes.

This can't really be happening. I mean, we're in the middle of the street and... this is like a nightmare.

"Stop! Stop it!"

"I bet that's not what you say to Sharon, is it? Don't start picking favourites, not until you've tried us both!" She's hysterical now, her eyes so wide, they look as though they could burst free of her head. "C'mon, Granddad's bench is over there, let's show him what you can do eh?"

"Please, Vicki, just come inside."

"What, like you will?"

I scoff, turning my head away, painfully unable to mistake her meaning. "Don't be so sick!"

"I'm not the sick one! It's you. You can't keep your grubby hands off her, our sister and... how could you do this to me? Why... Why... what did I do, why do you hate me so much?"

And the sobs just take her over and she stumbles, I rush forward and hold her up, my arms sliding around her back. She goes rigid for a moment before another racking sob pulses through her and she collapses against me, letting me hold her even though it's pretty obvious that if she wasn't crying so hard into my chest, she'd have run a mile in the other direction, totally repulsed by me.

It takes me a while to realise that I'm crying too. The hammering of my heart is countering her own and making my chest feel tight with the effort of pushing out each harrowing sob. I bundle her closer, feeling her tears dampen my clothes as my own slide down my cheeks, leaving hot, damp tracks.

"I don't hate you." I whimper, feeling my voice crack as the words spill out. "I'll never hate you. I love you. I love you so much... you're my little sister... and I don't wanna hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. And I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.... you have to believe me... Vicks, I love you... I'm so sorry... my little baby sister..."

I just keep rocking her, more through my own need then hers, even though she's still crying desperately. But I'm drowning her out. What have I done to her?

Sharon's POV - 4:35a.m.

So he's gone. He's chasing Zoe to the Vic, to watch her blow the whistle on us. It's not like he'll be able to stop her. "Oh hey Vicks, nah, Zo's fine, she just had a moment of temporary insanity and decided to cover herself in a year's worth of shampoo and enough feathers to stuff a pillow. No biggie, we're fine! Nope, honestly, I didn't just get caught screwing Sharon against the wall, it's all good!"

I had to let him go. If I'd have followed, it would have only made things worse. I can just imagine trashing the bar with Zoe's head, determined this time to rip her scalp off rather than sink my nails in. And that wouldn't have helped Vicki. Oh God, she's not gonna take to this very well. She found it hard enough the first time round, and if this time, if we mean it, if we really mean it, she'll go beserk. She was so happy when Dennis decided he wanted the family. I mean, she'd just about come to understand, but it didn't mean she liked it, it didn't mean she didn't long to just have her brother and her sister back.

I stand there on the stairwell, not really paying attention to the fact all I'm wearing is a shirt, that it's freezing cold and I can't actually feel past my knees anymore. All that I can focus on is Zoe hammering on the doors of the Vic, practically splintering the glass with her angry little fists, hollering Vicki's name, while he tries desperately to reason with her. But he must know he can't win. It takes a lot of will not to rush over there and beg him to fight for us. If I have to lose Vicki, I can't lose him too. I just can't.

But then Spencer opens the door, and Zoe shoves her way past. Dennis has no choice but to follow, and my chance is gone. So I stand there for a moment, shivering. Oh God, I'm so, so scared. I have to force myself to turn away and go back inside. I head straight up the stairs, deciding that I'm gonna get in the bath. I need to wash everything away, I need to be prepared for the fall-out. But I wanna be clean. I don't wanna feel dirty and ashamed. So for starters, I need to get the vomit out of my hair, scrub away the idea that that little slag ever laid a finger on me!

I run the bath and pour in the mandatory half litre of bubbles. I'm not stupid, I knew to check which bottles I was grabbing before emptying the contents out the window! I swirl them up and kick my clothes behind the door. I'll pick them up later. I just sink down into the boiling water, wincing as it sears at my skin. But I love it... just let it take it away.

The first thing I do is wash my hair, but then I just lie there. I've pretty much scoured myself raw as it is. So I just roll my head back and let the heavy scent of the bubbles make my head hazy, just hoping, praying that Vicki will come home with Dennis.

I hear the door slam and bolt out the bath immediately, snatching up the towel from the radiator, not even having a moment to appreciate the warmth of it against my skin as I wrap it round, rushing down the stairs.

"Dennis? Vicki? Oh God, I've been so worried-"

"Touching, Princess!"

"Dad!"

Oh my God. Oh God, oh no, oh no, oh f*ck.

He's stood there... holding armfuls of Zoe's clothes. Oh shit! The goose is well and truly cooked. Cooked, who am I kidding, it's f*cking ash and it's still lunch. I wanna look away. Cos I know I've gone bright red, and my gaze won't settle. But he doesn't seem to notice. He just moves into the kitchen, surveying the mess. Oh damn, why didn't I clean all this up?!

"What the hell happened in here?"

"I... I really don't know." I fib, pushing my dripping hair back from my face with the flat of my hand. "Dad, have you seen Vicki? Or Dennis?"

"Well give us a chance Princess!" he cries, dropping the clothes onto the table. "I only just got out the cab from the airport. But to answer your question, no, I haven't seen anyone. Why-" He looks at me suspiciously, and my heart stops, making it painful to draw breath again. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" I say brightly, knowing, just knowing that I'm not covering this at all. "It's just... Vicki didn't come home last night. We.. me and Dennis... we were worried, so he's gone out looking for her."

"Why?" he asks, with an air of disinterest, leaning over the sink to fill the kettle. "She's a big girl now, she's probably out with her mates at some club pulling an all nighter... you used to do that all the time when you were her age!"

"No I didn't! You always went mental at me if I came in past twelve!"

He just smirks as he turns back towards me, stirring his coffee before lifting it to his lips and sipping for a moment. This is so uncomfortable. I'm just staring at the clothes on the table, knowing what I'm gonna have to do, what I'm gonna have to say. And I think he knows it too. Cos he's watching me. 

"Seen anything you like Princess?"

"N-No."

"I found it all out on the street."

"Did ya?"

"Yeah... strange i'n't it? Cos I could have sworn that a couple of the tops were Zoe's..."

"You know they are, Dad." I tell him shakily, just wanting to steady the way I'm pushing out my breaths. Oh God, it's here, it's so nearly here.

He puts down the coffee mug, and wraps his hands around the edge of the draining board, leaning back and rolling his eyes. "What's that son of mine done now?"

That stings. He never ever calls Dennis his son. So that can only mean one thing. He knows, and he's playing with me, waiting for me to tell him. And I have no choice but to play right into his hands, not if I want to keep Dennis.

"Are you sure you haven't spoken to Vicki?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright then." I lick my lips nervously. "Maybe... Maybe you should sit down..."

"I'm fine standing."

"OK. Well, Dad, I'm begging you, please don't freak out..." Please don't take away my baby. Not again. "There's something you should know about Dennis... Dennis and me..."

Sharon's POV - 5:10a.m.

I feel sick. Dad just walked away from me. He didn't say a word. I told him what we'd done, Dennis and me, and he didn't say a word. That almost feels worse than him threatening to tear Dennis limb from limb. We were stood there for about five minutes, it felt so much longer because it was so tense, so... so silent. I almost begged him to talk to me, but tried to reach out to him instead, and he shrugged me away. I stumbled back into the glass, feeling it cut right back into my already damaged feet. The blood oozed out, I could feel it. But I didn't care. I just watched as Dad stormed into the lounge, slamming the door shut so hard behind him that I heard a couple of photographs fly off the sideboard thanks to the impact.

I just sit there, amongst all this mess, slumped, silent, and numb. I want to cry, but I just can't. Because I don't know what it is I'd be crying for. I'm too confused to bother with the effort. So I'm there, feeling naked and wet. I probably should go upstairs and put some clothes on but I'm cold and bleeding. I'm tired and I'm weak. I want Dennis, yes he'll be able to make it better. Won't he?

I've been watching the minutes tick by, missing him, needing him, praying he'll bring our sister home. He's been gone three quarters of an hour now. Oh God, what if he's changed his mind? What if he doesn't want me anymore?

No, No Sharon, don't think like that. I convince myself it'd be best to go and find him. I'll go get dressed, yeah... yeah that's right... I'll go find him. I get up in a hurry, trampling through the glass and just not thinking til I feel the searing pain. I fall against the stairs, wincing as I lift my foot. The pad of my thumb smears the trail of blood across my sole, dark and thick.

Ow.

I study the wound, wondering if there's gonna be any glass in there, cos it fucking kills. I hear the door click softly shut, and I drop my foot to the floor, trying to bite back a wail of pain. My first instinct is to look to the lounge door. Did Dad hear? But apparantly not cos the door stays shut. So I look apprehensively to the door. And there's Dennis, backed against it, nibbling on his lip.

"Oh!" I gasp in relief, pushing myself up. "Oh thank God, it's you!"

He can't even force himself to smile at me. 

"What happened... where's Vicki... where have you been?"

"Walking." he whispers. "Just walking."

He just stares at me, his eyes glittering like crazy, so wide and... his lips are quivering. Oh God, he's so pale. And he's shaking and...

"Dennis? Are you..."

He tries to smile as I step towards him, but it just drags his lips down as he surrenders to my question, sobbing. I reach out to touch him, but he shrinks back, straightening up against the door and tilting his head back, pulling his gaze back from me as he tries to stem his tears. But I can't not touch him, not when he so obviously needs me. So I lift my hand, but he pushes his way past with a wince.

"Don't!"

And he curls up on the stairs, crying still. I squeeze past him and settle a stair up from him.

"What... what's happened?"

"V-Vic... ki!"

"What about her?"

"She.." He presses his face harder into his knees, forcing in breaths amongst these huge wracking sobs before he looks up at me, tears brimming in his eyes. "Sharon... she came on to me."

I heard that wrong right?

"Vicki what?"

"Vicki kissed me. Reckons if I want you then I.... oh Sharon, we've screwed her up. She kissed me..."

"You let her?"

"No! I pushed her away and then... she just didn't understand... she was crying and... oh Sharon..."

And he just folds, not even minding as I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, feeling the vibration of his sobs in my chest. "Oh Dennis... darlin'... shhh.... shhh, it's alright... I'm here now..."

"She thinks I hate her because I don't... I can't... like with you... and... oh f*ck, I just can't..."

No! No! Don't do this to me now.

"Dennis?" I say sternly, pulling back, and wrapping my palms around his face, feeling the tears pulse down and wet my skin as I force him to look at me. I can see the sob in his throat that he's trying to gulp back, but he can't, because he has to look at me, taking in the way I'm shaking, trying not to cry too. "Please... don't you go giving up on me... I need you..."

Sharon's POV - 5:15a.m.

He battles his confinement, trying to fight off my hands by fiercely shaking his head as he sniffs back more tears. "No. No, you don't."

"Yes I do! I need you so much and..."

"No!" And he wrenches himself away, standing up, tensed as if he can't wait to back away from me. "If you'd seen her, Sharon... and what she was saying... it made sense. I didn't want it to because I don't... but she... how can I want you.... and not have at least looked at her... thought about her in the same way?"

Oh my God, did he really just say that?

"Have you?" I ask, feeling sickened at the very idea, and unfortunately, so unfortunately, immediately seeing Vicki's point.

"Never." he answers immediately, shaking his head again. "But you understood didn't you?"

"N-No." I stammer. But he just smiles weakly, nodding slowly as he takes in the undeniable look on my face.

"Yes, you did. You can't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes."

I tear my gaze away nervously, chewing on my lip. "Are you going to make me beg?"

"What for?"

I push myself up and rush over to him, snatching up his freezing cold hands. "For you. I'm not gonna lose you again Dennis, d'you hear me? I'm just not."

"Sharon..." he begins, drawing in a long breath. "I don't know if I can do this... I don't know if I can do this to Vicki. I love her... I really love her... and I don't think anything's messed with her head like that since..."

"OK. OK, I know. Maybe I don't... I mean, I wasn't there... but I love her too. She's my little sister. But don't forget, she made me choose before and you must know by now that it's always gonna be you-"

"I don't want there to have to be a choice! She doesn't deserve to be made to feel like that!"

"Sweetheart, stop it, you're getting yourself into a state!"

"I never wanted to hurt her Sharon, never! She's just a kid for Christ's sake!"

I lift my hands from against his to around his neck, drawing him close, rocking him gently as he cries. I shift a little so that my lips brush against his ear. "She knew how we felt... she knew it wouldn't go away... please, don't give in to her..."

"I love her." he repeats, pulling back with a gasp.

"You loved me."

Using the past tense lodges painfully in my throat as I watch the gradual flicker of his lips.

"I'll give you whatever... I'll be whoever... just... oh God... no, no I won't. Please Dennis, don't do this to me. Not now."

"I'm scared. I'm so scared..."

"I know. I know, me too!" I soothe, not very convincingly, hearing my voice crack, so many thoughts going through my head and I can pretty much hear all the same ones going through his head an' all. "Dennis..." I manage, working my fingertips against his pulsing throat and tilting up his chin so he looks at me. The sob squeezes past my nails as he gulps it back.

"Wha'?"

I sigh, trying to prepare myself. This is so pathetic, so desperate. But I just can't lose him. Not when I know who's waiting for us on the other side of the door I can't even bring myself to look at.

"I'm going to kiss you now... is that OK?"

He laughs nervously as he wipes his eyes, caught between understanding why I've asked him and being relieved that I didn't just dive on his lips like... like Vicki did.

Our lips meet gently, apprehensively, and I still feel him quiver, wondering if he's thinking he should pull back. But our kiss becomes firmer and more certain. My heart melts as I realise that even as we break apart, his eyes are still closed, savouring my taste, relaxed, not repulsed.

"Tell me you don't want me. Tell me you can walk away from me..."

"I can't... you know I can't."

Smiling so wide with the sense of relief that my jaw aches, I slide my arms around him, bundling him close. "You promise?" And I seem to choke on my next words. But I have to say them. I have no choice. "Because Dad knows..."

Dennis' POV - 5:20a.m.

"...Dad knows..."

Oh shit, shit, shit! Here's me, a miserable snivelling mess, worrying about Vicki, stupid enough to even think that I should let Sharon, the single most perfect thing in my whole life go and Den... he knows!

"H-How... When?"

"He's just got back from the airport... about half an hour ago... he found all of Zoe's stuff out on the street..."

"Sharon!"

"I know, I know alright!" she cries, pulling her towel around her that little tighter, shivering in shame, and no doubt good old fashioned cold as well. Then it hits me. Fuck, she's naked underneath that thing... she still has the soap suds on her shoulders... she's been going round naked for half an hour... alone with him... I couldn't put anything past that man. "It was a really dumb thing to do... I told him you were out looking for Vicki and he... I had to tell him, I'm sorry... I had no choice..."

"Where is he?" I ask, with no time for her other words. If she means this, if she wants me, then I'm gonna have to prove to her that the same is true for me before... before anyone can make me doubt us again... especially him. I've been here before with him, and Vicki... she can shake me, Vicki matters. But him...? Nah.

"Lounge. He's been in there ever since, but Dennis please-"

And she leaps in front of me, hoiking the towel up a little bit. And she blushes. Oh honey, it's not anything I haven't seen before. She pulls my hand back from the door handle and places her own around it, turning to me with a nervous little smile I can't help but return. She stretches up on her toes, pulling at the edges of the towel as she kisses me.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

"I mean it." she says firmly, wrapping her hand around the base of my neck, and pressing her nails in just a fraction. "And whatever happens in here, I'm begging you, don't forget it."

I manage a dry laugh. She's talking as though we're walking onto a battlefield and won't come out alive. Well, actually, that's probably not such a bad way to look at it, but it's not exactly a vote of confidence.

"I won't." I murmur to her, and her smile widens. Good, she believes me. So maybe, just maybe we can do this?

She slides into the room, and I step in after her, pushing the door that little bit further, the hinges groaning at this exertion. It's really dark. Well, of course it is, who the hell has the light on or the curtains drawn at five in the morning? There's Den, just sprawled there, his eyes as wide and cold as they ever are. He looks half dead. He probably feels like it too.

"Dad..." Sharon says gently, and I can hear that nervous little sound as she smiles at him. I step up behind her, my hands falling against her bare, damp shoulders and I watch as he looks back at her like she's not there at all, muttering

"Princess."

But his eyes seem to have no trouble on settling on mine. There's a definite curl in his lip as he nods. "Dennis."

"Den."

"Well, that's the pleasantries over with then!" he says brightly, heaving himself up. "Now get your grubby little paws off my daughter."

"Why? What you gonna do about it?"

"No, please... let's just stay calm eh?"

"Calm Princess? You mean like you were when he was all over you, or are we chalking that one down to temporary insanity?"

"I'm not mad, Dad. You have to understand that."

"How am I meant to understand my daughter... and my son..."

I can't stop myself laughing. That really is the classic line. "Don't make me laugh. You've always made it all too clear I ain't no son of yours, and I'm glad. This is all about Sharon..."

"Ain't it just?"

"No!" Sharon cries, looking between us both, panic rising in her beautiful eyes. "It's not! It's about us. And I'm sorry Dad, I'm truly sorry you had to find out like this but... this time, this is the way it has to be. There's nothing you can say... nothing you can do..."

"I very much doubt that." he hisses, glaring at me again. "What kind of animal are you?"

"Oh... I think you'll find that's between me, Sharon and the bed-post..."

He humours me with a laugh, and I just give him a tight smile.

"Y'know Dennis, I probably should have been there for you more when you were a nipper. Your slut of a mother must have done some pretty iffy things to you if you think this is... acceptable..."

Sharon assesses my reaction, and quickly steps in front of me as she sees me step forward on the balls of my feet. "Baby... it's OK..." And she spins round, looking angrily at Den, shivering as the fury envelopes her. "I can't believe you just said that. How can you be so cruel... so twisted? Why... Why would you say that? What has Dennis ever done to you?"

He narrows his eyes at her, like she couldn't have asked a stupider question. "He's here ain't he?"

"Well, that's hardly his fault is it?

"He'll ruin you all over again."

"No." she tells him certainly, shaking her head. "No, he couldn't, he never has. You ruined me Dad, you ruined my happiness. Please, don't do that to me again. Don't think you can take him away from me this time, cos I'm not gonna let you win."

"I don't wanna win, Princess - this ain't a game."

"No!" I chuckle sarcastically, "It's just a power trip to you ain't it? That's all any of this has ever been." I move forwards, and Sharon gulps, dutifully stepping behind me. "In 'ere - you're obsessed. She's nearly forty for fuck sake, and you still think you can control her. Tell her what to do - who to see...."

"When the person my daughter is seeing is my son I take issue."

"You really are determined to take the piss aren't you?"

His lip curls. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you fancy her. Almost as much as I do."

Dennis' POV - 5:30a.m.

In the split second that follows as he takes in my words, not so much as blinking, I see defeat in his eyes. Oh fucking hell - I'm right. But then he realises I'm looking at him, searching out the truth, and he gulps, lifting his head defiantly, a cruel smiling taking his cracked lips.

He lunges at me, grabbing me by the collar and shoving me hard against the wall. He leans in my face, spitting as he hisses: "You're even more twisted than I ever thought any son of mine could be."

"Dad!"

Sharon cries out desperately from the middle of the room, and it's only then I realise that that's the first time she's spoken since I said... she didn't disagree with me, tell me not to be so disgusting. Oh, my God... what if... what if she's been thinking it... all these years when... oh the poor darlin'.

I'm not afraid of him. Let him think he can beat me. He's gonna have to cut my tongue right out of my throat before I'm gonna stop telling it to him like it really is.

"Yeah well, guess what Den? I never asked to be your son. I asked to be with Sharon.... I asked to be her lover... and she let me in. You can't stand that can you? You can't stand the fact that it's me who gets to hold her, me who gets to lie in her bed... me who gets to hear her say she loves me." I shove him back. "It's always going to be me Den, not you. I know that's what you really want, and it makes me sick to think that either of us could ever have deserved a father as twisted as you."

He shoves me blindly away, and Sharon rushes at me, pulling me as close as she can without shifting the towel.

"Are you OK?"

I just smile, kissing her cheek gently, nodding as I turn back to Den.

"You wanna turn this into incest, then let's go for it mate. The cosy little father-son chat that is, before you go getting ideas..."

"You make me sick."

"Really? Well, I'm not surprised... everyone says I'm just like my old man, and it turns my stomach just to look at you! But come on Den, it's pretty obvious you and me have got things to talk about-"

"You're past reason if you think-" His gaze slides over to Sharon, but as soon as she notices she stares at the floor, backing off. Just like me, she can't seem to miss the masqueraded hunger in his eyes.

"What? That you want her? Why... I do... but then I guess she's not my daughter. I haven't been hanging over her since she was three years old... stop lying to yourself Den... even she can see it now, look at her..."

"Princess, you can't seriously believe what he's trying-" He reaches out to touch her, but she shrinks back. 

And she convulses, muttering, "Please... just don't touch me..."

He turns back on me. "What have you done?"

"You really want me to answer that?" I laugh as I draw in a breath. "OK then. Your precious Princess Den... I know every inch of her... I've kissed every inch of her... listened to her moaning, breathing so quick she can barely say a word. But she does... she says my name again and again and... that's my power trip."

"You disgust me. You get off on this!"

I smirk. Can't he see that that's the point? "Yeah, I do. And I can get her off an' all."

"If you don't shut your filthy mouth-"

"You'll what? Stop my pocket money? I gotta hand it to you Den, you're truly scaring me, cos I really feel like I've just nicked your girlfriend... and that's so wrong. And d'you know what's even worse? She's naked. If she so much as flinches, that towel's gone. You know it, I know it, and she knows it. And you had to shut yourself in here... away from her... because you know... and she didn't... until now your own precious daughter didn't understand the way you look at her... do you know how perverted that is?"

And I pull her forwards, my hand curling around her wrist.

"Dennis, please..." she murmurs desperately, her voice cracking. Oh God, she's going to cry.

"I'm sorry darlin'." I say, looking apologetically over at her and suddenly realising how sickened she looks. Oh God, Rickman, why won't you stop? "But this has to be said."

"No... No..."

"You want her. Don't deny it. You want her just like I do. I was the last one to touch her Den, is that what you want too huh? Well, go on then! Let's make this a full blown family affair shall we? Touch her!"

And I push her forward. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, barely hearing the words I'm saying, my beautiful girl's desperate sobs. What's happening to me?

Sharon just stands there in front of him, staring at the floor. Her chest is heaving so massively as she sobs that she can't keep the towel up, revealing more and more of her bust.

"No... No... please... Daddy, leave me alone..."

Sharon's POV - 5:30a.m.

"I think you fancy her. Almost as much as I do."

I'm going to be sick. He really, truly said that. I can see the flicker as his words register on my father's otherwise emotionless face. And then, he smiles, and in the next second is throwing Dennis back across the room, slamming him hard against the wall. I hear him wince as his spine hits the surface, and just the idea of his pain goes through me like a knife.

"You're even more twisted than I ever thought any son of mine could be." he hisses, leaning in close, invading Dennis' space. I just know that's gonna make him flip.

"Dad!" I cry, rushing across the room, pleading with him. Anything to occupy my mind other than what Dennis has said. Because... as sickening as it is... just like Vicki kissing Dennis... it makes sense... oh God, oh no... Sharon, please don't think like that.

"Yeah well, guess what Den? I never asked to be your son. I asked to be with Sharon.... I asked to be her lover... and she let me in. You can't stand that can you? You can't stand the fact that it's me who gets to hold her, me who gets to lie in her bed... me who gets to hear her say she loves me." I shove him back. "It's always going to be me Den, not you. I know that's what you really want, and it makes me sick to think that either of us could ever have deserved a father as twisted as you."

As Dad shoves him away, I awkwardly put my arms around him, drawing him close through sheer relief. "Are you OK?"

He smiles, the escaping breath warm against my skin as he gently kisses my cheek, answering me without words before he turns back to Dad.

"You wanna turn this into incest, then let's go for it mate. The cosy little father-son chat that is, before you go getting ideas..."

"You make me sick."

"Really? Well, I'm not surprised... everyone says I'm just like my old man, and it turns my stomach just to look at you! But come on Den, it's pretty obvious you and me have got things to talk about-"

"You're past reason if you think-" His gaze slides over to me, and I look away. No, I just can't look at him. I can't bear to be near him. I move back, feeling bile rise in my throat. Dennis is right...

"What? That you want her? Why... I do... but then I guess she's not my daughter. I haven't been hanging over her since she was three years old... stop lying to yourself Den... even she can see it now, look at her..."

"Princess, you can't seriously believe what he's trying-" He reaches out to touch me, but I move even further back. 

And I shudder, muttering, "Please... just don't touch me..."

He turns back on Dennis, demanding furiously "What have you done?"

No Dad, what have you been doing?

"You really want me to answer that?" he laughs as he draws in a breath. "OK then. Your precious Princess Den... I know every inch of her... I've kissed every inch of her... listened to her moaning, breathing so quick she can barely say a word. But she does... she says my name again and again and... that's my power trip."

"You disgust me. You get off on this!"

He smirks. Why is my skin crawling? Baby, stop, please just stop. "Yeah, I do. And I can get her off an' all."

"If you don't shut your filthy mouth-"

"You'll what? Stop my pocket money? I gotta hand it to you Den, you're truly scaring me, cos I really feel like I've just nicked your girlfriend... and that's so wrong. And d'you know what's even worse? She's naked. If she so much as flinches, that towel's gone. You know it, I know it, and she knows it. And you had to shut yourself in here... away from her... because you know... and she didn't... until now your own precious daughter didn't understand the way you look at her... do you know how perverted that is?"

Before he's even sucked in a breath, his hand's around my wrist, digging in uncomfortably, and I wince, not prepared as he drags me forward. And I hate it, but I don't trust him. I don't know what he's taking me too, and I'm afraid. I'm petrified, even more so than when he told me he left a hole in Jack Dalton's face. I can't breathe, and I'm crying, the tears are stinging in my eyes.

"Dennis, please..." I'm begging him. Oh my God, I've been reduced to begging the man I love not to hurt me. Why... why is he doing this to me?

"I'm sorry darlin'." he replies, looking over to me. "But this has to be said."

"No... No..." My voice is breaking. Is there nowhere I can be safe if this cruel... if this is my reality?

Dennis still has hold of my wrist, almost as if he's brandishing me like a weapon, and I just want him to let go, to stop hurting me. But I realise as I take in the manic way he's addressing Dad that he isn't Dennis. I don't know where he is, but I sure as hell need him back. He'd never say these things, he'd never hurt me like this. Dennis loves me.

"You want her. Don't deny it. You want her just like I do. I was the last one to touch her Den, is that what you want too huh? Well, go on then! Let's make this a full blown family affair shall we? Touch her!"

But I can't be so sure. Because he shoves me forward, watching me stumble, and not saying a word, not caring. I have to keep the distance between Dad and me. I need to breathe, but all I can do is cry, not even having the strength to hold up my towel as it slides slowly down with the force of each sob. I'm exposing more and more of my naked body, and I don't know that my own father isn't drinking in the image happily

And I... I don't know for certain that he will disobey Dennis. I don't know that he doesn't long to touch me. My dad... my precious dad, the man that made me feel like I was the only little girl in the world from the day he brought me home. My daddy...

"No... No... please... Daddy, leave me alone..."

Sharon's POV - 5:40a.m.

He looks at me piteously. Watching the way I'm crying, hysterical, inconsolable. At least I think that's what he's doing. He's nothing more than a blur, my hot tears are coming so thick and fast. Never have I felt so betrayed. Dennis did this to me. He put the idea into my head, he made me feel this sick. Why does he hate me so much... so I knew I'd lose everything in his favour, but he didn't need to destroy it so savagely before I surrendered it... for him... I just, I don't understand.

"Sharon." Dad says gently, putting his hand on my arm and guiding me the rest of the way forward. "C'mon darlin', you know it's not true, you know this is wrong... you know he's wrong... it's alright, your Dad's here now."

I can't fight him and just fold into his arms like the little girl I wish so desperately for him to see me as. Nothing else, please, nothing else.

"Now try and tell me you love my daughter... tell her..." he sneers. "See if she believes you."

And there's the instinct that says I should protect him. I love Dennis as much as I ever did, but how can I? No, I can't, so I let it pass me by. Cos, y'know, I don't know if I would believe him, but... oh, just to hear him say it...

And somewhere, above my own painful sobbing, I hear his quivering voice. "Sharon... oh Sharon... I'm s-s-sorry... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean it. You must know I never meant to hurt you... forgive me darlin' please, I don't know what I was..."

"Yes... you... do!" I gasp, each word hurting. "Go... away..."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"I don't... wa-want you... near me..."

"But you can stand him?"

"He's my dad. He looks after me..."

"That's right, Princess." he whispers, stroking my hair. "That's what's I do... Now, I think you heard her... get out of this house."

And I look away as I realise Dennis is beaten, that he's going to walk away. I'm relieved, but at the same time it hurts so badly. I thought... I was stupid but I thought we meant something. But my dad's all I have now. So I wind my arms around him tighter. But then... oh God, my blood runs cold as he nestles down into my shoulder, whispering,

"Just you and me then Princess..."

Dennis' POV - 5:45a.m.

Oh God. I've lost her. I've gone and lost Sharon. What did I do... why did I do it? She wanted me gone and... I got as far as the hall. I mean, I opened the door, but I couldn't walk through it, slamming it shut again and just slumping against the wall, trying not to make my sobs too audible as they tore through me, making my chest feel tight and robbing me of breath. But that doesn't matter, I deserve the pain!

I just listen to the sound of her crying, him shushing her. He's still touching her... she's still letting him touch her. Why? Why won't she see?

I tilt my head back, rocking and savouring the pain as I smack my head rhythmically against the wall, groaning with the pain, a satisfied smile playing on my lips. But then, Sharon rushes past, head bowed, her hand clamped over her mouth as she chokes. On what I don't know, but I'm sure as hell gonna find out!

"Sharon?"

She turns round so fast, she almost loses her footing on the stairs and falls, but she just looks at me, her eyes wide with panic before she turns and rushes up the stairs. And I can see her fumbling hands pulling the towel so tight around herself that her skin is changing colour. Her bedroom door slams, and Den rushes out into the hall. I push him back, aware of how much I hate him. I shove him forcefully back as I leap onto the stairs, barricading his way.

"Stay away from her."

I don't even wait to hear his retort, pushing myself up the rest of the stairs two at a time. I can hear Sharon moving something heavy against the door.

"Sharon!"

"Leave me alone!"

"C'mon..." I sigh. "...it's me... it's just me... I'll just... I'm gonna sit outside OK? We can talk..."

"I don't wanna talk! Not to you, not ever! Go away!"

"I can't. Not til I know you're OK..."

"I'm not ever going to be OK!" she screams through very loud sobs that sound like they're going to make her sick. "You don't know what you've done! What he's done... oh God..."

"Sharon!" I hammer on the door, pulling on the handle simultaneously, even though I know it's pointless because whatever is on the other side of the door ain't gonna budge. Even when she's hysterically upset, Sharon ain't daft. "Sharon, if you don't open this door right now, I'm gonna kick it in!"

"F*ck off!"

Oh God, open the door, please. Guilt makes my throat run dry, my heart pound. What if she hurts herself?

"Baby... did he hurt you? Did Den hurt you... did he touch you, cos I swear... if he did, I'll-"

"You'll what? Charge him?"

"What? No! Sharon, please! Did he touch you?"

"No!" And her voice shatters this time as she succumbs to more sobs. I turn towards the wall, ramming my fist in again and again, letting out all my frustrations, all my frustrations, and not really noticing, caring as the skin on my knuckles flakes away, leaving blood and stinging scratches. The adrenaline pulses through, and soon, I can't bear the fact that there is any distance between us at all and start kicking at the door, just as I promised.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

"Let me in Sharon!"

I hear her move what I can only assume is a chair back from the door and push down the handle. I burst in, and she's cowering in the corner of the room, away from me. She's gotten dressed, but that's not what matters. What does is the fact that she's shaking so badly... tears going down her cheeks, so many tears. And she gasps in fright as I step forwards, trying to move back and only meeting the wall. Oh God, she's frightened of me.

"It's... It's just me... please... Sharon, it's just me..."

She bites down on her lip, nodding. "Just you... and me now, Pr-Princess.... j-just you and m-m-me..."

"Is that... Is that what he said to you? Oh Sharon... what did he do?"

"N-Nothing.... but you made me believe he might. Why....Why did you do that?"

"I... because... oh I don't know!"

She stumbles forward, smiling in spite of herself. I move towards her, and her smile doesn't falter, and God, I'm just so relieved she's letting me close again. I clutch her quaking hands and she rests her forehead against mine as she sniffs back a fresh wave of tears, tracing patterns across my raw, weeping knuckles with the pad of her thumb.

"I love you Dennis." she says weakly. "God help me but I do... and all you can do is break my heart. Let me go. Please just let me go..."

Dennis' POV - 5:50a.m.

"No. No, you don't mean that."

"Why don't I?" she challenges, dropping my hands abruptly, not even caring as her jewellery catches on the snagged skin barely covering my bloody knuckles. "Do you even know what you've done?"

And she looks up into my face, these big bright darting eyes searching for recognition of my mistakes. But I can't voice them. The words I need to apologise are lodged in my throat. I just can't say them. I'm too ashamed. But she misinterperates my silence, and gulps back a sob as she staggers back.

"I don't believe you! I just don't..."

And she flies from the room, pounding down the stairs, and it takes a moment for my own body to register what it is I'm meant to do if I am to follow. And of course, I will follow. Somehow, I will find the words. Crashing out of the house and calling her name, I leap down the stairwell. She's just about to step off the pavement. She's within touching distance, if I just...

Leaning that little bit more forwards, I inveitably overbalance and crash into her. She screams, spinning round and fighting me off. I don't know whether it's her instinct or whether it's cos she knows it has to be me.

"Get off me! What the f*ck do you think you're doing? Get your hands off me!"

"Sharon... it's alright... it's alright!" I cry, steadying her.

"No it's not!" she bites back, flinging me off. "How can this ever be alright? Oh, I know... c'mon Dennis, tell me you love me, tell me you mean it!"

"I do mean it! Sharon, I've always loved you..." And I'm acutely aware of how pathetic that sounds. And she obviously knows it too, as she launches herself at me, her hands raining down again and again, not caring where her nails, her jewellery anything catches me, just wanting to hurt me, cause me pain even though it can never be anywhere close to what I've made her feel.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

I lift my arms, wrapping them round her and restraining her. She fights and wriggles, but her energy saps away quickly. So she glares at me instead, and the venom in those eyes, God, it cuts deep.

"You... You used me... you made me feel so dirty... I never thought you'd do that... because I'm not dirty. Least I wasn't before-" And she pushes me back. "-You violated me... not just my love... not just the trust I had in you... you violated me...  You made me cheap... so I know I don't matter to you... and I know you never loved me..."

"No!"

"Yes! Dennis, you offered me to my own father... like all I am is your whore! You're telling me he wants me like you want me, telling him to touch me like you touch me... and I thought... I thought we were important... I thought we were special because we were fighting so hard... but you... you sold me.... to my own dad... so you didn't take his money but... you may as well have... you may as well have held me down... in fact, it feels like you did."

I'm staring at her, I'm hearing her, and I'm hating myself. I do, I love her so much and yet each and every one of her words is true. I'm disgusting.

"Sharon, please!"

"No." she leaps back again, avoiding my blind touch. "Don't touch me. I'm dirty enough as it is." And stares at the floor, blinking back her tears as she forms her words, each one of them obviously very hard to bring into her mouth. "Y'know Dennis, you may as well have forced yourself on me. As well as him. Because that's what this feels like. You may as well have raped me..."

Sharon's POV - 5:55a.m.

I splutter as I realise what I've said. He raped me. OK, so he didn't hold me down, cover my mouth, in fact, sex wasn't even involved, but the implication, the most definite implication. Him, stood there, waiting for our father to prove him right, to touch me in a way he knows only he can. And what, what if he had? What would Dennis have done then?

He just stands there, looking at me. Remorseful tears are brimming in his eyes, and I can tell he's simply dying to look away, but he just can't. This is the man that killed the first person he ever thought cared about him, but I just know that this is ten times worse for him. Good.

He's crying... he's truly crying. Why... Why is my heart breaking? I step up towards him, wrapping my palms around his face, watching the tears pulse down. Then I stretch up and kiss the tears away, savouring the saltiness on my parched lips.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not, why should you be? You're right. I... I make myself sick. Sharon... I never meant... I just... I got the red mist... I can't justify it but I... I never meant to hurt you... ever... I just... I couldn't let him win..."

"He did though Dennis. He won the moment your hand was around my wrist... it's alright... you don't have to want me, it's fine..."

But it's not. Because somewhere inside him is the man I love, the man that would have given his last breath to preserving our love. But all I have is this one, the one that threw that love away as he gave me to our father.

"No... No..."

"Shhh... Shhh... it's alright."

"No! Sharon, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... please... don't... don't... I'll do anything..."

"Alright." I whisper, reaching up and kissing away the ever rushing stream of tears from his face. "Tell me you remember making love to me."

"Oh God... of course I do..." And a smile dares to dance across his lips.

"You tarnished that tonight you know baby. You ruined my every memory of you."

His face crumples, and it's almost satisfying to know I've hurt him. And yet, I can't stop myself feeling that guilt as he whimpers desperately. "No... No... I didn't... I can't have..."

"Yes you can. And I'll miss you so much. You were so special." 

However much he repulses me, however much I want to hate him, the love, it just swells, it eclipses everything else and I hate myself for being so weak. I find myself choking on a sob, that I try, and immediately fail miserably at trying to disguise it as a laugh. I just trace the outline of his lips softly with my thumbs. 

"And I hate you for being right... it's never gonna be that good with anyone ever again is it? It's never gonna mean so much... I tried for you y'know, I tried so hard. But you managed to break even me... me who was gonna give up everything for you..."

And I force myself to smile, to turn... to walk away without knowing where it is I'm going. Knowing only that I have to ignore him desperately calling me back, that I have to ignore the rush of blood that screams for me to turn back, to run right back into his arms, to forgive him. I have to forget the way my head aches, pounds... the way the world seems to swim... the way my legs fold underneath me...

Dennis' POV - 6:00a.m.

"And I hate you for being right... it's never gonna be that good with anyone ever again is it? It's never gonna mean so much... I tried for you y'know, I tried so hard. But you managed to break even me... me who was gonna give up everything for you..."

Oh God, no! This is it, this is her goodbye. She's going to leave me. No, please, no! The tears keep coming. I just can't stop them, and neither can she. What have I done?

You deserve this Rickman; it's her right to break your heart. You... You broke her. Den's right. How can you expect her to believe you love her ever again when you... you... oh you bastard!

The moments drag painfully by, taunting me because I know this is it. This is the end. I've destroyed the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and I'm just waiting... praying she won't, but knowing she will walk away.

She smiles, she turns, and she goes. My only instinct is to call for her, even though I know it's pointless. My voice cracks with just the effort of saying her name so desperately. But then, she folds, and I have to be there. 

"Sharon!"

I bolt forwards and she collapses like a rag doll into my arms. Winding my arm around the backs of her calves, I lift her up, and she's just... she's lifeless, her eyes rolling back.

"Oh... it's alright darlin', it's alright, I'm here... I'm here..."

But that's not gonna help her is it? I don't know what to do. I'm panicking, really panicking. I can't take her home and I... 

I'm looking round the Square, just hoping for some help, barely able to breathe. And then, yes of course!

"You're gonna be fine, I swear..."

I move as quickly as I can without jeopardising her, looking nowhere except her face, her greying, motionless face, and my tears still coarse down. What have I done?

I can't free a hand to rap on the door of number twenty-five. All I can do is kick at it, hoping, just hoping that Dot's budgie had a restless night. It seems an age before I hear the rattling of the chain, and believe me, never have I been so thankful to see Jim in his string vest.

"Hold up, hold up, where's the f-" His bleary eyes bulge as he catches sight of me, the mess I'm in, Sharon limp in my arms. "Sharon?"

And without more words, he just leaps back and I rush through to their darkened lounge, the weak morning light fighting through their heavy curtains.

"What happened to her?"

"Jim, I'm really sorry, just please..."

"Alright son, alright!" he nods, turning round and rushing up the stairs, calling "Dorothy? Dorothy!"

"Jim? Jim, what on earth is it?" He leads her back in and looks pointedly at me. Wonderful, wonderful Dot, as ever in her hairnet and curlers.

"Dennis!" I barely manage to tilt my head to recognise her address, but that doesn't matter, cos she's looking at Sharon, with the same horrified expression as Jim had had. "Oh dear Lord... Sharon..."

"I hurt her Dot." I choke. "I really, really hurt her."

"Did ya? C'mon now, lie her down... Jim, fetch some cool flannels..."

He scuttles off with an obedient nod as I do as Dot tells me too, lowering Sharon gently down onto the cushions of the sofa. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

Listening to my desperate whimpering, Dot moves forward, resting her hand on my arm. "Dennis..." she says gently. But she somehow doesn't see fit to carry on as I sob, falling down next to Sharon and moving her hair back from her face with quaking hands.

"Please say she'll be OK... please..."

"Did... Did she hit her head?"

"No... she just... collapsed... I-I was there, so she didn't... but oh God, this is all my fault!"

Jim's back, handing the pile of flannels, heavy and dark with water to Dot. "C'mon son, I'm sure that's not true." and Dot smiles encouragingly. But I shake my head.

"We... We were going to be together... it was going to be OK.... Sharon, please!"

And the both of them take in the way I'm shaking, and Jim's hand comes against my shoulder, and I flinch.

"Maybe... maybe it's best you don't touch her eh?"

That just makes the sob caught in my throat explode. "Touch her..." I echo miserably, so angry at myself, wishing I could tear myself open, bleed out my anger, my remorse, let her savour my pain. "Touch her... no, don't touch her! Leave her alone! Please... just leave her alone... I don't want you to touch her.... I didn't mean it... Sharon... oh Sharon, I never meant it..."

Dennis' POV - 6:10a.m.

Dot literally has to pull me up from the floor, guiding me out of the room. I want to fight, I want to scream that I have to stay by Sharon's side, that I have to make it right, but I don't have the energy, I don't have the words to justify why. Why should I be allowed to stay with her - why? Somehow, I find myself in the kitchen, Dot closing the door behind her with a gentle click before she turns bck to me and says...

"Now then..."

But she doesn't get any further, because another sob tears through me, and my chest heaves painfully as I let it take me over. With an empathetic sigh, she steps up and draws me close. I hold onto her with all my might as I cry into her shoulder.

"Oh... my poor boy... it's alright... everything's going to be alright..."

And she rocks me gently, releasing shusing noises until it at all sounds like I can breathe, like I am calm. Then she moves back, waiting for me to show I'm OK, even if she knows it can't be true. I raise a weak smile, if not just for the concern in her kind eyes, and turn away to the sink, running the tap and wetting my hands, running them over my face to disperse the tears as I gulp in breath.

When I look up again, Dot is offering me sheets of kitchen towel, which I take to dry off the water.

"Now sit."

I do. There's something about Dot that can make me do... can make me belive whatever she says. She's like the voice of reason I never had... she's like my.... my mum. She cared about me right from the moment she first met me. That's special. And she... she believed in me... in me and Sharon, and now... I'm gonna have to tell her what I did and then... even Dot, wonderful, wonderful Dot is gonna give up on me.

"Will Sharon be OK?"

"I should think so. She's faint, that's all. Just give her some time to get herself together... and tell me what on earth has happened!"

I laugh nervously, pulling at the flaking skin on my knuckles, anything so I don't have to answer her. And she notices my unease, dropping her gaze and deciding to play my game.

"How'd you do that?"

"Punched the wall."

"Why?"

"Angry." I mumble.

"What at?" she enquires, not missing a beat.

"Everything. You don't know what I did Dot, I'm disgusting... you don't know what I did to her..."

"Well, I won't unless you tell me."

"You'll hate me." 

Her features soften, and I want to yell at her that she shouldn't keep a regard for me, that I don't deserve it. But what she says next breaks my heart.

"I very much doubt that. Dennis, there's nothing you could say that I... well, I love you very much... and I'll always listen... so please... talk to me..."

But I can't, guiltily hanging my head, shaking out my disobedience. A few seconds pass by and then she breaks the awkward silence.

"You said.... You said you hurt her... what did you mean?"

"I broke her. She doesn't want me anymore, and who... who can blame her eh? Look at me... look at her, look what I did!"

"Shh... shhh! That's not your fault, that's truly not your fault."

"It is!" I cry. "She was going to be with me... I nearly had her back!"

"What? Sharon...? You mean... Zoe...?"

I laugh bitterly. "You always knew it wasn't right didn't you Dot... me being with Zoe? You knew Sharon was the one even when I couldn't admit it. How did you do that?"

"I used me eyes... it really wasn't hard to see..."

"We... me and Sharon... we told her that we... that we needed to be together... it was my chance, to make everything right with her... so Zoe went, I mean, she had no choice, but bloody hell she didn't go quietly. She went over to the Vic... told Vicki and she... oh God... Vicki... it really messed with her Dot, and I mean really. She... She kissed me."

"Ooh I say!" she said slowly, sounding much like she was wincing as she drew in a long overdue breath. "The poor girl..."

"I thought she'd be OK, I mean... she came round last time, but she said... me getting with Zoe, she thought I'd come to my senses... and I hadn't had I? I'd lost them, that's all. I'd lost Sharon, and I swore... I swore I wouldn't do that again... but just like last time.. there was Den..."

"Den?"

"Den." I repeat, confirming that she had definite reason to flinch. "The man makes me sick. He tried to say it was wrong, just like he did last time, I thought I could handle it but I snapped. And I hurt her... the things I said... but they're true, the way he looks at her, the way he talks to her, the way he thinks he can control her. If it's wrong... if what I feel for Sharon is wrong then it's only because I got it off him..."

"Dennis!" she gasps, horrified. Well, so am I, I'm repulsed, by him, by myself. So I just stare at her, making sure she can take in the cold seriousness in my eyes.

"I mean it... but I should never have... oh God, I don't know if she'll ever forgive me..."

"What did you do?"

"I..." I don't wanna say. I want to let the words get stuck in my dry throat. I just want them to die. I never want to say them, but I have to. "I told him to... to prove that he... wanted her... I should never... I told him to touch her..."

And when I finally bring myself to look at her, I can see the look in her eyes I always saw in Den's. She finds me despicable.

"I... I wasn't thinking straight... I was angry... panicking... I never meant it... I... I just need her back..." But none of my words seem to be registering in Dot's eyes. They don't seem so warm anymore. She's just looking at me, her mouth hanging agape. Yep, I've alienated her too. Oh God... "Tell me if the Lord above forgives that Dot... tell me if you forgive that..."

She looks at me doubtfully, getting up and pulling a crumpled packet of cigarettes from a drawer, and cursing when she can't mind the matches. I dutifully get up, pulling my lighter from my back pocket and offering her the flame. 

"Here."

She leans in, and the tip catches it immediately, flaming. "Ta." she mutters, sucking in the poisons.

And we just stand there in silence. I hunch my shoulders and shift my weight from one foot to the other, wondering when she'll put me out of my misery and speak. But she doesn't, and I just can't bear it. But there's a distraction, just behind me, as Jim shuffles into the room. I catch sight of him out the corner of my eye, and spin round so fast, I swear I can feel the fleeting, itching sensation of a burn as the end of Dot's cigarette burns my neck. She realises and leaps back, leaving the cool air to lick at it and soothe it.

"She's coming to." Jim says simply, tilting his head. And... oh I'm so relieved, I almost throw my arms around him. But he seems to understand and just smiles as I push my way past. But then... I have to stop and look back.
 
"Dot... please... please say you forgive me."

"I ain't got nothing to forgive you for..." she shrugs. "...if you say you love Sharon, and you mean it-"

"I do..."

"Then make your peace with her...."

Sharon's POV - 6:15a.m.

My head hurts. I feel tired, I don't wanna open my eyes, but I have to, because I'm afraid. I'm staring at a ceiling that ain't mine... I shouldn't be staring at a ceiling at all - I was outside! The knot of fear in my stomach tightens as I struggle up, the blood rushing to my head making me feel woozy. I realise I'm in Jim & Dot's living room - what the hell am I doing here?

"Oh thank God!"

I nearly scream, the shock of that meek voice, loaded with relief, making me leap out of my skin. I assumed I was alone, everything seemed so dark and quiet and still. But there's Dennis, backed up against the door, his lips playing host to the most heart-rendering smile. Or at least, that's what I would have thought, but now, my only instinct is to get away from him. And yet, I can't. I swing my legs to the floor, wanting to get up, wanting to run, but my head's just too light and my limbs feel like lead.

I press my hands to my face, groaning quietly, knowing that I'm gonna have to talk to him. "What happened?"

"I don't know... Dot says you fainted.... but oh darlin', I was so scared."

I whip my head round and glare at him. "Sharon." I snarl.

"What?"

"You're not to call me anything other than Sharon ever again. Got that? In fact, I'd prefer it if you never spoke to me ever again, but we can't hope for everything can we?"

His beautiful features twist into tortured confusion, and satisfaction stirs. Weak, but it's there and right now, that's all that matters. As he comes towards me, I shrink back and somehow, I'm surprised to find how much he repulses me.

He notices, his lips falling as he pushes back whatever's littering the coffee table and sits opposite me, lacing together his shaking hands. I stare at them, trying to remain cold, and instead feeling piteous.

"Sharon, I-"

"Please... don't. You're making my skin crawl..."

He spits out a laugh as he leans back, gazing around the room with those manic eyes. "Good memories this place holds eh?"

"Jack." I gulp, in a way that makes it sound and feel that I'm going to be sick. "That seems so long ago now."

"Does it? Not for me. I still lie awake at night... thinking how... even when... you knew what I'd done... you still gave me another chance..."

"More fool me eh?" I scoff. "Must get a kick outta letting you break my heart... how many times is it now?"

"Don't." He pleads, shaking his head slowly. "Please, Sharon... I have to make this right."

"You can't. Dennis, you coulda killed ten men.... fifty... a hundred... I don't care... I'd still have loved you... I'd still have given everything to be being with you. After everything you told me that day, everything I heard... I felt sick... I had a couple of nightmares but it didn't change the fact that I loved you..." I look at him, and all that looks back is the pain of my words. I steel myself to lift my hand and gently caress his cheek. "My murderer.."

He shoves my hand away a second later, tears glistening as he turns away, trying to sniff them back,

I press my hands into my lap, fighting the urge to fidget, as all these thoughts whir round in my head, spilling out into words before they're even properly thought.

"I remember... "I feel sick at myself for letting you touch me." But... oh..." He winces, looking fleetingly up at me as I shake my head gently. "...it just wasn't true. Because even when I knew you'd left a great... bleeding... hole in Jack Dalton's face... we'd be lying together and... I'd still want you to touch me... and then... it was never fucking... or even sex. Dennis, we made love - murderers don't feel that kind of passion darlin'. You took something that... maybe didn't even mean anything to you once and you made it special... I don't know how but you did... but with you it really meant something, and I believed you when you said you loved me... I believed you every time..."

He can't decide whether he can bear to hold my gaze, or whether he should stare shamedly at the floor, switching continually between the two as he shakes more and more, the tears still brimming, begging to fall.

"I do love you... I do! Sharon please, I-I love you so much, don't-"

He's silenced as I push myself up and move unsteadily around the room, pulling at the rings weighing down my fingers. He gets up too, as if worried I'm going to fall, so I whirl round to face him, barely managing to shake my head as a sob presses painfully against my throat.

"No you don't darlin'. It's OK, you don't have to pretend anymore..."

"No!" he growls, frustrated at himself, curling his hand into a fist it's pretty obvious he wants to slam somewhere. I step forward, just wondering if that'll tempt him. "I'm not pretending!"

"Yes you are. You took the most... intimate thing... and you made it cheap... dirty and meaningless. I never thought you'd do that... not to me... not when you made it so special. So maybe it was true after all eh? I do feel sick at myself for letting you touch me."

Sharon's POV - 6:25a.m.

He just stares at me. It makes me nervous because he's shaking - he's trying to control it, but my words are cutting too deep, and I can see the sob pulsing against his throat. And as it explodes, I force myself to move slowly across the room, crouching down in front of him. He brings in a frightened little gasp as he registers my closeness. I shake just as much as him, knowing that if I wasn't wedged between him and the sofa, I'd fall over. But that doesn't matter. Because he's looking at me and I'm looking at him, raising my hand to brush his tears away, shaking my head sadly.

"I don't want to say these things darlin'... I don't wanna mean them because I love you so much... I have for so long... you know that don't you?"

He nods jerkily, choking and spluttering on his next sob.

"And this hurts... this hurts so much because we nearly... we'd nearly done it... Zoe was gone... Vicki, well... but it didn't matter because I believed I was gonna have you, and this time... I really wasn't gonna let you go... and you..." I uncurl his slippery hand, I don't know why, but I press his fingers against my navel. He flinches and I somehow guide him lower, the vibration of his shivering playing across my groin as he realises where he is touching me. And it's like I'm realising for the first time too, shoving him back as if it was him that reached out, even though I know it was me.

"Only you." I whimper, hearing the tears creep in. "It was only ever... m-meant to be you..."

And I fold, crying just as much as he is, and hating myself because I wanted to be stronger than this in front of him. I need him to know that the extent of the hurt he has caused me means the way he supposedly loved me can't get to me anymore. But it can because that love is still so raw, and even now, when I should mean that I never want to speak to him again, that love's still true. A fierce all consuming love and I don't know what to do without it.

Before I realise what is happening, Dennis' arms are around me. I don't resist him as he pulls me close, winding my arms around him tight and sobbing just as he does into my shoulder.

"Why... Why did you do this to me?"

"I never... m-meant to... he... the way he is with you m-makes me..."

"Jealous?" I whisper, drawing back and resting my forehead against his. My hands are rested around his jaw, drawing him so close, his tears are practically on my face, their saltiness drenching my lips.

"No. Not jealous. He's wrong Sharon... he's so wrong..."

"The only thing that's wrong here is us Dennis. We're wrong.. we knew it. I'm not meant to be in your bed.... you're my father's son."

"No!" he wails, like I've just stabbed him and left the wound to bleed. "I won't be your fuckin' father's son Sharon... look what it's done to me! Look what being anywhere near him does to me.. to us. I never wanted to be anything to do with him... all I wanted was you!"

"I know. And in every sense of the word you had me. You brought me here... to this... why? Ten seconds more and we'd have walked out of there together. I wouldn't be afraid to have you close to me.. I don't understand... darlin', please... talk to me... make me understand... tell me where my baby went... I want him back..."

"I want you too." he chokes, gulping back his tears.

I nod gently. It's not rational, it makes no sense, it goes against everything my every emotion, my body tell me. But this is Dennis. He's everything. And he's so close, so heart-breakingly close. There's nothing I can do except kiss him. He's not forgiven, and he knows it, a moment's shocked contemplation before he answers me. But this kiss is not meant to be more than a whisper, and I tilt my head away as soon as I know his lips are against mine, still so very close.

"That's what I'm afraid of." I whisper.

His painful intake of breath is all that recognises my words.

"What if... every time I let you kiss me... touch me... every time I thought you were making love to me... what if... you were just thinking my... her dad wants to do this to her. I can see it, Hell, everyone can see it, but she can't. She can't because all she wants is me. I got in there first. Was that were you thinking Dennis? That you'd got one over-" I laugh bitterly as I hear those words leave my mouth. I mean, there's plenty of things he "got over". "-on him? On Dad? Was that what mattered to you?"

"You matter to me. Please, Sharon, just give me a chance to prove it..."

 "That was your chance Dennis... you were meant to come with me... and I know Dad doesn't want us to be together but... this time, he didn't have to try and stop us. You did it. You don't know how much I want to say I can forgive you. Cos no matter what I say, I love you and I don't want to give up on you... I don't wanna let you go... but there's only one way you can prove yourself to me.. and I.." The words get caught in my throat, they taste nasty. "...I can't let it happen. Not while you could still be thinking about... Dad."

"I'm not thinking about him Sharon." he growls, or at least he tries to, but it doesn't work, because the tears are still there. "I'm not."

"Promise?"

"I swear it. Oh darlin', I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He laughs weakly at his own patheticness, his lashes tickling my skin as his eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments. "I... I just need you back..."

Dennis' POV - 6:35a.m.

Sharon moves back, nodding gently, taking in my words. Then she gets up and moves away. My stomach lurches and I feel so sick because... because I'm so certain she's giving up. I turn quickly, and try to catch her eye, but she doesn't so much as look at me, slipping out of the room and up towards the kitchen. My legs feel painfully heavy, like they won't carry me, but somehow I manage to slowly follow her.

"Dot..." she whispers tiredly.

"Oh... Oh Sharon.." She slams down her mug of tea, which it's pretty obvious she wasn't doing anymore with than holding it, just waiting for her insight into what's gone on since she and Jim left us alone and relegated themselves to the kitchen. "...Did you sort things with young Dennis?"

I don't move any further towards them, but Jim catches sight of me, raising his eyebrow with a wry smile as Sharon obediently flops down in an empty chair around the table.

"Yes... everything alright now is it love eh?"

"Maybe Jim, maybe."

"Sharon dear... I know Dennis hurt you..."

Sharon laughs bitterly as she realises that I've told her everything.

"...but I also know that that boy loves you with all his heart. And I think that you know that too."

"Yeah. I do. And I love him too... it's just gonna be so hard..."

"He was afraid Sharon. I'm not sure that he's admitted this to himself yet but... young Zoe... that was never for him... but if you were apart then... the two of you... your father was never going to be happy was he? And Dennis knows that Den... I wish there was another way I could say it... has the power to take you away from him... like last time and he was afraid. He lashed out... in the worst way but... he never meant to hurt you... please... don't let his fear get in the way of something precious..."

I watch her smile. She's so beautiful when she smiles. I was so scared I wouldn't see that again.

"I won't Dot, I won't."

She won't. Oh God, I've gone really weak.

"Can... Can I just pop upstairs, rest my eyes for a bit?"

She looks between them both, guaging their reactions. Dot smiles, and Jim nods certainly. "G-Go ahead love, yeah."

Sharon gets up again, pushing against the table, scraping her chair back. She lifts each foot and pulls off her shoes. She clutches them as she moves out of the room, pulling the door shut. And she's wincing every time she brings her foot down and moves forward against the carpet. She leans to the left, pushing her shoes with a clatter into the tidy, just behind the staircase; hiding herself from my view, even though she doesn't know yet that she's in it. 

Then she straightens up and sees me and a faint smile claims her lips. But it's stolen away as she steps towards me, wincing in pain again. I move close to her and she sighs as she reaches out for my hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." she answers distractedly.

"You were in pain." I say softly, my gaze dropping to her bare feet.

"Well, they're cut ain't they? Bloody and sore."

"Oh Sharon..."

She laughs, and I pull her close. She rests against my chest, sighing. "I'm so tired."

"C'mon then..."

She moves past me, but she falls back on her heels, this time crying out.

"Right that's it."

And though she tenses, surprised, I lift her into my arms Her own arm falls around my neck, but she's rigid. Is she still afraid of me? "Dennis, don't..."

"Look, you're tired, you're hurt and you weren't well... you're not climbing these stairs alright?"

Turning her head, she looks up at them, shaking her head doubtfully and resting against my shoulder as though she is defeated as I carry her up.

Moving into the spare room, I lie Sharon gently down on the smooth covers, She murmurs appreciatively as she curls up like a baby. I stoop and kiss her crown, apprehensive, wondering whether she'll push me back. But she doesn't. She stares at me intensely for a moment as I draw back, the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips.

Stowing my hands in my pockets, I hunch my shoulders and shuffle backwards without a word. But as I turn away to open the door, the mattress squeaks and Sharon's pulling on my hand, forcing me to turn back and look at her, those big sparkling eyes pleading with me.

"Don't leave me darlin'. Please don't leave me."

Sharon's POV - 6:45a.m.

"Don't leave me darlin'. Please don't leave me."

I don't know what it is that flickers across his face as I say those words. And I don't know how I feel as I say them either. Because I'm still hurting. Badly. The man I love betrayed me. But that's just it, he is still the man I love. And I know he's hurting too, he's hurting because... because he hurt me. He's not cold, he's not unfeeling. Dot's right, he was just afraid. And given how everything has worked out for us so far, with Dad... I can't blame him. He was just.... striking before he could be struck.

But still, I don't know if I will be able to let him close. And I'm going to have to check.

I'm beginning to shake as I hold his hand, pulling him away from the door. I can't let him go, and yet my words seemed to have died in my mouth. I can't let him go but as yet I can't say why not either. So he's looking at me, searching my face, questioning the way I'm clasping his hands.

"Sharon-"

"Shhh!" I beg shakily. "Let me try, please."

"Tr-Try what?" He gulps nervously as he realises exactly what it is I'm talking about. "No... No... I brought you up here to sleep. Nothing else. Please... don't do this... not yet."

"I have to know."

"But you do know. I'm disgusting. I- I f-forced myself on you... I forced him on you. That's what you said. You feel sick for letting me..."

"But I don't want to!" I cry, cutting him off with the force of my frustration. "I wanna feel like I used to... when you were close..." I flick my fringe from my eyes, gulping back my sadness. I can't be weak now. I have to be strong, I have to see this through. "And darlin', I'm not saying I can do this, but let me try... just..."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Don't say anything... and don't try and stop me."

He squeezes his eyes tight shut, wincing for a moment, but he forces himself to nod. I wait for him to open his eyes again, before I grip the edge of my top in my fists, lifting it with a determined slowness up over my bare breasts. I'm looking right at him until the material covers my eyes as I pull my top over my head, letting it drop to the floor. And he gasps quietly, biting down on his lips, his eyes glittering as though he may cry.

And he flinches as I stand close to him, reaching out onto for his quaking hands. I stare up at the ceiling, concentrating on nothing except the pattern of my breath as I press his hands into my diaphragm. I don't want to shove him away. So I steel myself to guide his hands higher, his knuckles caressing the outline of my breasts, his hands somehow steadying as he retraces this familiar path. His fingertips work underneath my bust and the pads of his thumbs brush across my nipples, erect underneath his very touch.

I'm torn as I realise the sweet pleasure that this induces, moaning softly. His touch feels so good. Does that mean we're OK? Does that mean I don't need to be afraid anymore if I want this?

Under my apprehensive guidance, his hands move splaying across my stomach as I push them down around my hips, knowing that my skirt is shifting across my charged skin too. And I'm afraid, but I know the only way to dispel a fear is to face it and I won't let myself stop. His eyes shimmer sadly and I know that he realises I'm tense, but he remembers he cannot stop me.

He takes in a sharp breath as I step out of it, throwing my head back and staring at him.

"Sharon..."

I drop my gaze to the floor, pulling him close and gently working open the buttons of his shirt. He can see how I'm shaking and he lifts his hands... to stop me... but he's defeated... he knows he can't, closing his eyes as the material falls away. And he whimpers as I brush his lips, covering them with a soft kiss.

"No... Sharon... I know you said I shouldn't... but I can't let this... not unless I'm truly forgiven..."

Dennis' POV - 6:50a.m.

I don't even know if it's alright to breathe. She told me I couldn't say anything. I didn't. She told me not to try and stop her, and I didn't. She took off her top, knowing she was naked underneath. She was shaking, still she was afraid, and I understood. I hated it but I understood. And I'd promised. OK, so I'd never said the exact words "I promise," but I needed Sharon to trust me implicitly, even if she couldn't trust herself. And I really don't think she can. Before I know what's happening, her hands are over mine and she's bringing them across to her heaving diaphragm, up over her breasts. And I flinch as I touch her. I can't help it. I mean, I know I can't pull back. But this, this is her quite literally laying herself bare in the hope she can bring me back, praying that I am still the man she remembers. But I know all she's doing is challenging the intimacy we had.

My thumbs fold over her nipples before I can even register my own reflex, and my heart begins to pound as she moans softly. Not in fright, not in disgust. Soft... pleasured...

She tilts her head, tearing her gaze from the ceiling and meeting my eye as she gently pushes my hands down to her hips, down across her hips, edging down her skirt. It's taking a lot for her to force in breaths and I know I should stop. I don't want to to force this, this is too soon, but she said I couldn't...

Her skirt pooling at the floor, I drag in a painful breath, watching her step out of it. My gaze travels up over her smooth bare legs, and I... I almost can't look any further because... she's all but naked. She's really going to do this. And I can't stop her. But I have to try. I can't bear the idea of how much this will hurt... hurt her, when she realises she can't. Not yet.

"Sharon..."

But she won't look me in the eye, bowing her head and letting her hair fall about her face. And then, she's against me, working open my shirt with quaking hands. She either knows she won't be able to do this or she wants too much for the opposite to be true. I can't let this happen. Whatever I promised, I can't let her do this to herself. So I lift my hands, to catch her round the shoulders, to push her back, to save her. But I can't bring myself to touch her. That's not what she wants, that's not what she needs. And as my arms crash to my sides, my shirt falls off my back. I force my eyes shut. This is really going to happen.

She holds my gaze for a moment, such a fierce intensity in her eyes, I feel like I'm burning. But what with?

And before I can contemplate it, her soft mouth is on mine.

Shame. That's what it is. Don't let her do this to herself, Rickman. You owe her the little dignity she can retain.

"No... Sharon... I know you said I shouldn't... but I can't let this... not unless I'm truly forgiven..."

She falls back on the balls of her feet, stunned. The faintest laugh of disbelief escapes the corner of her mouth. But she doesn't say anything, and for a moment, I feel so very, very sick. But she moves close again, peppering my collarbone with kisses, moving across my chest to my shoulders. And I'm intoxicated by her, can't think of anything other than her soft lips caressing my skin like there was never anything wrong. But I come to my senses with a jolt. Because this isn't alright - there was something wrong.

I grab her by the shoulders, an unintentional force inflicted by the force of my desperation to keep her safe. "This isn't an answer."

She looks at me innocently, blinking so slowly, those lashes stretching down, my heart almost breaks.

"I have to hear you say it. I can't let this happen unless you can say you forgive me and you can mean it."

Consciously, she folds her arms over her chest, shrinking back. "I... I thought that's what I was doing."

"No." I inform her sadly, shaking my head. "Sharon... you said you didn't know if you could do this. If you don't know, then I'm begging you, don't do it at all. What you want... it could happen easily, course it could. But if you're gonna let me..." Oh God, these words just keep getting stuck in my throat. I made them so dirty, so cruel. "...touch you again; then I want it to be because it means something, not because you think it's gonna make this right. I... I don't wanna touch you if you don't want me near... I know what I did, I know what I ruined. Please don't think that sleeping with me's gonna make it better because it won't. Because if you haven't forgiven me, if you can't, then you'll wake up, and you'll feel dirty and sick and I... I never wanted to make you feel that way. Ever."

I force myself to breathe, and my chest constricts with the release of all these words, tumbling out in a great tangled rush. I can feel hot tears prickling in my eyes, but I blink them back.

"So you have to say. And darlin', if you can't, believe me, I understand that but I-"

"I forgive you."

 Dennis' POV - 6:55a.m.

The relief is battling to flood through me, but I'm forcing it back. I don't deserve to feel it, not yet.

"Do ya?"

The way she releases her next breath mocks me as she stoops to lift her top from the floor. She doesn't put it on, she just spreads it out across her chest, covering herself as she sinks back onto the bed. Her big bright eyes shimmer sadly as she looks up at me.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

I just stare at her for a minute, wishing that the words were there. But then, they come and they're so painful.

"Because I love you. And right now, I don't think you believe that. So this... this is too soon... don't hurt yourself like this..."

"You said... if... if I forgive you, I have to say it. I've said it. And maybe... if you mean that you love me... maybe I need you to show it..."

"What, like I did just now... with Den? Yeah, you really need me..."

"I love you." she says forcefully.

"Why?" I challenge, before I even realise what I've done. I mean, the last thing I want her to do is revoke that. She loves me. I never thought I'd hear her say that again after what I did. But that's why... I mean, why would she love me? I treated her like a whore.

"Because I know you. I know who you are. And when... when you did... that wasn't you..."

"It was me Sharon. I was there, it was me. I did it. Stop making excuses for me."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she hisses. "I was afraid, I hated you... I've never felt like that towards you... even when I knew you'd killed a man, I never felt like that. So I know I never could. Not you. I looked at you when I was stood there. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except cry. And wonder where the hell my darlin' had gone. Cos he wasn't there. I don't who was, what was. I don't care. Because you say you love me and I'm gonna believe you, because I love you too. So stop trying to protect me, cos you're choosing the wrong moment..."

"Am I? So you're telling me you're not gonna feel dirty... that you're not looking at me and seeing Den, like you used to? Thinking that I am forcing this, that I am raping you?"

She looks away, sickened. "You're being ridiculous!" But her voice tremors as the words fall out. Maybe I'm not being so ridiculous after all.

I shake my head slowly, biting down on my lip as I look at her. "No. I know how this will work Sharon. We'll barely be pulling our clothes back on and you will feel sick for letting me touch you... it's your right, but I can't... I can't..."

"You touched me!" she yells, throwing up her hands in exasperation, barely noticing as her top slips, exposing her. "Did it look like I felt sick to you darlin'... did it sound it? Eh?" 

"No."

She manages a gentle laugh before she pushes herself up, stepping towards me and gathering up my hands in hers.

"Then realise I need this to happen. You're still my darlin'.... my beautiful darlin'... and I need you to come back to me..."

"What if this isn't the right way?" I whimper, feeling the tears creep into my voice.

She shushes me softly, stretching up and catching my lips with hers. And I can feel my resolve draining away as she kisses me. I'm still so scared that she'll decide that it was wrong but right now, she's telling me she needs me. I can't refuse her. Not when I owe her so much.

Sharon's POV - 7:10a.m.

Four hours since he last touched me. Four hours since he last touched me in a way I knew he meant it. But I know now. I know he still means it. He was afraid that I'd be afraid, that I wouldn't want him. But it's OK. Now it's all alright. Because I wasn't afraid. To begin with, as he touched me, I was rigid, waiting, praying that it would feel the same, that I'd be longing for him. But, oh God... the way he covered every inch of me in kisses before he'd even let his fingertips dance across my skin made me shiver. He noticed each time, on high alert, just awaiting my rejection. He'd pull himself up, murmuring my name. I wouldn't say a word, hardly daring to breathe as he moved across me. I just needed him near, to catch his lips, to kiss away his fears.

He went on, caressing me, making me burn with anticipation. How could this have ever been wrong? He is my darlin'. My gentle, lovin' darlin'. And I so nearly gave up on him, on how he loves me, surrendering all these bittersweet sensations to... to I don't know what and I don't know why. He drew out the way his every movement burnt against my skin, because he knew there was a point of no return, and he was unwilling to reach it until he was assured.

My heart was pounding, I could barely breathe. Not with any man I have ever known touch me as he has done, has making love ever meant so much. There's three mediums to this. There's fucking, which is about the pleasure and not the person, there's sex, which is about being adventurous with someone you're close to, not love necessarily. It doesn't have to mean much in itself, but making love... it's special. It's about showing the person you love the most just how much you love them. And my darlin'... he hated himself for what he's done. I didn't want him to hate himself, I only wanted him to prove his love.

And he did, only allowing himself to breathe as I moaned, moving gently to counter his thrust, wanting to feel more of him in the moments he wouldn't allow. The sound shuddering through my ears only added to the intensity of the pleasure building inside me. It proved I wanted him, this proved I needed him back, and this... this was telling me I couldn't let him go. Not ever.

He consumed me utterly, my hips dropping against the bed. I didn't have the energy anymore, all that mattered was the way he was making me feel. I tilted my head back against the pillow, closing my eyes for a moment as every possible emotion flooded through me, mingling to create perfect, undisturbed bliss. Add that to the way his lips were caressing the newly accessible slope of my neck... I barely managed to stop myself crying out, but Dennis' mouth was upon mine, having crept over my jaw, peppering it with kisses as he went; before gently working open my lips with his tongue, offering his mouth as a cavern in which to release my cries of submission. I'd tousled his hair with my hand, needing to catch him, drive his kiss harder onto me, my moans letting him know that I accepted him, that I wanted him to feel the full extent of what he had brought me to.

He gasps into our kiss as he lets go, the vibration bouncing off my tongue, and making me moan louder. His lips comfort me and drink away the need to shake as I recover. I gaze up into his face, forcing myself to keep my eyes wide open and not miss a single detail. I realise how innocent he looks, how beautiful his eyes are as they shimmer. He lifts himself a little from me, not withdrawing, just holding himself up on his arms as he looks down on me daring to smile, the sound escaping the corners of his mouth too.

We don't need to speak, we just need to be close. We just look at each other, knowing that we're OK... we're together. We're going to be fine.

There's a hesistant knock at the door, but it still manages to make us both jump, Dennis losing strength in his arms and tremoring.

"We're turning in now... that alright is it?" Jim stammers nervously.

"Mmmm." I manage distractedly, suddenly feeling very self conscious, realising that Dot & Jim were probably downstairs, their hands wrapped tight around mugs of cocoa, looking awkwardly up at the ceiling all the time Dennis & I have been here making love, in their spare room no less. Oh God... and all they will have wanted is to get back to sleep. He doesn't even wait for real words, shuffling away immediately, and leaving us here, wrapped in each other, laughing at ourselves at them... waiting for us.

Dennis rests his forehead against mine as our laughter calms itself. He's so close, his lips mould around mine, kissing me lightly. And as he does, I can't breathe... it's as though he's everything I am... my stomach squirms with butterflies and I just know... this is Dennis, this is my darlin'... he's come back to me...

 Dennis' POV - 4:30p.m.

Murmuring, I open my eyes. Open... they've been closed. I... I dreamt the whole thing. It was a dream... a nightmare, a cruel terror. Sharon didn't almost come back to me, I didn't... I didn't abuse her.. she never had any reason to forgive me for anything... we never made love...

But... and I barely manage to stop myself crying out in surprise, biting down hard on my lip... I realise that Sharon's lying next to me. No, not next to me, curled into me. Her eyes are sparkling as she watches me... she's breaking my heart. It's true... it's all true. That all happened. But... But she's still here, lying in my arms. She giggles softly as I pull her just that little bit closer, even though there isn't a distance to cover. She's as close as she can be, but I just... I need to feel her here.

"I... I thought you'd have gone..."

She goes rigid for a moment and I feel sick. Damn, did she think it was a hint? Is she going to go now? No, Dennis, no, don't let her go! But the sudden movement isn't her kicking back the duvet, clambering across the bed in disgust, leaving me.. no... she's pulling the duvet up around her chest as she pushes herself up on her arms, moving down to me.

Her fingertips dance lightly across my cheek, caressing my skin and I just feel like... I'm never gonna get over her touching me... how - how can she find it in in her to be so... so loving when I...?

But she interrupts my uneasy trail of thought as her lips firmly press against mine, searching out my kiss. Content as I answer her, she drifts back, her hair tickling my skin, reminding me how close she is.

"Why would I be anywhere else when you're here hmmm?"

I close my eyes, savouring her words, letting the smile I just can't hold back take over my facial muscles before I pull her instinctively back down to my lips, kissing her softly.

"How long have we been here?"

"About nine hours." she tells me gently, her fingers moving up into my hairline, going through every messed up wave. "Slept for about seven... so much easier now you're here..."

"Mmm!" I groan, rolling onto my hip to face her. She reconstructs my stance, holding herself up her elbow, resting her chin in her hand. I love the way she moulds herself around me, but at the same time, the way we're tangled together drives me crazy. She's not even a breath away and she's still not close enough. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth!" she laughs, lacing the fingers of her other hand through mine as she captures it underneath the duvet. "Oh alright, well if it makes you feel any better, I wasn't asleep for the other two..."

"No?"

"No. Could have been, but I was just... I was watching you sleep. You were definitely asleep... your eyelashes kept fluttering and you were murmuring to yourself... you're darlin' you know that? You're my darlin', and I've missed you so much."

I smile weakly, tracing patterns across her knuckles with my thumb. I understand her completely. Something... Something that only I can be blamed for, even though I can't get the anger, the frustration straight in my head, I can't explain the things I've done to her, I can't excuse them. But maybe it doesn't matter. Well, of course it matters, it's always gonna tear me up, and I... no, I won't even think it, because she's here and I know she wants me, like I've always wanted her... even at times when I couldn't have shown it in a worse way, when I didn't deserve her.

"I missed you too." I murmur sincerely as I move up onto my knees, sinking back down into the mattress as I straighten up.

"Did ya?" Well not anymore." And she moves hard against me so that she doesn't need to hold herself up anymore, has both hands free to frame my face and kiss her way across my jaw. The moan escaping me before I can clamp down on my lip. Her laugh bubbles against my lip as she draws back, knowing she was on my mouth for just the briefest, treacherous second. "Never again, I never want to miss you ever again."

"Fine by me."

And she beams at me, her smile so wide she's making me shake. She's just too... perfect. The corners of her mouth fall a bit in the next moment however, darkness clouding her face. But then she then sees the concerned way I am looking at her and she smiles, her hands falling into her lap and reaching for mine.

"Now they know. They all know... Dad... Zoe... Vicki... they can't hurt us..."

"No." I say, finding myself staring guiltily at our entwined hands before I realise the words are out. "Not like I can eh?"

She just cocks her head, her glossy hair creeping further down her shoulders as she look at me with those big bright eyes and half smile, whispering, "Oh baby... no. You're here aren't you? And I'm here. That's all that matters... it is! All that matters is that from now on, I'm gonna wake up and you're gonna be there. And when I go to sleep... what?"

And she challenges my raised eyebrow. God, I love her so much.

"Nothing!" I answer honestly. But her gaze just implores me and my smirk spreads to her lips as she tries to catch my eye.

"Dennis, what?"

"Nothing!" I repeat, firmer, louder this time, But she can still hear my laughter fighting its a way through. "It's just... everything you just said is true... and you have no idea how incredible that is but-"

"But...?" she coaxes slowly.

"Well, I just think it'd be a shame to sleep now... now that we're both awake and everything..."

Dennis' POV - 5:10p.m.

Sharon draws the door shut behind her as we move out of the room, smiling shyly, her gaze shifting from between me and the floor. I feel uneasy as I wonder if she's OK, and I test her by offering my hand. Her smile, thankfully, dares to dance in it's entirety across her lips as she takes it, slipping her fingers through without hesitation, letting me lead her across the narrow landing and down the stairs by this delicate hand.

Her toes sinking into the carpet of the hallway, she sighs gently, and I look round to her, hating that my suspicions are aroused. If she was going to reject me, she'd have done it already right? No matter how deserving I am, she'd never put herself through... just to make it feel worse for me... would she? She catches the way I'm scrutinising her and disperses my doubt with a shake of her head, gripping my hand with that extra bit of reassurance, like she could see my fears laid out.

Edging towards the kitchen, Dot, who is stood against the sink, quickly grasps the kettle, yanking it from the stand and twisting the tap on full pelt, just to try and convince us both she was busy, and totally not waiting for us to emerge, no... of course not. God, I love Dot, she's the most unconvincing woman in existence, she's so easily read, and you always know where you are with her.

She smiles at us both, admiring our entwined hands.

"Oh... oh Dennis... Sharon..."

"Dot." Sharon nods shyly, stepping close to me, almost as if she's looking for protection. Oh bless her, she's blushing. I wrap my arms around her, unable to fight off my own grin, as I nestle into her hair, inhaling that beautiful scent.

My attentions are caught by Jim, shuffling into the hallway, pulling the door to the lounge to with a telling creak. He has the phone in his hand, pushing down the aerial with the flat of his hand as he turns in the direction of the kitchen. He sees me and Sharon, wound together and he tilts his head up, almost in approval, eyebrows raised as if he doesn't quite believe it. Well, fair point, I wouldn't have believed it either, but she's so wonderfully close, I have to surrender to it. She's really mine.

"Everything alright is it son? You and..." He gestures with the phone between us both and Sharon giggles, lifting her head from against my shoulder, pressing her lips against mine to answer him. As she draws back, her eyes sparkle as she assesses my expression, and nods slowly, granting me permission to say the words she knows now that I have ached to for so long.

"Everything's... perfect, Jim, cheers."

"Hmm, well-" Why is he rolling his eyes? "-we'd never have guessed." And turning towards Dot, he says, "The plasterer shall be here first thing tomorrow morning my sweet."

"Plasterer? What on earth are you talking about Jim Branning, what plasterer?"

And he's looking pointedly at me & Sharon out the corner of his eye as he speaks slowly, his gaze every so often drifting to the ceiling. "The plasterer we'll need to repair our dangerously flaking ceiling!"

Dot just looks bewildered, oh sweet innocent Dot! In comparision, it hits me and Sharon like a ton of bricks, and she falls against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and lifting herself up onto her toes as she buries her head in my shoulder, shaking as her laughter tickles the base of my neck.

"Oh my God..."

"You know what darlin'..." I splutter as soon as I've managed to breathe. "I think we oughta go..."

Sharon's POV - 5:15p.m.

I rush out into the hall, pulling Dennis with me, hardly able to look back towards the kitchen and register Dot & Jim stood there because... oh God, I've gotten so warm, I know I'm going to have gone scarlet, and I'm laughing, laughing just as Dennis does as he follows me, because if I don't, I'm going to cry, I'm too embarrassed. Swinging our hands, Dennis pulls me close again and I just collapse against him, looking out over his shoulder towards the kitchen as he holds me, chuckling in my ear.

Jim spins round, eyes bulging, lips twisted in amusement as he sees me there, looking at him fearfully.

"Sharon love, I was joking!"

"See?" Dennis whispers, his breath tickling my earlobe. "Knew we weren't that er... vigorous."

I smile in spite of myself, feeling the heat in my cheeks lessen as I hide my face in his shoulder, my hand wrapped around the base of his neck, clinging to him. Even when I'm only being teased, relentless as it seems to be, it's like the only thing I can be sure of is him. So very sure, I don't know how I ever doubted him. Drawing him close, I let his scent swamp me, comfort me before I compose myself, pulling in a breath that tastes of him.

I turn back to Jim, smiling as Dot glares in disgust at her husband.

"It's fine Jim, honestly... probably wasn't the most... considerate thing for us... I'm sorry, we'll go anyway..." And I move against Dennis. He understands, backing out and leading me with him.

"Sharon-" Dot begins, sounding my name with quivering and hesitant lips. "-you're welcome to stay... as long as the pair of you should need..."

My shoulders slope, relaxed with admiration for this incredible woman. I can feel tears behind my eyes as I drift away from Dennis, back into the kitchen, reaching out for Dot's hands in his place.

"Thank you. I mean it, thank you." I bite down on my lip to force the emotion back. "But we really should go. You've already done so much for Dennis and me... more than you could know. Dot, you brought him back to me and you don't know how grateful I am... I..." I can feel the tears coming and so can she, releasing a sympathetic little sigh as she looks into my face. I smile, shaking my head and wrapping my arms around her, hugging her tight and kissing her cheek when I am near. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

Smiling nervously at Jim, feeling the colour creep back, I go back into the hall, stooping to collect my shoes and slipping them back on my feet. Straightening up, I meet Dennis' eye, and a half smile emerges from the corner of his mouth. It gives me butterflies because... because neither of us have a clue where we're going from here. The only reassurance we have is that we will be together, but that doesn't mean to say we can't be afraid. Just a little bit.

I offer him my hand this time, and his own curls protectively around it. We leave, sinking down onto the cool smooth concrete as the door shuts behind us. I'm suddenly aware of how cold it is, scrunching my shoulders and shivering. Perhaps it isn't that cold, maybe that's just how the world is destined to be when it receives the news that I have rediscovered my lover, and that I will never let him go again. No-one will make me waver, not my friends, my neighbours, my sister and especially not my father.

Dennis notices the way I shake and weaves his arm across my shoulders, running his hand up and down my upper arm to encourage warmth as we walk the Square together. We don't have a direction, neither of us know where we are heading, but it doesn't matter. We're building ourselves up to what we know must come, so we're wordlessly savouring each other's company and closeness, knowing that a moment when these very things will be tested is close.

Rounding into Bridge Street however, words press against my throat as I take in the dormant stalls, the canvas coverings flapping in the listless breeze. Because there's Zoe, packing up the last of her stock, looking decidedly better than she did last time she was in such close proximity.

"Sharon..." Dennis pleads against my ear as he realises the direction of my gaze. But I shake my head to move him away, arm dropping from around his back and catching his hand, slipping my fingers through and pulling him gently forwards. But he forces his weight back and stands still. So I turn to him, stretching up on my toes to caress his mouth with my own, my chilled palm pressed against his cheek, making him wince and inadvertently answer my soft kiss.

"I'm not ashamed." I murmur, tilting my forehead against his. A breath later, he nods in agreement and I'm assured as we move forward along the potholed road.

Her voice reaches us, a cold stab of an address. She's not talking to us directly, her words are just ones she's determined we will hear as she presses her phone to her ear.

"That's brilliant Vicki, cheers... I could do with cheering up... you too? Awww, don't worry babe, we'll get rid of them both, it'll be like they never existed. Cheating bastard... slag... yeah I know... they're welcome to each other. See you in the Vic then... on my way..." And she clicks her phone shut, sliding it back into her pocket and swinging her fringe out her eyes as she sees us both, smirking.

"That was low Zo... even for a Slater." Dennis tells her coolly, and her eyes flare, but her smirk stays put.

"Yeah well... we can't be any lower than the Watts can we? Vicki sends her love by the way."

That stings, but I can't let it seem as though she's getting to me. She's not worth it.

"Why don't you come say hi? I'm sure she'd love to see you both... but then again, maybe not."

She moves off, and Dennis draws me close as we watch her go. He knows that however much I wish it didn't, the pathetic little bitch has managed to hurt me. And most probably him too, I know how much he loves Vicki and I know what tonight has done to his relationship with her. And I hate that Zoe has me in a corner. Because she, and Dennis in turn as I draw back, pulling on his hand, know that I'll have to follow her. I just want to look into my little sister's face and see... I don't know... hope, rejection... whatever. I just need to know where I stand, because if I have to, if that's what she really wants, I will walk away from her, Dennis at my side.

We don't say a word as I push open the door to the Vic. I'm shaking, trying to hold on tighter and tighter to his hand, because if he falls away, then I won't have the strength to gather him back in front of all the inquisitive looks I know await us in here. We've done this before, and we lost. Not this time.

He steps close as he slides in behind me, the door clanking shut, announcing and giving permission for all those gazes to settle on us. Dennis is pressed against me, our clasped hands hidden by our closeness. And I'm relieved... not because I'm ashamed, I meant it when I said I wasn't, I never will be again. But, I'm looking into a face I'd just about managed to forget in the events of this past night. A face I should have given more consideration to, and I feel sick with guilt as I realise how little I have bestowed.

"James..."

Sharon's POV - 5:25p.m.

I feel sick. I... what's he doing here? I close my eyes, trying to force out the cruel reality of my surroundings, but they just won't go. Sighing, I let the light back in, turning apologetically to Dennis as I dislodge our hands, even though he tries to hold onto me. I know I'm hurting him, but he knows that I owe some sort of explanation to James, and right now, I can't do anything but let him watch.

"I'm sorry darlin'." I murmur as I move away. 

The few steps walk over to where James sits in the booth, watching my approach with a gentle smile playing on his lips, feels like a condemned mile. I reach Vicki first, and I stop, unable to stop myself scowling as I register Zoe, smirking happily at her side.

"Vicki..."

She folds her arms across her chest and looks away, not even meeting my eye as her gaze inadvertently passes over my face. "I don't wanna hear it Sharon. It's not me you should be talking to... it's him."

She glances fleetingly over at James, scowling. He seems to think it's directed at him and although he smiles, he flinches as he sees the venom in her otherwise young and pretty face.

"Poor bastard."

I realise any words I could evoke will be wasted on her and gulp them back and I move on, glare at Zoe with all the hate I can't help but instinctively feel towards her. She just loves the ill feeling she can heap upon me, first with Dennis, now with Vicki.

James rises and leans to kiss me, and it's upon my lips before I even know it, and my stomach drops, disgusted at my own weakness. He steps round me, gesturing for me to slide into the booth before him. I do so, scooting round to the other side, and immediately falling under Dennis' withering glare. He stands there, trying to appear nonchalant as he tilts his glass to his needy lips. But he's fooling no-one, especially not me. The flashes of violent colour in his eyes tell me he's jealous. It was wrong of me not to move away from James sooner I know, and I should have thought before subjecting him to that but what can I do? As far as James is concerned, my affections are exclusive to him.

"Hello? Earth to Sharon!" James chuckles, waving his hand in front of me and pulling me from the vortex that are my thoughts.

"Sorry what?"

"I said... I was just wondering... not that I mind of course... why you needed to see me so urgently?"

"You've completely lost me."

He shakes his head in amusement as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flipping it open and stabbing at the keypad.

"Look, here it is. "Hi James. Must talk to you. Meet me in the Vic at half past. Sharon." Must say I'm disappointed, didn't even get one kiss!" And he pushes the handset across the table so I can scrutinise the message myself, which I do at the first opportunity - I know I didn't send this. Supposedly, I did, at quarter to five. But at that precise moment in time, I'd been in bed with Dennis, and I know that if I ever did, then that was not the time I was thinking about James. Much, much too busy making love with another man.

"Er, James... my phone's bust..."

"I kinda assumed that seeing as it wasn't your number..." he smiles, reaching over to take his phone back. But his words just go over my head.

"...Dennis broke it..."

"Dennis? Oh right... the guy you came in with... your brother?"

No. 

I find myself looking up at him, trying to find any trace of a brother. He looks humoured by James' words, but at the same time, that sheen of vodka upon his lips, there's a darkness in his face that challenges me to find who it is I seek if I don't have it in me to put right James' misguided knowledge. Out the corner of my eye, I see James looking nervously between Dennis and I, taking in the way our eyes are locked and not knowing whether it's alright to let the weakest laughter escape him or not.

"I... I didn't send that message."

"Then who did?"

I have a damn good idea. I don't answer him. I just push back the curtain of my hair and glare at Zoe. Her smiles stretches that little bit further across her bright lips and lifts her hand from the surface of the table a little, waving. I knew it. Bitch.

Looking up again, I see Dennis' gaze has followed mine, without knowing why, and he meets me again, his lips set in confusion. I stare hard into my lap, fiddling with my hands.

"Sharon... what's going on? Do you need to talk to me or what?"

I practically jump out my skin as a glass I can only assume is Dennis' gets slammed down on the bartop. "'Nother one please Trace, make it a double eh?"

I wish he'd turn around, I wish he'd stare me down, anything. I just wish he'd look at me, but he won't. His head is half turned to the side and I know he's probably gauging my reaction out the corner of his eye, loving seeing me squirm in concern for him.

"James, I... I can't see you anymore. I'm sorry but it... it wouldn't be fair."

He slumps back, stunned. "Wow. I didn't see that one coming. What's happened? I really like you Sharon... I... thought you liked me... I thought we were having a good time..."

"We were." I mumble, with a guilty honesty.

"So what changed? I mean, I phoned you last night and... do you have someone else?"

Christ, my chest feels tight. This just isn't fair. James is a fantastic man, funny, sexy... he deserves better than this. I chose him because I thought I deserved someone better than Dennis but even if that's true... there is no-one better than him... not for me. I was obviously being truthful when I said I must have gotten a kick out of being hurt. Because so far, that's all that being with Dennis has done to me. That's why I welcomed James into my bed so readily, to ease some of the pain. He made me feel good, there's no denying that, but Dennis... he's the one. And James... James is the only one that doesn't know it yet. I'm so callous. And I'm lost, looking immediately up to the bar again, letting those passionate, stormy eyes draw me in, offer me solace, even though none realistically resides there.

"I... I didn't." I manage after a painful silence. A smile dares to flicker across Dennis' lips.

"What d'you mean you didn't? You do...? Who is he?"

"Please... I never wanted to do..."

"Who is he?" he demands, cutting me off.

I bow my head, wiping my prickling eyes before the tears have a chance to form. I watch Dennis shift his weight from one foot to the other against the floor, before he moves forward on his left.

I gasp, frightened as I realise by James' slow intake of breath that he's sussed it without my help. Dennis coming towards us, looking at him with such fierocity tells him all he needs to know.

"Him?"

Dennis' POV - 5:25p.m.

Oh f*ck! I wondered about this guy a few times, y'know, in between wrecking my... my what... my relationship? I knew Sharon would have to talk to him, but... all that seemed to matter was us... us being together again, through everything. And I forgot. And so did she, frozen as she sees James sat there, smiling across at her. She pulls on my hand, trying to release herself, and my instinct is to hold on. No-one can see us, no-one yet knows - except Vicki and Zoe... sat together like... oh God, they can't be a good combination. Zoe's scorned and Vicki's... Vicki's damaged. It hurts to realise that I did that to her. I never meant to and I'd say as much but... I can't shake the feeling that as soon as Sharon's let go of my hand she's lost to me all over again.

Gulping back her worries, she turns to me, eyes glittering as she resists me and pulls her hand free. My stomach tightens. She let go. I'm not being rational I know... I have to let her go to him, and say what she needs to say. But the thing is, I don't know what that is. What if she doesn't come back to me?

"I'm sorry darlin'." she murmurs, so quietly that no-one hears her but me as she moves towards him.

She stops just in front of Vicki, almost pleading with her as she raises her name.

Huffing, our sister folds her arms over her chest and looks away, scowling. James flinches, thinks her attitude is directed at him. I shuffle towards the bar, knowing I'm quite probably going to need to be off my face to be able to stand what Sharon's gonna have to say to this guy, and I am of the unlucky few, as I order a large vodka that hears Vicki say

"I don't wanna hear it Sharon. It's not me you should be talking to... it's him. Poor bastard."

My fingers slipping across the cool surface of the glass, I twist round, just in time to watch James' mouth meet that of my darlin'. She flinches, and I can't help but wonder what's coarsing through her. Did she shudder cos she remembers why it was him she took to bed after me? Does she still want him? She slides into the booth before him, scooting round to the other side and immediately meeting my eye. I stare back at her, not really knowing what I need this silence to say. But it's broken by James waving his hand in front of her, causing her to blink furiously, severing our connection.

"Hello? Earth to Sharon!"

"Sorry, what?"

"I said... I was just wondering... not that I mind of course... why you needed to see me so urgently?"

"You've completely lost me."

He shakes his head, getting out his phone and reading off a message.

"Look, here it is. "Hi James. Must talk to you. Meet me in the Vic at half past. Sharon." Must say I'm disappointed, didn't even get one kiss!" 

Bastard.

Sharon takes the handset and studies the message with tired eyes, narrowed in confusion.

"Er, James... my phone's bust..." she says slowly.

"I kinda assumed that seeing as it wasn't your number..." he smiles, reaching over to take his phone back. 

"...Dennis broke it..." 

I smile to myself weakly. Her phone's actually still in my back pocket, very much damaged and dead.

"Dennis? Oh right... the guy you came in with... your brother?"

No. Not her brother, never have been her brother. And there's a sensation stirring in my stomach that I can't describe as I feel my lips twist into a scowl. In one frightened sweep, she's lifted her head, those beautiful eyes searching me. What's she looking for? Who is it she wants to see? Does she want to believe James? I mean, I've done so much over this past night to make her doubt how much I love her, and maybe... maybe she's gonna doubt me forever, and things could be so much simpler for her if she just lets him, not me, lie in her bed. So wordlessly, I dare her. I dare her to prove to herself what it is she wants. Does she want him? Does she want to see her brother when she looks at me? Go on Sharon, find him darlin', see him in me, go on!

"I... I didn't send that message."

"Then who did?"

I have to follow as she, not answering him, looks furiously over at Zoe, who smirks and lifts her hand from the table, waving. Oh shit! I was right... she really is low, even for a Slater. What the hell is she trying to achieve here, stirring it all like this? It's not as if it hasn't been hard enough as it is! F*ck, I need another drink. So I turn away from Zoe's smug smile as she sees me glaring at her out the corner of her eye, and I slam my glass down on the bar.

"'Nother one please Trace, make it a double eh?"

Sharon still hasn't answered him, and my spine is actually locked waiting for her to do just that. I can feel her eyes burning into my back, and I want to be amused by that, but more than anything, I want it to seem right now like I don't care. She has to decide for herself. But I can't stop myself turning my head, just a little, to guage her reaction and she looks right at me, the fierocity in her eyes telling me she's decided. So am I ready?

"James, I... I can't see you anymore. I'm sorry but it... it wouldn't be fair."

He slumps back, stunned. "Wow. I didn't see that one coming. What's happened? I really like you Sharon... I... thought you liked me... I thought we were having a good time..."

"We were." she mumbles, flushing guiltily.

"So what changed? I mean, I phoned you last night and... do you have someone else?"

Not at the exact time she took your call mate, no, but maybe... just maybe... she does now.

There's a silence that seems to drag on forever. Sharon looks as though her throat's gone dry, that she's gagging on her own words. "I... I didn't." 

I feel a smile creep across my lips, taking in the hint of vodka as I wait. This is it. I know it is.

"What d'you mean you didn't? You do...? Who is he?"

"Please... I never wanted to do..."

"Who is he?" James demands. Whoa, easy mate, don't blame the lady. She's really feeling it, bowing her head and wiping her eyes as she experiences that guilt... Sharon's so selfless, she'd never have wanted to hurt anyone, except maybe me, because I deserve it possibly more than anyone she's ever known. But this... this isn't hurt... this is redemption. This is my cue. I don't have to leave her to fight alone anymore. This has to be done, but at least she'll know I'm there.

I don't say a word. I just put down my glass and move over to their table. Sharon gulps something back as she recognises how close I am. But I'm not concentrating on her - I have my life for that. I'm just staring at James, calm, collected - the vodka I've rammed into my system rushing through and warming me with a confidence, a cockiness that I know is gonna get me through as he looks back at me, his eyes glittering with the same fury that makes him tremor. Could probably use a drink too. His lips are thin and white, my own woven into a lazy smile I can't dispose of, even though it's obvious how much it winds him up. I stow my hands in my pockets, just waiting for his words before I will offer any of my own.

"Him?"

Dennis' POV - 5:35p.m.

I drag in a breath as he looks at me. My shoulders slope back and I just look right back at him, wishing I couldn't feel that smile in the corner of my mouth, cos it's just not gonna help. The silence drags on. You can feel it in the air, all those words that everyone sat rigidly in their seats are dying to say, but just don't dare.

"Dear God, is he... with her.... again? No, no, that can't be right... brother and sister aren't they? I wonder what Dennis Watts has to say about it..."

I can feel just the idea of it winding me up on the inside, so it's just as well no-one says anything, because I just might lose my rag and that's the last thing I wanna do in front of Sharon right now. I just need to keep her, to never let her go again. So for f*ck's sake Rickman, breathe, smile, maybe even look cute, just don't... don't ever go with your gut, ever again.

"Me."

You can hear the intake of breath rip through the room, and if this guy's eyes weren't so cold and steely, I'd laugh. But I can't, because my insides are literally squirming. My attentions are stolen, just for a moment as Vicki, her lips thin and white, her pretty eyes wide, manic and glittering. She lifts herself from the booth, Zoe watching her, and she ducks as she steals to my side as if she thinks no-one will see her.

"You just had to do this didn't you?" she hisses out the side of her mouth.

"I don't have anything to hide Vicks, you know that."

"Do it again then, go on! Make it happen like it did last time - kiss her, and I'll get out of here, I'll go puke in the bushes, and just wait for the whole disgusting thing to be over!"

James is watching her and somehow he just doesn't understand, glancing over at Sharon, wordlessly pleading with her, but she can't look up from her lap, scooting away until she can step out of the booth, straightening her back as she rises, moving the few steps towards me.

I seem to settle as she touches me, like I can barely hear Vicki scoffing in disgust and averting her eyes as Sharon's shivering hand flattens on my arm.

"Dennis... don't."

James gets up too, looking sickened. "It's true? I mean, I thought he was overprotective but... you've been sleeping with your own brother behind my back?"

"No!" Sharon cries, looking up into his face immediately, and flinching in a way that says she regrets it. "No... we... nothing before last night... I swear..."

Struggling to keep his breathing steady, that glare seems to become frozen on Vicki because he can't bring himself to look at either of us. Weak willed bastard. But she just gives him this sickly sweet sympathetic smile that makes me wanna grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She can't hate me and Sharon this much, us... we're not news to her... she came round... I don't want her frozen from my life just because I can't give up Sharon again. Is that it, does she just believe that I'll abandon Sharon again, leave her to wipe away the tears? Is that why she hates me?

"Didn't you know she'd been with him before you?"

"N-No."

"Can't think why she never mentioned it!"

"This... you and him? When? Where did my phone call slot into this pretty little picture eh? Where had you been... what had he been doing?"

"James, please... this isn't going to-"

"I deserve to know!" he hollers, and she shivers, her chest heaving in such a way that tells me she's going to cry. Pulling on her hand, I pull her back, and she lets herself be drawn as I murmur, "C'mon darlin', it's alright," falling back on the balls of her feet and slipping in just behind me. She bites down on her thumb, tears glistening on her cheeks as she prepares her words.

"I... we'd kissed..."

"Kissed? What does that mean? Get his tongue in there did he?"

She whimpers. That's a yes. I know it because I remember, I remember every breath of it. And James seems to understand pretty well too, nodding slowly as the realisation sinks in.

"So... this is him eh? Dennis... y'know most sisters don't throw themselves at their little brothers... am I to assume like most little brothers, he didn't know when to stop? Did he grope ya... did you like having his dirty little hands all over ya? Have you fucked him... since the last time you were underneath me I mean?"

I can't stop myself lunging forward, my fist curled, ready to swing wherever it may strike him. He deserves it, how fuckin' dare he cheapen her like that? I mean, he could never top what I did and I know that but... I know what she means to me, and it's gonna be a damn sight more than he's ever managed for her! I watch him gulp something back and I can't help but think "Yeah, you should be scared mate!" I'm gonna kill him, I swear it, I can feel the mist descending and it's the last thing I want, but it just takes me over and...

But Sharon leaps in front of me, casing my fist in her hands and kissing my raw knuckles before I draw it back to smash him into next week.

"No! Dennis, no! Not this... not again, please!" She shakes her head sadly, her eyes so wide... she's not holding her tears back. Oh God. "Don't let this happen again..."

She's pleading with me, she's really pleading with me. I just go weak and my hand falls down as she slips her fingers through mine. I can't hurt her like that can I, not on top of everything else, not if I give a damn about her. Pulling gently on her hand I draw her to me. She's rigid as hell, nervous at being so close to me, but she folds. I look at her, staring hard into her eyes, searching out her smile before I lean in and plant a kiss on her forehead. I can hear those behind me wincing, but they can go to hell, as long as I have her.

"Alright darlin', alright."

She breathes a sigh of relief, her breath tickling my face. She dares to smile and I swear, I get even weaker. How can one woman do this to me, get to me like this, when no-one else ever...

I just stop. I refuse to let in any more thoughts as I take in the tears trickling down, stemming their flow by pressing my thumbs gently against her cheeks and quashing them. Don't cry baby.

"Go get a drink eh? I'm sure you could use one."

She looks at me as if I just suggested she goes and jumps off the railway bridge, but I smile, urging her, so she replicates it, nodding in submission and moving away. She looks over her shoulder as she steps towards the bar because she immediately recognises the reason she was so hesitant to do so, having left the way open for James and me to glare at one another. And we do, openly. I totally understand the contempt I was shown last night Sharon, in no uncertain terms, felt for Zoe. Cos although my hatred for Den eclipses anything I can feel for this man, I know that I do hate him, I hate him for every breath he spent on sweet talking the woman I love, every word that drew her away from me, every touch that convinced her she didn't want me anymore.

But I can't help but smile. Yes, I'm smug and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I don't need words to prove it. Sharon didn't backtrack on me, even when she was handed a blatant opportunity, to save herself from everything I am, everything she never deserved to suffer. But she didn't. All she did was save us from a moment we have visited before, a moment that ruined us... a moment she hadn't been prepared to face again, had averted because she did want me. She's proved everything she needs to.

James it seems hasn't however cos as I look him up and down, I realise that he has lost. I can turn away without feeling anything at all. Because I have all I need. But he doesn't. Because his hand falls roughly on my shoulder, wrenching me back with a force that screams "How dare you turn your back on me?" I admit, I've been the one with this mad and angry look in my eyes before now, and I do know it. Because, before, I was of the opinion that a man never walks from his own fight. Sharon's right though, it doesn't get you anywhere in the long run. It only causes pain.

But maybe that's exactly what James wants, and when I think on it now, I realise how stupid of me it was not to expect his fist to come slamming into my face. After all, I was gonna punch him wasn't I? Why shouldn't he retaliate? There was a lot of force, venom and anger behind that punch however, and it throws me backwards into the bar, glasses cascading to and crashing on the floor as they shatter, punters leaping back and screaming in alarm as I crash to the floor.

Then there's that one voice. The one that matters... distraught. Oh shit.

"Dennis!"

Sharon's POV - 5:45p.m.

Tracey's just stood there, my very large G&T in her hand, frozen in fear as she takes in all the glass smashed over the floor. It's probably more than her job's worth to move forward, and it's as if she knew, because in that next moment, Dennis is slumped on the floor, blood seemingly coming from everywhere.

"Dennis!"

He laughs weakly as he looks up at me. I sink down at his side amongst all these shards of glass and pull his hand up free from the mess before it can bite into his flesh. But I'm apparantly too late, and he winces as the thick scarlet stram gushes from his palm. Registering the flicker of pain in his face, I look over my shoulder, glaring at James and realising the blame must lie with him. I know Dennis wouldn't start anything like this, not after last time. Well maybe he would have done but... I stopped him, he realised my fear and this...

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss at James and his eyes just bulge, his mouth gapes.

"I might ask you the same thing darlin'! What kind of twisted little slut are you?"

I can see anger flaring in Dennis' eyes as I glance back at him. He wrenches his hand away and is all but back on his feet, but I push myself up and unscrunch his hands forcefully. He isn't going to do anything, not when he's hurt.

"Stay there." I say gently, pushing my way into the bar, completely ignoring Alfie's protests and rifling for the first aid box that has always been kept behind the mixers. Straightening triumphantly, I march back towards Dennis and, ignoring the glass crunching under my feet, slam the little box down on the table and force my lover into the booth James has just vacated. I can feel his eyes on me, and I can't help but half glare at him out the corner of my eye; my attentions otherwise held by Dennis as I dab at the cut just underneath his eyebrow.

"Tell me James, what's my crime?"

"Called incest isn't it?"

My arm falls like lead to my side as I guffaw in disbelief, turning away from Dennis and hoping that James sees the strength of the venom in my face as I look at him. Glancing at the glass, I feel my lip curl as my eyes settle on him again.

"Pick some of that up eh? Cut me open, make it really hurt, go on!" I thrust the soaked tissue accusingly at him. "This is his. It's not mine... make me bleed like you've done with him eh? Check it... try and match it up... our blood is not the same. And it never will be - so I want you all to hear this... I am not Dennis' sister! And I'm not ashamed to admit to the things we've done together... in fact, I'll give you all a list shall I... just to help those of you with no imagination? You can pin it up next to the specials!"

"You used me." he sneers.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But your argument's with me, and the way I treated you. You have no right to attack him like this, who the hell do you think you are? Dennis... hand!"

His hand uncurls obediently so I can tend to those seeping cuts too. But James drowns out the winces of pain I want so much to comfort.

"I don't have a clue Sharon! You see, I thought we were having a good time together. You and me, no third parties. Only now I find out you've been screwing your brother! And whatever you wanna tell these people, you're gonna contradict yourself! You told me he was your brother... too ashamed to admit you'd been at it before eh?"

"I don't expect you to understand... and I don't expect you to stay."

"Oh of course you wouldn't. Bet you're dying to let him back into your knickers aren't ya?"

"I really didn't wanna get nasty about this because I thought you were a genuinely nice guy, and maybe you don't deserve this but yeah. I'd rather him than you any day of the week. And hey, least screwing my brother gives me something to do with the twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes of the day you leave me with... really he's doing you a favour... I mean, it's only fair that someone gets me there..." 

And I'll admit that despite my uncharacteristic smirk, just to match Dennis' lazy own, fear stirs in the pit of my stomach as James lunges forward, crashing into the table. His eyes are mad, I swear I can see all these little blood vessels bursting.

"You bitch!"

But he doesn't get any closer because Dennis is up, holding him back up the shoulders. "You had your turn mate, you're never gonna touch her again. Now, I ain't gonna punch ya like I should, cos she's asked me not to and I respect her. But I'll tell you what else... you'll never insult Sharon Watts in front of me... ohh sorry!"

James cries out, agonised, and when Dennis moves back it's not hard to see what happened to him. He's practically doubled up... touching the floor in fact with the pain, trying to shield his, erm... victimised groin.

But as Dennis turns back to me, he shrugs, a smile in the corner of his mouth says that for all his own very obvious wounds, he's rather pleased with himself. "I musta slipped." 

Dennis' POV - 5:50p.m.

As soon as it seemed he could stand up straight without bursting into tears, James was out of there. I can almost feel tears stinging in my eyes on his behalf, I mean, what if he hadn't punched me... more got in there first and made sure I'd never father children? My victory seems to drain away as I look at Sharon. This beautiful, incredible woman that I've abused and yet am still allowed to love so much. I am never going to father children, because she... she's the only one I could want to... and we never will.

My shoulders sag and I'm consumed by every emotion you could think was possible; so many of them so strong that I don't make a sound, shed a tear or even shake. I'm totally numb. I can't even take in all our shell-shocked onlookers, as rigid as I am, mouths gaping. Yeah, bet they're all thinking what a violent thug they always knew I was. Leopards never change their spots after all do they? Alfie... Alfie's face is classic. If he could actually stop impersonating a goldfish then maybe he'd find the pub manager in him, turn round and bar me. He had no trouble doing as much when I was messing Kat around. But maybe, as long as I stay away from her, maybe nothing I can do matters. Not to him.

I am wondering about Vicki though. As James, glaring with all the hate he could muster at Sharon and me, had skulked out the pub, she'd moved forward on her toes several times to follow him, anyone could see it. Maybe she felt like a bitching session. A look quite similar to the one we'd just received from him came from her in our direction too - her gaze is caught as she watches him go. Wanted to tend to his wounds maybe? Hmm, not a pleasant picture. Maybe it was enough to put her off too because she'd stayed, the venom in her face for us to admire. It hurts, it really does, cos I love that girl, but I can't... I can't do what she wants me to.

"Dennis..."

I almost jump, barely realising that Sharon's in front of me, her eyes wide and sparkling, imploring me for my attention. I obviously don't seem that cocky anymore. More frozen and lost. She obviously sees recognition in my eyes and her every feature seems to give way to a beautifully warm smile of relief as she takes my hand and leads me back into the booth. I seem to just sink back down onto the worn cushion, moulded to my shape. She scoots close and delicately opens my hand again, revealing the wound like she had been opening a flower.

Wound, who am I kidding? It's just a tiny cut, even though it does sting like a bastard. So many of them all across the surface of my palm. I can't help but wince as she dabs at them all, and my pain seems to play in her face as well, and she bites down on her lip that little bit harder everytime she realises my pain, even though I really am trying to hold it back and be silent.

"I'm sorry... I'm trying to be gentle darlin'..."

I smile weakly and just watch her, hunch over my hands, spread out on the table, the curtain of her hair falling about her face as she works at my damaged flesh. She is... so gentle, gentle enough to care, to minimise my pain when I have caused her so much.

"I'm the one that should be sorry."

"How did you work that one out?"

"You know how..."

"Please... don't mention it. This... here, this is enough for us to deal with isn't it?"

Before I can find the words to answer her, we both hear this smug little laugh. We don't really need to waste the energy on turning round to check, but for some reason, do anyway. And Zoe's stood there, drinks in hand, the unswept glass still crunching beneath her feet.

"Not getting nervous are you Sharon?"

Sharon responds by clearing her throat and swinging her hair over her shoulder. Still, she soothes the flow of blood away with a tissue as she answers, not looking up from her occupation.

"Not jealous are you Zo?"

"Me? Yeah right! Why should I be jealous of James calling you a twisted little slut? It's quite fitting really."

The way Sharon gazes at me as she drops the bloodied tissue on the table, her smooth lips curved like that says she's almost amused, but not to be beaten. A smile dares to stretch out as she pushes herself up, moving out the booth to face Zoe. Why do I feel nervous?

"Maybe it is. Maybe I am a slut." she shrugs in disconcern. "But you know I've got everything you want, because despite everything, despite all your pathetic little games... I've got Dennis. This slut is his..." Raising her eyebrow she looks back at me and there's such certainity in her face, her words, her tone of voice that my stomach drops a little. Where did she learn to get so... so strong? "I know that's more than you can stand... and I know it's probably a genetic destiny or something what with you being a Slater, but tell me... if it got you everything I have, tell me you wouldn't wanna be a slut too..." 

Sharon's POV - 6:00p.m.

Oh, her face is fantastic.She can call me any name under the sun, and I'll always be able to come back with whatever I am, whatever she wants to brand me, I am Dennis'. This time yesterday, the fact she was anywhere near him made me doubt that but even without her, we've been tried, we've been tested and almost broken. I'm sure it'd make Zoe very happy to know that. Not so to learn that we're together. We know now, through everything, we're stronger, and the resolve is there never to let each other go. So, I'm a very happy slut, thank you very much.

"That's what I thought darlin'. Do try and get your jaw off the floor eh - you're gonna do yourself some damage!"

I can't stop myself smirking as I turn back to Dennis. Even catching sight of Vicki scowling at me doesn't make me waver. In fact, it's almost satisfying to see her flinch as Zoe slams down their drinks and glares at Dennis, who drops his gaze. I can see he's wringing his hands underneath the table.

"You deserved everything you got off James-"

"Wasn't much though was it babe?" he says with a tight smile.

Her lip curls. "I'd have killed you."

"Well, c'mon then!" He sighs and offers her his phone instead. "Or give him another call then, get him back here! That's if he's still standing!"

And her face falls, her features twisting and making her... so repulsive, and I don't mind telling you that my palms are literally itching to strike her. But I won't. I did all this back at the house when I was fighting for him. No more, I know he's mine. I can be dignified about this. I clear my throat, scooting closer to Dennis and dabbing at the cut across his cheek. Out the corner of my eye, I can still see Vicki, her hand wound around her untouched drink. Zoe hasn't moved an inch, but better still, she hasn't received any support from my sister. Dare I hope that she's sick of the fighting?

It's not her that speaks next. It's Zoe. I don't know how she thinks any of her words will stand up now. Why won't she just give it up?

"You make me sick." she sneers at Dennis, possibly because he is the only one she can look at. He looks up at her slowly, his eyes shimmering dully, his mouth twisting into the weakest smile of recognition.

"You didn't always think that did you Zo? If it'd been me and you against the wall-" He closes his eyes as he waits for the disgust to ripple round the pub, the repulsed mutterings to pass over him and his words. "-you'd have been straight here wouldn't you, dying to tell Kat all about it!"

Kat herself seems to have appeared over the glass on the floor, under the pretence of collecting the largest shards. Alfie watches her with worry in his face, but it's pretty obvious that that isn't really Kat's intention. She's just waiting, waiting for Dennis to put a foot wrong, and to be honest, so am I, but Zoe fuckin' well deserves it.

"So yeah, maybe I'm cruel, letting you find out like that, maybe I'm worse for not caring, but... oh darlin'... you call me sick for wanting Sharon... my sister yeah? Well, I'll tell you summat, you make me sick an' all! Never really occurred to me before but... you've definitely got a thing about Kat's cast offs ain't ya? That's pretty desperate, going after men you know your own mother's been underneath!"

He meets my eye again, smirking and pushes my hand away as I try and raise my fingertips, glistening with TCP to the last of his cuts.

"Sharon... I'm done now, c'mon..."

I release a breath of understanding and nod, pushing the First Aid box away and moving out the booth after him. He makes Zoe stumble quite deliberately as he shoves past her. There seems to be a cry of uproar at that, from Vicki, from Alfie, from Zoe herself, but none so louder than Kat.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Kathleen!" he says brightly, grinning as he turns round to face her. That only seems to anger her further and she steps up to him, sneering

"I'm gonna have you Rickman."

He tilts his head up, laughing. "There was me thinking you'd already had me darlin'." She lifts her hand to hit him, but he's one step ahead of her and catches it, his hand round her wrist pulling her away just before her palm would have bounced back, having stung his cheek. "Now, now! What did I ever do to you?"

I find myself cringing as he smirks at her. In fact, I feel quite sick. It's pathetic. I've always known what Dennis was like, but I really just can't stomach the idea of him with any other woman, even though I've been forced to listen to him and Zoe at it for months.

"Actually Kat, don't answer that, I'm not one for blushing in public."

"So fuckin' full of it! If anyone had told me you'd be at it with your sister, I'd never have gone near!"

"Mmmm, and if anyone had told me you'd been at it with your uncle... oh Kat, is that a bloodline I spy?"

You can feel it around the whole pub. He's gone too far. For one thing, it's not Kat's fault she's Zoe's mother and for another, she didn't raise her and create the despicable little bitch that Zoe is. Dennis knows that Kat & Harry were never together because that's what she wanted, not like me and him. I just wish he'd not said it. I can see in his face that he said it in the heat of the moment, he didn't mean it. But he's not gonna get the chance to say he's sorry, even if he would and lose face. Because I can't save him as Kat flies at him, screaming swearing and raining down blows on his with her hands. She's crazed, and what's worse is that she's entitled.

Zoe rushes forward and it's like she doesn't know whether to attack Dennis too or to pull Kat away and comfort her. And Alfie's frozen.

But then I see it, glistening Kat's hand - glass!

And Alfie's seen it too, the colour draining from his face.

"Alfie!" I plead. "Please! Kat, stop!"

I don't know who, I don't have the energy to register faces, everything I have spent on praying Dennis is OK, but several people are up and wrenching them apart. Alfie's arms are around Kat's waist, pulling her back, her cheeks marked by black rivers of tears.

"Let me go! I'm gonna kill him!"

"No, darlin', no!" Alfie soothes, but she's still hysterical, fighting his embrace, the anger in her face screaming that she's desperate to get back and honour her promise.

And Zoe isn't so cocky anymore either. She's crying too, pushing herself between Kat and Dennis, shaking and whimpering. "No! Please, don't, don't let him do this to you! Please... Mum..." Kat collapses in her arms at that coveted word and they sob together. 

Shame plays in Dennis' face as he watches them. I've barely forced air into my system when I'm pulling on his hand, forcing him to face me. He can see the reproach in my face and nibbles on his quivering, bloodied lip guiltily. But... my anger will come later. I'm just... relieved he's OK, and behind him, I can see the same emotions in Vicki's face, however hard she tries not to show it. Oh, thank God.

I pull Dennis close and he nestles into me. I swear I can feel tears wetting my shoulder. 

"I'm sorry." he whispers meekly against my skin. "I'm so sorry."

I twist myself a little, forcing him to move back, straighten up and look at me. I cup his face with my drenched palms, surveying his cuts, his remorse everything. But I can't say anything, I can't console him because... he was wrong, he was so wrong. And I can see he's wordlessly pleading for my affection. And I...

"Please?"

I can't.

"Dennis, you..."

I sigh. I can't look at him. He's OK, that's all that matters but...

Nervously, he's tracing shaky patterns across my forearm with his thumb, and letting the sensation move through me, I look up at him again. But I feel numb. Until I see another face. One everyone here seems to have noticed before we did. Dad. Stood there, with that hateful look in his sunken face. Hands stuffed in his pockets, surveying the chaos. All the gaping mouths, the glass, Kat and Zoe wound together sobbing, and just knowing it has something to do with Dennis and me as we stand there.

And I know that my unease would pretty much make him dance on the ceiling. No... no. He will never win. Not like that, not his way.

So, defiantly, I fight myself, wrestle back my every emotion so I am left with nothing but my desire to keep Dennis. And I surrender to him, kissing him fiercely. He brings me so close, harder and harder against his kiss as it melts into mine, that his tears are upon my skin too. I can taste the blood on his lips, warm and metallic but that, if anything, drives me on. The pair of us can bleed, and we have done. Zoe didn't help, Dad didn't, and Dennis didn't. But he's all I need, for everything he could do to me, for everything he wishes he hadn't, it's him I need.

And now, everyone in the world knows it... 

Dennis' POV - 6:10p.m.

Oh God. Why... Why did I say that? I really shouldn't have, I do know that and... and I'm sorry. But no-one's ever gonna know that are they, cos Kat was on me before I could even draw a breath to collect together the words to apologise. Not that that really matters, I mean, what would I have said? "Sorry your uncle raped you and got you pregnant, but hey, your daughter's good sex. Not great, a lot like you in that respect, not much cop... in fact I prefer my sister, but y'know, you know all about keeping it in the family."

I barely felt the glass she had in her hand, although I'm not surprised it was there. Good weapon... she coulda cut my face open if she'd wanted. But I'd just made her so mad, she didn't know what she was doing, and apart from catching my lip, it was OK. Except it wasn't was it? How could I make this OK? Sharon's pleading with Alfie, she's seen the glass and she's frantic. Zoe's crying and Alfie... Alfie's just stood there watching like this is a fuckin' saloon. Not even wanting to get in there and protecting his precious Kathleen, til he seems to have heard Sharon and moves across all the broken glass and wrenches Kat away.

"Let me go! I'm gonna kill him!"

"No darlin' no!"

It's only then I'm forced to look into her face, and I feel literally sick with shame. Her face is red and blotchy, tearstained, mascara going all the way down her face, leaving long and dirty smudges on her cheeks. And the venom in her eyes could leave me dead where I stand. She really wants to kill me. And I deserve it.

Zoe throws herself in front of Kat, blocking off her view of me as she reaches out to hold her. It seems to placate Kat a little. "No! Please, don't, don't let him do this to you! Please... Mum..." A choked laugh escapes her. I don't think Zoe's ever called Kat "Mum" to her face, and that's... that's all Kat needs to fold into Zoe's arms and cry like she might be sick. I made her sick.

Alfie glares at me, his hands are curled like he wants to smash my face in. I'm not scared, but I gulp back my words of submission, because I'd probably let him if he swung at me. I deserve it... what the fuck has happened to me recently? I just... where am I?

I flinch as I feel someone pull on my hand, drawing me away from the destruction I created. And I'm looking at Sharon, through the thick haze of tears in my eyes. And in hers, I can see that disgust but the relief overpowers her and she frames my face with her clammy palms as she surveys the blood across my lips. But even then, her touch feels so... incredible, and I don't know whether to fling her away or beg her to hold me. I feel so much like a little boy and I hate it. If she's still here then Sharon's the only one that can make it right.

"Please?" I whimper, not entirely sure what it is I'm pleading for and hoping that she does. Please baby, please still love me. I need you.

The way she looks at me makes me feel sicker than anything ever before. Pity. She wants to, she wants to console me, to prove she's there but... what I did, what I've done is wrong, so wrong. She can't do it.

"Dennis, you..."

I sigh, the breath painful to dislodge from my throat. I can't look at her, just as she can't look at me, and I close my eyes, awaiting her excuse, her next rejection.

But the next thing I know she's kissing me. And I... I'm a wreck. I should question her, I mean, why would she... it makes no sense, but if I do, she'll move back, she'll revoke the love I need her to show so badly, so I do the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't do again, that I really shouldn't do again. I go with my gut instinct and kiss her back, pulling her closer, tingling as her hands crawl up my back, settling around the nape of my neck and forcing me harder onto her mouth as she drinks away the blood on my lip, apparantly savouring the coppery taste, my pain. Deserved, but shared. She'll take it, and me.

And I'm lost to her kiss, I don't care about the people around me, probably losing dentures in their G&T's as they choke. They'll be just as repulsed as last time we did this, but what do I care? I've definitely done my worst, I'll take every moment I can have with her.

But as she draws back, she looks out over my shoulder. Suspicious, I turn. She rests her hand on my shoulder, leaning against my chest, most probably hearing the hammering of my heart, painful against my ribcage. I feel cheated, suddenly realising why she kissed me at all. Defiance, and nothing but. Because there's Den, on the other side of the room, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders back, head lifted, accusation in those cold glittering eyes. So he blames us for everything he can see. And rightly so, however much I hate to admit it. But Sharon defied him... and the way she's looking back at him says as much.

"Dennis..." she whispers in my ear. "...let's go."

And she pulls on my hand again, but I don't move. Why should we skulk out? OK, so I've made damn sure that we lost the battle. But we're sure as hell gonna win the war. So why is Sharon looking at me like that?

"I mean it. Point made. Now let's go!"

Sharon's POV - 6:15p.m.

I watch him fall back on his heel, sighing. The muscles in his back rumple and then relax. I allow myself to breathe in that moment because I understand that he will come with me. I pull on his hand yet again, slipping my fingers through and wordlessly telling him that I won't let go, as long as we don't fight. There's enough around us right now that is our fault, our damage, our responsibility. The last thing we need is him trying to front it out with Dad. Because if that happens, I know my darlin' is lost, cos I remember this game all too well. In fact, right up until this night, there were plenty before it that had me crying myself to sleep remembering how Dad lost me the man I love. Even now it stings to know I could be weakened so much by one man. But I'm still not sure whether that man is Dennis or my dad. Dennis is the man I must keep, but which one of them makes me weaker? Him, for loving me...? Or Dad for making him believe I was nothing more than confusion?

No Sharon, don't go over it again, not now. Believe him, love him - don't let go of his hand. Walk away from the fight... be strong and safe... take him with you...

The cool air against my prickling skin as I step down onto the pavement makes me realise how stifling that pub was. The company really didn't help. Dennis & I are in the Gardens before I consider us to be a safe enough distance away from the Vic and the threat that Dad would follow us before I turn towards him, gasping for my next breath of air as I rest against him. I feel a little cold as he winds his arms around me, and not in the physical sense. I mean, I... oh it doesn't matter. 

I step back after a moment, surprisingly uncomfortable in his arms. I see a flicker of hurt go across his face, but I compose myself and force it away, leading him home. His steps seem to get heavy and slow. He doesn't want to go back there, and I practically have to pull him up the stairwell, because he's deliberately keeping pressure in his calf muscles.

I start to say his name, but honestly I despair and tear my hand away, pulling his house key out the back pocket of his jeans and ramming it in the lock. He follows me into the lounge, sensing my anger... yep, I knew it would come. All I wanted just now was for him not to be cut open, to save him for Dad's no doubt meticulously planned mind fuck, to keep him. And in doing so, I think I'm entitled to get angry at the bastard!

I feel him reach out and try to catch my elbow, and I whirl round, wedging my knee between his legs and forcing him back against the wall.

"Do you have any idea what you said back there?" I yell, knowing that there is no reason for the volume in my voice other than to illustrate my anger, and he can definitely feel it as I drill my fingernails into the flesh of his wrist. "Dennis, for f*ck's sake - she was raped! Think about it... when... with Dad... when I said you may as well... oh you idiot! I never meant it, I... I can have you in my bed... I want you there because I love you... Kat never wanted Harry to... she never wanted Zoe... that's incest... that's wrong... me and you- oh Jesus Dennis, why didn't you think? I just don't know how to make you see!"

He's just looking at me, frozen, stunned, his lips barely daring to quiver. I can see his apology, his remorse, and yet, he's close and I can barely breathe, and somehow it has nothing to do with how I should reproach him. All I'm thinking is, he's here, he's this close because... because I want him, I want everything he is. I want the Dennis that gets lost, who needs me. I want the sarky Dennis who needs no-one, I want the unpredictable, and maybe even the violent Dennis. Whatever he was, whoever he is and whichever he continues to be, I want him. I always want him to be this close.

Not even I can tell you why I'm kissing him, why I'm buzzing as he kisses me back with that same fierce longing, working open my mouth and rushing his tongue between my lips, not questioning me, taking me, still wanting me whatever, just as much as I want him. He pulls himself free of my curled hands, wrapping his own around my jaw and tilting my chin so my kiss is more accessible and it is this way that he draws me away from the wall. I twist my hips into him so that he falls back against the sofa, sinking down onto the cushions. He pulls me down to his lap and, assured that I'm still kissing him, his hands fall away and dare to push my skirt up over my thighs.

Leaving the vibration of my moans against his lips, I pull back and raise myself a little so that I can work at his fly. He growls quietly, unhappy at having his mouth left unpreoccupied. Well, baby, that's hardly my fault. And it seems that he finds an occupation soon enough, lavishing kisses on the slope of my neck, sucking gently on sections of skin. I force down his jeans, just enough to get me the access I need and without drawing back from my neck, Dennis' hand is between my legs, inching my sodden underwear across, his fingertips brushing against my clit and nearly making me scream. He senses the struggle I'm facing to scale the sound down and he smirks, loving the obviousness of the effect he has on me.

The opposite corner of my mouth rises as I smirk back at him and meet his mouth hard. Everything about him just draws me in, and as much as I just want to... I can hear... the lock.

"Mmm, Dennis, no! I'm sorry.... but...!"

"No need to stop on my account Princess. I'm only your dad..."

Sharon's POV - 6:25p.m.

Dad! His words kick at me, inducing the most intense wave of nausea that rolls out from the pit of my stomach. Those words were just... so wrong. Dennis' mouth droops, the blood dragged across his lips. He steels himself to look out over my shoulder, but I forsee it and catch his face in my palms, shaking my head slowly and forcing him to look at me.

"No." I whisper, willing him to trust me. 

Oh my God... I'm sat, straddling his lap, pinning him down onto the couch, and his jeans are halfway down, his hands are pressed into my thighs, my skirt scrunched up over my hips. And his belt's on the floor... it's pretty damn obvious what we so nearly got down to. Bastard, has to turn up just at that moment!

"Dad..." I say slowly, deliberately bearing down into Dennis groin. Why am I fighting the unbelievable urge to laugh? "...can you give us a moment? If I move... and believe me, I really don't want to... you're gonna see a lot more than you bargained for!"

Dennis laughs gently, his hands treading an armorous path into my thighs as they move down, caressing every inch of my skin and making me burn. Even with the prying, disapproving eyes looking in on us, it feels so very unfair that I have to make Dennis stop, because this... this is everything, and I could force Dad to see that, even when he played Dennis for his worst, I still have him. And as far as I'm concerned, he's going nowhere.

"Dad!"

I'm so glad I don't have to look into his face, that I won't allow Dennis to. All we have to do is look at each other, and laugh that little bit harder as he crashes out of the room and kicks at the wall as he stands in the hall.

"This is so unfair."

"Mmm." I moan, kissing him again, feeling butterflies swirl in my stomach as he meets me. "I'd keep you here all day y'know... maybe he'd get the message then eh?"

"You mean how much I want you?"

"Stop it, or I won't move, and Daddy's gonna get one hell of a show!"

He claws back his lip, laughing. "If we had any glasses left, I'd go and get him one... press it against the wall..."

I raise my eyebrow, very aware that the inside of my thighs are getting damper. My bloody father... if he could have just given me fifteen measly minutes, I'd be OK, I wouldn't be so... desperate. I could really do without his inevitable dose of poison. There's only one thing I need right now, and that's Dennis.

"C'mon, we best do this..."

"That's exactly what I was thinking." he murmurs, his breath tickling my neck as he litters it with kisses, pulling me down harder onto him, somehow not moving into me, just teasing me... knowing it... loving it.

"No! Dennis, don't... I... I can't stop you..."

"That's right... you can't!"

"Don't do this to me darlin'... you know what I want... but him out there needs to see as well... and somehow, I don't think us at it's gonna do it!"

"No?" he muses, with a lazy smile of resignation as he realises we're just not going to happen. Not yet. "But I will if you don't get up in the next ten seconds..."

I know exactly what he means, can't miss that look in his eyes, and within three, leaving a gentle kiss upon his lips, I swing my leg round from the couch, straightening my back and standing to smooth down my skirt. Dennis is up too, zipping up his fly with a determination that makes me feel pretty miserable for the moments together we have lost. But... dare I hope that this time they could be reclaimed?

He catches me looking at him and smiles, like he can read off my every thought just by gazing into my face. And it's probably true, there's something about him I just can't explain. But maybe that's good.

Reaching out for my hands, he draws me the few steps towards him and I let all my muscles relax, just knowing that he's close again and stretch up on my toes, kissing him firmly, making sure that he can feel me against his lips.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

I nod slowly, the warmth at knowing he's sincere spreading right through me. My eyes seem to close of their own accord, and I savour this moment, because I know that this is true. I know that it could all go wrong, but as long as I remember that this moment is true, I know that whatever's said, I can always bring my darlin' back. So be strong Sharon, stay defiant. Know that you can keep him.

I lead him across the room, and I don't mind admitting to a shiver going up my spine, making me flinch as my hand closes round the doorknob. But I force myself to smile as I am faced with Dad's greying face, his wrinkled lips curled in disgust. But I clear my throat and drag my hand through my hair, trying to prepare myself. I'm spurred on at the way Dennis lifts his hand, tucking the hair gently behind my ear, his fingertips dancing down the back of my neck.

"Best come in Dad eh?" 

Dennis' POV - 6:30p.m

This woman, she's just too incredible. I mean, Den's pretty much caught us having sex... except we weren't, and I resent that fact more than I could tell you. Ten seconds more... five... and she'd have been around me, engulfing me, proving how much she wanted me, even for my own bastard ignorance, arrogance everything. And me, I'd show her, that's all. Show her til she knows she could never ever doubt me again. I couldn't bear it if she ever did. But the way she speaks to Den as we both know he stands there just makes me love her more than I ever thought possible. She holds me in place, her hands caught around my jaw so I can't look at him, only at her... drowning in her. And she says...

"Dad... can you give us a moment? If I move... and believe me, I really don't want to... you're gonna see a lot more than you bargained for!"

And she's right, she's so right. I can feel her, moving down harder onto me by instinct and I... shit I want her so much and I hate that I can't have her. If he'd just given us ten minutes, I coulda made each and every one of them worthwhile. But as it stands... or rather doesn't as she's deliberately making no effort to move, this frustration is unfortunately gonna be present and correct when I have to face Den again and battle for his Princess, make him realise she stopped being his long ago, and through everything he can create, she is mine. 

But I can't get past Sharon's strength. What she just said is above everything she's ever dared direct at him, she's defiant as hell, and I can't stop myself laughing. Cos I know I can't feel the material of my jeans any higher than my knees, I know that I'm most definitely out there, and when she stands up, Den's never gonna be able to deny what his Princess wants me for.

"Dad!"

And he goes, very noisily. Maybe we've made him so sick that just for once, he has no words.

Somehow, nothing but excited at the idea, Sharon and me are flirting. Like crazy, cos we need each other, and for some misplaced reason I don't really understand, we want each other like never before, but know that, just this once, we're gonna have to let go. But the way it feels to know that the worst has happened, that whatever that man can say, I'll still come back to Sharon is like... Utopia!

"Don't do this to me darlin'..." she moans as I trail kisses across her neck. "...you know what I want... but him out there needs to see as well... and somehow, I don't think us at it's gonna do it!"

"No?" I shoot back. See, I'm not so sure, in fact it could be just what he needs to see... and as for me, it's just what I need. "But I will if you don't get up in the next ten seconds..."

She gets up, leaving her kiss imprinted on my mouth as she moves back, pushing her skirt back down and I feel pretty sorry to say goodbye to the image of all that exposed flesh. She's just too beautiful to ever be hidden away. But I know that I'm gonna have to wait. Cos this is it, this is the war. This is where it began, right in this room, and I was so nearly beaten. I reach out for her hands, pulling her towards me, needing to know that I can have her close, let the memory of such a moment take me through what is it to come. 

She seems to be thinking the exact same thing and stretches up, pressing her mouth against him, needing to know I can feel her kiss, and every emotion within it.

"I love you." she whispers.

"I know. I love you too."

And it strikes me that we did this before. Before we faced Den hours ago, we swore that we loved each other, and we meant it, but then, in he came and I went crazy and I still don't understand why. But I lived through the hurt and I damn near lost her, I can't do it again, and he's... he's said everything he can... haven't we just proved there's hardly anything he can do now?

But he's still gonna come into this room, and he'll taint it. I press harder into her hand, noticing the way she shakes as she opens the door, raking her hand through her hair. Don't panic baby, please! I stroke her hair behind her ear. God, she's so beautiful. It takes her several seconds to breathe, but then the corners of her mouth gradually rise and she smiles, ignoring his cold, emotionless eyes and twisted lips.

"Best come in eh Dad?"

His nostrils flare, and his shoulders slump back as he moves into the room, taking every opportunity to glare at me. But I look right back at him and don't move an inch from where I stand with Sharon.

"How nice of you to let me into my own living room Princess."

"This is my home too Dad, it's our home." She meets my eye for a second, but I can tell that she doesn't necessarily mean it. This has never felt like home, not to me, cos while I've lived here, under this roof, swamped in the pretence of a happy family, I've only ever been fighting wanting Sharon or fighting to keep Sharon. "Why didn't you come straight over here?" she asks, choosing to completely ignore Den's sarcasm.

"I had to talk to your sister didn't I?"

I can't stop myself asking "What have you said to her?" and I sound a lot more desperate than I would ever hope to. But I, seemingly more than anyone, know how vulnerable Vicki is and that Den's gonna know exactly what buttons to press, and shit! what if she's told him what she did? No.. no, she wouldn't would she? She'd think that that was her, sinking down to our level, and she wouldn't wanna tell him that. Oh God, Rickman, breathe.

"Not half as much as I hoped she'd-" He glares at Sharon venemously, and she refuses to let herself flinch, lifting her chin and staring back at him. "-said to you! Given what you said to Kat, I'd have been cutting you from neck to navel, you twisted little- and instead here's you Princess... doing God knows what-"

"Yeah, God probably does know... but I'll spell it out for you shall I Dad, nice and slow, just so I can see that you're hearing me. If I'd had my way, me & Dennis woulda been having sex. And there's nothing you can say or do right now to change that fact. As your daughter, I want your son like you wouldn't believe. I don't care what you think, so hurry up and have your mind f*ck eh, cos I've got a completely different f*ck in mind, and I really didn't count on an audience!"

Sharon's POV - 6:35p.m

Dennis' laughter comes out through his nose, and he splutters as if he has no breath to laugh at all. It's only then that I realise what I've said, and I have to say, I feel very proud of myself. I've never, even at the times I should have, especially not then, defied my father. And I know I've pushed the boundaries, but honestly, is he completely stupid? Does he think I approve of what Dennis said to Kat, does he not think I'm angry, that I have frustrations to vent. And seeing as he's not buggering off to let me vent them the way I'd have chosen, the way that would make my baby understand, then maybe he's gonna have to feel the force them instead. Shame, he's always one step ahead, but all his words do is light the touchpaper.

"You make me sick Sharon."

Sharon. Wow. I'm thirty four years old, and he's finally realised I wasn't born his "Princess", that I actually have a name. I almost feel like giving him a round of applause, but I'm stopped by my own disgust.

"Why Dad? Why do I? C'mon, tell me what I'm doing that's so wrong!"

"Him!" he hisses, glaring at Dennis.

"Him? Oh right." I glance nonchalantly over my shoulder and Dennis' gaze swerves to meet mine for a second. "Well I've definitely been doing him, Dad. In fact, I'm wasting time even telling you this because by rights, I should still be doing him. Long... hard and slow..."

I see the flare of anger in his stony eyes, and his whole face seems to sink. But I see nothing else, I especially don't see his hand, but I feel it hard against my face, catching me off balance, my cheeks stinging hot as if they are bleeding. Oh my God, he hit me.

No-one says a word. Dennis looks pained, he looks angry, and I'm in no doubt that he'll go for Dad in a second. But right now, we're frozen, Dad's chest pumping nineteen to the dozen. His lips are curled and his anger sits there, but the way he stares at his hand, I can tell that he's... devestated. But that just doesn't matter. He still hit me. My dad hit me. I can feel the tears swelling in my eyes, prickling uncomfortably, just waiting to fall.

"Princess, I-"

I don't want to cry in front of him, I don't want him to see that any of this matters. Only Dennis matters, but... oh God!

Before the sob can explode from my throat, I push my way out the room, running to the kitchen. I trample through the millions of shards of glass littering the floor without caring that it all still lays there uncleared, only wincing as it cracks beneath my feet, remembering how it felt to have it slice into my flesh. I lean heavily against the sink, gasping in breaths and fighting to push the sob back down my throat, but it keeps constricting and it hurts, lodged and painful.

My arms are meant to be rigid and hold me up, but they shake and I stumble, blinking back my tears even as they begin to slip down my cheeks. I jump in surprise as I feel something against the base of my neck, my stomach dropping as hands come to rest against my shoulder.

"Sharon?"

I allow myself to relax a little, realising that it's Dennis, marking my skin with a tentative kiss. Slowly, I turn towards him, his hands sliding down to my forearms, those beautiful shimmering eyes, searching me. I smile weakly, but when he lifts his hand, his fingertips dancing gently across my bright sore cheek, I begin to shake with the force of the misery battling inside me and I just fold into his arms, neither of us saying a word. He just holds me close and kisses my hair and I... I feel safe here, but am so scared I'll be ripped from him.

But I can't stay forever, and force myself to move away, scraping back a chair, disturbing the glass as I settle myself at the table. Dennis seems to understand, and still doesn't say a word. He crouches down, one hand resting against the table, the other reaching out for my own hand, lacing his fingers through.

"Did you hit him?"

He humours me with a scornful laugh, but looks at me seriously as he leans across and tucks some of my hair behind my ear. "No. No, I didn't. But that don't mean to say I shouldn't... it's just... you matter more than him... and if you need me... then I'm gonna be right here ain't I?"

I so hope that's true, because every part of me believes him. And I don't wanna be let down again... I... I love him too much to suffer that. I want to tell him just how much I do love him, but somehow the words just aren't there. But even that's OK because he's not waiting on my words. I'm so captivated by him, the love I can see burns in his eyes and I just don't care to see Dad, shoulders hunched, slope into the room. But it seems he doesn't care to be ignored either.

"Ahem!" 

Irritation, that will quite probably become anger, twists Dennis' lips, but he squeezes my limp hand, maybe just so Dad knows.

"What?" he hisses, rolling his eyes and making no effort to turn round and look at Dad as he speaks.

"Princess..."

Dennis snaps his head round when he realises that Dad's talking to me, and he pushes himself up, regretfully dropping my hand and stepping in front of me as Dad moves forward.

"You come one step closer..."

He sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking up at the ceiling for a moment as if he's bored, and that makes my blood boil. Who the hell does he think he is?

"God, son, look at you. Reckon you can really show your old man who's boss eh? Tell you what, why don't you piss all round her chair?"

"Dad!" I cry, leaping up and standing in front of Dennis. "Don't you dare talk about me like I'm an object, a thing. I'm a person Dad, I see you, I hear you, I think and I feel - don't you have any respect for that?"

"Respect?" he spits. "What you mean like your brother has for you?"

"How many times? Dennis isn't my brother, and yeah, I do mean like that. Your son respects me more than you ever have, but hey, if you wanna treat me like I'm owned, then I'm telling you now, I belong with Dennis. And if you don't like that, then c'mon - hit me again!" And I look at him fiercely, knowing that I'm wordlessly laying out the challenge as he squirms on the spot, eyes cast to the floor. I hope he feels so ashamed that he's sick. And I hope he has fun clearing it up, cos I won't be doing it.

"Princess, I'm sorry... I never meant-"

My laughter comes out at an uncomfortable level, and it makes me cringe just to hear it, but the man makes me so mad!

"Don't make me laugh! Of course you did. Gotta say, that's a new low for you isn't it, thought you'd at least have left it to Dennis, just like last time!" I'm stood so close against Dennis that I feel him flinch as he recalls that memory, the one that perhaps, before last night, he regretted more than any other, and that includes killing Jack Dalton. "No? Oh Dad, you're losing your touch. You wanna do something useful... to make this right?"

"Course I do."

"Put the kettle on then. Give us a shout if you can't manage spooning out the sugar though eh?"

Dennis' POV - 6:45p.m

Right, so ten minutes after he hits Sharon, her only crime apparantly being that she wants me, and she's got Den in the kitchen making tea of all things, like this is gonna be a cosy family conversation. Though, maybe not. Cos it was with a face like thunder that he moved towards the sink, reaching over for the kettle, and Sharon stepped back, looking at him as if she was repulsed by him. And I'm not ashamed to admit that part of me wishes for that to be true, because... I couldn't bear to lose her.

She shakes her head, a noise leaping from her throat that sounds as if his mere closeness has left a nasty taste in her mouth, and she reaches for my hand and together we move out round him, knowing that he wants nothing more than to turn round and wrench our hands apart. But we won't let him. We leave him there, dropping tea bags into mugs, grinding his teeth together.

Sharon clicks shut the door of the lounge and stands, with her head tilted against it for a moment, her shoulders tensed and hunched, and her chest heaves as she lets go of the most almighty sigh, the sadness of which seems to leap off the walls and fill the room like a miserable fog. But then she straightens up and forces herself to relax as she looks at me, her lips curving into a gentle smile that I know only exists because she thinks she can fool me.

"C'mon..." I whisper, moving across the room. She's rigid, but doesn't fight as I pull her down onto the couch next to me. "...c'mere."

And she does, curling up alongside me, close yet barely comforted. She can't let herself relax, even as I let my fingers go through her hair, stroking the back of her neck, and that definitely used to work before. It's like... y'know a lot of people are ticklish? All you need to do with Sharon was go up and down the back of her neck slowly, and she'd mellow, she'd be alright.

But no. She's here, biting down on the edge of her thumb to force herself to keep back words, tears, I don't know. But then, Den kind of appears in the doorway and she bites down so hard that she winces and I wouldn't be surprised if I see her blood on her lips.

"No biscuits."

I almost laugh. Of all the things he could say, that we're expecting him to say to f*ck with us, he actually gives a damn that now he's actually managed to make the tea, and Christ, what an achievement, there's nothing to dunk? That's classic, and I guess the amusement shows in my face, cos he looks thoroughly pissed off as my eyes meet him. But I don't have to care, just concentrate on the path my thumb is taking down Sharon's arm, knowing that he hates how close we are, that she won't even lift her head to look at him.

"I'll just pop out and get some shall I?"

"You do that." I say sarcastically, giving him a tight smile that just makes his eyes glitter all the more coldly. It's great being able to get to him y'know, cos this doesn't implicate me and Sharon. We're still very much together. He moves out again, slamming the front door hard. 

"I'm scared Dennis." she murmurs weakly into my shirt as soon as she is assured he's gone.

"Hey, no! Baby, listen to me, there's nothing to be scared of..."

"Dad..."

"Stop it!" I tell her firmly, pressing my hands against her face with a determination to have her look at me that she cannot miss or mistake. "I'm here alright? And I swear I'm never gonna let him hurt you, ever..." Hmm, the words seem to burn my mouth, I mean, that's what he's just done isn't it - hurt her?

But she doesn't seem to notice my contradiction and just laughs, this soft whisper of a laugh. "I'm not scared for me... I'm scared for us. What if he hurts you? Dennis, I don't want anything to happen to you... I need you, I need us."

"Oh darlin'... nothing's gonna happen. I can promise you that. I mean, there ain't much even your old man can do with a cup of tea and a custard cream is there eh?" 

Sharon's POV - 6:50p.m

I smile. I can't help it. Dennis just does that to me. He can create situations that can make me wanna pull my hair out by the handful, but sometimes... sometimes it's not his fault. And even when it is, he can make anything right, with just a couple of words. It's so comforting to know that because in the early hours of this morning, I was in doubt. I didn't know if we could be right ever again. But now I know we can never be apart again. I mean it when I say I need him.I snuggle down against him, closer than before, and his chest rises that little bit higher beneath my ear and I murmur as he begins letting his warm fingertips slide slowly down the back of my neck, the way he knows is gonna render me helpless. 

Bless him, I know he just wants me to relax, to enjoy being close, but... I also meant it when I said I was scared. I feel like I'm counting down the mere moments til Dad returns, pathetic packet of biscuits in hand and steals my darlin' away. I don't know how he's gonna do it and that's what's scaring me. We're wiser now. If this truly is incest, then I love it and I won't let go. But Dad, he knows how old that line is. He hasn't accepted us, not by a long chalk, so what's his plan? Oh God, why don't I know? He's been my father for thirty odd years, shouldn't I know him by now?

The irritatingly insistent buzz of an even worse tinny ringtone is the only thing that seems to cut through the deep miserable confusion of my thoughts, and Dennis shifts from hip to hip, not really wanting to disturb me, have me move an inch. He stares at his phone and shakes his head.

"Is it you then?" he asks, smiling quizzically at me.

"Darlin'," I say gently, pulling myself up a little and wriggling closer to him. "I don't have a phone do I? You stood on it!"

"Well, what did you expect me to do when you chucked it at me?"

I humour him with a smile and kiss him softly. "Find the phone Dennis, answer it..."

"Well if it ain't you and it ain't me..."

"Dad!" I cry, scrambling to my feet and rushing round the room like I'm possessed, yanking open drawers and ripping up cushions.

"Sharon, calm down, we'll find it alright?"

"How? Oh Dennis, it's not here is it? Where are you going?"

I chase him out to the kitchen, watching him for a mere moment, moving tea towels and coffe jars before I start rifling in the cupboards and clattering open the drawers, rattling around in the cutlery.

"It's gotta be in here somewhere... it's louder..."

"Sharon!"

I whirl round to see Dennis with it in his hand, Dad's phone, still shrieking at him, the screen flashing, as if announcing the call as all the more urgent. He can obviously feel my eyes upon him because he freezes and moves round to meet my gaze. He's chewing on his lip nervously, he's not saying a word - he's making me so anxious. My skin literally crawls with apprehension, and on the inside, I'm in knots. As his gaze drops, so does my stomach. 

He flips open the phone, and suddenly the noise stops, allowing calm to descend again if only Dennis & I were in any sort of state to receive and appreciate it.

Lifting it to his ear, he still says not a word, and that's bad, cos I can tell by the lines that have suddenly appeared on his forehead that whoever is on the end of that line has definitely given him something to concentrate on. I lean back against the sink, knowing that otherwise I wouldn't be able to hold myself up. I start to clock watch, feeling all the more sick as the seconds, which feel like hours, move by. After eighteen painful seconds, Dennis bites down harder on his lip and says,

"No it ain't Vicks."

And about three seconds later, he pulls the phone back and drops it carelessly onto the countertop.

"What did she say?"

"Well, she wasn't exactly thrilled to hear from me. Hung up."

"But what did she say?"

"Not a lot." he shrugs. He's trying to make out like it doesn't matter, but this is Vicki we're talking about, and we both know how much he loves her, how much he hates that the whole thing between us has hurt her. "Couldn't make much of it out, she was crying too hard." He actually looks me in the face this time, and I can see the sorrow taking his beautiful eyes. "Proper sobs they were Sharon, she kept choking on them..."

I move towards him and tilt my head, rubbing what I hope are comforting circles into his back with the palm of my hand. "Oh baby... what she say eh?"

"She- She wanted to know if he'd "sorted it." If "it was over yet." And my guess is she didn't mean the football. She meant us Sharon, me & you... it."

And he gasps, so I move closer, working my hand underneath his jaw and forcing him to look at me. That's when I see that he was trying to force back tears, and doing a lousy job because they're pulsing down his cheeks leaving very obvious tracks.

"Oh..." I murmur sadly as I wipe them away. He really, really does hate what this has done to Vicki and I somehow doubt he'll ever really get over her kissing him. It's all so... so desperate and confusing, that's how we get into these messes, and all Dennis wants to do is make it right. So, brushing his mouth with my own, wanting to leave the sincerity of my kiss imprinted upon his unresponsive lips, I whisper for him to "Go and find her darlin'." 

For a moment, I see a flicker of hope in his eyes, but it dies so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it. Because he's shaking his head, rather stubbornly in my opinion, but everything is eclipsed by how utterly desolate he looks.

"I can't. No Sharon, I'm not leaving you!"

"I'll be fine!" I try and reassure him, I need him to make his peace, but y'know, I'm not so certain I'm being entirely honest with him. But I don't want him to lose Vicki anymore than I want to lose her myself. But Dennis comes first, and it's obvious that this is what he needs to do, as it probably would have been if I'd been the one to answer the phone.

"No you won't. I'm not leaving you here with him!"

"Go! You're right OK? There's nothing he can do to us anymore! The worst, the very worst was last night, and we're still here, me and you... we're still together... and we will be, for a very long time, yeah? So I'll sit tight with Dad, I'll drink the tea, I'll politely refuse the biscuits, and then, when you're ready, you and Vicki... no matter what he's said to me Dennis... when you come back here... I'll be waiting for you..."

Sharon's POV - 7:05p.m

"Princess!"

I jump out of my skin as I hear that cold, bored drawl come from the hall. The door slams and I should have known it would be him, but somehow it still feels like all he does is appear out of nowhere, like some bad omen. And I can't help but for a moment pray that Dennis would have just decided to turn back home, hold me and never let me go. 

But I know how he feels. I know that's what he wants to do, but I know he also feels as though he owes it to me and to the relationship he so wants to keep with Vicki to go and find her. So I have to be alright here alone. I can't help but shiver, repulsed almost as I listen to Dad shuffle in from the hall. Looking in that direction for a moment, I watch, feeling my lip instinctively curl in disgust as he leans in past the lounge door, obviously searching out me & Dennis, and smirking as he realises we're not curled up together anymore. And that just makes me so angry, because... because we should be curled up, and I blame Dad whole heartedly for every moment we weren't.

I force myself to look away and instead concentrate on the condensation steaming up the window thanks to the kettle, the little droplets scuttling down into the frame. But I can still feeling the nausea rising as I feel how close he is, see him move towards the table with that damned packet of custard creams in his hand, setting them down.

"Biscuits."

I laugh. I can't believe that that truly is all he went out for, surely the great Den Watts has more cunning than this? To say this has been easy is completely wrong, but there's no way Dennis and me coulda made him back down is there, I mean, there has to be some grand plan right?

I shake my head in disbelief and pointlessly clatter with the mugs laid out; anything to occupy my mind, my hands.

"Well," he begins, drawing in a slow breath that comes out more like a sigh. "this is a fine old mess you've got yourself into isn't it?"

I close my eyes and I breathe, deep slow breaths, telling myself not to take his words for their meaning. Keep doing what you're doing Sharon, defy him.

"Yeah." I sniff, nodding before I dip down on my knees and rifle in the cupboard beneath the sink for the dustpan and brush, swivelling and tentatively sweeping up the first of many thousands of shards.

He moves quick across the room, almost crashing into the table. He dives down onto the floor, and I almost scream, I don't want him so close. Get away from me, get away! He pulls the dustpan from my hands, and seeing the way I shake, moves back, dropping it into the sink.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know exactly what you meant." I hiss venemously. "What's up Dad, not relishing your one and only chance to have me on my knees in front of you?"

"Get up!"

Good, gladly, any chance to get away from you, you sick, twisted... Oh for God's sake, do it already, whatever you're gonna do, do it and get it over with! I hate that he looks at me with such... angered pity as I glare at him, rushing from the room and into the lounge. I throw myself down on the couch. The cushions are still warm, and if I close my eyes, I can just about feel Dennis' arms around me again. I feel safe, but then this lump presses in my throat and I remember he's not here. I'm not safe. I look desperately to the clock on the sideboard. He's been gone twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes. Is he OK? Has he sorted things out with Vicki, is he worrying for me, wishing he was here? Oh, I wish he was.

I go cold, goosebumps raising on my arms and I know that when I open my eyes, Dad will be in front of me. I look into his face and his expression does not change as he climbs down next to me and hands me a mug, sitting against his hip as he puts his own mug down with a clack on the sideboard, next to the plate of custard creams, which he picks up and offers to me. I shake my head, my lips lifting into an insincere smile. He releases a weak mumble of disinterest as he puts it back, hunching his shoulders and sipping his tea.

"Where's your brother then?"

"My what?"

"Your brother."

"I don't have a brother." I tell him sternly, taking in a deliberately large gulp of tea, knowing that it'll burn my mouth and keep me from saying anything I shouldn't. 

Concern flitters across his face as he watches the way my face shifts to accommodate the discomfort, and it just makes my skin crawl. There's nothing sincere about him anymore.

"Now you're just confusing me Princess. I'm your dad ain't I?"

"Yes!" I growl. Yet somehow, I want to say no. Because however unwanted I was, there's a man somewhere who made me, who is actually part of me and has the apparant right to belittle me like Dad does. And if I could, I'd have this stranger in his place, just so I could be close to Dennis, and not feel so ashamed for wanting to touch him, kiss him. My real parents wouldn't care. I've never thought about these people before, they are after all, only strangers, but somehow, I want them. I want them to be my parents, because they have absolutely no reason to reject Dennis because he loves me.

"And I'm that little scumbag's dad too ain't I?"

"I don't know, are you? When have you ever behaved like a father to Dennis Dad, like you give a damn about him? You just play the "my son" card whenever you want something, because you know it will work... you know what he thinks about you, how much he wants to be accepted..."

"Oh right, and sleeping with my daughter is gonna get him there is it?"

The way he looks at me makes me prickle uncomfortably. He's so close, his eyes so cold and deep, scrutinising me. What does he want? Why does he have to make me feel so nervous? It's too calm and I... I want Dennis... my mouth's dry, so I glug back more tea, dropping my gaze and just wishing he wouldn't be so calm, that he'd stop looking at me. This silence needs to be filled and I only have the truth, the words out of my mouth and soaring in the air between us, finally spoken and free. It feels like a crushing weight in my chest is lifted. I shouldn't... I know I really shouldn't, but I've needed to say these words for too long.

"That's the thing though isn't it Dad? I'm not your daughter am I, not really. I'm just the woman your son makes love to."

And I expect him to explode... I mean, I can see the anger in his eyes, it's unmistakable. Me mentioning sex to Dad has always been a taboo thing, so sex with his son...? But he doesn't, and that makes me shiver with nerves. I wrap my hands tighter around the mug, letting the warmth sink through my skin, feeling sick as I wait for some sort of reaction, because this just isn't enough, not for my dad. 

And my stomach drops as, with a lazy smile, he leans in towards me.

"Drink your tea eh? There's a good girl."

Dennis' POV - 7:20p.m.

Where the hell is she? I've been trawling these miserable streets for half an hour looking for Vicki, my only company the scent of threatening rain hanging in the air. This is too long, I mean, I shoulda found her by now right? I went straight to the pub, but she wasn't there. I even forced my way upstairs, making sure Kat was well aware I didn't "give a toss!" if I "couldn't go up there". But Vicki truly wasn't there. Zoe was slumped on the sofa in the lounge, quite obviously in Kat's clothes and it... it took away all the beauty she has. 

Whatever I may think of Zoe, she is definitely pretty. Even I, shallow as I am, couldn't have been with her all these months if she was a dog, but she... she just looked like a miniature Kat, that sneer set quite deliberately on her lips, and eurgh. She loved telling me that Vicki wasn't around, and even if I did manage to find her, there'd be no way in hell she'd want to see me anyway... I made her sick, whatever else. I wasn't really listening, cos it had all been said before, and all she achieved was making me restless, shifting from one foot to the other, wanting to move, to find my sister.

She'd left only after sitting with Den, surprised to see him, no clue he was home. Not that it mattered, given what me & Sharon had just done, they had more pressing things to talk about, in quietly panicked, rushed voices. And I get now that he must have promised to "sort it out". I'd gone to the club, the snooker hall, even the community centre. I half expected to come out of there and find her slumped on a swing in the playground - that is after all the cliche of this little place, but she wasn't there, and I had to force myself to head round to Pauline's. That would be clever on Vicki's part, she knows how much both Sharon & me would hate to have to face Pauline after everything. Christ, she's such a dragon, she'd only serve to wind me up!

"Pauline..." I begin heavily to her back, sliding into the kitchen as she sails past and opens the door before turning back to the stove.

"Oh, it's you."

Yeah, and it's making my day having to see you as well, you old bag.

Luckily, I don't say that out loud. I just smile tightly, staying silent. And she looks at me, her lips so tight that she looks like if she so much as utters a word, her face will crack.

"Well, what do you want then?"

"Have you seen Vicki?"

"No. Why, should I have?"

Christ, why does she always have to sound so sour?

"No." I say slowly, knowing I can feel her doing it, winding me up. "It's just she's... meant to be working and she hasn't showed..." Bare faced lies. But then, I'm good at telling lies, that's how I survived for the first twenty-five years. So why is she looking at me like that, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head.

"Really?" she says flatly, challenging me beyond all doubt.

"Yes... really. So have you seen her or what?"

"No I haven't."

"Right." I nod, defeated. "Well..."

"Dennis... what's going on?"

I glare at her. But then I see it in her face - she really hasn't seen Vicki and shit! she really doesn't know. So I pray that the way I'm looking at her makes her believe there is nothing to tell, that I resent the question for that reason and that reason alone. But she waits, raising her eyebrow and telling me to hurry up with that one movement. But I can't... I won't. And I breathe a sigh of relief I'm not sure she hasn't heard as the back door crashes open, and blowing on his frozen hands, Martin bounds over to the stove, planting an over eager kiss on his mum's cheek.

"Alright Mum, what's for din- oh... alright Dennis?"

"I don't know." I answer honestly. "You haven't seen Vicki have you?"

"Yeah I have actually."

"When?!" I press, flinching in surprise, relief and straightening my back, needing to hear this information.

"Just a second ago. Had a meeting with the suppliers and the tube was delayed or summat, only just got back."

"Sorry, what... the tube? Vicki's at the tube station?"

"Yeah." Poor bastard looks confused and worried I might be about to hit him or something. "That's alright isn't it? Said she might go up town tonight or whatever."

"Whatever..." I echo weakly. "Right, thanks Martin!"

And I'm out of there, practically ripping the door of its hinges in my haste to be gone.

"No, hang on!" Pauline squawks, even though it's pretty obvious I won't, I'm already halfway up Bridge Street. "What's going on?"

Dennis' POV - 7:35p.m.

It takes me too long to find her. I worry that I won't find her at all. She's not down in the entrance, so she's either up on the platform or she's gone, God knows where and in what sort of state. I feel sick just imagining her being alone, still crying as much as she did while she unknowingly spoke to me. It hurt to hear every one of her words, wishing, hoping for me & Sharon to be over. If only Vicki knew what had happened last night, how close I came to losing Sharon when I love her so much. Would that make Vicki happy, would she believe that for all the hurt, I still love her too, more than she could imagine?

Maybe not, because had Sharon actually left me, left me for all the despicable things that man made me think I needed to do, I could never have stayed. She would have done, because Den would have worked her and made her believe that as always, his Princess' place is in Walford, with her dad and her sister. But Sharon's never gonna be my sister. I could never have stayed, and looked at her and not remembered how I lost her, how I hurt her, how much I hate myself. So I would have abandoned Vicki too, all for my own selfish mistakes.

But I don't have to. Not now. Because Sharon's still mine, and I believe her when she says she'll be waiting for me. I wouldn't have, but she's tired of Den's games now, even if she does expect them. She's definitely gotten wiser, more defiant and that's shaking the old man. That don't mean I wanted to leave her at his mercy. In fact, with every step I've taken out here, I've wanted to turn back, run back and protect her. But I believe she can be strong on her own, and I have to put my trust in that. I have to find Vicki, like she wanted, and I have to stop her tears and at the very least make her see that I do love her too, and if she'll believe me, then this big brother is going nowhere.

And neither is she apparantly. I pull in a breath where air seems to have been missing for so long, and it hurts as it moves down my throat. My chest gets tight as she looks up from her knees and sees me stood there. Yeah, I stop, waiting. Cos I know if I move, like I want to, rushing forward, even though I don't know whether I'll shout at her for scaring me like this, or whether I'll hug her and not ever let her go, she'll fight to get away from me, and that's going to break me.

I move forward slowly and don't say a word as I perch next to her. I can feel her eyes burning into me, and that's good, cos she's looking at me. That has to be a good sign. But when I move round to meet her gaze, she scowls, almost instinctively and scoots across the bench. Yeah, that hits me right in the stomach - she doesn't want to be anywhere near me, but I understand that. Doesn't mean I'm going anywhere though.

So I sit there, watching her at the moments she makes a point of not looking at me. I fiddle lazily with my hands, watching her do exactly the same as she stares pointlessly into her lap again. Guess we're similar in some ways then. We're sat there for about five minutes and it's taking a lot for me not to cry out for her to just speak for f*ck's sake! I think she can read the irritation in my face, cos she scoffs and pulls her knees up, moving back and crossing her legs against the bench, flicking the toe of her shoe with her fingertip. More silence, that only makes me squirn and then, she releases this almighty sigh.

"Why did you do this to me again Dennis?"

"I... I love her Vicki."

"Do you? Do you really? So I'll never have to listen to her crying herself to sleep again then?"

Oh God... did she... oh my poor darlin', what kind of person am I?

"Not if I can help it."

Vicki's deep eyes flash in a moment of anger. "Well, what if you can't help it eh? All you've ever done is hurt her-"

"-love her!" I correct viciously, breathing deeply and willing myself to believe my words over hers.

She looks at me her, her eyes narrow and her face dark with disbelief. "Do you love me?"

I bite down hard on my lip as soon as I feel myself try to form words because I can feel the tears too, and the last thing I want is to cry in front of Vicki. She leans forward a little, raising her eyebrow doubtfully and waiting on my words. So I gulp back the sob, my throat tight and sore as it is pushed back down. I nod gently.

"Yeah, I do. I love you... I love you so, so much."

She blinks furiously, like she's stunned, like she doesn't believe me. "But not like you love Sharon?"

She's trying to sound scathing, but all I can hear is a confused and hurt little girl, and she's breaking my heart. I owe her the truth, never did I want her to be so confused.

"Never like I love Sharon darlin', no. I... I love Sharon for who she is, not what she is."

"She's your sister."

"No." I shake my head, clawing back my lip again. "I know that that's how it was meant to be alright, I know. So, maybe I'm sick alright, maybe I truly am sick for wanting her, I'll go with that. But Sharon rejected me, Vicks. She saw me as her brother, and she wasn't gonna let anything happen.... not with me..."

"So you chased her?"

"No. I was honest with her, and she still came at me with the brother stuff. I didn't wanna believe it OK, but I knew she was gonna do it again, she was gonna push me away. So I walked... and she stopped me. She stopped me... and that was the first time we ever..."

"Yeah, I get it." And she coughs, as if her breath has gotten caught in her throat. "So... now... Sharon loves you... like that? Like you love her?"

"Yeah."

"But she... she fought it..."

"Yeah she did, but... Vicki, you don't know what she does to me-"

She scoffs again, this time in more evident disgust. "I don't want to know!"

I ignore her, because I think she knows I didn't mean it like that.

"-she makes me happy... she makes me so happy. I've never felt like it before in my life darlin', and that's why I love Sharon. She makes everything seem right even when everyone else..." Now I'm the one looking down, blinking furiously, to keep back tears. But then, the words come clear and I look Vicki starkly in the face, wishing it wasn't so tear-stained because she, my little sister, she's so beautiful. "And I know she loves me too... me... so I swear to you... I'll never ever hurt her. And if you think I ever do, then you can drag me back here and throw me under the first tube you see, just please... don't leave me..."

"Leave?"

I nod again, feeling an ache in my neck. "I can't let Sharon go Vicki, but you... oh God, you have no idea how special you are... to me. You are my family, and I've never had that before... so I need you too. I... I don't wanna lose you. I know that it can't all be the same, but if you'll just... let me be your brother?"

A sound comes from her throat that seems to be words burnt dry. Tears are still glistening on her slippery cheeks, but nothing new falls from her eyes. Dare I hope for her submission? My heart lifts a bit, and falls straight back down as she shakes her head fiercely.

"I can't be in that house, not when you and Sharon are-"

"Then we'll go." I say quickly, moving hurriedly across and taking up one of her frozen hands, trying to restore warmth by rubbing it fiercely between my own palms. She doesn't pull away... in fact, she laughs... weakly as she sniffles, but that's good... that's so good... it's enough. "Sharon and me will go, just... don't cut us out your lives... I'm begging you..."

Gasping she lifts her free hand and wipes the tears away with her sleeve. Then she looks at me, so pale, so hurt... but she smiles as she shakes her head and I feel her fingers drop through mine, squeezing my hand tightly.

"You don't have to beg Dennis..." 

Dennis' POV - 7:45p.m.

I can't breathe, and my jaw aches cos I'm fighting off a smile. Vicki... oh beautiful, precious Vicki wants to be my sister. She's gonna come home and she's gonna talk... maybe that's not good, maybe I'm right to secretly feel sick with nerves, but at least she didn't turn me away. After she took my hand, all she said was "Let's go home" and though we didn't really speak as we went across the Square, I didn't miss the fact that she still had hold of my hand, and didn't seem to be making any effort to let go. And that was fine by me, cos I never wanted to let her go. I always wanna be her brother. I wanna be the one there to soothe away her hurt, never again do I wanna be the cause of it.

Vicki's heel drags as she steps up alongside me on the pavement outside Number 5, and she takes in an uneasy breath as she looks up at the domaineering structure of the place. 

"Will, erm... Dad be there?"

"Yeah." I tell her, immediately feeling all the more nauseous and feeling awful that I need to silently pray my darlin' stood firm. "He's with Sharon."

Vicki closes her eyes for a moment, trying to fight the way she's started to tremor as her breath escapes her as more of a sigh. Then she looks at me again, eyelids flickering, with no energy to smile or appear positive. "Right." she says, her shoulders heaving as she puts her foot forward.

And then our hands are dislodged and she goes unsteadily up the stairwell as I take in my own hesitant breath of preperation. "C'mon Rickman." I mutter to myself. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore, you know she'll be waiting."

So I follow Vicki up and she stands to the side as I slide my key into the lock. She dives underneath my arm into the dark hallway, looking back to me as I shut the door behind me, as if awaiting my instruction or approval.

But I only need to hear one person speak, and it certainly isn't me.

"Sharon?"

Silence. This can't be right...

"Sharon?!"

Vicki looks at me again, shoulders hunched in confusion, and she moves forward, opening the door to the lounge and calling for Sharon herself. But she's back in the hall, shaking her head in a moment.

"Sharon!"

Oh God, I'm scared! Where is she? Where's Den? I bolt up the stairs and crash through every single room, but unless she's hiding under a bed and he's in a wardrobe, neither of them are here. Oh God, oh shit, oh no! I really can't breathe now, and my head's pounding, crammed full of so many thoughts, I just can't function, I don't know where to begin with panicking! I'm shaking... I don't know if I can stand up, I feel sick, I feel so sick!

"Dennis, calm down!" Vicki cries as I thunder back down the stairs, tearing past her where she stands dazed and bewildered, glued to that spot on the floor, just watching me with darting eyes, not knowing how to decipher this scene. 

I go through to the kitchen, barely registering that dull thud of pain as I crash into the table, sending one of the chairs sprawling and clattering to the floor amongst the glass. I don't care, turn away and kick at the sink with a deep frustration.

"Dennis, it's alright!" I (barely!) see Vicki out the corner of my eye. "She might have... just gone for a walk..."

I laugh bitterly. "Yeah and she might have pushed Den back in the canal an' all, but somehow, I don't think either's very likely do you?!"

"Well, no..." she admits awkwardly. "...but you know what Dad's like... he'll have said some stuff, she'll need to clear her head."

"No she wouldn't." I hiss quietly. It was clear, Sharon and me, we knew what this is about now... didn't we? It was about me and her.... being together again... wasn't it?

But I just don't know and cry out as I kick fiercely at the sink again.

Vicki looks frightened, unable to deny the nature and force of my emotion, but reaches to rest my hand on my arm. Only she doesn't get that close because I whirl round and grab her by the shoulders, unintentionally shaking her as tears stinging in my eyes. 

"Where's Sharon?" I cry, anguished, even though I know she can't answer me. "She should be here! Where is she Vicki, where?"

And only amidst Vicki's protests, her yelling, "Dennis, you're hurting me! Ow! Please, get off!" do I realise that I'm pulling her round the room, shaking her like a doll, throwing her round almost, and she's fighting me, trying to release herself. 

But I can't let her go, cos someone needs to feel my pain and she's the only one here. 

"Get off!"

I shove her away blindly, guilt already coarsing through me. She's only my little sister, none of this is her fault. Am I really that determined to alienate her when she's so nearly lost to me anyway? She splutters and chokes as she tries to balance herself, but falls hard against the units and falls to the floor as more crockery no doubt, crashes around her, shattering on the floor and making her shriek as she begins to cry again.

Oh God, what have I done?

I sink down next to her, but she curls up protectively shrinking away from me.

"I'm so sorry..." I whimper, feeling a sob press painfully in my throat. "... it's just... she said she'd wait for me and I don't... oh Vicki, where is she?"

But she doesn't answer me, apprehensively picking up a large shard and letting her fingers brush over it as she glances fleetingly at me, knowing that we both recognise it as Sharon's favourite "Princess" mug, a bit of sentimental tat that Den got her when she was about seven or so. She must have been drinking from that tonight.

Putting it back down on the floor among its counterparts, she lifts something else from inside the half that miraculously remains a mug. I have to squint to make out what it is as she scrutinises it. It's a small plastic cap, you know like the ones they measure out your medicines in and give to you to drink from... and this one apparantly had the lid of a camera film canister on it or something.

Oh shit! A medicine cap... in Sharon's drink.

"Dennis..."

I go cold on the inside. "He's drugged her..."

"No!" Vicki bleats, more through instinct than belief. She clambers to her feet, still holding the cap, shaking her head fiercely as if she sniffs back fresh tears, that may be my fault once again. "No, he wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't he?" I blast. "Well, where the hell is she then Vicki?" I throw my arms up from my hip, inviting her to look around her and see Sharon when I do not. "She wouldn't leave me... she wouldn't leave us... she wanted me to come back with you, because... because she didn't wanna lose you either. She'd never have gone!" Then I take the cap from her and examine it too. "Not willingly." I mutter quietly.

"What... What does that say?" Vicki sniffs, leaning over the cup. "G..."

She's right. Marker pen or something, a shaky "G" is written on the knobbly face of the cup.

"G... what the f*ck is G?"

I try and think... I'm wracking my brains so hard, they hurt. Why am I drawing a blank? I mean, I've had enough to do with drugs in my time... and if nothing else, I work in a club for God's sake, it's my job to weedle these things out! But I just can't think, too panicked, too scared and too angry. I'm going to kill him!

"Vicki, think!" I demand.

"I can't!" she splutters, looking totally horrified before feebly offering "Grass?"

"Oh yeah, so he grew a couple of pot plants, picked off a few leaves and shoved them in the blender ready for a nice cup of tea eh? Nice going Vicks!"

"Well, I don't know do I?" she screams, tears pouring down unashamedly now. "Oh God... Sharon..."

"OK, just shut up." I tell her, more irritably than I would have wanted as I fall back upon the floor, ignoring all the glass digging into me, wanting to catch their jagged edges in my flesh. "I have to think. G... G... G...." I press my palms to my face, rhythmically bashing the flat of my hands into my forehead. "Think, Dennis, think! G... G...G..."

The seconds drag by and I still have nothing except Vicki sobbing at my side. But then her breath catches in her throat, and she gasps.

"HB."

"What?" I ask, lifting my head. Her gaze slides uneasily in my direction as she blinks her way furiously through the glassy tears that have collected in her sad, sparkling eyes. She bites down on her lip and says slowly.

"GHB."

My mouth goes dry. Yes, I've heard of that somewhere... "Isn't that a-" Oh God, please, no!

But Vicki gulps... and nods. "Yes. They warn you in clubs... watch your drinks because..." She chokes and  splutters as she leans forward heaving. "Dennis, it's a date rape drug..."

I swear my blood freezes in my veins.

"Oh my God - no!"

Sharon's POV - 9:00p.m.

I feel so heavy. It's uncomfortable, but I don't mind. It's alright because... oh I need to sleep. Everything that has happened over the past twenty four hours has wiped me utterly, so sleep is good. I won't open my eyes, I won't. But then, the weight shifts, and my back goes rigid. It's supposed to be on the inside, why is it moving? Why is it pressing into me like that? Ow! I try and lie still and pretend I cannot feel it. Don't open your eyes Sharon. I can feel warm breath dance across my cheek, and I relax just a little. It'll be Dennis, it's OK, it's all alright now. But it's not, and within the next moment I've stiffened again so much that I'm in pain. But it's dulled. I know it's there, but it seems so far away, like it belongs to someone else.

But if this is Dennis... why is he crushing me? He wouldn't... smother me like this... oh God... I can't breathe... I can't... everything hurts, why does it hurt? I'm gonna have to open my eyes but I don't want to, I just wanna be safe. Please God, say I'm safe!

It hurts even to open my eyes, every muscle heavy and protesting. The light bleeds in, too damn bright and uninvited and I... I'm... looking at my father. And he's so close, leaning down on me... if I could blink, my eyelashes would meet his skin. Why... why is he close... so heavy? I try to breath, but the pattern quick becomes irregular, and my chest heaves with the need for air before he can steal it from me. But I hate the fact I have to breathe because it means that my chest presses against his. What is he doing above me... has he been on top of me?

My only instinct is to make him get away, to leave me alone. I try and lift my limbs from... from the bed... I'm on a bed, flailing desperately, crying out with the croakiest of words I can manage from my tight and dry throat, just wishing I didn't feel so sore and hurt.

"Get off me! What are you doing? Get away from me!"

And I somehow manage to pull myself to a sitting position, scrambling up the duvet, rumpling the material as I move, in more pain with each second, backing up towards the wall, my knees drawn up to my chest. I just want to curl up, I want to be small, I never want to be seen again. I'm so frightened, tears pulsing down my cheeks, hot and stinging. My head feels thick and hazy, like it's stuffed full of cotton wool. I'm so alone... just me and this monster... in the middle of nowhere.

"W... Where's Dennis?" I ask. I know he's not here, I know, but I'm praying, just cos he's the only person I can think about, the only person I need.

"Dennis is right here Princess." Dad says, straightening up and slipping his fingers through the belt loops on his trousers. He lifts his wrinkled chin defiantly and stares at me with those cold dark eyes as his nostrils flare.

"No.." I whimper, shaking my head miserably and feeling my hair stick to my face thanks to the effect of my tears. I pull my legs round and shakily get up on the floor, turning away from him. "Dennis... my Dennis!" I can feel the anger swell in my chest, and I splutter as it explodes, and I whirl back round to face him, feeling additional heat rise in my cheeks as I scream, "My Dennis! Dad, please... where is he?"

 He shakes his head slowly, biting his lip. And then he sighs, moving forward. Instinctively I move back, I don't wanna be anywhere near him, but there's nowhere I can go.

"You don't need him anymore Sharon. You've got your dad."

Dennis' POV - 8:00p.m.

My only instinct should be to go and find her, I know, I know, and I swear, I'll give my last breath to finding her but something just hits me and takes the every breath out of me, and Vicki and me, we're just curled up on the kitchen floor. I'm slumped against the cabinet, deliberately... rhythmically bashing my head against the handle of the drawer, wanting to feel pain, believe that I'm sharing in the pain my beautiful darlin' must be feeling right now. I'm numb, this can't be real, not Sharon... he wouldn't... he couldn't... but I know he could... he tried to make me do it didn't he? 

But it didn't work, we were going to be together, and it really was more than he could stand. So he sunk... so low. He drugged her... the woman he was meant to love more than anyone in the world, and that includes Chrissie.

I knew he was too calm... I should never ever have left her... not even for Vicki.

Vicki... oh God... she's crying... howling while I cannot, shaking her head so fiercely as she loses the battle to keep back her sobs, meekly gulping in air and whimpering "No! No he wouldn't!" in a way that makes it obvious she's trying to convince herself of the truth when she couldn't be further away from knowing it. "Oh God... he wouldn't... he loves her!"

"He knows I love her." I mutter, the words leaving my mouth as if I'm not really addressing anyone. Maybe I'm not, maybe I'm still trying to work out why he'd do something like this, and so far, that's my only justification.

"He's her dad Dennis... he'd never..."

"So why he's given her a date rape drug Vicki?" I hiss, snatching up the cup. "Tell me you're not frightened?"

"I am..." she chokes miserably before dissolving into tears again. "I'm so scared!"

"Then get up! We can talk about being scared all night, but that's just... wasting time! What about Sharon, Vicki? We don't know anything - how long they've been gone... where he's taken her... how much of this he's given her... she could be dead for f*ck's sake - we don't have time to be scared, we have to find her before he... oh God, what if he's already-"

"No!" she bawls, pulling herself to her feet by leaning against the sink, wincing as the glass cuts into her knee, as it has with all of us at some point. Bloody bubbles through the wound, and I glance hurriedly at it, but Vicki brushes her knees off, shaking her head again, and pushing against me to force to leave the room. I'm so stiff, so scared. But my own blood pounds, screaming for me to find her, protect her with all I have.

"Oh Sharon.." I splutter, feeling a sob of my own explode from my throat where it feels as if no previous emotion ever existed.

"We'll find her Dennis, we will..." 

Dennis' POV - 8:15p.m.

I don't believe her, I don't have an ounce of faith in her in fact, but I... I have to try. There's just this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can't get rid of that says, even if we do find her, it'll be too late. I wish I could have some faith in Den too, believe that he wouldn't hurt her like that but... for God's sake... he drugged her. No wonder he was so calm... oh Jesus, why didn't I at least suspect something? I mean, I've never trusted the man so... oh God, if anything happens to her...

"Dennis... what can I do for you?"

"Andy!"

I leap to my feet, while Vicki cowers there on his couch, still crying quietly, the tears still marking her blotchy cheeks. Interest goes across his face as he looks at her, but then slips back into that stubborn facade.

"What is this... a creche?"

"Look, we haven't come to piss about!" I say shakily, trying to keep my words steady and finding I can't look him in theface, my gaze flitting all round the round as I force my words out. "We..." I can feel myself tremor, dropping my hands in my pockets as I roll forwards out my toes, nervously licking my cracked lips. "...I need your car..."

He laughs as he meanders across the room to his drinks cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He doesn't look for my acceptance of the measure he pours me, and hands it to me anyway, forcing it between my stiff fingers. I can barely hold it, turn and give it to Vicki. She looks up... she looks frightened.

"Drink it sweetheart," I tell her weakly. "It's alright... it'll calm you a bit."

She nods and shakes with nerves, with more tears, and it takes a while before she actually has her lips around the rim of the glass to take any of the liquid in. She only has me to trust now, and I know how unfair that must seem to her, because... because of what happened with us, but I... I can't think about that now, I just need to be out of here, and I have to find Sharon - everything else can wait.

"So..." Andy muses sternly. "...what's going on Dennis? Why do you need my pride & joy?"

Oh shit! He has a right to ask, of course he does, but what am I meant to say... I mean, how believable is the full extent of the truth? Maybe just a little bit is worth a go; maybe he needs to know our desperation.

"Sharon took something..."

"Oh right." He nods, pushing his bottom lip out as his shoulders slope in a way that says he doesn't really care, he's not impressed and he's not swayed.

"C'mon Andy, she needs help!" I push anxiously.

"Well, where is she then eh?" Oh shit, he's expecting to see her, of course he is... shit, shit, double shit!

Throwing his arms out, he swills the whiskey thoughtfully round in his mouth, inviting me to see Sharon out where it's obvious she isn't. But f*ck, it ain't obvious where she is either, she could be anywhere, and I don't have time for this!

"You've only got Bam Bam..." 

He gestures to Vicki with his glass, looking very amused with himself. But she glares readily at him, sniffling and wrapping her arms around her knees as she continues to suffer her own whiskey. She hates spirits, everything except vodka, but she should drink it... it's one of few things right now that might make her feel better. 

"...so where's Wilma eh?"

And it seems before I can even take in that he's trying to be funny, Vicki's up on her feet, her glass apparantly empty as she steps up to him and lifts it. "This is gonna go bam-bam in your skull in a minute!" she snarls, positively shaking. "Just give us the car!"

And this time, he's bothered... by Vicki, a little messed up kid. He moves back, giving her an odd look and a simultaneous wide berth. He looks at me out the corner of his eye, laying out all his question without words. But after another tense silence, punctuated only by Vicki's angry spluttering, he finds them, and says again

"What's going on Dennis?" He paces back towards the recliner, sinking into it, never taking his eyes from me. "What's Sharon taken?"

I stare at the floor, feeling tears prickle in my eyes.

"We... We think it was GHB."

I force myself to look back up at him, and realise now that we have his attention. his face tight, his eyebrows raised, his lips set in surprise. He lets out a low whistle. "GHB... that's pretty heavy stuff Rickman... I've known some very pretty girls drown in that stuff, y'know what I'm saying? Treat it like it's water... and that buzz goes pretty damn quick, but they don't even notice... not til it's too late anyway..."

"Don't!" Vicki bawls, her glass falling from her trembling hands and landing with a thud on the carpet, rolling around listlessly. For a few seconds, she presses her hands over her ears as she falls back on the couch, whimpering, shivering and rocking herself back and forth, and it's painful to watch her. I want to comfort her, but my fears are the same, and they're getting more and more intense with every minute I spend here when I should be looking for Sharon!

But then she straightens her back and shakes her head determinedly, trying to pull herself together. She gets up, and falls down again at Andy's feet. We both stoop over her, sure she's gone and fainted, it really wouldn't surprise me, but it seems she's alright, because she wriggles and fights as I try and lift her up, so I have to let her sink back down to the floor. When Andy hesistantly touches her, she looks up at him, her big sad eyes shimmering with tears as she pushes herself up onto her knees. 

"Please... Andy, I'm begging you... I'm really begging you... she's missing... Sharon's missing! We have to find her..."

Shit!

"What... What d'you mean, missing?"

I wince, and so does Vicki, shivering miserably as she meets my eye, whispering "I'm sorry."

I smile weakly and glance at the floor, biting down on my lip. I never wanted to have to tell him the whole truth but...

"Den's taken her... he's drugged her and taken her God knows where..."

He tries to laugh again, but even he can't deny the seriousness he's been faced with. However, he can't seem to stop himself asking, "This is a joke right?"

"No."

"Christ..."

Then he sighs, crouching next to Vicki and lifting her chin to gaze piteously into her tear-stained face.

"Get up kid, c'mon..."

And he helps her, lifting her, steadying her, before rooting in his pocket and wordlessly handing me his car keys, the metal feeling tantalisingly cool against my burning palm.

"Thank you..."

"Just go." he says dismissively, and I nod, pausing at Vicki's side. "Don't worry about her Rickman, she's right behind you alright?"

So I move forward hastily, out into the hall, knowing that Andy follows, holding my still shivering and drained sister up. He helps her into the car alongside me, and then, leans against the door.

"I don't think you should go alone..."

"I don't need your concern Andy, I just need to find Sharon..."

"I know you do. But you just told me your dad drugged your sister!"

 A daring smile breaks out across his lips as he registers the way I instinctively glare at him.

"Ah right, so that's back on is it? Great, then you definitely ain't going alone... look, hold on for ten minutes, I'll get Eddie to come with you!"

I tear out a length of seatbelt and jam it into the plug, stooping and forcing the key into the ignition with the same ferocity. "I'm going now Andy!"

"Alright fine!" he cries, slamming the door. "But what you gonna do when you find him eh? What you gonna do when you find Den?"

I pull away from the kerb, leaving him stood there, looking pretty much defeated like he hasn't done all he could have. It's nice to know he cares. Andy tries to pretend to a lot of people, but I know him, it doesn't work with me, and we have an understanding. Especially when it comes to Sharon and how I feel about her, and as surprising as that is, he gets that. And though he can't hear my answer now, I'm pretty confident he knows what it would be... because he also knows what I have come to feel towards Den because of Sharon... so I give it to him anyway in a low, determined growl.

"I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

Sharon's POV - 9:15p.m.

I pull my knees up tighter to my chest, wishing I could breathe. I'm shivering, shuddering so intensely, I'm scared I'm going to retch, far worse than I did last night. But I don't want to have to move, to have to be close to Dad if I move towards the bathroom... I don't want to be anywhere near him. All I can think of is how much I wish Dennis was here... there's no way I can feel safe without him... but my next thought is how I told him that he made my skin crawl. When I said those words, I meant them, but within the hour, I was begging him to make love to me. So I'd been insincere when I was trying to tell him I was disgusted by him, could never want him again. But I do. He's my darlin', and I just want him to be here. Oh, where is he?

I gulp back a sob, knowing that it'll get me soon enough. I just stare at my knees, shaking my head fiercely, feeling my hair whip my face as I splutter miserably:

"I don't want you. No! I want Dennis... I want my darlin'... I want my Dennis!"

If there weren't so many hot, bitter tears clouding my eyes, then I might have seen the way raw anger twisted his face, made his eyes glitter, but as it is, all I'm aware of is him launching himself at me, his dirty fingernails sinking into my shoulders as he shakes me. I scream and try my best to wrestle free, but I can't. I'm just too weak.

"He's not yours Sharon! Don't you understand that?"

No, no, I won't hear this. I might not know much, scared for every minute I spend here, scared for my life... but I know Dennis.

"He loves me!"

"He'll never love you Princess." he says scathingly, and the sob I've been forcing back breaks free. "Not like I do."

"You... You took me away from him... I should never have trusted you!" I'm screaming at him, hating him with every breath that I painfully bring in. I choke on a particularly large intake, and say weakly. "But... you're my dad..." I don't know why any of this is happening. He is my dad, why has he done something so evil... I'm his little girl... surely he wants me to be safe... happy...

"That's right Princess!" he hisses viciously, right in my face, making me convulse. He truly repulses me. I can feel flecks of his spit on my face. 

He... yes, him... he is the one to make my skin crawl. I just want him to go away, or if he's going to hurt me, then I want him to do it now. He can kill me for all I care right now. I just want to stop hurting. I'm so scared... for myself... for everything I've ever known... I would - I'd rather die than stay here with him...

"You are my daughter... and you don't have sex with my son!"

My stomach drops as he shoves me away, nausea stirring so quickly and with such intensity that I have to hunch forward, pretty sure that I'm going to vomit. But I don't... I just choke and I splutter, feeling the acid burn in my throat. Groggily, I look up at him, and I see concern in his dark and angry eyes. But why should I believe him? I'll never believe him.

"What have you done to me?"

And he flinches. Oh God, maybe I don't want to know the answer. Maybe I already know... maybe the weight of him above me, leering down on me tells me all I need to know. Everything I have for this man, everything I am to him has been violated all over again... and I'm trapped with him, him alone... at his mercy in some hotel room in the middle of nowhere... I could die tonight... I might never see my darlin' again, and I... Dennis... oh I need him so much. What if he never finds me? Worse still, what if he finds me without a breath in my body?

Dad's slow, heavy eventual words are the only thing that stops me from resigning myself to my own death at his hands.

He sinks onto the end of the bed, pressing into the duvet with one hand. "I... I gave you a sedative."

"A sedative?" I echo disbelievingly. "But you wouldn't treat a dog like this!" I blink furiously, trying to disperse some of my tears. I cock my head, my neck feeling stiff and sore, but I try to ignore the stabbings of pain and look at him in such a way that will draw his eyes to mine. But as they settle, a jolt goes through me - I feel sick just having to look at him, but force out my words anyway. "Dads love their daughters..."

His lips twist and he speaks vehemently. "I do love you... you think I'm doing this for a lark?"

"You drugged me!"

"You don't understand!" he sighs, raising his voice as he gets more and more wound up by my resistance. "I had to get you away from him. I need you to see!"

I straighten up and shake my head sadly. So this was his grand plan? "There's nothing for me to see Dad..." I close my eyes as that poisonous word leaves my lips. I shan't say it again. "No." I say quietly. "You're not my dad... you can't be... I won't let you be." I know he hears my each and every word, but clear my throat determinedly as I look back up at him. "Dennis is your blood, he should be what matters to you... not me... because I was right wasn't I? I'm not your daughter... I never have been.... so forget me. Because I love your son... I'm in love with him... he's in love with me, and I know you think I'm just some thing you think you can control... and maybe you can, I don't know... no doubt I'll find out... but you're gonna find something out too..."

"What?"

"You can't control Dennis..."

Dennis' POV - 9:15p.m.

Oh God... this has been too long. Vicki and me have been going absolutely everywhere we can think of, and so far, nothing! OK, so you don't get far in an hour, but I'm so much more than anxious - I'm sick. Several times, Vicki had to tell me to stop the car, and practically force me out to go and breathe in some true air, but it just tasted salty and alien on my tongue, like nothing could matter,  nothing at all until I find Sharon. Because I have to. There's so much that could happen to her, so much I can't bear to think about cos it's everything I could have... that I should have stopped. I should have protected her, I should never have left her. But she made it seem OK, cos she would have been there, waiting for me... I know she would.

Every time I got out of the car, I paced these grassy verges, feeling the night air, cool and yet suffocating upon my face, as I tilted my head back, supported by my hands, and now... I whisper to the stars to just give me a clue. One clue. But I get nothing, and they all just keep sparkling like there's nothing wrong in the world. So I'm stood there, on these unknown roads, and I can't stop myself crying. Rain starts coming down, at first non-existent and just a minute later like a monsoon. It goes right through me, but I just don't feel it, even though I shake with the effect of the chill. It gushes down my neck, and I'm reminded it was like this last night, as I chased Sharon through that miserable little Square, trying to make her see how much I love her.

So then, she believed me and she... she shouldn't have because I... what did she say? I violated her... I offered her to her own father... and now... now, he's going to take her... and all I hear is seven words.

"You may as well have raped me..." 

And my tears challenge the force of the rain. They're hot and uncomfortable and cascade down my cheeks before I can even try and force them back, and they mingle with the freezing droplets already splattered across my face, trying to take away some of the heat and appease me. But still I cry, choking on each sob as it presses and swells painfully against my throat, obstructing the path of my every struggling breath, and I suddenly know how Sharon felt as she stood in front of Den, my invitation behind her, unable to do anything but cry. Oh baby, I'm so, so sorry!

"Dennis!"

Vicki calls for me desperately, and finally managing to turn my head, I make out the shape of her in the bad light of the car, scrambling across the driver's seat with what little strength she has, wanting to reach me. But nobody can - not now!

"Dennis, please!"

I could say she was drowned out by the rain, but still I hear her. Or do I? Maybe it's me, pleading with myself to get up and to find Sharon, save her, protect her as I swore I would. Or maybe it's Sharon herself... needing me... needing me now, because a breath more and it's going to be too late.

So I make myself turn round, barely managing to stoop and slump back into the car. I'm cold... and not just physically. I reach down with one limp hand and shut off the ignition.

"What are you doing? Dennis, start the car!"

"Why? Vicki, we've tried everywhere... we don't know where the f*ck we're going... we don't know where she is! We've tried every goddamn place in that Square... the canal... the schools... even the bloody adventure playground twenty miles out he took her when she still in fuckin' nappies! Every pub and bar in between! They're not anywhere close are they?"

"I... I can't think..."

"Try!"

"Well I don't know him like Sharon does do I? He's only my blood!"

Yeah, he's mine an' all, and believe me, I wanna bleed every drop of him out.

"You must be able to think of somewhere!" I growl desperately.

She shakes her head miserably, bursting into tears again as she realises she cannot help Sharon.

"Her and D-D-Dad, they've b-b-been in that Square together f-forever... I just d-don't -kn-kn-know!"

But me, I must. I owe it to her for f*ck's sake, she's everything I care about, I... I can't just leave her.

"It's alright." I mumble, knowing that right now I cannot soothe her, as awkwardly as I try. "Hey, c'mon sweetheart... it's gonna be-"

But she tenses, and I trail off. It's gonna be OK... Yeah right, how can this be OK when Sharon's out there, drugged up to the eyeballs for all we know, alone with... with him? Oh God, what if I gave him the idea? When I said he fancied her... that he wanted her... what if I made him think that? What's he going to have done to her? I mean, last time, he went for me, he played me, he worked me til I gave her up. And this time... eventually, we were so sure we were ready for anything, everything... and this... this was his only sick, twisted option. And I bet he's getting a right kick out of it.

I punch the steering wheel, crying out in frustration. Vicki leaps back, scared but understanding. The weak layer of skin across my knuckles splits, leaving the cuts sore and open, but what do I care?

"Where are they?"

Vicki sniffles, gasping in breath and fumbling in her jacket, pulling out her phone, jabbing mindlessly at the keys. "Shall... Shall I call Chrissie?"

I don't mean to, but I can't stop myself laughing, the sound high and bitter as it leaves my mouth. "And say what Vicki? Oh hey Chrissie, didn't mean to interrupt you, but your husband's drugged and kidnapped Sharon and we think he's gonna rape her... that's if he hasn't already - any idea where they might be?"

She winced when I said it. When I said "rape". "How... How can you talk like that?"

"Cos it's the truth." I sigh. Chrissie's a wasted bet anyway, she has some hairdressers conference on the other side of London this week, and she pretty much promised us she'd be unreachable the whole time cos she'd be out on the town... painting it pillarbox red, or autumn red, whatever. It wasn't funny the first time, and it seems like even less of a joke now.

"Well, my mum then?"

"Vicki, will you get real! Michelle's on the other side of the world for God's sake... and you think she'd believe us? She couldn't tell us anywhere we haven't tried anyway... there's nothing she can do!"

"Well, what about us; we have to do something!" 

"I know..." I say weakly, dropping my head in my hands, rubbing my temples and just trying to think. Through my fingers, I can see her jabbing at the keypad with quivering fingers again. "Vicki, I said no!"

"Shhh!" she hisses, sniffing again. "I'm calling Sharon!"

"Sharon?" And for a moment I feel a stirring of hope, that is halted only as my heart sinks and I realise that the defunct handset I wish so badly was in Sharon's hands still lies in my back pocket. "Vicki... Sharon doesn't have a phone..." And I lift myself heavily from the seat and draw the thing out of my pocket so she will see it. "I broke it!"

Her chest heaves in defeat as her own phone, encased in her hand, falls away from her ear. "You idiot!" she yells, and believe me, I never thought anything Vicki could say so childishly would cut that deep. I bite down on my lip, trying not to sob. I am, I'm an idiot... I've put Sharon in so much danger...

Sharon's POV - 9:30p.m.

Knowing that I'm right... that he can't control Dennis.... my baby is out of reach... he's safe... he's going to be fine, even if I am not... I suddenly feel fine... happy almost. I can't help but wonder what I've been given, but I don't have the capacity to care. Dad could kill me tonight... but even that doesn't frighten me. It should, it truly should. I worshipped my dad and it took my lover to prove to me how evil and twisted he was, but maybe whatever he gave me is gonna help. Somehow I feel like I'll go to my grave laughing, fatigue and confusion replaced with an irrepressible buzz and crystal clear thoughts as I curl up here.

"Don't you wanna know why?" I say brightly, loving the power I feel as I unnerve him with a smile.

He doesn't say a word, he simply scowls at me and that feels so much better.

"Why your supposed daughter's so in love with your son... your blood..."

"This is all such rubbish Sharon... what does that animal know about love?"

I humour him, I actually laugh. I mean, pot, kettle and black much? What's he done... drugged me out the goodness of his heart? You'd be hard pushed to find any.

"You'd be surprised." I tell him smugly. Maybe if he'd stayed in the lounge, if Dennis and me had never seen fit to stop, then maybe Dad would have realised exactly what he knows about it - proving with every second I was there against him just how much he really does love me.

He sighs heavily, disappointed almost. "I really thought you'd have learnt by now Sharon. All this is... against the rules!"

"Rules? Rules? What the hell do you know about rules?" The anger beats in my chest, and the adrenaline coarsing through me forces my words out before I have thought about them. "Dad... you got my best friend pregnant at sixteen! Explain Vicki if you reckon you know anything about rules! And why? Why Michelle eh? Oh my G- Dennis was right! You couldn't get any closer to me than that could you? Michelle was the next best thing! You make me absolutely sick!"

"And you're screwing your own brother - you think that makes me delirious?"

"You're so desperate! He isn't my brother - he's your son and I'm not your daughter! I want nothing to do with you! I just want Dennis!"

"Oh, I think I realised that, walking in and finding you all over him.... trousers round his ankles... I never knew you were such a cheap little slut!"

"No!" I yell, trying to force his words out. It's not true, I know it's not. "You've played your games Dad... and you're trying hard, I know but you can't do this anymore!"

"I'm not doing anything Princess, I'm just telling it like it is."

"If you'd just... understand how special he makes me feel..."

"Special? Do you not remember what he did to you this morning?"

I remember. I remember every painful, surreal breath of it. I remember the hurt, how badly betrayed I felt. But Dennis... I know he was hurting, scared and desperate. Striking, I remind myself nervously, flinching as though I can still feel his hand around my wrist, pulling me forwards. Striking before he could be struck.

But at the same time, I can't help but question what Dad himself has done to me. But I push every thought away, wrestling with them, because I can't have them in my head, I can't ever address them, they're all just too sickening. They'd never be true... I've been drugged, I'm probably hallucinating. Don't ever think these things Sharon. But one thought... just one gets through. I think Dennis is right. I never wanted to believe it... but what if Dad does fancy me? What if all these years he's been watching as I climbed out the shower. I feel sick as I recall all the times I splashed about in the bath as a little girl, Daddy at my side, making "Ducky" sing to me in the strangest little voices. And now, all I can think is, I was naked then... when was it he started taking in the detail?

Does he feel so threatened by my love for Dennis that he had to drug me to seperate us? Is that what Dad meant when he said he "had to get me away from him"? He thinks I'll stop loving Dennis if he says enough words, represses me like an impressionable little girl? Is that the effect the drugs... oh God what are they... these drugs? So much for rules, he could go to prison for this... that's if we're ever found. And my hope is draining away, despite my apparant brightness. Yes, it feels like a facade now... Dad wants to make me weaker, he wants to make me believe everything he'll tell me... and Jesus, what if I can't fight?

Dennis' POV - 9:25p.m.

Vicki wipes her eyes. I just watch her as I slump there, feeling so much I feel nothing. It's like I'm dying. Dying with Sharon.... oh God, how can I believe that? Kill her? Would he? He... idolises her doesn't he? Yeah, I think bitterly, loves her enough to drug her... rape her... I... I feel so sick. I made all this happen. First, I made her believe she still wanted me. Maybe she didn't. I... I should have left her to James... if I loved her at all, I'd have let her have some normality. Nothing like this would ever have happened to her if I'd left her be. But I didn't, and I went and gave Den every idea possible, tossed my precious girl to him, telling him to use her, abuse her in every way I knew he had dreamed, waiting for it, and all the while it seemed to her like she'd never mattered to me, when she is everything.

But she said nothing had happened to her. Not then. What about now... what do I know about what's happening now? It's just him, and the sick fantasies I have no doubt he harbours, having to drug her to take her away from me, because he had no choice but to realise, even alone with him back at that house, she'd never leave willingly - not while she was waiting for me. I know I shouldn't, but part of me blames Vicki. If she'd been somewhere I had guessed at, I would have found her sooner, been back at the house before anything could have happened to Sharon.

It's not fair to blame Vicki though, and I do know that. She'd never have considered this a possibility, would never ever have wished it upon us all. She loves Sharon, I know she does, whatever she feels about the way Sharon loves me.

"I want her back." she whispers miserably, her voice cracking. "I just want Sharon back. Dennis... what if we don't find her - where is she?"

"I don't know!" I yell, knowing I shouldn't but not being able to stop myself. "They might not even be in the country for all we know!"

I barely realise what I've said, the words just spilling out with my anger, my despair. But Vicki gasps in horror, and I look across at her and see she really believes it.

"Oh my God..." I say slowly.

Then it's like I explode, knowing I have to be gone already. I twist the key so quickly it almost cuts into me, but I barely notice, pulling the car haphazardly round, pushing the accelerator to the floor without a thought for the dangers. Vicki manages to push her knees down, but still seems nervous, most probably afraid of the speed we're going, but what the hell do I care? If I was going at the permitted sixty, the half hour journey back to Walford woulda taken just that - but I manage it in less than twenty minutes. But still, what if that's not soon enough either?

Vicki's choking a little as she struggles to swing her legs round to the pavement, like she doesn't know if she'll be able to support herself if she actually manages to stand up. I stop and watch, I shouldn't, I can't.... I need to be inside the house, and she can see the urgency, the desperation in my face, the way I'm shaking, unable to stop myself moving forward on my toes. She's bent double, coughing miserably into the gutter as the force of the every emotion she has been made to feel rips through her chest.

"Vicki!" Oh God, what have I done to her?

"Go! I'll come when I'm-"

But her words get cut off by another gasping fit, and I know I should stay, but I know I can't and so does she, so I nod and go, two at a time up the stairwell, forcing the door open and stumbling into the dark hall. I don't even bother with taking my key out the lock, or even closing the door. What does that matter when Sharon could be halfway across the world? I go into the lounge and almost crash into the sideboard as I start pulling out drawers, rifling through, just praying I'll find it and not knowing where Sharon keeps it. Oh shit, why don't I know these things? I'm basically turning the place over, getting frantic with every minute that passes with no sign.

After what feels like an age, but has in fact been less than five minutes, Vicki's in here too, surveying the mess I've created in such a panic and not knowing what to make of it. But I don't even time to acknowledge her, bolting up the stairs, flinging open the door to Sharon's room and beginning to search... yeah right, trash there too.

"Dennis!" I hear Vicki cry, her voice a haughty protection from the landing. She stops in the doorway, having seen my shadow play across the wall. 

"Where the hell is it Vicki?" I ask her, pleading with her almost to know the answer when I do not. "Where's Sharon's passport? Where does she keep it?"

"I... I don't know."

No, neither do I. I should... I so should. I watched her pack when we were going to Tenerife. But somehow, and I never thought I'd hate myself for this, I only remember the days when we'd be walking up and down the beaches, watching the sunlight dance across the water... doing all the normal stuff couples do - cos that's what we were... we were a couple, me and Sharon... and it almost scared us both because it was so new. 

I mean, she'd looked on me as her brother, but now she knew more than ever knew I'd never looked at her and seen my sister, and now she was having to deal with wanting me close, wanting to have me holding her hand as we went, wanting me to kiss her whenever it was that we should stop. But she came to love the idea of it as the days went by, and those days became nights where we'd just be curled up on the balcony together, and she'd be pointing out supposed constellations in the dark sky, but, in my opinion, if you've seen one star, seen 'em all, and I'd tell her as much, again and again, and she'd come back at me, saying that I had no sense of romance. Now, I know a challenge when I hear one, and almost every one of those warm nights, I pulled her up, leading her back into the room, and forcing her gently back against the deliciously large bed, I'd spent every one of those nights making love to her, and maybe just managing to let her know that my sense of romance was in fact present and correct.

So when the hell was I meant to be thinking about where she kept her passport, in this God forsaken Square? Why would I have wanted to be thinking about this poisonous little place when I had only two weeks to make myself believe that Sharon was mine, and still would be when we were forced to go back?

But oh, I wish I had, because without knowing it, all the memories that are engulfing me are slowly being tainted for every moment she spends alone with Den.

"Vicki - where is it? Why can't I find it?!"

Sharon's POV - 9:35p.m.

I can't say anything... it's as if I can feel the pressures and the tensions circling me, bouncing off the walls of the room and coming to choke me as he sits there, those awful dark eyes searing into me. He's waiting for everything he's built up to take me, to murder every feeling, every emotion I harbour for his son. That's the only way I can bear to think of Dennis right now... his son... I can't even let myself think of his name, because... oh damn, I just have and I... I can see his face, and it hurts because I'm feeling more and more as if I will never see him again. It's like all he can ever hope to be now is a memory.

"Dad please..." I say weakly, hating that no-one could deny I am begging him. "I just want to go home."

"And we will Princess." he answers, distractedly. "When you've seen sense."

Sense? What the hell is sense? God, I wish I could remember...

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me how all this started... tell me how an intelligent woman like you comes to the conclusion it's alright to fall into bed with your brother?"

"I explained all this once... don't you remember?"

He tilts his head away in disgust, spitting furiously as he scoffs. He speaks slowly, and cold sweeps through me as his gaze flickers up to my face again. I can't seem to stop myself shuddering and rushing my hands up my arms. But the one thing I can't do is look away, and I wish more than anything that I could. "How do you expect me to forget? You gonna reel all that off again are you?"

"If you make me. I love him."

"So you keep saying. Do you believe it yet Princess?"

"I've always believed it."

"Have you?" He raises his eyebrow confidently, knowing that I can't avoid the question, just knowing that doubt is stirring in my stomach. I drop my gaze and wring my hands, silently praying that Dennis will forgive me.

"Well, no..." I admit guiltily, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not always..."

"So when didn't you?" And he leans eagerly forward, his words coming closer only because I can move no further away... I'm rigid and stiff and don't believe my legs would hold me up if I stood... ran. It feels like it would hurt too much, so I'll stay. Yes I'll stay and I'll let him get off on my confessions of doubt. Why Sharon, why won't you get up?

"To begin with... I believed all the things you still want me to... I kept telling him I could never want him like that..."

"Like what?" he asks smoothly, not missing a beat. It truly does feel like he's feeding off my unease, like he's draining me.

"Sex." I manage to stammer, feeling myself flush, and feeling that same embarrassment I always did when Dad forced me to talk about things like this, even though it couldn't have been more obvious it turned his stomach to hear them. Except now, I'm nauseous because I don't know what he's feeling. Sickened at the idea of me... me and Dennis... or sickened that it's never been him? All those times I thought he was being too protective because he was my dad, was it in fact because he was jealous? "But... I couldn't pretend anymore Dad, he was right... I did want him."

"I bet you did Princess." And he's... he's almost smiling. Why... what did I say? Oh God, breathe Sharon, breathe. But I can't, cos my throat has dried out and constricted, and every breath I try and create gets stuck.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, ask yourself... why did you want him eh, this son of mine? Cos I'll bet it wasn't for his sparkling conversation-"

"You don't wanna know all this..." I mutter, looking away.

But I go rigid as he seems to lunge across the bed, making the mattress shudder and creak beaneath me. And in a moment, he's closer than I can bear, and I almost cry out... the sound only leaving me, a frightened little scream when I feel his hand tight around my jaw, his jagged fingernails cutting into my cheeks.

"Oh but you're wrong! I do, I'm so interested! Tell me Princess, do you remember his fist smashing into your face? Do you remember tasting the blood he spilt?" And his nails slide down and press painfully into my quivering lip. 

My stomach lurches and I betray my every instinct, because they're numbed and they're fading... they're leaving me. Here with him, and all I can do is nod desperately, because I do... I do remember.

"Did he love you then?!" he hisses. And I can feel myself crumble. I splutter on a sob that swells in my throat, leaving me unable to breathe until Dad can appreciate the extent of my misery as he forces me to recall every memory I had fought so desperately to forget.

"No."

"No, what?"

I bow my head, wishing he wouldn't touch me, knowing that the word shall leave a nasty taste in my mouth.

"No, Daddy."

"Who looked after you that night Sharon? Who was holding you when you were sobbing your heart out over that worthless little user? Who sat up with you all night when you couldn't sleep, even though you didn't say a word? Who?"

"You did."

"And why did I do that? Why?!"

"Because..." Oh I'm such a fool, how did I ever question it? He's right, of course he is - he's been there for me my whole life. My chest stops heaving quite as much, it doesn't hurt so much to pull in a few breaths, and Dad lets go as he watches me sniff my tears back. It's OK, I don't need to cry anymore. I'm going to be fine.

"Because you love me."

He smiles again, this warm sound escaping the corner of his lips, and I watch all the lines I memorised and adored from the first moment I watched him smile at me like that appear across his face. And it quashes the uneasiness in my stomach, my shoulders sloping. And the best part is, as he leans forward, his worn hand sweeping up the back of my neck, I don't convulse, I'm not screaming for him to leave me be. I feel safe as he kisses my crown, drawing me close and whispering into my hair

"That's right Princess. All your dad's ever done is love you..."

Sharon's POV - 9:40p.m.

 And I just lie there, cuddled into him for a few minutes. Nothing else matters now. I can't believe I made him so desperate - how was I so blind not to see the truth? Dennis didn't love me that night, and the next time I saw him... I'd asked him who I was looking at, because I geniunely didn't know. I'd wanted to see my lover, the man I'd fallen so hard in love with, and all I saw was the murderer I now knew him to be. I'd.... thrown, yes that's what I'd done and as sick as it made me feel... I'd thrown a murderer into my bed... broken every rule in the book to have him kiss me, touch me... oh God... and I... I loved him so much, needed him so much, that I forgave that he took a man's life because I didn't wanna lose him. But Dennis... he left me anyway - moved Zoe fuckin' Slater of all the pathetic examples of a tart into my home, mercilessly fucking her pretty much under my nose before my sheets were so much as cold.

That really proved how much he loved me didn't it? Knowing how pathetically desperate for him he had made me in leaving me. He couldn't have denied it... and I know he didn't. Not to himself. Because he made sure we were never alone, because he couldn't so much as make himself look at me. I never even saw a trace of guilt in his face, did I? I mean, I imagined I did, plenty of times, but that was because that's what I wanted to see. For some reason, I needed to believe that at some point he had loved me.

"Dad..." I whisper nervously, clutching at his shirt as I pull myself up and meet his eye. "Dennis did love me didn't he?"

He sighs gently, winding his arms tighter around me, moving my hair back from my face as I sag against him, feeling so defeated.

"I don't think he knows how..."

I nod miserably, biting down on my thumb to smother a sob I can feel fighting to come up from my throat. I don't think he does either.... but inside I'm wailing "But I thought I showed him how..."

"You'll be alright... I promise... shhh, shhh, don't cry Princess, he's not worth it is he?"

"No..." I whimper, another sob tearing through my chest. "But... I loved him so much Daddy..."

"I know you did darlin', but it's alright, your dad's here now... I won't let you make the same mistakes again, I promise. Now do you see why I had to do this? I had to keep my little girl safe..."

I can't help but jump as there is a hesitant knock at the door, spluttering as I feel the ugly truth come for me, yes, this is what shall choke me, and Dad... he did nothing, not this time. I should have realised that Dennis never... oh God, what was he playing me for? The sex, the illicit, yet cheap sex? I've... I've behaved like such a whore... and all for my own father's son.

It does cross my mind that Dennis might be here at last. He'll have come looking for me... he'll have realised I'm gone right? But now... now I don't want him here and I almost call out for the intruder to go away, but I do have the sense to know that he wouldn't be knocking politely at the door. He'd use any excuse to fly at Dad... I've seen the whole ugly scene before.

I can feel Dad shake too. Is he afraid? He's trying to disguise it, clearly his throat quietly, rocking me still, and somehow, almost in terror, we are both silent.

And the voice comes, and it's not one either of us recognise. Dad finally allows himself to breathe, releasing a huge sigh of relief, and still not saying a word, not moving, just looking expectantly to the door.

"Er... M-Madam? Mrs Watts? This is concierge! The General Manager needs to contact your husband about payment... do you have any idea where he might be? Mrs Watts!"

Dennis' POV - 9:35p.m.

"He... He would need it wouldn't he? Sharon's passport... he can't take her without it can he?"

Vicki shuffles aimlessly into the room, sinking down on the bed and watching me distractedly, as if she could do nothing else as I slam about the room, flinging out Sharon's every belonging onto the floor and still never finding the little burgundy book I need to see amongst it all more than anything in the world.

"No. No, he can't."

I cry out in frustration, throwing armfuls of Sharon's clothes carelessly at the bed, not really caring as they rain down on my sister, who lifts her arms to shield herself. I'm too shaken by the realisation that I still caught the teasing scent... the taste of Sharon in every top, every jacket... she should still be here! Why isn't she here?

"It's not here!"

Seeing my very obvious state of agitation, working myself up harder and harder for every breath I manage to drag in, Vicki jumps up and tries to placate me, pressing her hand hesitantly into my arm. I don't want to startle her, fling her away like I did last time, because I care, I care so much for her, but right now, the only thing that matters is Sharon, Sharon and the fact that I'm soon to be resigned to the fact that the.... evil bastard that ever dared to call himself her father has stolen her from the country, and ultimately from me, at least long enough to do what I can't seem to deny any longer he will do.

He's going to rape her... and there's nothing I can do about it!

"Dennis, please, calm down!"

"I can't! He's taken her Vicki! I know he has..." My knees seem to buckle underneath me, and I just slump to the floor, not even trying to hold back my sobs cos I know they will only serve to make my voice crack and give me away otherwise. I just claw at my face as I feel the hot tears coarse down. "He's stolen my beautiful girl... I need her! I just need her back!"

I rock miserably on the spot and Vicki sighs. She's hurting too and she's desperate. She doesn't know what she can do, and oh, I wish I had the strength to tell her but maybe I don't know anymore either.

"Dennis..." she says awkwardly, her own voice sounding tellingly strained and high. "...he- he can't leave the country without a passport either..."

Oh my God, she's right! 

I'm still practically sick with the force of my tears but I drag myself up, stumbling all over the place to get to Den's room, nenever caring, just needing to know if his passport's going to be in the fuckin' suitcase, if I can hope to find Sharon before the sun comes up.

Heaving it off the top of the wardrobe, the weight of it makes me wanna retch, cos I'm drained and can't handle it - lifting a goddamn suitcase is too physical - that's what his mind fuck's reduced me to, but at the same time I'm hopeful that he hasn't unpacked a thing and I'll find it, his passport, wedged between his chequebook and his sunblock. Leaning across the bed, my skin begins to crawl, everything in this room reeks of Den, it's all so sleazy and makes me wanna scratch myself raw. If I can feel so contaminated by him when he's not even here, what the hell is Sharon gonna be feeling like when he might be...?

No, I tell myself sternly, don't, just don't! I flip the lid and sure enough, everything as he's left it, haphazardly folded and/or chucked in here.

"Don't!" Vicki commands me, pulling my arms back. "I'll do it OK? I'll do it!"

I scowl, feeling a growl rumble in my throat. But before it can come to rest in my mouth, I hear a shrill, tinny noise I instinctively remember. Den's phone.

"Oh my God..."

"See?!" I can tell by the way her eyes are sparkling like that she's dying to push past me and go herself, her lips are wobbling in that way that screams she wants to cry too, that she wants to know more than anything that Sharon's OK, but she nods jerkily, permitting me to go as she turns back to the suitcase, knowing she has something to do.

I go down the stairs so quick I barely recognise the gradient, only the rush in my head to let me know I have passed it. And in the breath between me racing from Den's room to the kitchen to grab his shuddering mobile from where I abandoned it on the counter as Sharon herself stood beside me, I immediately think that it'll be her. That Den will have made her do it, phone to say she's absolutely fine, and I feel a stab of anticipative pain at that, so scared I'll be able to hear the tears in her voice.

"Sharon?!"

Christ, I can't believe it could hurt that  much just to say her name. I sound so broken, so hoarse and desperate. It sounds like I'm dying. And maybe I am.

"Er, Mr. Watts? Mr. Dennis Watts?"

All I pick out is "Dennis" and the fact that this isn't Sharon in my ear. So I waste my next breath when my tight nervous chest could have used it so wisely, on sniffing back my tears very obviously. I want to yell at the caller for not being Sharon, I want to so badly. Even if she had been about to lie to me, I'd have given anything to hear her voice, to know that she'd wanted to be comforted in hearing mine. But inside, I'm laughing bitterly at that notion; what the hell can comfort her now?

"Uh... ha... what?"

"Mr. Watts this is Jack Weatherill, general manager of Regency East Hotel... I'm calling to discuss payment for the suite, ah yes... 1456, that's right... you and your wife occupy here tonight. I'm afraid that as advanced as your payment to us was, the cheque has bounced due to insufficient funds. I'm sure you appreciate our need to see immediate payment in cash... or we shall have to ask you to leave..."

What? Hang on, what? Tonight? Den.... Den and his wife at the Regency tonight? Well, if I know one thing it's that Chrissie ain't with him. 

"Sharon!"

"I'm sorry Sir?"

Oh my God - I've found her!

"N-Nothing mate. Look I'm really sorry, but... Regency East?"

He sounds really put out that seeing as "I'm" upstairs occupying one of his suites apparantly free of charge right at this exact moment, I don't actually have a clue where he's talking about. He starts out all "Yes, you know..." and I can just imagine him, whoever this faceless tosser may be lovingly dusting off the gold pin on his lapel as he is forced to speak with me. He goes onto to tell me where it is I apparantly am, an exclusive crescent twenty minutes away in some forgotten little part of London. Then he realises, with a nervous little gasp that he's inadvertently told me this when he doesn't actually know for certain that I am Den, because I've told him nothing in comfirmation or to the contrary.

"Sir, are you-?"

But I've already hung up, only able to hear the blood pounding in my ears, only able to feel the ecstastic buzz of relief mingled with adrenaline going through my system as my heart hammers.

"Vicki!" I yell, bolting out into the hall and not so much as looking up the staircase as pausing by it. I can't waste time, not now. She can follow when she hears, when she realises, which she does almost immediately.

I hear the lid of the suitcase slam as she crashes out on the landing, almost falling over herself as she leans over the banister and calls rather breathlessly. "What? Was that her? Was that Sharon? Oh Dennis, I found it!" She flaps the book at me. "He can't have taken her!"

But her words barely register, and I talk over her in one great rush as I wrench open the door. "Vicki, c'mon.... it doesn't matter, none of it matters - I know where she is! I know where Sharon is!"

Sharon's POV - 9:50p.m.

He's still shushing me, and the concierge shuffles away. But the nausea is back, rising up from my stomach as I go rigid again, pain coarsing down my back at the impact of it. I have to get away from him. It's true, it's all true... he's poisoning me...

"No... No!"

I fight to pull myself from his arms, even though he tries to keep me against him. Get off me - don't touch me!

"Princess... I can explain!"

"Well go on then!" I yell, hearing my voice crack as the demands tumble out. "Tell me why the hell these people think I'm your wife? Are you really so sick... so twisted?" Then I laugh, feeling bitter and foolish. Of course he is. "I mean, granted, Chrissie and me are the same age..." I throw up my hands. I can't believe I never saw what Dennis has forced me to. If I'd ever thought about it, so many things would have come clear... made so much sense. But there was me, sat in the middle of all this obviousness, happy being Den's naive little Princess... at nearly forty years old. 

"This was for Chrissie!"

"Oh really?"

"Yes really! I didn't know I was gonna come home to that did I?"

"What?" I hiss, wanting to hear him say it, detail it, to savour the bittersweet pain I know it will induce. "Come home to what?"

"You and him... I thought that was long over!"

I want to scream at him that it could never be over, that Dennis and me... we're in love, but oh God... he's done it... Dad's planted those seeds of doubt. All of a sudden, I realise what he's done in telling me to taste the blood Dennis made mark my lips that day, he's made me recall every doubting emotion and now I can't pretend I never felt them. I truly don't know if he ever loved me. Why... Why did Dad have to do this to me?

"Oh my God... you wanted to didn't you? You really wanted to!"

It seems all I have now is doubt and that's more than happy to have me question everything to have happened to me. And I believe that he wanted to take up Dennis' invitation... I believe he wanted to touch me, he wanted to abuse me, and the only thing that stopped him was me, sobbing for my daddy, reminding him that far from being just a young woman he could chase, like Chrissie is, I was in fact his little girl.

I fly at him, up before I realise and he tries to catch me, but my fury is too quick for him and my fists rain down on him, pounding him, catching him, striking him, anything to make him feel pain.

"You bastard! You evil, lying bastard!"

I scream, crying hysterically as he throws me off and I land in a heap against the bed. I scramble up towards the head board, my hair stuck to my tear-stained face and obstructing my view, but the way my stomach jolts tells me I have not missed the venom in his face. This is it... he's going to kill me now!

"Get a fuckin' grip!" he shouts as I cower there. "Now I'm telling you, this was for Chrissie... how was I to know she wouldn't be home?"

Oh Jesus, do you never listen?

"I never expected to find you... you and that scumbag... you think I wanted to do this?"

"Yes! I do, you can't stand that I need Dennis, that I don't need you! C'mon Dad, I want you to ask me a question! After that sick little offer he made you this morning.... me stood there feeling cheap and used - yeah, that makes you happy don't it? - your son begged for me. He didn't wanna lose me, cos he loves me... and me? Well, everyone knows what a "cheap little slut" I am don't they Dad, so c'mon, have a guess! How many times did I forgive him? How many times did your son make love to me this morning?"

His face contorts, he can't so much as swallow my words. He's so weak, so desperate... so sick!

"Three times. And I want you to know I loved it. He touches me, and I'm alive... and now you're here... and you're killing me..."

"Only hypothetically speaking though eh Princess? Not like your kind and gentle murderer... or had you forgotten he's a cold blooded killer?"

I'll never forget. Never!

The words rise up with a great heaving breath from the centre of my chest that I worry will become more of a choking sob. "If Dennis had never... you'd never have seen me again... I'd have still thought you were dead! Is that what you want is it?"

"No." He looks guiltily to the floor, clawing back his cracked lips. "No, of course not!"

"Then I'd say you owe that "cold blooded killer" something wouldn't you.... Dad?"

I only say it as a cruel afterthought, wanting to watch the pain flicker across his aged and tired face as he is forced to register the savageness with which I forced out that one hateful word.

"What, like my daughter? Over my dead body!"

I throw my head back, laughing at the irony. "Well yeah, I suppose the first time we were ripping each other's clothes off, that's exactly what we thought it would be! Well... that and the table..."

I give him a cold look that challenges him to fight me now. But he just spits out a bitter sound and presses down into the bed as he sinks against his hip.

"I mean it..." he says after a long pause, pushing himself up again and projecting a long and heavy sigh that shudders right through me.

"Mean what?" Is there anything he can mean anymore, can he be sincere about anything except cruelty?

"I'm going to go downstairs Princess, and I'm going to sort this bill. And while I'm gone, I suggest you do a bit of soul searching, and maybe... maybe have the guts to admit a thing or two to yourself. Don't think I've forgotten a word of what you said to me last time this whole farce reared it's ugly head... You said you saw me in the boy... and I think... if you're honest with yourself... you know you still do..."

Sharon's POV - 10:00p.m.

I'm just here, like I'm bound... not even trying to move because... I'm stunned, rendered helpless. Except for the clanking of his key as he slides out the room, I barely even realise... care that Dad's locked me in. Is that because he loves me, because he wants to protect me from the very obvious demons of apparantly loving Dennis... or is he doing it so my every thought, my every tortured sickened thought... each one that I have tried to so hard to suppress will claim me... will take me and murder my every emotion. He wants me to be numb, he wants me to be submissive - he wants to control me.

But right now, I'm all alone. I'm forgotten and I know I'm dying on the inside, losing sight of myself. I'm sure of nothing anymore, and right now all I have is the strength of the every emotion Dad wishes I no longer felt. Tears coarse down my cheeks, and I can barely breathe with the force of the sobs tearing through my chest. I pull myself up from the bed, and stumble almost immediately as my legs have no choice but to try and hold me up, even though they simply cannot.

I can't see through the haze of my tears. I can only feel... and I feel sick as I stagger around the room, needing to release this pain, and the only way I can do that is to surrender to my tears. I fling the duvet off the bed, my arms feeling stiff and sore as I swing it round to the floor, clambering over for the pillows only to turn and throw them at the wall, screaming in sheer frustration.

I could trash the whole room, believe me, I have the anger to do it... it could drive me on to the point of collapse, but I don't have the energy; only moving blindly round and throwing every breakable thing I can find, never knowing if I will stop crying.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror and fall back on the balls of my feet in disgust. I just stare at myself... yes, myself. This is who I am now. What... What happened to me? What turned me into such an abused, forgotten little girl... where is the woman I learnt to love being? She's been destroyed... I'm sickened at having enjoyed being such a woman.

He's right... Dad's right.... I always saw him in Dennis - of course I did, Dennis is his blood when I am not. But how can Dennis label our father's interest... disgust at our relationship as incestuous fantasies of me - his little girl, when it seems I am the twisted one - I fell in love with my father. There's no denying it. I saw him in Dennis, every look, every stance, every mannerism and I romanticized every single one... I created a lover from a bloodline I swore was mine. Why? Because I'm sick... because I was desperate? No man had touched me since Tom died before Dennis... and why did I let it be him? Do I actually want my father?

I can't answer any of these questions, and I hate it... I hate myself with every breath I have to pull in. But then, why do I? Why must I so much as breathe? Do I want to be here, thinking, feeling these things and not knowing if they're true, not knowing myself? I would... I'd rather die, my anger, my disgust taking everything I have... everything Dad has left me with. I'm so empty, I'm so cheap...

"I hate you!" I bawl at my reflection, seizing everything off the mantle and throwing it at the mirror. I just want to force the image away, but I can't so much as move back, captivated by my own untold sickness. "You're sick... you're twisted... you're-"

I keep stooping to pick up shattered segments of ornament and whatever up from the floor, feeling the jagged edges cut into my fingers, loving the sticky warm sensation of my blood oozing out across my skin as I throw them again. Pain, yes, God, I deserve pain, I deserve so much more.

There's a carriage clock that just doesn't seem to wanna bend to my will and break, it clatters to the floor and it cracks the surface of the mirror, but in itself, it's almost like a brick; I can throw it again and again, beating the glass, splintering it, distorting my reflection. Feeling the pain. Somehow though, I jump in fright as the mirror comes loose from the wall and crashes to the floor, although there's no way I should be surprised, what with the sheer brutality I'm attacking it with. And why? Because it shows the truth... because it shows me for the messed up whore I am?

I sink to the floor, leaning over it and the millions of broken shards distort my reflection, and as I brush my fingertips gingerly over them, trailing my blood across, it seems as though I have dozens upon dozens of wounded, weeping digits. But all I care for are the shards themselves hissing to the many parts of myself I can see reflected in this chaos upon the floor "I despise you. You really make me sick... I wish you'd go away... I wish you'd just die!" as I try and snatch one up. I don't know what I'll do, but what does that matter? I deserve it all, I deserve every second of pain.

But I can't even manage to grasp one I am shaking so much with the effect of my tears and I hate myself all the more for it. I can't even stay upright, slouching down into it all. I press up on my elbows to pull myself up, but no, my every last drop of energy and resolve is gone, and I have to drag myself pathetically through the glass, and I only manage to get up again as I cry out it pain, knowing that most of it has just sliced into me.

I hold out my arms, and yes, they weep too, great dark streaming scarlet rivers gush down, dyeing, marking my skin. So sore, and I'm so scared. And yet, I'm satisfied. Mezmerized, I could watch this forever, I could bleed out my poisons, my sickness. But more than anything I am scared, and drag myself precariously up, knowing that I'll mark the carpet too, that I'll unintentionally drip onto the bundle of the duvet as I stagger to the bathroom. I lean into the huge bath, and I run the taps, pouring in God knows what from the strangest shape bottles.

And yet, still all I can smell is blood, even as the scented steam rises up from the thundering water hitting the sides of the bath. And who knew blood could smell so inviting and so simultaneously treacherous? I can almost taste it, taste it as I did on the day Dennis forced it out of me. Is this him too? Am I bleeding for Dennis? Is this what I need to feel to be free of his hold... the hold he has on me beceause he's so much like my dad?

The whole room is hazy with a mixture of the most tantalising scents, and it makes me all the more weaker, my head swimming. I barely manage to tug off my clothes, feeling the blood soak into the flimsy material of my top as I pull it over my head and let it drop to my feet. I force my skirt down with fumbling hands and that pools too, and I'm naked... just like that. Except the last time I was, Dennis was a breath away.... no! Can't think about him, mustn't... it's so wrong, stop Sharon, stop! Get in.... get in and get rid of the blood, that's all that matters. You just need to forget.

I slip down into the water and it prickles at my skin, licking at my wounds as it washes the blood away, streaking the water. I tilt my head back against the edge and I relax into the embrace of the foam, loving the idea that my eyelids are growing heavy. Sleep.... yes! My one chance to escape...

Dennis' POV - 9:40p.m.

Twenty minutes? Twenty fuckin' minutes? Yeah, as long as no-one mentions the half hour diversion as soon as you're out of Walford! Oh my God, I swear, I damn near combusted, and I really truly couldn't keep the tears back. Vicki started to say that maybe we should turn back, I mean, how the hell was I meant to see anything the amount of tears I'm crying? Christ, I really hate the amount of times she's seen me cry now, tears running down like a baby. 

Bet she never thought I could be so weak... that loving Sharon like I do could shatter all her illusions of this tough big brother with it. I just can't believe how much one woman can change me, but I ignore Vicki entirely. Turn back? When Den.... the most sick twisted bastard in all existence could have altered that woman so much? Abandon her... when I love her so fiercely? My little sister is mad... mad with grief and anxiety. I know she doesn't mean it, she doesn't... she wants to know Sharon is safe as much as I do. But maybe she's trying to run away because she's afraid that Sharon won't be, that she can't be.

Vicki had the window down, gulping in the still, sticky air because otherwise she would not have breathed at all she's so scared... scared for every minute we're stationary and helpless. Where's the fuckin' logic in it being this busy at this time of night, it's not like the clubs have just turned out or anything. But just thinking that makes my stomach drop because there are animals like Den out there right now, looking to victimise women with God knows what, just like he's done with Sharon. And in, say, four hours, these nameless, faceless innocents are gonna know it - or not as the case might be! It makes me too sick for words.

I'm pounding at the steering wheel, getting more and more wound up as the minutes slip by, distracted only by this rhythm as I mutter expletives under my breath. Inside, I'm praying, but I know there is no greater power. If there was, nothing like this would ever have happened. Never to Sharon. But it seems that something, somewhere has heard me, and I can move on, and manage to cover the remaining ten minutes of the journey (the accelerator to the floor again.... necessary evil!) without any further hindrance and then it's like... the Regency East is towering front of us. It's not sudden or anything, I mean, Vicki and me have suffered what seems like forever... the least we're owed is being where my darlin' is, but it just seems as if I can make no sense of how we got here. Who'd believe why we were here for f*ck's sake?

I just leave the car at the kerb, kicking open the door, feeling the adrenaline stir readily and begin to flood my system. Oh, the old man best be ready for me, cos I swear, I'm gonna tear him to pieces. I'm gonna leave him to choke in a pool of his own blood... I never thought I'd have to feel like this again but... oh God, Sharon! The killer in me is alive and well, and he sure as hell wants to play a few games! Oh, how I'd love to watch him crawl across the floor, drenched in blood, screaming in agony... I'm gonna make him beg... for mercy... for his life.

Vicki's already up and out, apparantly steadier on her own two feet this time, even if she's still more spluttering than breathing. But I catch her arm as she moves past me, cos she's heading right for the main entrance.

"Where are you going?" I hiss, pulling her back with such a force she doesn't have the strength to fight me. She just looks at me, her pretty lips set in an oval of confusion, her eyes shimmering and still brimming with tears.

"To get Sharon!"

"What, so you just wanna wander up to Reception and say "Excuse me, did my dad come in here with my drugged up sister? Can you let me know where they are please, I have to stop him attacking her"?"

My words register with her, and she shakes her head slightly, well aware of how pathetic those words, the ones she'd need, sound when spoken out loud. So she does something neither of us would have thought she'd do a few hours ago. She trusts me... and lets me lead her across the pavement and around the side of the hotel, where we pretty much slide in unnoticed and predictably come up against the lifts, jabbing feverishly at all the buttons possible and waiting impatiently, me muttering curses, and her whimpering and shifting her weight from one foot to the other until a set of shining doors ping obediently open and we practically fall over each other to be inside, slamming up against the close walls.

But as my fingers hover hesitantly over the keypad, Vicki dares to voice my only thought.

"We don't know where she is do we?"

"1... 1456..." I gulp miserably, suddenly realising that, no we don't, and according to the keypad, this place has going on for nine floors. So I stab desperately at them all, and slump back, just trying to train myself to breathe.

Vicki keeps sliding glances at me, and I know she wants to say something, but she's too terrified to find the words, so we're silent, apart from the sound of tears falling and the both of us pulling anxiously on our knuckles. God, I never knew how much like me she was.

We crash out onto the first floor, and it's like I'm blind, cos I collide with a bellboy without even realising it. We sort of rebound off each other, and he just looks at me darkly, not knowing whether he should deck me or be professional about it and apologise. But I don't have time for his decisions, or to acknowledge the suspicion awash in his face, because between me and Vicki, there's a desperation present the guy just can't deny.

"Sorry, sorry! 1456... please mate, 1456!" Oh God, my voice is cracking... I'm begging the man...

He's just utterly bewildered and his gaze flickers over his shoulders as he mutters, "1-4.... yeah, that's this floor then... round to the left Sir, right at the end..."

Vicki almost screams with relief and we're both shoving past him, gabbling our thanks - not that they'd really matter to him given that we've pretty much knocked him to the floor. Pain coarses all up my calf but I just don't care, veering to the left and seeing it - 1456. Oh God... Sharon, it's OK sweetheart, it's all OK now!

"Sharon!" I yell desperately, feeling a fresh wave of tears come as I pound on the door. "Sharon! Come on darlin', open the door, it's me! It's alright now, I'm here!"

"Sharon!" Vicki croaks, before being the one to succumb to her tears, letting them tear through her. She clamps her hand over her mouth and her sobs make her convulse so much, I think she's going to fall, and be sick right here in the hallway. But once again, I can't care, because Sharon... Sharon is everything. And she's not here... she's not coming...

Dennis' POV - 10:15p.m.

So I do the only thing I can, I kick at the door, forcing my whole weight against it. The lock rattles... the door's locked. Are they still here? Oh God, what if she's gone? Vicki's pattern of sobs are now only punctated by me, forcing open the door, and a few second later, it gives, and I'm surprised I had the will in me I feel so goddamn weak and drained. But then, maybe not, because my every emotion, my every heartbeat is screaming for her... if she's hurt I'm never gonna...

What lies in front of me as Vicki & I spill into the room robs me of all capacity and intelligence to think. The bed's been stripped, the pillows tossed in an angry heap halfway across the room. Was that Sharon... was it Den? I stumble across to the duvet, almost collapsing into it as I stoop to lift it... and that's when I catch the scent of it. Yes, I smell it before I see it, a darkened patch, the moisture still seeping into the fibres of the material. Blood.

Oh f*ck.

I don't know how I didn't see it, across the floor. A broken frame... a mirror once... the millions of shards littering the floor.

"Dennis!" Vicki cries out weakly, crouching over it. And still she shakes, and I'm so scared she's going to fall into it all and hurt herself. I couldn't bear her being hurt too.

Then I see it, more blood, thick trails of it glistening across the surface of every jagged splinter of glass. I feel sick... I can't breathe... and Vicki looks so fuckin' terrified and I just...

"Sharon!"

I practically leap over Vicki, pushing against the doorframe into the bathroom. 

But the next thing I am forced to register, is Vicki beside me, hands clapsed over her mouth, crying hysterically. "No!" She staggers forwards, through the heap of Sharon's clothes, and wrenches at the taps, still mindlessly pouring the water out. And she just... she can't make herself look at Sharon, shrieking in terror as she instead sees the blood streaking the water. And she just falls back upon the floor, amongst the the splatters of water, and she howls.

Oh my God... oh my fucking God, no!

There's a very definite trickle of blood going down the side of the bath, it forks and continues down the otherwise unblemished surface of the enamel. And I can see this mane of bedraggled blonde hair, heavy and wet.

And something burns inside of me, something so fierce and so dark... I... I don't know if I'll ever be sure what it was. All I can think is... she's dying... Sharon's dying in front of me... I'm too late.

"Shit!"

But I can't be too late, and the tears stinging in my eyes tell me to do everything I can to save her. The water burns as I launch myself over the edge of the bath, feeling stabbings of pain as it scalds and swamps me, sinking right through to my skin, making the material of my jeans cling to me, weigh me down. But nothing matters, nothing ever will again as long as she'll just... I can see her, beneath the water, and I pull her up into my arms, dragging her up, trying to push away the one thought that screams "Is she gone yet?"

I pull her to my chest, cradling her, just needing to keep her head up from the water... no, just needing to feel her close. I thought I'd never see her again and now... oh God please, you didn't bring me to her to her so I could watch her die, please just listen to me... one more time...

The water creates a resistance that only frustrates me. Sharon's so heavy.... limp, cold and grey... and my hands keep sliding away from her... I'm grappling to touch her, keep hold of her, as I'm simultaneously trying to lift myself back over the bath so I can lift her out... because I can't let her slide under again, I have to keep her head up... oh God... I think she's...

"Sharon! Sharon.... don't do this to me darlin'... c'mon, this is me - Dennis! Hang on for me... I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise... you'll be fine... you will!"

But I don't know who exactly it is I'm trying to convince. Because I sure as hell don't believe it and neither does Vicki... and Sharon...

I push back through the water, spluttering on the fumes that mingle with the difficulty of crying as hard as this when I can't breathe. Vicki leaps up and though she has no strength to speak of, tries to support Sharon as I climb out with her, still motionless in my arms. I lie her gently down on the floor and Vicki falls to her knees. Somehow, neither of us seem to register the fact that Sharon's naked... vulnerable, yes... bleeding... and that's all that matters. Vicki straightens Sharon's right arm out in her lap and just sobs at the sight of the wounds, the staining tracks of her blood, as far down now as her palms.

I don't know what to do, so I do the only thing I can to satisfy my desperation. I sink back on my knees too, listening to the squelch of the water as sodden denim meets sodden denim and I lift her back into my arms, holding her so close I... I should be able to feel her heart beat... and I can't. I curl around her, circling my hand feverishly round in her damp back, the water still trickling down, just wanting to give her breath in the moments I can't bear to let her go. 

"I-Is she... is she...?"

"I-don't-know!" I choke out desolately, burying my face in her hair, rocking miserably. "Oh God Sharon... don't leave me darlin'... I'm begging you... please! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... just don't leave me... I need you... please don't leave me..."

Dennis' POV - 10:20p.m.

And there I am. Wrapped around her sobbing as cooling water slides off her naked body, as her blood trails meekly down her arms, terrified beyond all telling that I'm cradling my dead lover in my arms while my little sister grieves with her every possible tear beside me. I can't tell you why I'm not screaming at the top of my lungs for help, because I don't know, I know what I should be doing, I do. But for what feels like an eternity tonight, I've feared Sharon's gone... and now, it just feels like I can't deny she's lost to me as she lies motionless here, and it's crushing me on the inside. I just... I want to be with her... no... no... I need to be with her.

How did this happen to us? How is she here, bleeding? Did he do this to her? Is she so desperate to make herself clean because he... did he...? Why isn't he here? Oh my God, he's killed her... this is everything he wanted me to see...

If I had the strength, I'd tell Vicki as much, but I'm so bereft... I just need it to be me... me and my baby, and I'm still sobbing out my remorse at being too late in great heaving breaths of apology. How long was she under? Just how close was I to saving her, instead of here... losing her. Is she lost? Is she gone?

"I'm so sorry... oh God, Sharon, you have to believe me, I'm so sorry! I love you... I love you so much..."

But then, there comes this breath... this almighty breath that doesn't come from me... from Vicki... it's Sharon! She's breathing... OK, she's choking... understandably, she hasn't breathed for so long but she's not... she's not... oh thank God!

She's really choking, fighting to clear her lungs and force in breaths because that's the only thing she knows for certain that she needs. Her chest is heaving and she must be in so much pain, spluttering like that, but she's... she's alive!

I help her up into a sitting position, and her eyes flicker to mine and then... I see it. She's frightened of me.

I gasp in disbelief, but then... she's gasping too. She would be... she nearly drowned... in her own blood. What if she did it to herself, what if she meant to... oh Sharon... please honey, don't look at me like that... it's just me, I'm just Dennis...

But she miserably coughs her words out, wheezing, with fright shimmering in those depthless eyes. And in them I'm drowning too, and maybe I... maybe I saved her in time, but I know, I can see, she doesn't wanna save me, she wants me to die... everything she felt is dead.... Den killed it. I was! I pulled her from the bloody water and I was still too late.

Her dripping hair whips at my chest as she tilts her head, biting back a sob of horror, a scream as she takes in her nakedness

"What... What have you... you d-done to... me?"

"Me?"

And in an instant, she raises her hands, stained and cracked with her own blood, and rains them down on me, striking me, pushing me back, fighting me off like I truly did attack her.

"Get away from me!"

But she doesn't even have the breath for those words, and surrenders to another coughing fit as she falls back in a heap, on her hands and knees. And yet, she'll never know how very deep they cut. 

Vicki clambers forward and wraps a towel around Sharon shivering shoulders, and she grapples at it, pulling it tight and covering herself, before collapsing into Vicki's arms and sobbing like a child. And that cuts all the more deeper... I could be forgiven for searching my flesh for wounds similar to Sharon's weeping own. No, she'll never know how much she's hurting me, she's tearing me open from the inside, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of her.

"Vicki... oh Vicki, what's- what's happening to me? What did he do... why is he here?"

Vicki looks at me quickly, more tears building in her eyes as she rocks Sharon, running her hand clumsily through her hair. And all I see, as I hear shushing noises escape her lips that I pretend are to console me, because I need that weak comfort so much. Why does she think I'm here? I bite down on my lip, blinking back my own tears, and wishing I could look someplace that wasn't Sharon's terrified, tear-stained face.

"Sharon, he didn't do anything... he- he came to save you..."

"I'm safe." she spits, coughing so viciously, I expect her throat is raw by now. "Now get him out of here. I don't want him anywhere... anywhere near me!"

Vicki nods and pulls her down into her arms again. Sharon seems to accept this with her every shred of strength and clings to her, burying her face in her shoulder. Wanting to ignore me, but Vicki can't, licking her lips nervous, that look of pity upon her face as Sharon sobs.

"Dennis... maybe you should go..."

Sharon's POV - 10:30p.m.

I can't look at him, for so many reasons. For one, I still cannot breathe, coughing viciously, as though my chest shall split in two, tasting water in the back of my raw throat, scented with something that only serves to leave an unpleasant soapy taste on my tongue, making me gag all the more. And then... why is he here? Why was he not here sooner? Does he not know it's too late? And why... why was he holding me like that when I... when I am naked, so unbelievably exposed. He made me believe so much in regard to Dad's fantasies, can he be surprised that now I can do nothing but turn them back on him?

I hear the water drip from his body and from mine, nestling further into my sister's arms, the only place I dare to feel safe ever again. And she holds me and she rocks me, trying to placate me by making shushing noises, but I can still feel his eyes upon me so I beg for Vicki to send him away. I don't trust him, he must know I can't. He makes me feel sick, because he... he made me what I am, he made me the woman I am so desperate to escape. How was I ever happy being her? He took my every sense of reason and twisted it with his words, so softly spoken and wanting nothing more than to bewitch me and take me, simply because I was the only one he could never have. I won't be so weak anymore.

"Dennis-" Vicki begins shakily, her hold thankfully not lessening. "-maybe you should go..."

 Yes, yes! I'm screaming inside. Go... just go. Leave me alone. Never come near me again...

And I daren't breathe as I wait for his reaction. I hear this sharp intake of breath that makes my stomach jolt, and I feel as if I will be sick. And he laughs. How can he laugh? It's weak, but he dares to let his voice try and carry words, and it quivers dangerously with emotion. And the only thing that stirs inside me now is anger. How dare he cry, what right does he think he has to cry... doesn't he know what he's done to me? Does he not think I know?

"Vicki... what the hell...? Look at her... she needs a doctor!"

I pull myself up, not knowing why, wanting nothing more than to remain safe in Vicki's embrace, and I force myself to look at him. His gaze flickers over my face, and I go cold... my blood freezes. He tries to smile, but the tears building in his eyes prove he has no sincerity to create it and his lips twist most unfortunately as he does not fight the urge to cry. What was he searching for? Hope? It's dead. All that I have left is the pure venom I pour into the way I look at him, contentment purring in my chest as I take in the way it makes him squirm. I don't want him here - go! Stop posioning me, stop it!

"Get out, get out, get out!"

And somehow, the hysterical way I scream throws him off balance. He sniffles, wiping at his streaming eyes with his drenched sleeve.

"I know she does!" Vicki cries determinedly, pulling me back. "But Dennis, please! You're not helping her, just go! I'll come find you in a bit, just leave now!"

He crashes from the room without another word. Will I see him again? I pray not.

"Don't let him come back! Promise me you won't let him hurt me again!"

"Sharon, he didn't-"

"Please!" I wail, grappling at her clothes so she may feel my desperation.

"Alright! Alright, I promise. Now, c'mon, can you get up?"

Realistically, no. I've never felt so weak and drained in my life. But alone, I'd never know what to do again, I can feel that I'd spend the rest of my life in a miserably unbreakable cycle of crying and feverent sleeping, living this nightmare again and again with each night. And so, with Vicki.... with this coveted direction, there seems to be this unexplainable need to please her... she's the only one I know I can still trust, so I nod. And even that hurts, my head feeling so painfully heavy upon my shoulders, but I drag myself up, and seem to fall against her as I stand upon my own two feet again. She takes my weight and guides me across the soaking floor, letting me drop down onto the lid of the toilet, slumping against the cistern. She gives me a frightful look as she turns away and scoops up the bundle of my clothes, turning back as soon as she can, crashing to her knees in front of me and... and dressing me.

So humiliating, not even with the strength to assist her, plead that I can do it myself. Cos I can't. I'm so pathetically weak, like a rag doll, my every limb limp. I can feel the cold clammyness of my blood in my sleeve as she pulls each tender damaged arm through. She bites down on her lip thoughtfully, regret awash in her eyes as she folds the material down to cover my breasts, and cannot miss the wounds, still unattended, oozing all down my arms.

"Why... Why was he here, Vicki? Why did you have to bring him?"

"Sharon..." she sighs, rushing a second towel the length of my legs, pushing it up over my thighs to dry off the water. "...you have no idea how terrified Dennis has been... we... he thought he'd lost you..."

"He never had me."

The way she looks at me says she doesn't believe me and I want to scream her that she's wrong, that I was wrong, but I... I can't.

"You didn't see him... he... he was heartbroken, when we realised you were gone, he blames himself, I know he does-" She drops her gaze abruptly, thinking I will have missed the flicker of guilt in her eyes. "-though I won't be surprised if he blames me... I would... oh God, if I'd never... Dad could never... please Sharon, please don't blame Dennis, you can't!"

How can I not when he... "Why was he touching me?" I hiss quietly. She gasps, and looks up at me, stricken as she sadly shakes her head.

"Touching you... Sharon, he was saving your life! You didn't... he jumped straight in there, into the water... into your blood, and he brought you up, pulled you out, saved you... begged you... we thought you were dead and he... oh God, I've been so stupid. Sharon, he loves you. Why else would he...? He didn't even stop to think, even though I knew how petrified he was... he just... saved you! Didn't care about himself because all he cares about is..."

"Shut up!" I scream desperately, shaking my head trying to fling away her words. "I don't wanna hear this! It's not true, none of it's true!"

She doesn't press on, only saying, tears shaking her words. "You nearly drowned Sharon, do you understand that? And Dennis... he saved you because he needs you-"

"Not me." I say coldly, almost before all her words are out. "I don't need him!"

And Vicki sighs, obviously beaten. Good, because I can stand no more of this fight and the lies it entails. Instead, she tells me gently to lean against the bar and pull myself up so she can edge and fasten up my skirt. 

As soon as she is done, I collapse back down again, the seat clanking beneath me, hating that I'm so helpless, hating myself as fiercely as I have ever done. And my sister sighs again, sensing my despair, pushing against her knees to bring herself up and drawing me close again. Her warm and yet still quaking hand curls around the base of my neck so that she may kiss my crown reassuringly.

"Sharon, will you come with me? Someone needs to look after your cuts don't they?"

And now, I am the one defeated, because I know she is right. They hurt, they hurt so much, open, sore and stinging as they weep. I wouldn't know what to do if it was me tending to her with such injuries, in fact, it would turn my stomach to look at them for fear and disgust. Yes, I can feel those exact stirrings now, and I just don't care for my own pain anymore. That.. That animal, how dare he think he can come in here, do the heroic thing and save my life? Who gave him the right... how much more obvious could I have made it that my life was the one thing that was still mine to do as I may have wished with - to throw away if I should wish? And, oh I do. I wish, I wish, I wish!

I wish I was dead. 

Dennis' POV - 10:40p.m.

It feels as though, far from simply dying, I'm a long time dead. I died at the exact moment Sharon was screaming at me, forcing the emotion to do so out of her weakened body even when she still did not possess the breath to carry the words, for me to go... to leave. She truly wanted me gone, and then I died. Because I had no choice but to believe her, as much as I longed to scream back at her, plead with her to remember who I am... who I am to her... I had no choice but to realise the shattering truth. I'm not him anymore. Whoever I was to her, he's dead, and I... oh God, is there nothing I can do to bring him back?

It seems not, and I'm... I'm the one thing I swore I never would be again - I'm beaten. And I don't know what beat me. Can you understand how utterly confusing that must be? No, you can't, because confusing doesn't cover it. I'm not just beaten, I'm broken. What do I have without her? I can't deny that again and again, I come back to the same resounding emptiness. I have nothing.

I'm just pacing the corridor outside, unable to make myself be any further from Sharon. The tears flow down, they taste bitter and new. What did I do? But somewhere inside me, there's the voice that says I did nothing, and that Den... Den did everything. And I don't know what everything is, and she... she's hardly about to tell me. I just want Vicki... if I can't have Sharon say it, I want Vicki to come out here as she said she would, and I want her to smile. and to tell me that Sharon's fine. Bloody and exhausted, yes, I mean - it's undeniable that's how she would be. But otherwise she's fine... she's sorry, and she wants to see me. But what if I never hear words like it?

Suddenly, the thought is there. I knew it would come, however much I long to pretend it never existed. From the moment I realised Den had drugged Sharon, stolen her away from the home that she would never have left, not while she was waiting for me, all I could think was, he'd taken my every word this morning for his own truth, since he had previously been able to admit it to himself; that he wanted her, that he would take her by nothing but force, that he would rape her. And I believe, I believe he has. He's destroyed her and she... oh God! 

It all goes back to that one conversation Sharon & me had, just after we slept together that first time. Conversation, that's a joke; it was more a bitter and desperate argument really.

"I see him in you. The way you are, the way you look, the way you stand sometimes... even now. And if I see him in you, and I'm with you, then what does that make me?"

And now I know. I know what it makes her. Because I know what he's said. I know exactly what he's said to her to make her turn on me like this. Oh, well done Den, he's played her, he's played her to the last, the very last, the fuckin' trump card. Oh yeah, my old man, he's no fool. Because he's made sure that she's back to looking at me... and seeing him. So, in the twisted logic of a near drowned woman, in saving her life, I've become her rapist. Oh clever, clever Den. No wonder I repulse her, no wonder she can't have me anywhere near her. But does she even know that I'm not him? Does she so much as remember Dennis, or is it all Den?

I'm shivering with cold in my soaked clothes. In fact, my teeth chatter, causing me to bite my tongue over and over again as I sob, and pretty soon, the taste of blood is swamping my mouth, and I cannot bear to swallow it down. I'm choking on it, spitting it, literally, and I wish I could say with fury, but it's pure and simple misery. 

I slide down the wall, curling up on the floor and sobbing into my hunched knees and it hurts to breathe. The man I idolised for so many goddamn years has destroyed the one thing... the one person that's ever been precious to me... all for the sake of his own selfish sickness, and he doesn't care, for me or for her. He only cares that he culled the fight that he found within us both, for each other. Den killed everything. Sharon doesn't love me anymore.

Hearing the door click shut, I go rigid, my spine locks and it's going to be painful even to just straighten my back. So I won't, I won't even look up. There's the scratch of material, then there's Vicki, sinking down in front of me, her hands pressed into the denim straining across her thighs. And these hands, each fingernail painted a different lurid and now chipped varnish reach out and case my jaw, lifting my head and gazing sadly into my face. And she wipes the residue of blood tenderly away from the corners of my mouth. And I feel so pathetic, but there's nothing I can do to retain my dignity anymore. It's all gone. Vicki's seen me as raw and bare as any person can ever be. It can get no worse. Not now.

And I hate that I can see pity in her eyes, a twitching in her hands that says she just wants to reach forward and cradle me like she did Sharon. And the sad fact is, I'm longing for her to do just that, to treat me like the child I am reduced to. But another sob tears through me before she is close. My tears bring her out of focus and I force out her name, pleading for her comfort.

"Vicki... where is she? Why... what did I do?"

She sighs empathetically and bundles me into her arms, and I cling to her as more and more hot droplets pour down. I don't ever wanna let her go, I just need someone... anyone...

"Dennis... oh Dennis, don't... I can't- oh... it's alright... c'mon, please!"

I force myself to nod without knowing why, feeling stabbings of hurt as she pulls back, wiping away the trickling tears just as she did with the blood I have inadvertently choked back. And somehow, I see love in her eyes, and I hate that too. Because she... she can be no more torn than she is right now. Why does she love me? Why should she, when ultimately, I am the reason she almost lost Sharon? But she does, I see it, and I can never understand, and I can... I can never thank her enough. How devestating is that?

"Will... Will you come with us? I'm... I'm taking Sharon down... phoned Reception.... First Aid... foyer someplace... she might have to go to Casualty, I mean, she can't just keep bleeding can she? She- She needs us Dennis."

I laugh bitterly. "She's never needed me Vicks, look what I've done to her."

"Hey, listen to me. None of this was you OK? You saved her life, that's all you did. This was all Dad, uch, the spineless... I'm gonna kill him!"

"Not if I get there first." I growl. Her gaze flickers to mine, almost in terror as she gulps.

"Dennis, don't - please! Just come with us, yeah? I- I just wanted to know you were OK..."

"Never mind me." I sniffle determinedly, lifting my cuff to my face. "How is she?"

"She's... frightened."

I hang my head, unable to miss the way Vicki was looking at me as she pondered her words. 

"Of me."

She smiles weakly. There goes consolation then. "Just... don't expect too much of her alright? Now c'mon, up you get."

And she pulls on my elbow, trying to pull me up from the floor. But I wrench myself away, resisting her. "No. I'll only freak her out and I... I couldn't handle that, I really couldn't. I never wanted to upset her..."

"I know. But I'll be there for you. I... well, I can't leave you here can I? What sort of sister would it make me if I did eh?"

Dennis' POV - 10:50p.m.

I stand there, an uncomfortable buzz going through me that screams out I shouldn't stay, not when Sharon is so uneasy at having me close. Uneasy is an understatement. She was so determined that I should be nowhere near her, so... so vicious in her conviction that I damn near sobbed in front of her. And still there was that venom in her eyes that says, though I have cried damn close to a thousand tears in thinking I have lost her tonight, I could cry a thousand more and she still wouldn't feel a need to so much as blink. She tried to go for me again, bawling at Vicki that she'd promised she'd never let me hurt her again, that the promise was broken... that she had no-one to trust anymore. She managed to cut my face with her nails and Vicki winced and stepped back from Sharon's betrayed screams to survey the oozing scarlet trail.

But I didn't feel the pain, would have pretty much welcomed it just to feel something. But there's nothing, because I'm numb. She hates me, Sharon truly hates me. And I did nothing. Is that why? Does she remember who I am, the promises I should have kept? Is it because I did nothing, because I could not save her in time?

We're all crammed into this tiny, yet deceptively homely office just off the foyer. Vicki had to physically force Sharon to sit so that the member of staff they'd sent through could clean off the blood from her arms. She whimpers as the cuts sting, but tries to look as though she was in no pain, concentrating instead on glaring at me, and that goes through me as I guess all those shards of glass went through her. How can she hate me so much? For once, I'm innocent and I... why would she be so desperate to hurt herself like that? Too late I was, but surely she knew I would come? Is that why she bleeds? For me to see how little faith she holds in me? No, I'm trying to console myself, I know it. She holds nothing for me anymore, this is nothing to do with me. But it should be, it should be everything, because she is everything. And that will never stop.

I just can't describe how sick I felt as this woman, a kindly looking forty something manager with her dark hair held up well after all these hours in a bulldog clip, rushed forward to Sharon, arms out to steady her, crying "Mrs Watts!"

And Sharon screamed, fighting against Vicki's arms to move away, to run. And Vicki couldn't hold her back, and I went forward on my toes, only to fall back straightaway, looking to my sister apologetically. What could I do? Sharon would only scream louder. And where is the time she would have been screaming for my arms? 

"Miss Watts!" Vicki cries out desperately to the woman, hoping that this will placate Sharon. But it doesn't, and between them, they have to practically carry her into the cramped little room. Sharon fights still, shaking them off and making like if she had the energy, she would be gone. I pointedly stay in the doorway. That way, I can force her back if she manages to hold herself up and run or I can slip out when all this begins to hurt too much. I can be the one to run.

"I'm so sorry... Mr Watts' booking said..."

"She's his daughter. Sharon, it's OK..."

Vicki crouches at Sharon's side, comforting her like a mother comforts her child, gently tousling her hair and soothing her with wordless murmurs. And when she does speak, it's with a hushed whisper, just to tell her how brave she is being, how it's all so very nearly over. But it'll never be over, because the Sharon that would yell at Vicki for being so patronising, at any time... whatever... that Sharon is dead. And I'll never know when my lover died. Only that I'll never see her again, that I'll never hold her, because the broken stranger left in her place is never going to let me close ever again.

The woman whispers her apologies as she gently wraps guaze around Sharon's arms in turn.

"Er... Sharon? How did this happen my lovely?"

Sharon only hangs her head, biting on her thumb to stop herself saying a word.

So, sighing unhappily, Vicki is forced to become her voice. "She... broke the mirror in her room..."

And the way the woman looks at her makes it obvious she knows that's not the full story, that she could guess at the rest and hate which assumptions would come out as correct.

"Right. And you're... you're very wet... did you try and get the blood off then? In the bath?"

Sharon nods jerkily, like she's ashamed, like she's waiting to be scolded.

"That's alright, don't you worry. But I... I've done all I can now, I really think you should go to Casualty... I'll call you an ambulance if you'd like?"

And she looks round to Vicki and she looks stuck, and glances quickly at me, causing the woman to follow her gaze with a sweep of her head, her eyes widening like she's only just realised I am here at all. And having this responsibility put upon me kicks at my stomach a little. This... This isn't my place anymore. I don't belong here. But all that matters is that Sharon is alright. So I nod in submission. And the woman smiles, her lips curving as she pushes herself up and reaches for the phone on her desk. But Sharon pulls it from her hand and slams it back down into the cradle, wincing, as if her wounds have just split.

"No!"

And the poor woman sighs in submission, worry swamping her features as she looks back at Sharon.

"Lovie, you're really not well..."

"Can you make me go?" she hisses.

"No. No I can't."

"Then I'm not going!" 

And before anyone can say a word in protest, she pulls herself up and moves shakily across the room. It takes me a few seconds to realise she's heading straight towards me, and for one moment, for one foolish moment I think she's gonna have something to say to me, any words, just a few, just to recognise I'm here. But she says nothing. She just glares at me from under those long lashes. And the soft glow of the lighting within this room brings out the intensity of the hatred in her face as she looks at me, lip curled, willing me to move out the way so she will have to be nowhere near me as she goes past. I look miserably to the floor and step aside, daring myself to look back up at her, some part of me daring to hope. But for what? There's nothing anymore.

"Sharon, where are you going?" Vicki calls, looking pained as she watches how unsteady she looks with no-one to support her.

Stopping as she takes in Vicki's words, she turns and withers her with that same hateful glance as she rests her hands on a door. "To the toilet." she says scathingly. "That alright with you?"

It'll have to be, cos it's not as if she has the energy to go clambering out tiny little windows to escape us both. If she doesn't need me anymore, it's undeniable she needs Vicki. She needs someone familiar.

"Er... sorry to pry, but I really need to know what happened to your... sorry Sir, are you... Sharon's husband?"

I laugh bitterly at the carpet. Vicki steps up beside me and searches out my hand, slipping her fingers through my reluctant own.

"Dennis is... my brother."

"Right. And neither of you were staying in the suite with her here tonight?"

"No, we... we found her in the bath..."

"Found her?"

And Vicki looks at me. She's nervous, she's upset and she can't take this scrutinising. But she's sorry because she knows how much it's gonna hurt me to speak, to detail this agony.

"U-Under the water. I- I pulled her out, but I... so scared and... too late? Was I too late?"

The woman's mouth has slightly agape. Hmmm, well I suppose it's not every day you get what sounds horribly like an attempted suicide in your hotel.

"You got in the water?" she asks, looking me rather pointlessly up and down. Had she not noticed I'm drenched? But even I can't be bothered with cockiness, I mean, what good has it ever done me if it brought me to this? My incredulous stare tells her all she needs to know, and she nods silently, nibbling on her lip. "You do realise she could have hit her head, and if she lost consciousness... I can't force her to go to Casualty, but with the risk of concussion, you really should try and take her..."

Dennis' POV - 11:00p.m.

I hear her, and she knows it. But there's something I want her to hear an' all.

"How did she get in here?"

"Sorry Sir?"

"Mr Watts." I hiss, surprised by the strength of hatred swirling in my stomach at just having to consider the twisted bastard. "You do know he drugged her? So how the hell did he manage to get her into a place like this without anyone batting an eye? She musta been totally out of it, but hey, anything for a roll of twenties eh?"

"Sir, I'm so very sorry, but I can tell you a number of my staff genuinely believed Mrs- Miss Watts to be inebriated..."

"Inebriated?" I echo in disgust. "Pissed? She wouldn't have been conscious! What did he do... carry her in? Do you even know what he gave her?" She looks clueless, well of course she does, but maybe I'm just too angry to care. "Well, let me enlighten you eh? He gave her GHB. Do you know what that is? Do you even care? Cos it don't matter to you does it love? She's just another name on a list, another hundred a night... it don't matter what you let him do to her..."

"Dennis, stop it! You can't - this won't help Sharon!"

"Well, maybe nothing's gonna help her now!" I yell, throwing Vicki off, barely even registering the frightened tears brimming in her big eyes. 

I have to stop doing this, reacting like this, cos I only seem to realise what I've done a second too late. I really am gonna alienate her very soon. There's only so many times you can hurt one person before they refuse to get up again.

"Vicki, I-"

But she tilts her head away. "Dennis, it's OK..."

"No it's not, I shouldn't..."

"Vicki!"

And she's looking at me again, her fright all new, more fierce. She's trembling. Because that was Sharon, screaming for her. Really screaming. She scrambles up and has to fight past me as we simultaneously race across the foyer to the toilets.

"Dennis, no! Just let me see to her!"

"Vicki, she's - what if she's hurt?"

But she won't let me past her and slams the door. It would be easy enough for me to follow her, but she knows that inside I know too that I can't help Sharon anymore. There's nothing I can do to make anything better for her, because to her... I am... I'm him. I slump against the wall, bashing my head against the brick, wishing I could feel the pain. Oh, to rediscover that sensation. My palms itch and I shake so violently I think I might be sick. Is it cos I'm cold? Is it cos I'm scared? Well, whichever, I desperately need a fag. Poisons for the poisonous, yeah that sounds about right.

And the woman, she slopes out of the little office, daring to look across at me, craning her neck. Is she worried? So she should be; she must have worked out what Den did to Sharon by now. Does she feel as sick as I did... as I do? I can't help but glare at her, imagining the venom I saw in Sharon's face, remembering how deep it cut, and hoping that this woman can see something close in my face, that it hurts that much. I get the weakest stirring of satisfaction as I watch her flinch, but it's not like it matters. I just need to know Sharon's OK.

My sister slides out from behind the door a moment later, and I'm aware that somehow, I've missed her. She seems to be the only person in the world I can be sure of right now, and I know that Sharon feels exactly the same, so I can't imagine what it's doing to her on the inside. I'm just so sorry. How can I be so dependant on a girl so young? I'm Dennis Rickman, no one matters besides. Oh Christ, what happened to me? Right now, I'd give anything to go back to that guise cos I could trust it. It was lonely, but it was foolproof. Then there came love, I fell in love with Sharon, and that definitely is not. I'm weak now. I'm pathetic.

It seems to be only then, rounding on her, that I realise just how desperately she is trembling, how ashen she looks. I take her by the shoulders to steady her, and she gasps in fright, like she hasn't realised I am here at all. She's scaring me. What's happened? What can happen in a row of sinks?

"Vicki? Speak will you... what is it?"

She's silent for a few seconds longer, nibbling on her full pink lips as she contemplates her words, lifting her head to look into my tired face one more.

"She went to the loo... she... she said it hurt... really hurt - oh Dennis she's in tears. And she... she's bleeding... y'know... bleeding." She speaks slowly, and even I can't miss her meaning. "...Sharon doesn't bleed Dennis, that's why she screamed. She's scared, she doesn't understand... she hasn't been... on since the abortion-"

OK... where the hell did periods come into this? And why do I feel so stupid for not knowing that Sharon doesn't have them? I mean... I swear to God I've caught her snuggled up with Vicki, complaining that her stomach kills, box of chocolates at her side, hot water bottle pressed into her... and even if I imagined that... I've... I've had sex with her for God's sake. And yeah, so... yesterday... this morning, we were risking it, but we've always been careful besides. I mean, I knew she wasn't on the Pill, and I... I swear she said to me once that maybe we didn't need condoms either because she was hardly about to pin me down with a love child and she trusted that I knew I belonged to her, so she wouldn't feel the need to. But just because she's not gonna get pregnant... oh I just don't know... she's bleeding now...

"Wha'... What does that mean?"

"I... Dennis don't freak out OK?"

Those words seem pretty fruitless, because she's freaking out totally. She shakes anymore and she's gonna fall over.

"Vicki...?" I push, feeling myself get more and more wound up as I consider every monstrous possibility. "C'mon, you're scaring me!"

"I... oh God..." A sob breaks through and she tilts her head, blinking furiously to keep her tears back, lifting her hand to wipe those stray few away. "I think Dad... I think... I really think he did it..."

Sharon's POV - 11:05p.m.

I back up against the cubicle door, flinching at the impact, the sound of the crash bouncing off the walls, coming for me. Everything, everyone is coming for me. I'm so scared. I'm curled up on the floor, and I can do nothing but cry. What's happening to me? Why won't Vicki come back? Where has she gone? 

She found me, shivering with the effect of my tears and all I could say was how much it hurt, that I'd bled, really bled and I... I haven't bled for years. I just don't. It hurt me too much to realise every month that I'd cheated myself out of ever carrying a child, and I went and had contraceptive injections so I'd never have to suffer the unfairness of it again. But now I'm bleeding and I think... oh God! Vicki, please come back.

All I can think about is those eyes. I opened my eyes, crushed by that unbearable weight, and I'd be pulled into those eyes. Cold, deep and glittering. Drowning, floundering, unsafe. My father's eyes. That weight... oh please, no! I'm just Sharon... Sharon's a good girl. I've never done anything... except... is that why my father hates me so much? Because I took his son to my bed... is this him teaching me a lesson - my punishment for being such a bad girl? Bad, bad Sharon!

I pull myself up, wincing cos I can still feel it, that sharp sting. I slip out the cucible and lean heavily against the sink, hardly daring to look at my reflection again. The surface of the glass in unblemished, but my arms too seem to sting almost by instinct, feeling tender and raw even through the bandages that cover the wounds. I cannot hurt myself again, but by God, I want to. I just... I don't recognise myself anymore. Even physically, I'm haggard and my face is drawn and tear-stained. But emotionally, I cannot begin to even touch upon how much I have been damaged. And who did it? I just don't know. I must take some of the blame right? If I'd never... with Dennis then I'd still be loved...

The pressure of a sob pressing in my throat sends me falling back, sliding down the wall and cowering the corner. It's then that the door crashes open, and I search for Vicki, only to be met by the man that ruined it all. How did he make me so weak?

His chest is heaving, mine is simultaneously tightening. He is too near... where is Vicki? She promised she wouldn't let him close again, is she really going to betray me? There's a horror in his tortured face, and I just know Vicki left me to tell him what has happened to me, what seems to be undeniable. And, oh, I would if I could. Never would I want to believe something so evil, but this man, a man I loved foolishly until a few hours ago, he made me believe it all, and yet it was with him I stayed, thinking he had love to prove. No, it's just not true. He never loved me, and I... I should never have looked for it, because it made Dad...

"Dennis, you can't just-"

And there's Vicki, behind Dennis. She looks terrified and so she should the treacherous... 

But it's like she's expecting him to explode, to rush forward in a fit of anger, and the way my stomach has tightened says I did too. But I'm captivated by him, and why? Because he is still, because false tears build in his eyes as he stands there, shivering, looking upon me with a broken pity. I try and fling my most sincere hatred back at him, he just could never know how desperately I want to look away. But I am reduced to drawing my knees up tighter to my chest and whimpering in terror, an emoton I know cuts at him as he moves cautiously forward, crouching down and hesistantly speaking, his every word shaking his voice.

"Sharon... it's me... Dennis...."

But does he think a little emotion will sway me, make me forgive him for abandoning me, abusing me?

"I know who you are." I hiss cruelly. "You're him!"

He sighs, wounded and satisfaction stirs. But then, suspicion prickles as Vicki sinks down too, pressing her hand into his shoulder. Oh God, she's defected, I'm all alone now. What did he say to her? What words did he use on her to make her fall?

"No... Sharon, Dennis is... Dennis isn't Dad, he's not. You have to... you were... he's your-"

"He's my poison."

And his gaze flickers across my face again, looking as though I may as well have inflicted the wounds I am marked with upon his own flesh with all malice intended. There's that need to defend himself, I recognise it, but I won't give him the opportunity.

"That's what you are." I tell him steadily. "You got under my skin, like a parasite and you made me so sick that... this is all your fault. You're an evil poison." I pull at my sleeve and showcase one of my bandaged arms, blood seeping through and marking the milky fabric. "But it's OK... I bled you out..."

Lacing his hands together, he crushes his knuckles, causing them to crack in protest. He stares at the tiled floor, nibbling at his lip. Then he gulps. Was that a sob? Oh, don't hide from me, how I'd love to see you cry. And then, those eyes are searing into me again, and he's trying to harden his every feature, and he's failing, miserably. Don't think I don't know you hurt... that's all I want.

"And you're still bleeding aren't you Sharon? And that's not because of me. You have to tell me-"

"I don't have to tell you anything!" I scream, tears I hadn't even realised laying in my eyes pulsing down my cheeks. "You're nothing, you're no-one!"

I can feel that he's working me and I hate that all I can do is pander to him, frenzied all in a moment, sobbing and choking and without the energy to fight him off as he lunges at me, catching me round the shoulders and shaking me with every one of his words.

"But I'm not Den am I? I'm just me, that's all I am and... Sharon, did he? Did Den... darlin' please, just tell me.... did he do anything to you?"

Yes, they're all coming for me, the every sensation, the every memory Dad never wanted me to retain. And now I can do nothing but fear why. I don't feel protected, I feel threatened and suspicious, terrified for what has happened to me in the moments I don't know of, that he made sure I'd never be able to recall... for my own protection. That's what he said, but I... I don't believe it. I think I know what's happened... and whatsmore, Dennis & Vicki fear it too. Oh God...

"He... He was on top of me... I think he... I was so scared... tried to tell myself it wasn't... he..."

"Shhh." Vicki says, but I can't, my every emotion pouring out as I look at Dennis, unable to look anywhere but his stricken face as he struggles to take in my words. "Dennis, you can't do this now."

He nods guiltily, but says to her. "We have to know." Then he's looking back at me, though I can barely see him, breathe, the force and quantity of my tears, my sobs tearing through me as I try to curl up here on the floor, left only with the instinct to try and protect myself from the realisation his next inevitable question will bring.

"Did Den... oh God... I'm so sorry... did Den..."

But he can't say it. I almost love him for it, battling with my every shred of hate. He looks to Vicki and her features twist in horror as she realises the horrendous duty falls to her. Please Vicki, no... don't say it. I don't know, I'm so scared... don't hurt me like that darlin', just leave me alone... maybe it'll get better that way, maybe I'll wake up...

But she shifts forward on her toes and presses her hand into my knee. I flinch in fright, and the reflex brings me up to her gaze. And I hate it. I hate the unspoken question in her bright eyes.

"Sharon... did Dad.... try to... did he try to have sex with you?"

I scrunch my eyes shut, trying to tell myself I have not heard such words. But my heart races and I just can't deny it, every uncertainity I have ever felt pounding in my chest, and I can barely breathe. And yet, from somewhere, I hear a voice... a scream and the tightness in my chest, the dryness in my throat leave me in no doubt that the voice is mine.

"Yes!"

Dennis' POV - 11:15p.m.

Yes. Alone, though I would have believed it deep in my gut, I woulda trained myself to push the very idea away, thought of nothing but bringing Sharon back to me. But she's said it. The confirmation came from her own mouth, her scuttling tears wetting her lips. Terrified by the realisation that yes, Den, her beloved father has violated her, and maybe on my word; me being the man she was meant to be able to trust with her life... her love...

So did I bring this upon her? Yes... of course I did, if I'd never struck out at the sick bastard, if I'd never said what I did, but God! He... He shoulda just punched me, told me I was sick. I never really truly believed that I was right, at least not until he took her. But if I can bring pain on her like that, me who is supposed to love her with my every breath, then it's me that has to take it away again and bloody hell, I will!

In contrast to the tenderness that I approached her with, I left her in a state. She was silent, still apart from her sobs, but I was up, and I was desperate, the anger burning in my veins, stronger than ever before. And I'm frightened, of my own emotion, because when I find him, and I will, I'll stop at nothing to find him, I don't know that I will be able to stop myself killing him. I truly don't. Imagining the sticky sensation of his blood on my hands does anything but sicken me - it excites me. I can't wait to watch him bleed. I can't wait to say that I did it. Killing him for my own gratifications, for my darling's dignity. I owe her something for being too late, for not saving her and this... this is all I can do, this is what I need to do.

"Dennis!"

It's only having to register Vicki's panicked summons, turning round on my heel to face her that I realise where I am. Somehow, I'm out in the back car park. The streetlights leaning over the still rows of cars throw out their auburn beams, almost as if to say "He ain't here, look!" Rain has started to fall again, irritating little flecks, but I barely feel them I'm so drenched already. All I know that the lights dancing all across the worn tarmac make my eyes burn where so many tears have lain and itched.

Vicki's racing towards me, but I refuse to stop, I just pace backwards.

But somehow she finds the will to accelerate and slams into me, her arms out to drill her nails into me, shake me, bring me to my senses. I know what she'll try to do and I respect her attempt, but she must know I have nothing for her to appeal to anymore.

"Dennis!" she says breathlessly. "You can't- You can't do this!"

"You can't stop me Vicki!"

"Well, what's it gonna do for Sharon eh? Nothing!"

"No? Well, I think it'll make her feel a whole lot better knowing I killed the bastard!"

She deliberately presses her weight onto my foot to stop me moving back, her big sparkling eyes widening just that little more through sheer determination.

"And you will won't you? You'll kill him!"

"Damn right I will! Vicki - he raped her!"

She shakes her head, still unable to hear the words. "Don't!" she whimpers, tears brimming. "Please don't."

"That's what he did Vicks. He took the only person he's ever loved... because she's the only person I've ever loved... been in love with, and she... she wanted me too. He couldn't stand that he wasn't gonna win, so he stole her... he stole her away from me, brought her here and he raped her. His daughter... so yeah, I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill him cos he's made sure I'll never get her back... do you know what that's doing to me?"

She nods guiltily and moves off from my foot. I pull in a breath and realise she does know, she's felt it every time she's watched me cry and she'll... she'll never have seen that before. Cos I'm Dennis Rickman, I'm tough, I don't cry. But she knows why I do, and she can't deny me the chance to stop. So she'll let me go.

I'm all but three paces when she calls: "Killing him won't bring her back you know."

"So you know she's gone then?"

She scoffs, rushing towards me with this heavy sadness in her face. "Of course I do. I had to dress her for God's sake.... my independent big sister? That killed me Dennis, it's like she's a child, but that's because she's afraid..."

"Because he screwed with her!" I fume, choking on the words as I realise exactly what I've said. So cruelly true Dennis, and where the hell were you mate?

"I know, and believe me, I wanna help you murder the soulless... more than anything! But I've left her on her own to... Dennis, we can't afford to lose you!"

I smile softly, adoration swelling in my chest at just hearing her say it. 

"Go back, look after Sharon for me yeah? Bring her out to the car. I... I should probably bring it out here-" I glance round, gesturing to the empty parking bays. "Andy's gonna kill me if it gets clamped... and then I-"

"Please Dennis..." she whimpers, and it's undeniable that she's begging me shamelessly. "Don't do anything stupid... I don't want anything to happen to you...."

I step close, casing her jaw with my hands and tilting her head so I can admire her pretty face. And she smiles back at me, despite her tears, though they make her lips quake. Does she think her words have caught me? Oh Vicki...

I lean forward and kiss her forehead, her skin feeling icy cold against my lips. I move back, shaking my head gently.

"I love you y'know darlin', but-"

"But what?"

I sigh. I don't wanna hurt her like this, but if stupid is what me killing Den is then stupid is what shall be done.

"This time... it just ain't enough..."

Sharon's POV - 11:30p.m.
  
Vicki came back after ten or so minutes. My words barely coming out as more than a mumble, I asked her where she'd been. And I immediately regretted it because it seemed as though I cared about Dennis, and I don't. I might have thought I did once, but I was nothing but a fool... his victim. I simply don't care, though I wish her face wasn't so red and tear-stained. Has he hurt her too? Even as concern roars inside still I say nothing, curled up on the floor, hugging my knees and rocking from side to side.

"C'mon Sharon." she says softly, trying to pull me up without endangering my sore arms. 

And I fight her, only because she tells me I have to get into a car, a car with him so we can go home. Home? How can that shell ever be home again? So much has happened there, so much wrong, so much evil, and she thinks I can be settled there, that I can feel safe? No, no, the fool! But then she asks, rather desperately, if I would rather stay here, with all the misery and pain, and she knows I don't, that I'd rather be anywhere but here. Not that, beyond a certain point, I ever thought I'd leave this place... I wanted to die here, and damn I was so close.

It just seems that no decisions are my own anymore, but maybe it's easier like that, what would I do otherwise? Cry til I collapsed? So I get up, I lean against her and she leads me out of the toilets, across the foyer to the exit at the back, just past the lifts and we stagger out into the night. The air seems to swarm around us, embracing us, but it feels sticky and uncomfortable.

She whispers that it's OK, that she's right there and she guides me across the concrete. But she's searching the whole place for him, only realising he is stood against the wall, flickering orange embers coming from his mouth as his lips mould to the withering cigarette. My stomach jolts, I feel so sick. Too close, too close.

"I'll go first shall I? So I'll be there when...?"

I just nod fiercely, and she moves in front of me, clattering down the steps and striding across the car park. Dennis sees her approach and as soon as she's within touching distance, brings his cigarette down from his lips after one last desperate toke, flicking it away. He brings his foot down from against the wall and reaches for her, pulling her into a tight embrace as he rocks her. And my skin crawls, how can she let him touch her? Has he bewitched her too? Will he want the same of her as he did of me?

But they turn, looking to me expectantly, and I almost fall forwards down the deep steps, my heart beating that little bit faster, my throat constricting. It seems so far, and yet.... I'm more and more scared with every step I take.

And then, I hear it, we all hear it, my sister looks round stricken and shadows go across Dennis' face, his lips set in a way... he's murderous. It's true... all he is is a killer...

"Princess!"

And I choke. I hunch forwards, terrified I will be sick where I stand. I can hear my father's pounding footsteps behind me, and my legs seem to be locked. I'm convulsing, and my neck feels stiff and sore as I try and look over my shoulder, without knowing why. I don't want to look at him. But I'm trapped. Either the father that abused me claims me, or I run to the man that destroyed me by taking me for his lover. And he looks bewildered, he looks so scared.

"Sharon, please!"

"Princess, don't you-"

And my father, he's so close, and his eyes are wide and mad, I can see the little blood vessels bursting with his fury. And his large grappling hands are on my back, pulling at my top, and I... I can't stay, I kick at him and race across the tarmac, hearing him gulp, knowing he is behind me for my every step.

"Sharon!" Vicki screams, but I barely hear her, the blood pounding in my ears drowning her out. I have no breath in my chest and my vision is blurred with tears and the wind stinging at my eyes. My calf muscles feel shredded and bruised, and still I have to push myself forward, barely knowing where it is I'm going, or believing I will be safe there. And Dad's so close, his hands upon me again and again and I can't keep fighting him off. I stumble, and realise as my foot hits the splattered tarmac again that I have lost my shoe. And I can do nothing but keep going, tossing the other one away.

I can just about make out both Dennis & Vicki tearing towards me, but the next thing I feel is a crushing sensation against my windpipe as my head is yanked back and I feel rancid breath on my face as Dad restricts my flailing arms snarling;

"This for your own good Princess. You know what he'll do... he's an animal!"

"Let me go!"

"Never!"

"Get off her! Sharon!" And then there's Vicki, launching herself onto Dad and he growls in pain as she attacks him in any way she knows, just to release me. As soon as she knows his hold around me is lax, she screams "Run!"

I do. Blinded now, in pain, terrified and entirely unable to breathe, not believing I will hold myself up, that I will fall, that I will die. And I'd welcome it, I would. I'll never feel safe again. What... What did he just do? And why, because I ran? What was I meant to do?

I collide with this solid form, dripping. I seem to bounce back, but still I'm frightened, screaming and lifting my arms to fight, shrieking as I am restricted, hands curling around my wrists. I lift my head and realise Dennis looks down on me, devestated. Tears are in his eyes and I sag, falling now. He catches me and holds me close and this comfort I cannot fight, even though the feeling of sickness intensifies for every moment I am against him. I just need the comfort he will offer. He cradles me, shushing me, kissing my hair, and my every instinct screams no, except my every instinct has no strength anymore. I am nothing, I'm a child in his arms. And his voice cracks as I sob there.

"Shhh! It's alright baby... I've got you... you're safe now..."

Dennis' POV - 11:40p.m.

I don't ever wanna let her go. She's in my arms and she's sobbing, not even trying to fight me, even though it looks as though everything inside her tells her to. I'll keep her, I'll keep her safe forever, I will, if only she'll stay. I'll never let anyone close enough to misplace a hair on her head. She's clinging to me, with the desperation of a child. And I cling to her, just wanting to know that she is close. She should never have had to run like that, to escape him. Her own father, it's true, but a monster all the same. And I know that she would never have wanted to come to me if she could have had anywhere else to go. But while Vicki fights off Den to save her, I am the only one she has, however little she trusts me. I will get that back, I will.

"Sharon-" I whisper shakily, realising that Vicki isn't gonna be able to hold the old man off, that she needs me too. But Sharon just whimpers and winds herself tighter around me, shaking all the more. I try and pull her away towards the car, and she sort of stumbles with me, reluctant to move, not wanting to lose my closeness cos right now that's her only comfort.

She clambers into the back seat and curls up there, looking utterly betrayed. But I know I'm being deceived, however deep that one searing look cuts because she doesn't want me for me, she wants me for the security that otherwise is nowhere close. She's simply terrified.

"Don't... Don't leave me."

"I have to." I tell her sadly, fighting my every urge to lean over and kiss her, reassure her. "But I'll be right back and I'll... I'll never let anything happen to you... I hope you can believe that."

She whimpers again. No, I didn't think she could.

I slam the door and race back towards Vicki. Oh God, she's bleeding, what has he done to her? She screams for me, and there's nothing I can do but save her. I... I have to be needed, I have to save someone.

I wrench her away and she falls against me, gasping for her next breath. Den straightens and glares at her, pure venom in his face. She tenses, terrified too.... how can one man make so many so miserable, so scared for themselves?

"Go!" I urge her, pushing her towards the car. She stumbles, but stands tall, tilting her head defiantly as she gulps back a very obvious sob.

"No. I want to see this!"

"You'll never take her away from me!"

"What about me?" Vicki screams back, sounding hoarse with the effort. "I'm your daughter too Dad, your real daughter... don't you want me? I know what you did - I know what you did to Sharon!"

"Wha' the hell are you-"

But he doesn't get any further, because it's like Vicki has reawakened my every sense and emotion, and for hours they've all been screaming for this moment. I slam him against the wall, and he almost loses his balance, but he'll stand... he'll stand til I am the one to make him fall. The first thing I know is to smash my knee into his groin, there's no way he'll be able to fight me now.

"You listen to me old man, and you listen good, cos mine's the last voice you're ever gonna hear... there ain't many things I'd do for you-" 

I swing my fist repeatedly into his stomach, and he lunges, folding over in agony. Vicki winces and flinches, crying out. I hear and feel everything that leaves her. She hates watching this, but she's mezmerised and doesn't tell me to stop because she knows better than anyone how much he deserves every punch. 

"-but time is definitely one of them. Will that make you proud of me because y'know that's all - I - ever - wanted!"

I uncurl my fist, my knuckles starting to throb with the violent exertion and let my hand sweep up his chest, settling around the base of his neck, squeezing hard, crushing his airway and making him choke for his every struggling breath as I move up. I cup his chin and with one quick swipe, slam him, the pressure against his throat, against the wall, waiting to hear his skull crack, cos his pained cries just ain't enough.

"Murder charge... oh yeah, suits me don't it eh? And I'm gonna love telling everyone I murdered the mighty Den Watts... and when I tell 'em why, they're gonna pat me on the soddin' back cos you are the lowest of all lows. Go on, deny it, say you didn't, you sick bastard - say it!"

And I'm holding him up by the throat, he has no breath for words, denials or otherwise, but without these words, then I believe I have just cause for punching him square in the face. I swear I hear his nose shatter under the force of my fist, and the blood coarses down, spilling between my fingers, and satisfaction purrs. His blood is on my hands, and I was right - it feels so good.

"You raped her! You took her from me! And that's why I'm gonna kill you..."

I fling him away from the wall and he crashes to the floor, blood spilling from his nose, his lip, in fact his face is a mass of cuts that carry my name. And still I slam into him, adrenaline pulsing as he curls up, trying to protect himself, groaning, tears pouring down with his pain. It's not enough, it'll never be enough.

"And you know I'll never get her back, but that's just an added bonus to you ain't it, cos you got your kick didn't you? Didn't you? Come on then, how was she seeing as she was comatose? Was she good?"

"Dennis, stop!"

No, I'll never stop, not til the evil bastard chokes his last. And choking he is, blood coming from his mouth... oh this is good, this is so good.

And why does Vicki plead with me? I don't understand. Does she feel sorry for him? There was a time when he might have been able to fight me, maybe even win... can she just not handle how the mighty have fallen, how the man we have both idolised is reduced to nothing but a sickening, bloody heap. I drag him up, slamming him into the wall again, and he splutters.

"Princess..."

Confusion roars and, my hands still around his neck, intent on breaking it, I turn jerkily. And there's Sharon, stood a few short paces from Vicki. So that's why... 

And looking at Sharon simply makes me want to cry. Because she looking right back at me, and she's... she's broken, shaking her head jerkily, wordlessly begging me as tears go down her cheeks.

"Please..."

Dennis' POV - 11:50p.m.

My hands fall away and Den slumps to the floor, somehow managing to still smirk in triumph. But that disappears before I have to move forward and punch it right off because Sharon covers that distance instead, shrugging Vicki off and pulling herself free from me as I grapple for her hand, to draw her back and keep her safe.

"What did I ever do to you Daddy? Sharon's a good girl and you..."

"I n-never touched you! You can't believe anything he-!"

"You were on top of me! I felt you!"

"I was checking to see if you were coming round. Princess, I swear, you have to believe me-"

But she hangs her head, unable to look into his face anymore. And she doesn't resist as I help her up, wrapping my arms around her. She nestles into me, burying her face into the stiffened material of my shirt, and I feel the warmth of her tears seep through to my skin.

"Your clothes!" he groans desperately, and she whimpers, going rigid in my arms, so I shush her as I glare at this pathetic excuse for a human being, so wishing she'd have let me finish him off, cos I'm burning to. 

Yet all I can do is murmur "You're safe... I promise..." But I can't fight off the stabbings of pain as I realise how insincere my promises must seem to her now. I could almost laugh at recalling I promised her there was nothing Den could do with a cup of tea, I promised it because I believed it, but oh, how painfully wrong was I? Milk, two sugars brought me to this, my lover lost.

"Was there anything wrong with your clothes? With mine...? I'd never-"

"You drugged me, I'll never believe you, never!" And she turns back to me, almost stumbling, pulling on folds of my shirt, pleading "Just take me home... please..."

"Vicki?"

It's only then I seem to realise that she's crouched in front of him, holding his head up, looking coldly into his face, surveying his every wound with a smirk of satisfaction. And she's asking him, oh God, I hate that this has made her feel such doubt...

"Would you have done that to me Dad? If Dennis can want Sharon then maybe... cos you're sick... you make me sick, I can't believe I'm anything to do with you..." And she spits right into his face. I'm proud of her, I'm so proud of the way she makes him flinch, cos he's reduced to... to nothing, he has no-one. He's all out of chances. Am I? God, I hope not.

She staggers towards us, and Sharon looks at her sadly, and they move back in the direction of the car, leaning on each, defeated, drained and needing one another's arms. Maybe I just don't fit into this picture anymore.

But I can't resist going over, and sinking down to Den's level, enjoying the image of his blood oozing from everywhere possible. I did that.

"I'll make you pay for this."

"Well, you don't look in any fit state to take the law into your own hands, not like me..." And I splay my hands proudly so he cannot miss the blood he has lost. "So how about I turn myself in eh? Tell them why I tried to kill you... no I thought not. And I swear, you come near her ever again, I will. I'll kill you, and that..." 

I look over my shoulder and somehow, Sharon manages to meet my eye, and I hope for a smile, I do... but all she can do is drop her gaze. I've let her down so badly.

"... that's a promise I will keep."

Sharon's POV - 12:20a.m.

We drove in silence for so long. Dennis kept sneaking glances at me in the rear view mirror and I hid from him, nestling into Vicki's arms. I'm not OK, what is he expecting from me? I just watched him half kill my father, one of the only men I believed I could trust. And Dennis, he was the second and now, I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him. I think he hopes for too much. I let him hold me because I needed someone, not because I needed him. I can do nothing but cry as I am curled here, no-one speaks except Vicki, shushing me as she pulls her quivering hands through my hair. 

And Dennis' hands, Dennis' hands are still blood-stained, we cannot miss it. It makes my stomach turn. The man whose blood marks him, he makes me just as sick, but still he is my father and we just.... left him in a miserable bloody heap as the rain started to pour down. He barely had the air in his chest to breathe and still he begged me not to leave him. That was what all this has been about, so scared he would lose me, first to Dennis and now to my own terror. How does he think I could ever stay? But guilt stabbed, it really did, and Dennis pulled me away, telling me I should never have left the car. Scolding me. Sharon is such a bad girl.

So we drove, the rain really lashing at the glass, making it rattle and creak, and there was me, cowering in my sister's arms on the back seat, scared by everything, even the rain. And somehow, we ended up in a service station, because Vicki needed a wee. The idea almost makes me laugh, because it's so... so normal, it's... fantastic. 

She won't go straight away, she sits with me, shifting from hip to hip with the desperation as she forces Dennis to go and gather coffees that it's pretty obvious none of us will touch. And he can't look at me as he comes back and sets them down, even though he tries, even though I wouldn't mind if he managed it, just to savour the pain in his face. Vicki slides obediently out the booth, gesturing for him to take her place as she scuttles off to the toilets.

And this uneasy silence sets in, and neither of us can settle our gazes. There's just nothing to say when there could have been so much. And somehow I'll miss that.

"Are you OK?"

I spit out a bitter laugh that makes him flinch. Hurt flitters across his face, but he knows what he's said is stupid. But what else does he have? It's then that my gaze settles on his hands, captivated by the smears of blood as he clasps his flimsy cup, wincing as the searing liquid burns fiercely at his skin. He drops his gaze and shivers self consciously, wrenching down the cuffs of his shirt to cover his fists, his eyes meeting mine again almost in panic. He wants my reassurance when I can give him nothing. I look away, biting down on my lip.

"You don't know what you've done. Look at yourself, you're covered in his blood, is that some power trip for you? You know we might have left him to bleed to death out in this?" I nod jerkily in the direction of the window, though you can see nothing besides the darkness of the night.

"Don't you dare care Sharon."

"He's my dad, I have to care!"

"And what about me?" he croaks desperately. "Who am I?"

"You're... You're his son!"

He laughs scornfully and pulls the cuffs back again, knowing I wince as I'm forced to take in the sight of the blood. "Does it look like I care about being his son, Sharon? All I wanna know is who I am to you. Cos Den makes me sick, I know he makes you sick, I know darlin', and I know what he said to you-" And he reaches across and presses into my hand with his own.

Bile rises in my throat. He's trying to be tender... calling me darlin'... darlin'... when he has our father's blood on his hands. I wrench my hand away, and he laughs bitterly as he realises why. He gets up without a word and heads the way Vicki went, towards the toilets. I try and act nonchalant, sipping at the tepid liquid that passes for a coffee, but I have not swallowed down one scorching mouthful when I find myself up and following him because guilt prickles. Why does it, why for him when he has just done something so undeniably vicious?

I find him at the sinks, scouring his hands with paper towels under water it's obvious burns at his skin, the amount of steam that is rising from the basin. He winces as it laps at him, scalding him, and if I step closer, I can hear him forcing back tears that I can see glisten on his cheeks anyway. I did that.

So without a word, I go forward and tighten the taps, catching his hands before he can realise and resist me. But he's scared, the way his eyes are so wide, the way they shimmer so sadly tell me he's terrified that I am this near and I just don't understand... isn't this what he wanted?

"Let me help you..."

And his lips shift uncomfortably into a smile, though he can't stop himself whispering in reply: "Why?"

"Because... that's what you were doing with me right? When I was the one staining water with blood?"

He claws at his lips, dipping his eyes as he remembers, obviously not wanting to. "Yeah."

"Then just let me do the same... maybe to say... thank you?"

Noticing how doubtfully I raise the words, Dennis looks away, not fighting me as I steal the paper towels away and scub at his stained hands, watching the tinged water swirl down the plughole.

"What? Thanks for half killing my dad, Dennis... yeah that really works Sharon."

"Well, maybe... I have to realise now that he's not... not my dad..."

He looks at me dubiously out the corner of his eye, in a way that needs no words for me to understand he's screaming "Y'think?"

"Maybe you do. You know, all the time we were together... you never once said you could let him go, even after everything he did to us. And I did what I did tonight because of what he did to you... to us..."

I let his hands drop heavily into the sink and turn away. "Don't. There was never an us Dennis... we were never meant to be together... not like that."

I hear this thud as he slams up against the wall. "He really has done it hasn't he? He's taken you from me."

"I was never yours. Stop it! You're talking like him, like I'm a bloody belonging!"

"Do you even remember what you said after you said that earlier?" he fires, yanking out a bundle of more towels to dry off his hands. "You said you belonged with me. And now you just..." He presses his foot into the pedal of the bin and throws the towels away, and I don't know if my words will even reach him above the clanging of the lid as it slams down, taking the offering.

"I was wrong!" I tell him forcefully, pained as I feel my voice crack. Hear me, hear me please... I can't say it again.

He tilts his head back, sniffling as he fights back a fresh wave of tears. Then his gaze levels again, and I feel my stomach drop. I'm so scared, and I instinctively back up against the wall to escape him. But he catches me anyway, his red-raw hands around my shoulders, assuring that I can't escape.

"You loved me Sharon... and I know you don't believe that because he doesn't want you to but you did... you loved me."

All I can do is stare at him, be consumed by his sadness, be terrified by it all at the same time. And my words barely come out.

"I was wrong! Can't you see I was wrong?"

Dennis' POV - 12:40a.m.

Wrong. I'm looking at her, and inside I'm screaming. Oh baby, don't you know I would know it if it was the truth? I swear, I want to keep hold of her, I want to shake her, scream at her to remember that she loved me, because I love her with everything I have, my every sense and emotion, raw, like my flesh, all of it screaming for her, if only she'll come back. But I don't have the strength to hold her back, that very rejection taking everything out of me. I guess I should be used to it by now, but I never thought I'd lose her tonight. She woke up in my arms this afternoon and we were strong, we were meant. And now, it's all gone, on the strength of one man, and I don't know if I can bear to let it go.

She tore herself away from me and raced to the ladies, fighting to keep back tears, and me... I staggered back to the booth somehow, laced my hands around my coffee, letting the dying warmth of it sink in, just knowing that I would never dare let it touch my lips, not after tonight. And yet, I can see Sharon has, absent-mindedly perhaps? She'll be OK though, and maybe she knows that. She could drain a thousand cups and no-one could attack her with the malice that Den has, that I just have. I bet she believes him all the more now, sure that I am him, that I embody his every sickening thought.

And I'm here, sinking into this pitying stupour when Vicki crashes through my thoughts, quite literally, awakening every caffeine affected worker here tonight as she sends a stack of trays to the floor.

"Dennis!"

"What?!"

"We have to get Sharon to Casualty now!" she gasps, leaning heavily against the table.

"What, why?"

"Came into the toilets, sobbing..."

"Vicks..." I say guiltily, dropping my gaze to the table and admiring the coffee cup rings. "...I might have said some stuff, I never meant to-"

"Oh shut up will you? I don't care what you- She's still bleeding.... and I mean really, something's not right!"

I've never seen so much panic in one face. There are beads of sweat all across her face, and her eyes are glittering like crazy without the presence of tears. She's white and she's quivering, and her lips are thin and pale and seem as though they're holding back screams of terror. I killed a man, he begged me for his life and I've still never seen anyone look as scared as Vicki does right now. It's going right through me, and I'm immediately thinking of all the things that could be wrong, the very worst things, and I can really feel it in my gut, this deep, heavy sickening feeling. She's dying... Sharon's dying!

And that feeling still hasn't gone twenty minutes later when we're in Casualty. I can't believe that I was even able to drive, that I still knew how I'm shaking so much, infected by Vicki's panic. Sharon was lain out onto the backseat, cuddled into her, crying like a little girl, begging her to make it stop hurting. And it felt like there was nothing I could do when I was once the one she trusted to make everything right for her, and I blamed myself, blinded by silent tears as we somehow faultlessly went through a maze of roads. I hurt her, I made her hurt like that because I left her, and if it was me she was still cuddled into, on the couch, then he'd never have gotten near enough... I shoulda killed him when I had the chance.

They took her, they took her straight away when they saw that she could barely hold herself up, crying out in agony, and I felt it, I swear I felt her pain and I'd have given anything to carry it for her. I was close to begging the doctors, the nurses, whoever, not to take her, because... she's been taken before, and she's lost to me now when all I want is to bring her home. I even told one of them that I was her husband, just praying that that would give me licence to stay with her, to never lose sight of her again, but they scanned my bare hands and didn't believe me, told me to step back and let the doctors do their job.

So Vicki and me were relegated to this tiny little room, filled with sunken chairs, so many people have been forced to worry here. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, choking me and I slumped to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. And my little sister curled up alongside me, broken too and still only thinking of others, whispering to me to breathe slowly, that it was all going to be OK.

Young, naive, stupidly hopeful. I long for her optimism, but just being here without word is draining me. I can hope for nothing anymore. I heave myself up, wired, adrenaline pulsing miserably through me and I can't keep still as the minutes slip past with the ticking hands of the clock barely upon the wall, taunting me. I shift my weight from foot to foot, scrunching my wounded, stained hands into fists, needing to hit something and again, I wish for Den, I ain't done with him if he can make my darlin' hurt like this!

Vicki notices my unease as I pace the room, a ferocity in my movement that obviously frightens her. Cos her every breath comes out in shallow, shuddering gasps and tries to shrink away from me, watching me, thinking I'll rush at the walls trying to shift them. She understands I can't be caged like this.

"Dennis, please, calm down!"

"How am I meant to calm down?" I blast, my gaze instinctively going back to the clock. I swear the hands aren't actually moving. "Why won't anyone tell us anything? What's happened to her?"

And the thing is, anything could have happened to her, and Sharon herself knows it. She begged us both as we pulled her gently from the car not to tell anyone what had happened to her. And we had to swear not to mention the drugs, her cuts, the rape, anything. And we looked at each other, Vicki and me, and we were beaten, we were terrified, simultaneously fearing our silence could only endanger her. But she screamed without our word she would not go, that she'd rather die with the pain, and pain it was. She knew, she knew we could never see her suffer like that, she knew that secretly we were both terrified beyond words that we would lose her, and now... what if she's gone?

"If anything... I'll kill him! Yeah, I will, I'll find him and this time I'll really do it, I'll tear the bastard into pieces, oh he knows I will! He knows I can!"

And before I even know what I'm doing, I've wrenched open the door, fighting Vicki off as she tails me. She knows too that I am driven by nothing but my anger, and she's trying to keep me back, crying out that "Sharon needs you!"

She thinks it'll keep me, and it's a nice try, but she didn't see the way Sharon looked at me. She doesn't wanna remember me, and she certainly won't ever let herself need me, because I... I am poison. Her poison, that's what she said, and she's... she's right.

But I seem to rebound off this form that appears in the doorway and now that I am caught off balance, Vicki drags me back into the misery of the dark, forgotten room, pressing her arm into my shoulder. We squint, battling the harsh light brought in from the corridor, but this is cut off as the form slips in and closes the door. It straightens, and we both reel back, recognising the authorative white coat, but not the doctor within it, the clip that bears her name bashing against her breast pocket. She pulls in her cheeks, preparing a breath as she steps forward and offers her hand to Vicki, naturally suspicious of me.

"Miss Fowler? Teresa Clarkson, obstetrician."

"Obste-?"

Why does she look so bewildered?

"Yes... now given the nature of your sister's... complaint, it was routine that I be called in..." She was held by Vicki's imploring gaze, feverishly drinking her every word. But she breaks the contact, clears her throat and looks distractedly to me. "Sorry, Mr...?"

"Rickman."

"I must ask... are you any relation of Sharon's?"

Is she taking the piss?

I can't find words to answer her, just not knowing where to start and I find myself looking, panic stricken to Vicki for help. She nods in pained submission and is met by the doctor's inquisitive gaze, her eyes darting between me and my sister. And I wonder, what will Vicki say? That I'm her brother? That I'm Sharon's...?

"Dennis and Sharon were... together..."

And the doctor's mouth hangs open, sounds spilling out that tell us there are words stuck in her throat. "I see... and how long ago would you say this was?"

"Why?" I challenge, narrowing my eyes at her, my suspicions aroused now too. "What does it matter?"

She smiles tightly and drops her gaze, fiddling with her hands. "I don't know if it's right for me to say this to you Mr. Rickman but..." Then she shakes her head, ignores me totally and looks directly at Vicki. "We know why your sister is bleeding so heavily."

"What is it?"

And those seconds drag by again. Why won't she answer?

"Answer the fuckin' question." I growl and she nods steadily, looking between us again as she releases her words.

"Were either of you aware that Sharon was pregnant?" 

Dennis' POV - 1:20a.m.

All in that one moment, the world froze, terrified, bewildered... deceived. Vicki gasps, covering her nose and mouth with her hands as her tears overpower. She chokes on them as she shakes her head desperately, crying "No... no!"

And me, I just can't process the doctor's words. I'm numb, I'm cheated. "What do you mean pregnant?" I demand, glaring at her. "Sharon can't get pregnant... Vicki, tell her, tell her about the abortion!"

"It's true." she says, nodding miserably. "Sharon had an abortion in... '95... she didn't take the follow up medication, she was ill... they said she wouldn't be able to have kids... she can't be..."

The doctor looks at us both piteously, and my fists clench instinctively. I swear I'm going to hit her in a minute. "Get... Get her file, her medical records, whatever you people call it... it'll be in there, I'll prove it to you!"

"Mr. Rickman, please!" she yelps, leaping into my path and holding up her hands defensively. "I assure you I read your... Sharon's notes perfectly well. And I can tell you that the doctors that cared for her after her termination will have told her further conception was highly unlikely, but not impossible. There's no doubt... Sharon was pregnant."

"Hang on..." Vicki whispers desolately. "...what do you mean, was?"

"The bleeding..." she sighs. "I'm afraid your sister is suffering a miscarriage."

"Oh my God!"

"No!" I hiss determinedly. This isn't happening. "No, you have to be wrong... it must be something else, it can't be-"

But the next thing I'm aware of is the crushing force of Vicki against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, swaying me as she shudders with the effect of her sobs. And I cling to her, accepting her embrace and taking this as permission to give into the tears burning in my eyes. So there we are, wrapped round each other, crying like we'll never cry another tear. But I know I will. It doesn't feel as though I will ever stop. And yet, I don't know what I'm crying for, besides Sharon's pain because...

"She... She's been seeing another guy..."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sharon... she's been seeing someone else... James..."

"For how long?"

Vicki understands the desperate way I look at her, and she looks to the doctor, hunching her shoulders. "About a week."

"Ah. No... I'm afraid not. Conception within that time frame wouldn't be detectable for another fortnight or so at the very earliest. It's impossible to say what gestation Sharon was exactly, but she could have been anything up to twelve weeks... sixteen maybe..."

My stomach drops, and I can physically see my world crashing around me. "Thr-Three months? Three or four months?"

"Yes. I... I'm so very sorry. M-Mr. Rickman, are you al-?"

"No." I tell her viciously, stumbling against Vicki. She catches me somehow and helps me straighten my back. And once she is assured I am holding my own weight, she presses her feverish palms around my jaw, inclining my head so I am forced to recognise she is there. 

"Oh Dennis...."

"T-Tell me she was cheating on me Vicki, tell me she never wanted me, tell me she had someone else on the go! Please!"

"I can't!" she croaks, caving in. And her lips are ugly and twisted because she can't fight the pressure of her next sob. "She didn't... she wouldn't..."

I knew it. Of course I did, but I'm so desperate not to believe it. Everything tonight is just too cruel to be true.

"She's... She's losing my baby?"

Oh Jesus, never have so few words hurt so much. 

I feel the pressure of Vicki's forehead against mine as she nods, sniffing back tears and simultaneously gulping back sobs with such effort she can barely breathe, let alone speak to me. But she forces the words out.

"Y-Yes. Oh Dennis, I'm so, so sorry..."

She's said it, Vicki's confirmed it, and now I have no choice but to believe it. I'm dying, I am... I'll die where I stand. I don't wanna live anymore. I want to die. Let it come, let it take me like it's taken my child.... my child...

"I'll leave you alone..."

But I whirl around as I watch her shadow slide across the wall. "No, wait!"

She does so obediently, the door creaking as she pushes it that little further, looking in on me expectantly.

"Have you told Sharon?"

Sighing heavily, she steps back into the room. "We tried, perhaps it was wrong of us, she did seem extremely fragile..." 

And her eyes are searching Vicki and me, and you just don't know how desperately I want to give her all the answers, but all I can think is; what killed it? What sick, evil little part of tonight killed mine & Sharon's baby? And Vicki is panicked, her breath caught in her throat. Silently, she is screaming out to me that she longs to confess too, but somehow, we still both know that all that matters is Sharon, that she needs to be taken care of, and we just know she won't accept it the very moment we betray her confidence. And tonight, all I have done is betray her, I won't do it again. So I look back at the doctor with all the defiance I can, just so she knows we have not a word to say.

"Does she know?"

"No. No, she doesn't."

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, sniffing, just trying to compose myself. "Then I want to tell her myself."

Dennis' POV - 1:30a.m.

She left, looking pretty stunned, but somehow understanding, slipping out the room declaring softly that she'd go and clear it. And then I sagged down onto one of the motheaten chairs, all at once defeated. My head in my hands, I just will myself to stop crying, because in a couple of minutes, it's gonna be me and my darlin' in a space less than this and we'll suffocate, before I have said but a word. Vicki steps close and wraps her around my neck again, pressing my head into her stomach as I wind my arms around her hips, clinging to her. And we're silent, until pained curiousity, suspicion explodes from inside me.

"Did you know... did you know she was pregnant?"

"No! Of course not! God... Dennis..." And she untangles herself from the knot of my sinewy arms, crouching down and framing my face determinedly so I am forced to look at her and take in her words. "...listen to me, whatever I ever thought about you and Sharon, if I'd known about this baby... if she'd told me then I would have told you, I swear because whatever... you'd have deserved to know-"

"And why didn't I know Vicki? Why didn't she tell me?"

"May...Maybe she was scared..."

"But she's had three or four months to be scared!"

"Yeah, and she's also had two or three months of you & Zoe. What was she meant to do?"

"I don't know!" I yell, my voice cracking as the tears pour down. 

I hate myself so much. Because she's right. What was Sharon meant to do? Skulk around the kitchen making breakfast for the lot of us, just to distract herself; and then in a moment she thinks no-one's looking, smile over at me, that gorgeous nervous smile and say "Oh and by the way Dennis, I forgot to mention me and you are having a baby, that's not an inconvenience is it, y'know seeing as your girlfriend lives here an' all? Oh, morning Zoe... breakfast?" 

I just know I hurt her too much in leaving her to have ever made it seem that she could have approached me, that I would have helped her. But, oh doesn't she know I would have? I'd have given anything, given up everything to have Sharon and a baby... our baby. And I did. This afternoon... when she was cuddled up to me on the couch, telling me how much she needed us, I had that. I just didn't know it til it was all gone. 

But... this afternoon, curled there, I was in no doubt that she loved me. So why did she never say? A baby... that matters, and she... she should have told me. But when? Between puking her guts up, me screwing her senseless against the wall? Getting rid of Zoe, tailing Vicki? Letting Den manipulate me, begging Sharon to take me back? When could there ever have been a right time to mention our baby?

Then there comes an even more terrifying thought, and the feeling of sickness goes right down into my stomach. All this... This has been just two nights. She had so many before to contemplate her future. And I was the one on the other side of her bedroom wall, fucking Zoe to forget her. Why the hell would she wanna put herself through the agony of carrying, of raising her brother's child?

Oh f*ck. We had one... we had the soddin' love child. I don't believe it. She said she'd never wanna pin me down... but when she said that, she loved me, she knew I belonged to her. And without her... her without me, who did she belong to, who would our child belong to?

"She was going to get rid."

"What?"

"Think about it. Why would she want it?"

"Because it was her baby! Dennis, don't talk like this, you must know she wouldn't have... for God's sake, this was your baby too!"

"You think I don't know that? You have no idea how much I wanted to give her that baby, you don't, you never will! But I thought I never would, and now them out there are telling me I did, and it's bleeding out of her right this second Vicki.... it's coming out of her in pieces and why? Why is it?"

But I don't need her to answer me, not really, because somewhere inside, I know.

"He really did take everything from me..." I mutter, my lip curling. And 0my gaze flitters to her ashen face and she flinches as I hiss, "He killed mine & Sharon's baby."

And she's silent. She chokes out sounds that might have been the beginnings of protest, but nothing materialises and I'm glad of it. Because it's the truth, and even ever optimistic Vicki can't deny that. But she tries, and why does she try?

"No... no, that's not right... sex wouldn't..."

"It wasn't sex, you stupid-! Don't you ever- it was rape Vicki, have you got that?"

"But... But she's bleeding because she's... not because he-"

I want to believe that Sharon was wrong, I do, so much. And maybe she is... she could be... I pray she is, but I'm haunted by her words. She was so sure, so broken. And why would he give her... does he even know what he gave her? Did he just want to knock her out, to steal her away from me... to kill our child?

"You heard her - she said he was on top of her, and now, not only will I never get Sharon back, the Sharon I love with everything I've got left, he killed my baby... Sharon's baby. Why did you tell me to stop Vicki? You should have let me finish him off! He's taken everything, and I'll never know when I lost it. When did I lose her, when did I lose my baby? When he drugged her? Oh, you reckon a fuckin' foetus can keep going through a date rape drug do ya, when it damn near killed Sharon?"

"I... I don't know, do I?"

"No, neither do I! And what the hell am I left with now eh? I thought I'd lost everything the second I saw her half dead in that bath... I thought she was dead. But now... instead it's a baby I never even knew existed til it was too late... my baby! And I love it because it's mine, because it's hers, yeah? But it's dead. And there's nothing I can do about it because it's already gone! And I... I love Sharon... I'll always love Sharon... with everything I've got, but now that's... now that's nothing... I don't have anything!"

"Please!" she begs, trying to secure a grip on my hands. "You can't go near Sharon when you're like this!"

"How am I meant to be?" I rage, flinging her blindly off. "I have to tell her that I... I gave her a baby because she loved me and that... he took it away because he hates me. It's all my fault, if I'd just never left her-"

She shakes her head miserably. "You left for me... to come and find me... so you tell me whose fault this is! I know how much she'll have wanted that baby Dennis, don't you remember how she was when I... when I was pregnant? And that was mine... and this baby... it was hers, she'll have wanted it more than anything, no matter what was..."

"Mr. Rickman? Would you like to follow me?"

Dennis' POV - 1:40a.m.

My spine locks as I register this third alien voice at the door. The hairs on the back of my neck spring up and I'm scared. I feel like... I'm being pulled from a cell for the very last time, that this deceptively sweet voice has been sent to carry me to a chair, or to a needle that will take the only thing I have left... the breath in my lungs. And they could have it, if only I knew that I could tell Sharon what I know I have no choice but to.

I keep Vicki back as she moves forward with me.

"No. I don't want you to come."

"But-"

"Please Vicki. This is between me, Sharon and our baby. You've gotta respect that darlin'."

"OK." she concedes, shrinking back. But she catches my hand and I turn to look at her. "But I'll be here if you need me, yeah?"

"Yeah." I barely manage to raise a smile. I'll never smile again. Not now.

And far from walking alongside the doctor, whatever the hell she said she was, it only feels like the walls are moving around me. I don't move, because I can't... I don't wanna go to this. But I have no choice, so the floor shifts to move me, and then... oh Christ, it almost makes my head pound just to have to hear her words.

"She's very delicate..."

I release a mocking laugh, low and irritated and inwardly, I'm hissing at her "If only you knew..." And maybe she does, because my clothes are still not dry upon my skin. Does that scream that I wrenched Sharon, half dead and bloody from that bathtub, does it tell her that I was sure she'd die in my arms? Perhaps not, because although Sharon's living, breathing, she won't be alive... cos death still chased us, and it took our child without warning.

Pulling back the curtain, I am left alone with the image of Sharon, propped up by a mountain of pillows, her knees drawn tight to her chest underneath the heavy scratching blankets. She's still in her own clothes, why? But then I remember. She doesn't want them to see her arms, but surely she will have aroused suspicion? Oh God, what time do I have for other people's suspicions now? I'm worried sick just looking at her. She's so still, tears silently slipping down her tear-stained cheeks, but otherwise, she's grey. She looks dead. And yet, she's still so innocent... she doesn't know a thing and I'm putting it upon myself, a man she still cannot trust with a word, to shatter her world all over again. But I have to, because I... I am the father of the child she lies here losing. It's all my fault. It is.

"Sharon?"

She only blinks to recognise I am anywhere near, apparantly fixated with an undefinable spot on the swishing curtain. I'm hoping for anything, even a flinch of disgust as I sink onto the bed, backed up by her stiff legs, but I get nothing.

"I... uh... have you spoken to any of the doctors? No... course you haven't. Well... one of the... came to talk to me & Vicki and... they told us why it's hurting you so much."

There's a flicker of movement in her hand and she presses it tenderly into her stomach, wincing and I wonder, is she trying to protect the baby? Oh honey, you can't... not anymore...

"Do you know why it's hurting Sharon?"

And I realise how clinical my words sound when all I wanna do is hold her, tell her how sorry I am, how much I love her. But I can't, because I need to let go of our child. I need to be here for her when she's forced to let go. I close my eyes, scrunching them tight even though, as I tilt my head up, the harsh light spilling down from the ceiling penetrates and burns my eyes anyway. I'm just wondering whether she'll actually tell me she is... was pregnant. Would she have ever told me, or just left me to do my sums when her stomach was miraculously rounded? It stings as I ponder how beautiful she would have looked pregnant, when I am forced to remember that she never will. Her silence cuts at me, but then... there comes one misplaced, disgusting word, all out in one weak breath.

"Dad..."

I just don't understand, every part of me wanting something different. I want to scream at her for still not realising I am not him, I want to confirm it for her, tell her he's destroyed absolutely everything for us, I want to shake her for still having it in her to care about a man, no, not a man, a monster who she believes raped her. What I manage isn't logical. But is anything anymore?

"Why didn't you tell me Sharon? Why didn't you tell me about the baby?"

The way she looks at me. She's not so still anymore. She's panicked, her eyes on my face, searching, cold and glittering in a way that says she'd give anything not to be looking at me right now. And I wonder, does that include our baby?

But she chokes on words and she crumples, shaking her head jerkily, her lips quivering with more that is unspoken. That is, until she manages to whisper;

"What baby?"

Sharon's POV - 1:50a.m.

"Why didn't you tell me Sharon? Why didn't you tell me about the baby?"

Why is he saying these things? Does he really want to hurt me this much because I... because I see now that I was wrong to have ever let him near, to let him touch me as he has? Is that why, as softly spoken as he is, desolate even, his every word is intended to attack me? I'm hunched on the bed, completely unable to move my legs from their crooked position. I'd like to, because my muscles are really starting to ache, but it's like my limbs are locked in place, and I'd like to be frightened, but I'm just so numb, staring blankly at a spot on the curtain with no character to it. Dennis sits against the bed, and he speaks without me really hearing him. I don't need to, he has hurt me enough. This is all happening to me. I wanna deny it, cos everything just feels so surreal, this shouldn't be happening to me. But then, he draws me back into myself, yes, this truly is me...

"What baby?"

And he gazes back at me with that same painful disbelief, his mouth hanging open in the absence of words.

"No..." he whimpers, cracking his knuckles to busy himself, maybe to release some of that pain. "No Sharon, don't do this, tell me you knew!"

"Knew what?" I press shakily, feeling the tension, the anxiety swirl in my chest. "Dennis, you're scaring me!"

And I begin to shake. I don't understand. What is he talking about, why is he in such a state? Why is he letting me get worked up like this? Tears burn in my eyes, and I can't keep them from falling. He watches me with such distress as he inches forward on his hip, covering my hand with his, pressing it into the itchy bedspread.

"Do you know why it hurts?" I ask, turning back the one question I remember coming from his lips. And it's on them he bites down, tears sparkling as he nods.

"You... You're bleeding because.. oh sweetheart... you... were pregnant."

He looks right at me with his last words, his tears sliding down as mine do. His eyes sear into me, searching out, cutting into my very soul. And I choke as a sob presses agonisingly against my throat, so that I can barely breathe.

"No... No... you're lying! Pregnant, what are you talking about...? You know I can't-"

"Sharon!" And he catches me as I flail at him, wanting to strike me for telling such vicious lies. I should say something, show something, some emotion, but I can't. All I have is pure hatred for him, everything else is just numbed. But he pulls me forward into his arms, and I take his embrace, I take it because all I have otherwise is my own emptiness, and I'm too afraid to be lonely. "I wouldn't lie to you baby, you know I..."

My stomach sinks, because I suddenly realise, as he cradles me, kissing my hair. I realise why he cries. I'm bleeding, bleeding like I have never done. Even if I dare to believe he's telling me the truth, I'm not a fool. I know there's simply no way I can still be pregnant. Pregnant. That word sounds so alien.

"It's gone isn't it? Going?"

He nods as he holds me, and I can feel his heart pounding against my ear... hammering as he lets go of one wracking sob, tearing right through him. And he's clinging to me, and my arms are around him, but only because that's where they fell as he clamoured for me. He wants me to cry with him, but I can't because it's so new, none of it makes sense. I... I'm infertile, for God's sake. Infertile women don't have babies to miscarry.

A baby. Someone's baby, and for a moment, I don't know who. I... I've been raped... I've been cheating and... and I've been willingly having sex with the man that holds me. And before this, the week that brought James to my bed, it had only been Dennis. And in the lonely times afterwards, missing Dennis, longing for Dennis.

"It's yours isn't it?"

I didn't mean to say it with such venom, I really didn't, but that doesn't mean to say I regret it. He can look at me, with a face full of all the hurt, the despair in the world, and that will never make the idea of our child alright. It's wrong, it's so dirty.

"So... all those times I was being sick...?"

"Baby." he whispers sadly, his breath dancing across my cheek as he tucks strands of my hair behind my cold ear, and I wonder whether he's telling me that's what made me so ill most nights or whether he's talking to me. Considering the latter makes me nauseous, and yet somehow I can't stop myself bleating

"But I thought that was because.... you and Zoe... I thought I was j-" No Sharon, don't you admit that, don't you dare admit that. Not to him.

And another breath escapes him, causing his chest to swell, and I look up into his face, and see this tentative smile upon his lips. I should just be able to admire it, to appreciate his happiness amongst his obvious misery but it makes me nervous. Because I know that smile. It haunts me in another face. I fight to release myself from the desperation of his arms. He knows I have little strength and he resists me, calling for me to calm down like all of a sudden I am some sort of madwoman. But I'm not mad, because it's clear. And in he comes, telling me he gave me a child, like I'm supposed to be grateful.

But it makes me sick. What use is his child? I could never have had it growing inside me, not when he is who he is, and was my body not casting it out right this second, oh I never thought I could love myself so much, I'd have had it cut out for the cancer it is. I've harboured this sickness for so long without knowing it, so yes, let it go. I don't want it. I could never want it.

He doesn't understand, shrinking back in confusion as I curl up defensively, pulling the uncomfortable covers up to my chin. And he dares to move forward again as he sees I am relatively settled.

"Leave me alone."

"No." he says eventually, looking down from the ceiling, where his gaze has been fixed as he suffers the sting of my words. But they have not had their desired effect because he shakes his head and coming forward anyway. The light catches the tracks created on his glistening cheeks, but compassion refuses to stir. "I can't, we... we need each other-"

"No!" I yell, pushing myself up onto my aching elbows. "I don't need you! I don't need you, I don't want you and I don't want your baby. I want it out, I can't wait til I've bled it all out, then at least it'll never have to suffer hearing about all the sickening things we did to get it here!" I refuse to see the hurt in his face, I simply let myself drop back down onto the mattress, grappling for the covers and turning away from him. 

He fights back more tears, and I scrunch my eyes shut, trying to block it out. Gasping in a breath, his heel scrapes against the floor as he pulls across the curtain. And I feel his eyes burning into me as he steps out. So I push out my bitter parting words, wishing I had the grace to keep them back 

"I'm glad it's gone..."

And he leaves me there, rushing away before I hear that one last burst of heartbreak leap from his throat. But I hear it. And if I mean what I say, why am I now sobbing into the starched pillow, and who am I addressing as I wail, 

"I'm sorry baby, I'm so, so sorry!"

Dennis' POV - 2:05a.m.

I don't know how I made it back to Vicki, I was so blinded by my tears, shaking like I was going to be sick, and I believed it, but I just found her and pretty much collapsed into her arms. I forget she's so young, there's no way she can deal with this. Me & Sharon, we're the older ones, we look after her, and she concentrates on being a kid. Except we're the kids now, me and Sharon, reduced to it, estranged from each other, and Vicki's had to become so damn strong so soon. 

She's had no time to remember she's opposed to me and Sharon being together because, Sharon was gone... Sharon nearly died in front of us... Sharon nearly never made it away from Den... Sharon was bleeding... Sharon was pregnant... I'd made Sharon pregnant... Sharon's losing our baby.. Sharon doesn't care she's losing our baby, because "our" makes it my baby.

Vicki had to force me to sit down and I think she tried to get me to eat. I don't actually remember. I just remember shrugging her off, telling her I was going to the toilet and all I did was slump against the sinks, staring at my reflection, trying to work out how I got here. And I curled my fist, about to smash it into the mirror, repulsed by myself, seeing everything Sharon sees, everything that repulses and terrifies her. 

But I didn't so much as get to lift it, because there was some sort of plastic wrapper scrunched in my hand. So I figure she must have, it makes sense really, I mean, I haven't so much as looked at food for going on two days, and somehow, I'm still standing, held up by my misery. I just don't seem to buckle, even though I long to, so am forced to feel the full painful extent of every harsh blow. So when, when exactly am I meant to think about food? I've given up hope surviving this, I just need to function, and save my darlin'. And then I'll go, and she'll wake up from this nightmare, someone, somewhere will make her happy. It'll be like she never knew me. A blessing.

I stagger out into the night, somehow managing to avoid Vicki and thankfully her questions with it. We had been sat together in a corridor for ten minutes, and she only managed to get word of mine and Sharon's exchange out of me in shallow reluctant breaths, and I winced even as I heard myself recount "Glad... baby's... gone... doesn't... want... me!" between sobs.

And now, alone out here, the night is dark, cool and deserted, a complete contrast to what's caged in the walls behind me. I just sit on these freezing metal bar nailed to the kerb around the edge of the car park, pacified by the stillness as I take distracted tokes on a cigarette, realising that taking in the murky poisons is only to steady my hands because otherwise it suddenly tastes foul on my tongue.

But the breeze sweeping around me, kissing, biting at my feverish face soothes me further and I start to take in what's around me. A few people scuttling around, bent against the chill, wrapped tight in their coats, entirely forgetting that these are the summer months. They'll have been doing night shifts, be tired and just want to go home. I don't even know if I have a home anymore. It'll always be tainted. I sigh, unable to stay still and get up, meandering across the far wall with a good view of the exit.

And there yonder, I think bitterly to myself, lies hope. Don't look like I'll ever be leaving here then does it? So I return miserably to my cigarette, about to raise it to my lips when my attentions are caught by a flash of blonde hair, glinting almost golden underneath the harsh street lights. Hang on.

"Sharon?!"

I call her name rather desperately, straightening my back and pushing myself forward as I crane my neck, somehow knowing that I'll have to chase after this woman... only to find out that's all she is. A woman who happens to be blonde.

But if that's true, why did she stop? Why did she shiver like that? It wasn't just the cold, it was with repulsion. I race forward and I recognise it immediately. Sharon's top, with the darkened patches spread underneath each elbow. So if that ain't Sharon, why the hell is she wearing Sharon's blood stained top?

She turns her head, and my heart starts going, really thumping, terrified as my throat bleeds dry, parched by panic and the effect of all that toking. Those huge, glittering eyes are doing so in terror, because they look at me. And there's no doubt that I'm looking at Sharon. I'm imploring her - what the hell is she doing out here? Doesn't she realise she needs proper care? Apparantly not, because lost in my thoughts for that moment gave her a moment to run to get away from me...

And it's like I'm blinded as I see the swerve of a headlight, a car pulling out round the from the parking bay to head right round the corner towards us. And Sharon, she isn't looking anywhere close and if she steps off the kerb, if she lowers her foot like she's...

"Sharon!"

I crash to the ground, this thud of pain going through my back as my spine crunches against the pavement. But all that matters is that I can feel her, pretty much on top of me, my arms caught hard around her waist... I got her, I did. And you don't know how sweet it was to hear her shriek, just to know she was safe.

"What the-" And she wriggles, and that don't help, cos I'm trying to pull myself upright, into a sitting position without having to let her go. With a groan of pain, oh yeah I can feel that that bruise is gonna be a big bugger, and a rush of blood, I realise I'm up, and Sharon's so close, gulping in her breaths, trying to steadying her pattern as the moonlight shows me every tear staining her cheeks, the miserable damp tracks. And that kills, it really does. But then she tilts her forehead, pressing her freezing shivering palms into my cheeks, her equally cold nose knocking mine as she shakes, gasping,

"Are you OK?" The way she's searching my face so frantically tears me in half. It almost feels like she cares, I almost believe her. And then I have to remind myself she'll never care about me ever again. And me? I'll never stop caring about her, whatever.

"Are you?"

"Wha-What happened?"

I sigh and we kinda disentangle ourselves and help each other up. At first I take a lot of her weight, and then she seems to realise what she's doing, how close she  is and steps hastily back. Yeah, these conversations are always fun, such simple questions with such dark and heavy answers.

"You were running away from me."

"No I wasn't." she replies, a little too readily. She can't meet my eye. It's alright baby, I know you're lying to me. And she senses I can read her, and shakes her head, like she's trying to dismiss me. "I was... frightened!"

"What, and you don't think it woulda frightened me to see you go under a fuckin' car, on top of everything else?"

For a few seconds, she just looks at me, and then she bursts into tears. Guilt kicks at me. Of course she's frightened. She didn't see the bloody thing, she didn't do it deliberately. And it's nice to know the mindless fucker behind the wheel gave a damn, they went soon as. Inwardly cursing myself and my selfishness, I step close to her, pulling her close without looking at her, because I just couldn't bear to.

"Shhh, shhh, it's alright. I'm here... I am..."

"I... I never meant it. I'm s-so s-sorry!"

"What for?" I croak into her hair. There's so much I wanna hear her say right now, but I know, I know she has nothing to be sorry for. She's been through too much and it's all my fault.

"I never knew! I swear I never kn- he stole it didn't he? He stole my baby!" 

And she clings to my shirt, her sobs tearing through her so hard she can barely hold herself up. I rock her simply because I don't know what else to do. I can't cry as I long to. Not in front of her. She needs me. She does. Whatever she said, she needs me.

"I want it back. I'm not glad it's gone, I'm not! That's my baby and I'll... I'll do anything Dennis, I will. I'll love you... like I did, I'll learn. I'll find it again, I swear I will! Just tell them to give me my baby back... make them give it back... I'll do anything... please!  They can't take my baby away from me..."

Sharon's POV - 2:20a.m.

I buckle against him, and he compromises, carrying my pain and sinking down to the pavement, bundling me into his arms and finally surrendering to his own tears. Well, that's good, he hurts too, and right now, that's a comfort, because he hurts with me. I don't wanna be alone anymore, I don't wanna attack him. I want him to be who he was, I want him to be the one I could trust to make everything alright. But before I can muster more words to beg him, he's choking out his own desolate words.

"I'm so sorry Sharon... I'm so sorry I wasn't there.... I should have... s-saved you... the baby..."

The baby. Those two words smash right into my chest as I pull tighter on his shirt, levelling with his gaze.

"Do it now. Take me back... save me now, save my baby!"

I know what I'm asking of him is impossible, I do - I just can't make myself believe it, because otherwise I have nothing anymore. Not so much as even a shred of dignity, curled up on a pavement in the arms of the man, broken now, that gave me the baby I beg for. This is why I ran from the hospital. If I was away from the grim diagnosis, from the clinical smells and the rushed conversation peppered with frightening words, then I could make myself believe I still had my baby.

And I ran from Dennis as he called my name because... I didn't lie. He frightens me, because I look in his face and I see my father. The man that destroyed my soul. I shouldn't blame Dennis, I know I shouldn't but what else do I have? What else can I believe? I meant it when I said I'd never want my child to suffer knowing what we did to make it. It's not right, but it's a life, growing inside me and it's precious. I said what I said to push him back, to reject him. I can't... I can't look at him and know that the life inside of me is half him. Because that's wrong, it is, it makes me sick. But if it could have just been my baby and me... it would have been alright. I know it would have been. I'd have been such a good mum, I'd never have thrown away this chance

But now they say my chance is gone, and I blame myself. Somewhere in the depths of my memories, there was a time I lay in Dennis' arms and I was happy and safe. Then he went and left me, and I was never going to be safe again. And as I lay in that hospital bed, begging my child's forgiveness, Mummy never meant a word... I was also screaming for Dennis to come back, to protect me. I was praying he'd hear me, not have gone more than a few paces. How could he bear to leave me... doesn't he know now what happens when he leaves me? 

He didn't come back and I reasoned that he'd gone to release his own heartbreak and I hated myself all the more. Because I realised, he was right. We do need each other. Our pain is the same and isn't it.... isn't it his job to take my pain? 

Or does he too want to see me punished for my sins? Does he believe that in rejecting him, I deserve to lose my chance? No, I know that even in my head, the tangles of my imagination that that could never be true. Because he's holding me as I plead with him, the sobs caught in his chest going right through me. And he cups my face, so that we can do nothing but look at each other, watch each other bleed out every tear. He's mourning our child too.

"I can't. Darlin', I'm so sorry but I can't... I'm too late... it's gone!"

"No!" I cry, pulling myself away. Why... Why does he have to say things like this, why does he have to hurt me so much? Doesn't he have hope anymore? "What is it Dennis huh, don't you want us?" And I glare at him, awaiting an answer that simply doesn't come. So I seize his hand and press it into my stomach. He winces like I've just poured acid into his every cut, but I won't let him free himself, even as he begs me, tears sparkling desperately.

"Sharon, please... don't!"

"Your baby!" I tell him stiffly, my gaze dropping to his shivering hand. "Right here Dennis... inside me... don't you dare throw your child away!"

"It's gone Sharon! There is no baby... not anymore!"

"B-But it's mine." I whimper, wishing he wouldn't be angry with me... does he think I wished our baby away? "It's all I've got!"

"No... I meant it, we... this was our baby, darlin', and I'm begging you... don't shut me out anymore. I need you."

And the words get caught in my throat. It's his right, but in those few words, he's asking more than he could ever know, he's asking me to go against everything I have come to trust, for the sake of a baby he tells me is lost, a baby I will never hold or get to love. His baby. And it hurts to force myself to realise that sometime, we created it out of love. I loved him, I did. And I was so wrong, so why do I pray that he has it within him to love me still?

"T-Take me home Dennis..." I splutter, and he goes rigid against me.

"I can't... you need to be looked after..."

"Then look after me. Don't make me go back in there. They'll take your baby... they'll take it from us, is that what you want? I'm scared... I want to go home... please don't let them hurt me..."

Dennis' POV - 2:30a.m.

I have to swear that I won't. I was too late to stop Den hurting our baby, so all I can do now is tell her I'll do whatever she wants. I know I shouldn't, she needs to stay. But it's me she's asking to take care of her, and that means something. So I will. I'll take her home, and I'll take the greatest care of her. I'll do everything she wants me to. I'll never leave her alone again.

I rock her until her sobs subside, whispering my promises into her hair, praying she'll believe me. Whether she does or not, she seems to settle and lets me help her up again, dropping a tentative kiss on her head. My arms are still wrapped around her waist, and together we're shivering. She is making no effort to move back, like she feels safe... content around me. It's true, she needs me. She kinda nestles into me as we start to walk back towards the building, somehow finding it in her to trust when I tell her we'll go get Vicki, and then I'll take her home. She couldn't know how much I love her for not being suspicious of me. If I was her, I'd have demanded that I prove my worth. She was right when she said I was nothing... no-one. But I just... I wanna be someone, and this is the only way I know how.

But maybe she's only here cos she's weak. Maybe she only needs me cos right now, I'm the only one that could understand how broken she feels. That doesn't mean she truly realises, accepts that tonight, I have lost a child too. Being her brother will never make me the father of her children, and I just don't know who she sees. Does she really know how much I am hurting, how the regret, the grief and the blame are simultaneously crippling me? 

Does she know that all these factors make me wish I was dead in the place of our baby, so that I might have left her with something, because I know now, as Vicki said she would, how much Sharon wanted it. It doesn't matter that it was mine. If I was gone, she could have pretended it wasn't. But that... oh God, I could never take such pain and I have felt so much so dangerously close. 

As we walk, she's cradling my hand, happy to hold it in place against her stomach, and we're going down the corridors before I even realise where it lies. I flinch and I try to pull away. She's... She's grappling at anything, her head rested contently on my shoulder, her tears drying on her face, smiling like she's just led me from maternity, that our baby is fine. I don't understand and I can't... I can't correct her, tell her she's embracing a false fantasy, because I can tell by the dreamy look in her eyes it would shatter her, and she won't... she won't let me pull my hand away. Why not? What is this? 

She doesn't want me, she doesn't trust me, she doesn't even see me when she looks at me. And I know... however much I hate it, I have to understand why she would rather believe our baby was not mine. So why does she walk so close, why is she lying to me, telling me wordlessly to feel our child inside her when I was the one that had to tell her it was taken? What does she want from me?

"Sharon!"

Vicki practically launches herself at the pair of us, and Sharon tries to smile, but pours all her energy into holding onto me, looking for my protection. Why... Why does she look to me? I thought she knew I couldn't, I thought she realised I failed her, isn't that why Den got to her, poisoned her and stole my darlin' away? Isn't that why I'll never get her back, why our baby bleeds from her? Because I couldn't... because I can't.

"Where have you been? Dennis, did you make her-? Oh what were you thinking you idiot! Don't you know I've been going out of my mind with worry? I thought she'd-"

And Sharon whimpers against my chest, unwilling to hear anymore words. I hate what a child all this has made her. Raised voices and she hides, confrontation and she cries. I just want her back, I just want the real Sharon back. Where did he take her? He can't have her anymore. She belongs to me.

Yet somewhere in the back of my mind, I can hear her. I can hear Sharon screaming, "I was never yours. Stop it! You're talking like him, like I'm a bloody belonging!"

Inwardly, I curse myself, because it's like I'm infected by him... I've even started thinking like him, but only in ways that make me dare to hope. Please, I beg of whatever might be up there, just praying they're listening, even though I have this really sickening feeling in my stomach that they'll never listen - not to me;. just bring her back to me. You took my baby, don't take my darlin' too.

"We're going home."

"What?"

She's looking at me like I've lost my mind, and maybe part of me agrees with her, but I'll do anything Sharon wants, anything... and Jesus, just to keep her this close...

"You heard me... she wants to be at home!"

"Oh yeah?" Vicki blasts, her eyes flaring. "And where'd you get your PhD smartass? You know nothing, she needs doctors!"

And Sharon's moving harder and harder into me, her whimpers louder as she tries to drown out Vicki's words. Cos they're cutting at her, they're scaring her, and she's fighting every single syllable, working herself up as she cries over and over, louder and more desperately each time:

"Baby! I need my baby!"

Vicki steps back from her, barely realising she's doing it, her eyes wide with terror as Sharon howls. And it breaks my heart, because I should have it in me to comfort them both, and all I can do is glare at Vicki as I cradle Sharon, trying to tell her it's OK when we all know it never will be again.

"Mr. Rickman... Sharon!"

Like she's appeared out of nowhere, the doctor... the doctor that told me I might have been a father... races out from behind a curtain. "Where on earth...?" She's questioning me, when I have no answers. I'm not Sharon's voice, I'm her pain. She feels it all, and it feels so raw because of me, because everything my words, my actions, and ultimately my lack of actions have done to her. So she shakes her head and tries to draw Sharon away from me, but Sharon won't go. She's hanging onto with all she's got, her nails sinking right through the material of my shirt and cutting into my chest. She's terrified, and already screaming for me because somehow, I am the only one she trusts.

"Don't let them- no! Dennis don't let them take our baby away... you said you'd never let anything happen to me... don't let them... Dennis!"

Dennis' POV - 2:40a.m.

And what can I do? I only have the need, the instinct to protect her, her and everything she longs for, everything that is ours. No-one threatens what's mine. And I prove that by practically crushing Sharon with the strength of my shielding embrace, pulling her back to me where the doctor has dared to distance her from me as she pleads for me, for my protection.

"Alright darlin', alright. Hey shhh, c'mon! I won't let them... I've got you now."

The doctor looks at me, her mouth gaping in shock and horror all at once. I just glare at her as I cradle Sharon. What the hell is she expecting? That I won't protect the woman I love?

She looks to Sharon then, gaze sliding in question as she sobs inconsolably into me. And I see untold intention in her steely eyes that I immediately don't trust and instinctively hold Sharon tighter. No-one will ever hurt my darlin' again, not while there's still a single breath in my lungs.

"Mr. Rickman, if your... Sharon's going to make herself very ill if she doesn't calm down... I suggest she take some deep breaths and let my team take care of her or I may have to adminster a sedative..."

That quietens Sharon straightaway, but only through sheer terror. She's holding on so tight now she could draw blood from where her shaking hands are laced around my neck. The three of us, Sharon, Vicki and me... we take in those words, and we either can't breathe enough or we simply cannot breathe at all. A sedative. The naive, evil bitch wants to pump Sharon full of poisons, just like Den did. She wants to take away Sharon's every sensation, to render her helpless. To abuse her because she is suddenly so vulnerable. None of us need to speak to each other to know we can't suffer that agony again.

So when the doctor steps forward, unsettled by all the nervous pained glances going around, I step back, twisting my hip into Sharon only as a defence to keep the brainless bitch back.

"You fuckin' dare touch her..." I growl, glad to see her flinch at the implication of my threat.

"Mr. Rickman, can't you see she needs he-"

"All I see is you wanting to get at her... to take her away from me, and I swear to God, you'll do it over my dead body. I'll never let anyone hurt her, not you, not them, not him... no-one!"

And she tilts her head back, sighing, scoffing at me, like all I am is ridiculous. It makes me so angry because she doesn't know... she knows nothing, and I just can't tell her, I can't. All she needs to know is I'll never let her near Sharon.

"I want to go home." Sharon splutters weakly, still really shuddering.

"I'll take you now baby."

The doctor's gaze snaps back to me, and she barely manages to choke out her gasp of horror. "I strongly advise you not to remove-"

"Can you keep her here? If she doesn't wanna stay... can you force her?" I challenge darkly, satisfied only as she nibbles awkwardly on her lips, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Well... n-no."

"Then she's coming home with me. I'll take care of her now. So you just go get the forms and whatever else then piss off and go screw up somebody else's life yeah love? Cos believe me, you've done enough here!"

She skulks away, biting on the inside of her cheek as she nods slowly. I soothe Sharon, promising her the threat is gone now, I'll keep her safe. But Vicki still stood there, staggered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You can't talk to them like that!" she hisses, but I ain't swayed.

"Are you coming or what?" I shoot back stubbornly and she shifts her weight, scuffing her shoe. But all she's doing is wasting time and I just wanna get Sharon home, I wanna do it cos I need to prove to her that I'll do what she wants, that I care enough about her to not let her down. 

So I lead her away, calling irritably out to Vicki:

"Fine, whatever. Find your own way home then!"

Sharon grips my hand painfully tight, not willing to go across the car park on her own, not this time. If she could bring herself to breathe, I'm sure I would see it upon the biting air, but it seems all she can do is whimper quietly, keeping her eyes only on her feet as she walks, frightened by absolutely everything. And there's nothing I can do to save her, because this is the world, this is how it truly is. And it's nasty. 

All the way home, as she curls up away from me on the passenger seat, I berate myself, wishing I hadn't been so short with Vicki. She's just a kid, a kid that's had to carry me and Sharon through this night, when all she wanted was what she could remember, and in the hospital. she was simply clinging to what she believed was right, because she has no other belief, it's been challenged and destroyed by everything Den has done tonight, everything I haven't done. She's lost the sister she loves because of me, because of how I loved her. And all I can think is when I left Sharon, she was destroyed, and now I've left Vicki all alone, when she is my strength. What am I meant to do without her, what will I do when Sharon cries... how will I cope if she never stops?

So many times I nearly pulled the car round to go and get her, to apologise, to beg for her help til I am hoarse, but then I'd see Sharon huddled there and I knew I couldn't unsettle her. All she wants to know is that she's going home.

But it's only as we draw up outside the house that I get any sort of reaction out of her. We're perfectly still for a minute or so, me sighing heavily as I let my seatbelt race back, resigned to the fact we'll have to get out and go back in there... the place where it all went wrong when we tried so hard to keep ourselves strong. It's the clank of my seatbelt that brings her gaze frightfully to the house towering behind me. I just gaze at her, forcing myself not to reach over for her hand, because I can't... I can't push her, not if I ever want us to have anything again. I loop my arms around my knees, pulling them up from underneath the steering wheel. and rolling onto my hip to look over at her.

"We... We don't have to go in there... not yet."

She smiles at me weakly, shaking her head as she turns away and pushes against the door. I understand, I have to, and get out too, racing round to the kerb to pull open the door for her, so that I may watch her rise, watch the way her facial expression will change, and be there if... when she needs me. But I've opened the door, and she's frozen, her feet only just against the curb. Her back's rigid, like she was ready to get up, but she's paralyzed in fear and she just... can't.

Her soulful eyes are searching my face, dropping as I sink in front of her, sighing. I wanna be able to say something, say that I can protect her now. But I don't know if I can, however much I want to, cos I don't recognise the woman I've sworn I'd give my life for. I have no idea where my Sharon has gone. Will she let me find her again... does she want to be found?

Tentatively, I lift my hand, pressing it against her freezing, pale cheek, a half smile escaping the corner of my mouth as I wish, I hope... and am stunned as she curls her hand around mine, caressing my skin and smiling back at me as she holds me there. There's just this moment of understanding, she comforts me because I comfort her, all in this one innocent touch. She turns her head, holding me still, so I cannot move, and she brushes her chilled lips across my torn and tender knuckles.

And when she looks back at me, her eyes are sparkling, and I swear, I swear I see this flicker of happiness, subdued, but there. And the longing kicks at me in the stomach so hard, I feel sick. Because she wants me to find her. I have to find her again.

Sharon's POV - 3:10a.m.

I'm so captivated by the tenderness in his face that I can't help but betray myself... wishing for his touch because it feels so surprisingly natural, and I... I didn't have the words to tell him as much so I... took his hand, his freezing cold hand, his torn skin teasing my lips as they went across his knuckles, leaving his cuts, his pain open to the apology of my kiss. Because I know he's here... and he feels like a lost friend, and I want to remember why I cared for him so much, why I can't bear to let him go even if that same emotion isn't here anymore.

So I'm gazing at him, and almost like the sun trying to break through rain clouds, I can see flickerings of a man I recognise trying to break through past the one I see. And I recognise him, but I have yet to know him, and I'm almost excited to realise that I'd like to know him. Because all I know is that he still cares about me, even when I know that he shouldn't, because it was to him that I said all the cruel things that burn angrily against my temples. I should never have said a lot of the things to pass my abused lips tonight, because this... this beautiful stranger, he still cares. Why? What am I to him?

Almost reluctant to push his hand back from where I hold it longingly in place against my cheek, I feed my fingers slowly through his instead, knowing I eradicate his assumption of my rejection by the way the smile in the corner of his mouth dares to widen, like he can't believe me. It's sweet. But at the same time I understand. We both have so much to be uncertain of... each other for starters. But I can't deny how vulnerable I feel, and I'm not going to fight the only person that makes me feel safe at the moment, not when I have felt threatened for so long.

My heart begins to pound to this notion as he sighs, pulling himself up. I almost miss looking into his face... he really does have such a kind face. But the way he's clutching my hand so fiercely means I don't have to miss it for long because I am up too. So very close to him, and my next breath gets caught in my throat. I just don't know whether I'm frightened or... mezmerised because I can even watch the way the slight breeze billowing around us teasingly lifts his shirt from his back.

But then he turns, leaning over me to slam the car door shut after me, and I feel so pathetic as I jump in fright at the impact. Flushing, I sneak a glance at him, not wanting to meet his eye, cos I expect him to be laughing at me. But the sheer stillness of the next few seconds unsettles me and I start shifting my weight uncomfortably as I muster the courage to look up at him, and his eyes shimmer with that saddened concern, his lips fraught.

"Are you sure you can do this?" he murmurs.

I sigh, and just hope that I can convince him with my nonchalance because I'm actually so terrified, I just couldn't know where to even start. So I force myself to smile and squeeze his hand, comforted and simultaneously horrified to discover that he shakes with me, all the way up his arm. He's nibbling on his lips, and I'm scared those are tears sparkling in his eyes. I don't think he can go forward anymore than I can. So maybe... maybe he needs my help now.

"I said I wanted to go home, and this is it, Dennis, this is our home, so please..."

I surprise myself by leading him a few steps, like he was the one sobbing in my arms like a child only half an hour ago. But I know that was me, I can never forget it. And I suppose he could call this strength, but I call it numbness. That doctor, she wanted to poison me, she wanted to steal my baby away when that's all I have. And Dennis was the only one that could save me, and I... I owe him something for that, but they tell me I have nothing to give him...

But then he finds the strength I need him to have, because that's what I'm clinging to. I am the parasite now, feeding off his every emotion cos I have none of my own. I believe he can sense the fears I let remain untold and he steps in front of me as we go up the stairwell and I think I understand. He wants to protect me for this fear for as long as he can. He gently shuts the door behind me, checking my reaction with that same worried expression.

But I do not jump, I'm simply looking around. I really expected something to hit me, to knock me to the floor. So many memories, so many different, haunting memories built up in such a short space of time and yet it feels like I'm intruding on someone else's life. I'm a stranger here. The only aspect of this I recognise is Dennis, and that doesn't mean I understand. I'm still so frightened and all I have is a man I can't let be the man he truly is because I have been made to see another in his face. It's just too cruel.

Sharon's POV - 3:15a.m.

I move towards the kitchen, stunned to see such anarchy laid out there. Chairs have been knocked to the floor, and there's all imaginable crockery splintered across the floor. I leap back at the warning of broken glass crunching underneath my feet and rebound off Dennis, who presses his hands into my shoulders to steady me, drawing me back out into the hall. I turn to face him and he draws his hands back, stuffing them defensively back into his pockets.

"We really made a mess of this didn't we?" I whisper sadly.

"Don't worry, I'll clear it up..."

"No Dennis, I-"

But I sigh, realisation cutting. He's too hurt by me, by everything that has changed me to understand anything other than what is literal because otherwise that... that leaves him open to more hurt.

So I slide past him, my hand curling around the banister as I swing round and pull myself tiredly up onto the first step. Dennis' own steps towards me seem really jerky, and I worry, worry about how drained he truly is. Whoever he really is, whatever he may have done, I never wanted to destroy anyone. I never wanted to be destroyed.

He's pouring all his strength into holding his head up, to keeping back sobs I can see pulsing in his throat as he looks at me, his lips flickering dangerously to keep that half smile in place.

"Where you going?"

I go to answer him, but the words die out in my mouth, ugly sounds leaping out instead. Because the truth is I hardly know. Where am I going? What am I meant to do?

"I... I'm going upstairs, is that OK?"

I can read off the way he's looking at me easily enough. He doesn't believe I can so much as make it up the stairs by myself, but then he doesn't know if he can bring himself to... if I'll let him help me. I reach over the banister for his hands, lacing them with mine.

"Dennis, is it OK?"

"You don't need my permission Sharon, this is your home."

I can't stop myself looking dubiously round, questioning everything I see. "Is it? It doesn't feel like it."

And I'm looking back at him, begging him with a glance. Because I do need his permission, I need to know I can be safe here without him, and somehow I just won't believe it. He left me here and I was taken from him, taken from myself. So I need him, the one that should have saved me from it all to tell me it can all be alright. But he says nothing, and I feel exactly as I did as I viciously coughed the suggestion of death from my lungs. I'm drowning, drowning in my every emotion, my every confusion. And his clothes are still damp and heavy upon him, they prove he saved me once. Will he do it again?

"I... I'm frightened, Dennis. This whole thing... it.... it feels like a nightmare and I'm really frightened, can you understand that?"

"I'm right here, of course I understand it... I'm living it." he mutters quietly. 

I have to fight to ignore the way my heart seems to tear for him, because this... this is a new sensation, I have no idea how to handle it, so it's better that I just don't feel it at all. But as I go to answer him, the delivery of my words is affected, rushed and broken.

"I... I'm scared to even close my eyes because last time... it was forced on me... I woke up to this.... I don't know any of this, I don't know who you are... I don't even know who I am and I'm scared what I'll see if I close my eyes, I'm so scared... please don't leave me on my own..."

And I swear I hear a whimper, his hand shaking that little bit more in mine as he moves round. I move up the staircase, only as I am assured he moves behind me. The stairs creak beneath us, and I'm trying so hard not to take every protesting groan as a warning, to turn round, to flee and never come back here. I just tell myself that Dennis is behind me, and he'll protect me. Guilt will make him do it. 

I know it's unfair to force such feeling on him, but I need him to feel it, simply because I need him, and he is but a stranger. I find it hard to believe that one person can feel as lonely as I do right now. So hurt, so desolate. But then there's the thought... how does Dennis feel? He knew the incarnation of me I barely remember. Does he miss her? Can he still see her in me? Will she ever come back?

Sighing, I slump against the wall. I'm actually lost, in this tiny little house, too terrified to dare assume that anything behind any of these doors belongs to me. "Please..."

"Alright darlin', it's alright. C'mon..."

And he steps past me, switching our position of strength as he leads me, pushing open a door, I barely register which, just following him in as this feeling of sickness intensifies in my chest.

But a wave of recognition envelopes me as I look around, daring to smile. Yes, this feels like it could be mine. This is my room and this... this is my bed. I sink down onto it, pressing my hands into the deep duvet, just to familiarise myself. I can feel Dennis watching me, I can feel his uneasy concern hanging in the stillness. I get up and turn away from it, pushing off my shoes and wincing. My soles are stinging. I... I remember that too, all that glass downstairs...

I wriggle down, pulling up the duvet to around my chin, so grateful for the warmth built around me. My eyes are already half closed, but I cannot miss Dennis moving across the room, towards the door. My begging words are in my throat, but I don't want to be a burden to him. I just don't know what I have done to him tonight. I know what Sharon has done, but we... we're estranged now and I hate her, I hate everything she has become, I want to believe I can be what she was. And it seems as though Dennis is the only one with any idea what that was. So my desperation wins out.

"You won't leave me will you?"

He freezes, and his breaths are heavy and forced. It takes him a good ten seconds to turn his head and look over his shoulder at me. And then I see him, brought out by the moonlight seeping through the window. Glistening tracks all down his cheeks, his tears like diamonds. He's really shaking because he's fighting so hard to keep evidence of his fragile state from me. His tears are running down across his perfect lips and he's forced to drink them in.

"No." he says finally, his voice wavering oh so tellingly. He shakes his head fervently as he turns, almost rushing back across the room. It's like he's throwing himself at my feet, and I'm so scared at the idea that he might be about to plead for my forgiveness. But all he in fact does is sink down to face level, shakily pushing back hair from my face as he cries out his every bitter tear. "No, I won't leave you. I'll never leave you Sharon, never again."

"So you'll stay until.... until I fall asleep?"

He nods, but fear roars.

"What if I don't... what if I can't?"

"Then I'll be here all night, I promise. I'll be right here..."

Dennis' POV - 3:30a.m.

But she didn't need me all night. Afraid she'd never sleep, yes. Petrified she'd be trapped in this nightmarish reality even in her dreams; most definitely. But she was asleep within ten minutes, her body weak and desperate for the opportunity. It was me that couldn't bear to leave her, my fingertips stumbling through her soft hair, my tears pouring down like I'm crying over her coffin. I had to keep forcing myself to take in the rise and fall of her chest. And sometimes, this laugh would escape me, and I'd just be thinking how pathetic I was. But then, I'd look at her, the way she's scooched into the pillow, and I'd be so mezmerized by her, remembering all the times I'd been too... too in love with her to care about sleeping, as she did in my arms. And I'd just watch her, thinking how angelic she looked. She really does, you know. Even now, drained and lost, she looks like an angel. My angel. That's who she is, that's who I need her to be.

I remember... when I told her I killed Jack, I told her not to love me. To not dare, because... because I was not someone she could save. But even then, I knew that was a lie. Because that's what she did. She saved me, my beautiful angel. And I love her so much, but what if it's too late for that? What if my angel's gone, and the one that's left can do nothing but lie to me, with her every word, her every touch? What heaven sends, heaven takes. What if Sharon's not coming back? 

Pulling myself up, I wipe my streaming eyes and dare to leave the room, knowing that my darlin' is not haunted as she sleeps. Me on the other hand... I can barely breathe, making it halfway down the stairs, my every step painfully heavy, before I sink down, the structure creak beneath my defeat as I draw my knees to my chest, choking on a desolate gasp. Of fright. 

Sharon says she's afraid, to be here, not knowing me, knowing herself. And I can do nothing but understand, when all I wanna do is ask her where she is, what I can do to bring her back. I'm so scared. I'm petrified there is nothing I can do. I couldn't save our baby could I? And that was all Sharon wanted. She doesn't really want me, she needs me, and that's an entirely different medium. Soon enough, I won't matter, I'll be this figure of resentment.

Burying my face in my lap, I let the tears sting in my eyes, fall shamelessly down. I will cry now Sharon cannot see. I hated so much that I couldn't hold it in, that's why I tried to leave, but she... she couldn't be left alone. So she saw my every selfish tear, mourning everything I have lost even though she's here, living, breathing. She's still not Sharon. When did I lose her? Did she refuse to come back once she knew our baby was gone too?

I'm floundering in my thoughts now, terrorised by the memory of the child we never knew existed. Our child.... everything. Does my son... does my daughter know how sorry Daddy is? Oh Christ. For the three or so months my baby grew inside Sharon, I was a daddy. Oblivious to it, but a daddy nonetheless. To Sharon's baby. My every dream right there. Taken without a word from either of us.

Was. No, I won't think of it like that. My baby grew, had a heartbeat, a soul. It lived. I am a daddy. Responsible for my child... for my child's death... for everything that was lost tonight....

I crumble, my hand clamped over my mouth as I sob because I don't want to wake Sharon. I can't let her see... I have to be strong for her. And yet, as the front door snaps shut, I shake so violently with surprise, looking up with illogical fear pounding against my ribs and fearing I may be about to retch. 

But there stands Vicki, and my chest almost shatters with the relief. In that next second however, I realise how pale she looks, ghostly even, shaking like she will never stop. And she tries to smile, but she is deceived by her stiff blue lips, trying to keep back a sob. Tracks like the ones marking my own cheeks stain hers.

"W-Where's Sharon?"

"She's upstairs.... asleep."

"Right."

I push myself up and move towards my sister. She looks so... so hurt, and she's been gone so long. Oh God, I should have gone and got her. Anything could have happened to her, and I couldn't bear for her to be so broken too. She gasps in fright as I press my hand into her, looking at it like I've just injected her with something nasty. And she shifts her shoulders, contemplating throwing me off I know it, but she just can't.

"Vicki? Where have you been?"

"Walking... talking..."

"Who to?"

She lifts her head, her eyes wide and sparkling with sheer terror, tears brimming.

"The d-doctors. I'm sorry Dennis, I had to... they say the baby-"

I turn away from her, hating that she's already detroyed my desire to hold her, to be grateful that she's safe. I throw up my hands, moving towards the kitchen and immediately making the decision to collect together the dustpan and brush and busy myself with cleaning all the broken glass. I crouch down, sweeping it up by the hundreds, sniffing back tears and pointedly ignoring Vicki and her words. She wants to destroy it all, and I just won't hear it.

"Dennis?"

"I ain't listening to any of it alright Vicks, so save it before you really piss me off!"

"Dennis, please, just-" She sinks down to the floor, wobbling because she cannot place her hands against the floor to steady herself, not in all this. She gives it a fair go though, reaching over and wrenching the dustpan from my hands, the glass rattling against the sides. "I'll do that. Please just let me talk to you."

I scowl at her before I get up, letting her take it and turning my back on her to move away and kick at the sink as I lean against it. "You don't wanna talk to me. You wanna tell me-"

"Look, I know it hurts, but you have to understand that it's.... that it's the truth!"

"The truth?" I spit, spinning round angrily and glaring at her through narrowed eyes, entirely forgetting that I don't want to raise my voice, that I can't wake Sharon. "Vicki, Den kidnapped Sharon... he drugged her and kidnapped her and she pretty much tried to kill herself because of the poison he fed her to steal her away from me. You think I wanna believe that's the truth? You tell me she's bleeding and I had to accept that her own dad might have raped her and I couldn't stop it happening to her, the only woman I've ever cared about... you think I wanted to believe that? Then these fuckin' doctors tell us that no, she was actually pregnant. Pregnant with my baby, and I'd never have believed that. But I didn't need to did I eh, cos the truth is there is no baby! I know the truth. But I... I've never had dreams Vicks, never. Sharon and a baby... that's everything, everything I could have ever wanted, but it's gone. They're both gone.... and that's the truth.... it's ugly and right now, I can't handle it.... so humour me yeah? Tell me lies, give me my dreams and don't you ever tell me I don't understand the truth!"

Dennis' POV - 3:30a.m.

Now that words are out, I have to turn away from her. I kick even harder at the cupboard underneath the sink, and the door cannot withhold the force of my anger and crashes inwards in defeat. It frustrates me to have not have at least had something to fight and I bash my fist into the sink itself, barely realising the shattered remains of Sharon's coffee mug have been tossed in there and that it cuts readily into my hand. I yell with the pain only by instinct cos I don't actually feel it, I can only see the blood oozing from the wound, splattered all over the ceramic splinters. 

It's then that Vicki leaps up from her occupation on the floor, not that I think it really held her attention because I'm sure I saw her fall back on her knees as I turned away, stunned and hurt. And as she pulls me back now, I realise she is gasping one hell of a lot. I think I've made her cry. Why can I not just stop hurting the people that matter to me? I want to tell her I'm sorry, but this time, all I spoke was her coveted truth. I can't help how the treachery of this couple of nights have made me feel. I'm desperate, that's all. Desperate to hang onto everything even I can't deny isn't there anymore.

She has to force me to sit down at the table. It doesn't feel natural to so much as bend my knees, and I just collapse on the chair that seems to scrape back underneath me. She searches frantically in the cupboards for God knows what. I'm more preoccupied with admiring the rising blood and I get this thought that makes me go cold on the inside. Is this why Sharon slashed at her arms? Mezmerized with the abuse, the beauty of the pain? She said she bled me out, me and my poisons. Did it feel this good? Is she this glad I am gone? Am I gone from her at all?

Crouching to lift one of the other chairs from the floor, Vicki then sits on it and reaches over, pressing my hand flat against the table. Sharon did this, last time I was bleeding. And as gentle as Vicki is being, if not a little overliberal with the antiseptic, I can't help but secretly wish for Sharon's touch.

"I'm sorry." my little sister whispers, recapturing my attentions and simultaneously breaking my wasted heart with her tender apology.

"It's not you that needs to be sorry darlin'."

"Isn't it?" she sniffs, lifting her head and attacking me with those great big saddened eyes, sparkling with tears. "If I'd never said I wouldn't stand the idea of you and Sharon..."

"We never really expected you to." I tell her weakly, knowing that she won't accept the reassurance hidden somewhere in my words.

"But... I got used to it last time didn't I? You were right and if I'd just... done it again, you'd never have had to come and find me and Dad could never have-"

I slump back, laughing bitterly without a thought for the hurt that flitters across her drawn face. "You really wanna start on the "if I'd never"'s do ya darlin'? Great. Well maybe if I'd never gotten up to check on Sharon puking her guts up in the bathroom, maybe if I hadn't been screwing her against the wall four hours later, maybe my baby would still be alive..."

"Wh...What?"

Vicki, too stunned and horrified by my admission that she doesn't even notice as I scrunch the affected hand into a fist, frustrated with myself for not being able to order my words. So I go with the only thing I have. The gut wrenching truth.

"I think... if I'd left her alone, ignored everything I was feeling, left her to James then... then she wouldn't be upstairs, barely knowing her name, losing our baby as she sleeps. She'd just be Sharon and she'd be fine..."

"No! No, Dennis, that's not true. She'd be miserable!"

"How do you know?" I challenge.

"Because if she'd been happy without you, with James, then she'd never have let you near her would she? She'd never have wanted you to chuck Zoe... she'd never have kissed you in The Vic, defied everyone like that. You mean something to her, you have to believe that. You two had a baby together for God's sake..."

"Yeah we did, but what did I do to it Vicks? What had Den done to Sharon by the time the baby thought "F*ck this, you really think I'm gonna stick around for the next six months and be raised by you lot?" It's nothing more than a clump of cells and it's still got more sense than the rest of us. I mean, I left her... I left Sharon and the baby..."

"And you did it for me, please don't blame yourself, you can't! You didn't even know!"

"But I should have shouldn't I?" I turn my head, scoffing in disgust at my own stupidity. "She's been throwing up every night pretty much ever since I started screwing Zoe, and me... I just thought she was jealous! How self absorbed can you get? I even got some sort of kick out of it to begin with and I don't know why because I left her! If it had been up to her, we'd have been together all this time, I know it and then... we'd have found out about the baby together and we'd never have let it be hurt like this! I'd give anything for that baby Vicki, anything!"

She pulls her chair across the floor, scooting closer to me as she wraps her arms round my neck, nestling into my shoulder and releasing shushing noises against my ear. "I know... I know..."

"I just... why did I never think... why did I never realise she was...?"

"How were you to know Dennis?" she asks gently. "I mean, I live here too right, and I never even heard her being sick, let alone wondered if she was pregnant. So tell me whose self absorbed now?"

I give her a tight smile as I pull back. She keeps doing this, the poor cow. Keeps turning every situation back on herself, trying to shoulder some of the blame. But I'm past blaming her because it all hurts so bloody much.

"Wha... What did the doctors say?" I splutter, wiping my eyes. The way she looks back at me, mouth set in that oval says she reads that I can't handle whatever she's about to tell me. But what does that matter? "Please darlin'... just tell it to me straight yeah?"

"Are you sure? Dennis, I really don't think you're re-"

But I cut her off, lifting my palms and staring into my lap as I shake my head, dismissing her concern. "Unless you're about to tell me they were wrong... that she's still pregnant, it won't matter when I'm ready will it, cos Sharon's still losing our baby. Isn't she?"

And as soon as I actually manage to meet her eye, Vicki looks away, guilt dark in her face, nibbling on her lips. "Yeah... Yeah she is. Oh God, I'm so sorry. I couldn't... I didn't wish this... I want you to know that.... no matter what I ever thought, I never wanted anything like this to happen to you... to Sharon. If I'd just known, I'd never have been such a pathetic little bitch! That's my niece or nephew up there and it's breaking my fuckin' heart. All Sharon's ever wanted is a baby and she... she really loves you. If she'd known then she-"

But Vicki, God bless her, poor broken hearted not-so-strong little Vicki, she really isn't helping, even though she tries with her every ill-advised word. I don't wanna hear how happy I coulda made Sharon with our baby, not when that happiness bleeds from her right this second and there's no-one in the world that can stop that. And I should be able to.

"There are some things in this world you just can't stop. And I'm one of them."

Even in death, my child has picked up nasty habits. If only it could have been genetically indifferent to me, been nothing like me... ever. At least then it would have lived, had some sort of life. But no. It's already gone.

"What did the doctors say? About the baby?"

She sighs, nervously picking at the clumps of cotton wool she was dabbing at my hand with, her eyes deliberately downcast... averted from my questioning own.

"They... They say we have to give her time. If the bleeding just carries on... Sharon might just lo-"

"Lose it?" I offer, very aware of how painful those words are in my throat. Vicki nods guiltily, folding her hand over mine to comfort me. But she only serves to make me wince in additional pain as her palm presses into my cut. "So they're just gonna let her bleed it out? No... No Vicki... that's too cruel, she doesn't deserve that... they must be able to do something!"

"They'll operate if they have to, but how the hell are we supposed to convince her Dennis? She... She just wants the baby and you saw her at the hospital, she'll never let them take it."

"What if she has no choice? How long has she got with... with the baby?"

"A week. Just a week."

Dennis' POV - 3:40a.m.

I can't tell you how much I hate myself in that next moment because I go against my every grieving emotion and hope that Sharon just loses the baby. Even if she doesn't wanna believe it, I do know that our child, our chance is gone, and I don't want to have to be the one that betrays her by taking her back to the hospital, surrendering her to them so they can steal her every last shred of hope away.

And yet, as I heard the words leave my mouth, I realised how much it sounded as though we were talking as if she had no choice to give the baby away, like.. like all she was doing was... giving it up for adoption. Talking like it still lives, like it's not bleeding from her right this second. And I almost wish it was true. Because if I had left her alone, never said a word, then I think our baby would have grown and yeah, Sharon would have been horrified to realise the truth. But Vicki's right. I know Sharon loved me, and she'd never again have given up on her chance to be a mum, whatever the circumstances. 

Then would have been the time she would have given up Den... given up all of us maybe. Just to keep her dream safe. I feel sick as I reason she may never have told me. I might never have seen her again and never known why, and she'd just have been somewhere, raising our child. But at least there would have been one. It woulda crucified me to see her leave. I'd never have stayed here, however hard Zoe pleaded. It woulda been over. Of course, I learnt to feel something for Zoe, but whatever it was, it was never anything close to love. I'd have tailed Sharon around the world if I'd had to, and I woulda realised the truth and we coulda been a family.

But there I am, lost in fantasies again, cos me and Sharon, we don't have a family. Not together. We don't even have each other anymore, and Christ, can't she see how much I need her?

Miserably, I cover my face with my snared hands, flinching as Vicki scrapes her chair back with a sigh and gets up, moving the few steps towards the sink.

"Do you, er... want a cup of tea?"

She chokes miserably after that, muttering angrily to herself as she realises what she's said. Something so innocent, yet made so cruel.

Running my quaking hands over my face, I tilt my head back, laughing bitterly as I stare at the ceiling. "Got any arsenic you wanna slide in there Vicks?"

"Oh Christ, I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

"You shouldn't have to." I tell her simply, levelling my gaze with her frightened own and shaking my head as I get up and head over to her. "It's only tea isnt it?" She nods jerkily as I touch her arm, staring guiltily at the floor. So I lift her chin and smile at her. "But maybe not this time eh? How about hot chocolate, marshmallows...?" I gaze at her til she finds it in her to return it.

"Hundreds and thousands?"

"Thousands and thousands!" I tease, wrapping my arms round her and rocking her for a second, so glad to feel the way she nestles into me as I drop a kiss on her head. "Bloody hell Vicks, I... I don't know how I'd have coped without you tonight. Thank you."

She scoffs as she pulls back, turning round again and lifting the jars of hot chocolate and marshmallows from the cupboard. "What have you got to thank me for? I... I screwed this whole thing up!"

I press my hand over hers as it clutches the marshmallows, wrenching it away from her. "Stop it. Stop it right now. I'm telling you, none of this is your fault. None of it!" Vicki seems to appreciate it, her smile tracking me as I set the jar down on the table.

"I only... you're my brother Dennis and I never wanted to see you hurt like this... so I had to be there... for you. That's how family works isn't it?" 

Standing alongside her again, I heap the chocolate powder into the two (possibly the only two unbroken) mugs she sends towards me as she flicks the kettle on and searches for the hundreds and thousands.

"Yeah... I suppose it is, but... Vicks?"

"Hmmm?" She looks over at me expectantly, her lips thin as she chews on them in concentration, sinking back onto the balls of her feet where she has been stretched up on her toes whilst she rummages.

"You do know I love you don't you darlin'?"

"What?" And she just stares at me in disbelief for an age. In fact, the kettle's boiled before she even has words. The insistent whistling takes her attention and she lifts the kettle from the cradle, looking up at me from underneath those long eyelashes as I push the mugs, heaped now too with sugar if either of us hope to keep our eyes open through the rest of this night. She stirs them both, and the clanking of the spoon after every circuit makes me more and more nervous... sick with fear that she has no reassurance to give.

I watch her take the tin of evaporated milk from the fridge, leaning against the back of the chair, just waiting. She sees me there as she turns back and she abandons the tin with a clunk on the table and rushes at me, pulling me like a child into her arms. I can already feel silent tears burning my face as I bury my head in her shoulder, hardly comforted by her familiar scent, just wanting to hear her words, taunted as every warm breath she pulls in wordlessly tickles my ear. 

But then, in one heavy emotional breath, she gasps "Oh Jesus... Dennis of course I know! I do. C'mon please, don't do this to me. I... I love you too and I'm so sorry. I never wanted... oh God, I love you too."

I nod, pulling back because I have no choice but to believe her. I have nothing else. She understands, looking pretty much distraught as she clocks the state of my cheeks, but she does as I do, collapsing onto a car and caging own on the steaming mugs in the screen of my hands, staring down into the swirling murkiness as I choke back tears.

"I'm sorry I had to ask... I just.... Sharon doesn't and I... why should you believe me?"

"Because I've been with you all night. I can see it!"

"But I left you at the hospital, anything could have happened to you and I just didn't-!"

"Hey, shhh!" she commands gently, catching my hand as she leans over and pours the milk into my mug without looking or asking for my permission. But I don't mind, I doubt I'll drink it anyway. "It's OK, nothing did happen to me did it? I'm here and I'm fine."

"That's not the point!" I growl. "I shouldn't have... and you were gone so long, why were you so long?"

"I told you, I talked to the doctors and then I just... walked..."

"Where?"

"Around." she shrugs, taking her first sips of the burning liquid.

A chill rockets up my spine. Around. Wandering around a hospital at these hours of the morning, on her own, vulnerable... yes, anything coulda happened to her. 

It seems she can read the horror in my face and she gulps down her next sip and says; "I was fine. I was thinking that's all. About everything, tonight... how none of it seems real. And I... Dad..."

"Don't call him that. He don't deserve to be your dad. He's a fuckin' psychopath!"

"I know." she murmurs sadly, her voice thick with threatening tears. "Never before now, but now I know. I never really thought he'd... I thought he loved Sharon, I thought that's why she was his spoilt little Princess and I... I was just that Fowler girl's baby. I never really mattered to him did I? Sharon does... did, and he... he did that to her... what the hell would he have done to me?"

Dennis' POV - 3:50a.m.

There's pure terror in her face. I understand her every fear but they're all completely unfounded for one simple reason.

"Nothing darlin', you ain't sleeping with the prodigal son are you?"

"No, but... oh shit, I'm so sorry!"

"What have you got to apologise for?"

"I should never... Dennis, when I kissed you..."

My stomach drops and all at once I feel so very sick, can't quite bring myself to look at her. "Vicki... don't."

"Exactly, I shouldn't have! I was... messed up... hurt, but I should never... I always knew how you felt about Sharon didn't I? I knew it really but I just-"

"You don't have to explain." I tell her awkwardly, fighting off the uncomfortable memory of her now regretful lips on mine, trying to force what was never there to create. "Just... don't mention it."

"But you must think I'm so sick, so... twisted!"

She's working herself up into such a state over something that feels so long ago, I'd almost forgotten it, long since forgiven it. "I might have done, yeah." I hunch my shoulders, leaning over my still untouched drink. "But believe me, you've been totally overshadowed. So it don't matter. I didn't like it, I hated I coulda hurt you that much but I understand and it's forgotten yeah?"

"Yeah." she whispers, holding back her sigh of relief by clawing at her lips. "God, I just... I hate him so much, he's ruined everything!"

Yeah, it's not like you need to tell me darlin'.

"And I... I know I didn't help. I shoulda just... let you be happy. That's all I ever wanted for us Dennis and if you and Sharon make each other... oh Vicki! It's all your bloody fault, you selfish little bitch!"

I leap to my feet, forcing myself back down in front of her, pulling her burnt hands away from her drink and cradling them in my own as she begins to cry. "Vicki, stop it! Please! I told you... none of this is your fault, none of it - no matter what you think, and I mean that. This is my fault! You don't know the things I did. I made all this happen, it was me!"

"How... How was it you?" she croaks, shaking her head as if to say she can't comprehend any of it. And to be honest, never can I, every evil moment pounding away in my head, taunting me.

"I... I told him he wanted her and that's why he'd never let me... let me be with her... I threw her at him Vicki... I sold her, I gave him his every filthy idea, it was me!"

"No! No, we don't know that's what he did!"

"What does that matter?" I cry, practically crushing her hands in my desperation now, well aware she's fighting to get away now. I've sickened her, I know I have. I make myself sick. "Whatever he did do to her killed her. He's her dad and he killed her just so I could never have her! Is that what I deserved? I don't know who we've brought back here Vicki, tell me recognise her, tell me you know she's Sharon!"

And she's silent, struggling to even breathe. Maybe that's why she has no words, but that just frustrates me, giving me my confirmation when I wanted so much to never hear it.

"And whatever he did do to her killed my baby! My blood, my son... or my daughter, like you're his daughter, like Sharon's his daughter! He abused her, took everything she ever wanted from her before she even knew it was there! Is that because of me, because of what I said? Because he should never have wanted to punish her like that, not if he's ever cared about her! But then... he'd love how much this is killing me! I'd have been good Vicki... I'd have been the best dad... I'd have been nothing like him, but now I don't even... h-have a chance to p-prove myself because there's nothing... no-one to prove myself to! Why won't they come back?"

She gulps, spluttering on a sob of her own as mine take me over, making me bend double with the intensity of sickness in my stomach. With the clattering of her chair, I realise Vicki is up again, her arms around my shoulders, trying to straighten me, steady me, catch my eye. But how can she when we're both so blinded by tears?

"Because... oh God, Dennis... Dennis!" She will, I swear, Sharon's there somewhere, she is!"

"But... the b-baby?"

Even through this blur of impossible misery, I see her shake her head sadly. "I... I'm so sorry..."

Sorry. Vicki is the one that keeps saying it even when it is not her apology I need. But it doesn't matter who says it, does it because it'll never make anything right will it? Sorry doesn't mean Sharon will stop bleeding, sorry doesn't mean our baby has a chance at life, sorry doesn't give me the chance to show much much I love that life. The baby will still die. So painfully soon.

So I wrestle myself free of Vicki and though she whimpers, arms flailing because she does not want to let me go, go I do. My throat's dry and sore, my face hot and drenched with remorse, and my heart won't stop hammering painfully with this immense need.

"Dennis!"

"Please Vicki, just leave me alone."

"Well, where are you going?" she pushes desperately, rushing out into the hall to tail me.

"To my baby. I just need to be with my baby..."

Sharon's POV - 3:45a.m.

He left me. He did. He was either desperate to leave me and the burdens I present or I fooled him well. Because I haven't slept. I won't, I just know it. I've been staring into nothingness for what feels like a lifetime. I opened my eyes again as soon as I realised he was gone, greeted by this, this emptiness, just needing to know when he would come back and make me feel safe again. Because alone, even the shadows going across the wall want to claim me, take me away from everything I once knew, everything I'm so desperate to remember.

Practically biting into the duvet as my tears coarse down, wetting the material, I cower underneath it. I want to be able to get up and slam the lights on, but my legs feel so stiff, and I can barely breathe. I'm barely hanging on. I just... I want to die. I have nothing now. I press my hand into my stomach, just wondering whether my baby still clings on to the promise of life or whether it's already gone... like its father, anxious to escape me.

"C'mon baby... Mummy loves you. She needs you. Please don't leave me."

Born to such neediness, why would any poor innocent creature want to belong to me? Why do I deserve to be Mummy? And still I talk to my stomach, like it'll talk back and give me the answer. Like it's not too preoccupied with the crippling pain it holds. I know I'm only holding onto a dream. Dreams don't come true, or they wouldn't be dreams, something to long for. But why must I always long? Why can I not just have?

"I know you're scared sweetheart, but that's OK cos I'm scared too, just please... say you'll hang on for me."

The only thing to answer me however is the pattern of my own wracking sobs as I fold protectively over my stomach, searing with pain. I'm silently pleading for Dennis, because he is the one... he is the one that brought me here. He gave me the child I'm fighting so hard to keep. Doesn't he want us? Doesn't he still want who I was? 

I freeze with the fear of such a realisation. I want him to want me, because... even though it feels like Sharon is a completely seperate woman, I remember how she felt in his arms. Unbreakable, because what she felt came back at her inside his every touch, his every kiss. Everything then felt so right. Would it still feel like that, if I were to demand his kiss again? Do I have a right to? I've been destroyed right in front of him... but he's part of me, he's the only thing I remember from who I was. He's part of me because of my every memory, because of the child I have no choice but to mourn. 

And I'm pieces because I remember too how wrong I was made to feel for loving him. Oh God, I loved him. I did. And now I'm broken because I was made to hate him when he is everything I ever had. I cannot blame him for anything. He never asked to be hated, only loved and now... he barely recognises me. 

He said once that, even with my love, I couldn't save him, not from himself, not from his own evil. But I pray he was wrong. Because I need him, I need him to save me from myself otherwise I'll never be the woman he remembers, and I want him to care. I want him to still love me because we... we have a child. We had the love and I want to feel it for myself. I don't want who I was to hoarde it. I need to feel something, I need him to because he is the only one I have, the only one that can make me feel safe whilst I lie in pieces like this. He is the only one who could possibly know how I fit together.

"Please Sharon... don't keep him from me. I need him now... we... we have a baby and I... I'm scared because we can't... they won't let us keep it... he's everything... I need him!"

But is Sharon gonna be willing to surrender him to me when it's her he loved so fiercely, when it's her that loved him with everything when she woke up today? Me... I'm just an intruder. I have yet to feel anything for him beyond this crippling need... that and the desire to know his kiss.

I laugh bitterly through my tears as I consider it. Why would he want to hand me such affection when all I have done since he pulled me from that bloody bath water is abuse him for still wanting me... wanting me to be Sharon. That's a fair enough longing isn't it? Sharon is who I am. I'm just frightened, I'm so frightened that I won't know how to be her. Sharon couldn't have babies, I can't hold on to the one I never knew I had. We're different, Sharon and me, and yet we're still so cursed. No. Dennis will never want me.

Sharon's POV - 3:50a.m.

I pull myself regretfully up, wincing my way through the pain as blood simultaneously rushes to my head, swinging my weak legs to the floor and stumbling blindly across the room, searching frantically for the door handle. I catch myself with the door as I wrench it open, almost falling into the landing. I gasp in my breaths until I know I have found the bathroom. Pulling on the cord, the light stings at my unwilling eyes, but I don't care, crying out my bitter tears as I tear off my clothes with clawed hands. I leave them in a heap on the floor and slump into the shower, slamming on the immediately scalding water.

It sinks right through me, burning me and I cry out in pain but do not move back to save myself, only glad to be able to feel something when I was numb for so long against my will. I scour myself with the first suitable thing I reach, barely realising what it is. Dennis will never want me while I'm so... filthy. I need to be free from every dirty hand that's touched me, every lie that's caressed my skin. Then maybe, maybe he'll come back and save me from the nightmare I am trapped within.

Still I cry as I scour my skin, over and over, blinded by my tears. But soon I feel the warm comfort of blood, consoled only as I see how I have dyed the water once again, watching it scurry away down the plughole. Bleed. Bleed to be clean. Bleed to bring him back.

Will you come Dennis? Will you save me?

I have been underneath the scorching cascade of water for almost ten minutes. I'm weakened by the heat, the injury. I'm blistering now, bleeding still. And I simply sink down to the burning floor, drawing my knees up to my chest, made to feel more uncomfortable with the contact of skin to damaged skin. But I don't have in me, sobbing because I know I don't bleed because I am anxious to be clean, but because I can no longer deny I lose my precious, precious baby no matter where I am. And there's nothing I can do to stop it, to save it. I can never plead enough.

So I'm silent, still and broken, only making noise to whimper as I hear footsteps on the landing, the creaking of a door I know must be the room I have just left, because a voice says, a few seconds later, sounded panicked although barely loud enough for me to hear above the thundering of the water: "Sharon? Sharon?!"

And I recognise Dennis' voice before I recognise that he's calling for me. I am Sharon but the Sharon he's searching for is so distant now. The loudest of all my sobs escapes me as I crumble, burying my face in my knees and hope that he will leave me. I know I longed for him to find me, but I am indifferent now, because I realise, as painful as that moment was, that I cannot be saved. Not if I will lose my baby anyway. There is nothing to save.

I push myself back against the wall, scurrying away from him, wincing as the tiles burn into my back. But the crashing of the screen of the shower cuts right through me and makes me scream in terror.

"Oh Jesus - Sharon! What have you... What have you done? What are you even doing in...?"

He gives no thought to the fact he's just gatecrashed my shower. In fact, neither do I. Because to him, I was lost, apart from him and immediately in danger. And Christ, I feel it, but I don't want him to know that. So I pull myself up with nothing but my defiance as I straighten out against the wall. Bare... and for the taking if he'll just see who he wants to see.

"It's OK, I don't wanna frighten you, I just..."

He's just climbed underneath the urgent acid of the spray, fully clothed, just to be close to me. But in doing so, he takes the space, he hems me in. I'm not frightened, I'm intoxicated and I don't know which is worse.

"I know what you want." I tell him certainly, even though my voice shakes dangerously with my every word. I press my hand into his chest just as he reaches forward to steady me, his touch tender against my raw shoulders. I can almost taste him in my next breath, and it makes my head buzz. My hands shaking, I claw at his drenched shirt, scratching at his chest in my desperation. 

"Sharon, what the hell are you-? Stop!"

And he tries twisting himself free from my frenzied attack, but I won't let him go, yanking the material from his back, my breath taken at the exposure of his smooth glistening torso.

"Why? This is what we do isn't it? Me and you? I'm not a child Dennis, don't you dare treat me like a child!"

"Please..." His voice wavers and it's then I see the tears against his face as he forces back. Tears as well as the harsh splatterings of water. "...don't!"

"Why shouldn't I? Don't you want me anymore? This is what lovers do! Don't tell me you don't want it darlin', cos I'll never believe it!" I'm goading him, the words spilling out before I can stop them. Oh God, why am I doing this? "And I'm here... so aren't you gonna take it? C'mon!"

"Sharon!" he yells, or at least he tries, but his voice shatters. He tries to shake me, pulling me off, but he can barely hold me. "Do you even know what's happening to you right now? You're miscarrying. You think I want this? Just stop!"

I'm stunned into silent submission, shaking with the effect of more sobs I didn't even know threatened to present themselves, rob me of my every breath. I just sag against him, choking on my misery. Catching me, he pulls me close and I cling to him, resting against his chest, the water pouring down relentlessly over us.

"I want to... I w-w-want to st-stop. I do! But I can't c-can I? Because I'll still l-lose our baby. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I... I don't know what I did wrong. Forgive me Dennis, please s-say you for-forgive me! I'm so sorry!"

Dennis' POV - 4:00a.m.

Oh God. I don't know what to do, I don't know how my life, my love for one woman could ruin so much. I hate that she's so fragile, so confused, so hurt. I could barely breathe for the fear once I realised she wasn't in bed, and I was cursing myself because it obviously meant I had left her before she was truly asleep, abandoned her when I had promised to watch her, protect her all night. I'd sworn I'd never leave her again, and yet she was alone. I turned away from the room in such panic that I nearly fell over myself. But then, my heart dared not to feel so heavy because I realised that the bathroom light was on. I pushed at the door, almost wishing for the fear to never be eradicated, to never discover the truth because as long as the truth is unknown, hope can remain. I've had no choice but to realise that tonight.

I nearly screamed as the thundering of the water in the shower abused my ears, because I knew what I'd see, the sodden heap of Sharon's clothes left on the floor like they had been at the hotel. I knew exactly what I'd see. The screen of the shower was steamed, and I wondered just how hot the water she'd forced upon herself would be. I had no room for such contemplation in my next breath however because my heart was breaking. Again. God, I'm so scared that I'll never get put back together. There's only so much even someone as cold as me can take and I...

She's hunched on the floor, her marked arms locked around her knees, crying desperately as the water lashes down on her, burning her. And burn her it does, her shoulders are peeling, blistering. She's... She's made herself bleed, attacking every inch of her vulnerable nakedness and I can't bear it because it's so much like what was. My only instinct is to go forward, no thought to the fact I am actually fully clothed. I wasn't dry anyway, I don't care that I should be scorched like she has been, if only I can get her away... away from the pain. She rocks herself miserably back and forth for a few more seconds, her back smacking painfully against the wall. Then, with a gasp of fright, she meets my eye, shaking her head as her expression is taken by her defiance. She pulls herself up, shaking, shaking so bad.

"It's OK." I murmur, like I'm trying to excuse this intrusion. "I don't wanna frighten you, I just..."

But I don't know what "I just..." I force myself to move forwards and I catch her, scared she will otherwise fall, careful not to exert too much pressure through my hands against her shoulders. Oh why did she have to come here, to this, to bleed as she did?

The realisation hits me square in the chest. I do not know it to be the truth or otherwise, not now, but Sharon... Sharon believes she's been raped. She thinks she's dirty, she wants every trace of abuse to bleed from her skin. Bleed so she can see it go, like she did with the pain he forced upon her by poisoning her against our love before I found her. Oh baby, no... please!

She, however, refuses to let me see her vunerability. She tilts her head back, her eyes cold and she says; "I know what you want."

That throws me. How could she know... how could she understand all the things I'm longing for? There are so many, she just couldn't contemplate them all, I know it. But what she does, it's like it beaks everything we've tentatively built up right from the moment Den assured we were nothing to one another but desolate strangers. Because she's around me, gasping out her every troubled breath as she claws at my shirt, tearing it from my back in a craze, seemingly wanting to just have her nails cut into my flesh, to touch me.

And I hate it. Because I know what she's trying to do. She knows that once, me and her... we had passion that went something like this. But this is her wanting to reclaim something familiar, wanting it so badly and choosing completely the wrong thing. She'll never be ready for the memories this brings. The man she sees in me destroyed the intimacies we created together, she doesn't want me, not like this. 

"Sharon, what the hell are you-?"

She just wants to remember something. And I'd do anything for her, anything. But I just can't be hurt like this. 

"Stop!"

Yet the material of my shirt tears, the water scorching my bare skin instead, the second it is exposed. It hurts, everything kills. Because Sharon cries as I struggle not to. And she shivers out her questions, without abandoning her tortured caress.

"Why? This is what we do isn't it? Me and you? I'm not a child Dennis, don't you dare treat me like a child!"

She practically screams out her demands, her whole form lurching with the effort of such emotion. But there's nothing I can do, nothing I can offer to placate her. Because I must treat her like a child. If I don't, then I will break the moment she does. I just... I need her. I need her to realise I can't let her hurt herself like this.

"Please..." I beg shakily, feeling tears burn my face now as well as the relentless water. "...don't!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Her eyes are wide with frantic questioning. "Don't you want me anymore? This is what lovers do!" Yeah, I know darlin', but I... I lost my lover didn't I? You're gone. "Don't tell me you don't want it darlin', cos I'll never believe it! And I'm here... so aren't you gonna take it? C'mon!"

Christ in hell, she's goading me, thinking I'll take her, that I'll screw her! Cos that's obviously what I want isn't it? I'm a man after all, just happened to walk in on her shower, take over every inch of space... and I'm pretty much pressing against her with the effect of so little space, so that means I'm letting her know I want it. After all, I'm Dennis Rickman, tis my practice to screw strangers. But not when I have been in love with the forlorn stranger who throws herself at me cos she doesn't know what else to do. Oh God, is she meaning to kill me like this? Surely she knows I'd never... she's standing here, barely... but standing here... losing our baby and she thinks the only reason I'm here is to...?

"Sharon!" I cry, pained at how cracked my voice sounds. I try and hold her steady, but I shake just as much as she does, hurt now just as much as she is. I don't wanna have to spell our tragedies out to her, but she needs to understand why I am here. I'll be here to soothe away the effect of my words. I'll take the pain, I will. "Do you even know what's happening to you right now? You're miscarrying. You think I want this? Just stop!"

I can barely breathe, just because of that one word. I've never said it before, never so much as thought it. But that's what she's doing. She's miscarrying our baby, a baby we unknowingly created out of such love and she thinks... she thinks all I could ever want her for is sex? To use her, when I have felt so much? To abuse her like Den did?

And Sharon, she's stunned, silent apart from the effort of keeping back the tears that burn in her eyes as she looks at me. Looking at me like I've told her off... like her father would. She is the child she doesn't want me to see. And I just want her to be my baby.

She falls against me and I barely manage to catch her. But that doesn't matter because she shakes, she shakes as she sobs, howling like she's wounded. And I guess she is, in every sense of the word, hurting as I hurt.

"I want to... I w-w-want to st-stop. I do! But I can't c-can I? Because I'll still l-lose our baby. I'm sorry!" Her hands slide up and down my chest as she coughs out her apology, her whole chest heaving. She wants to be able to catch hold of me, to be close and protected. But however much I wish I could, I can't protect her from what is lost. "I'm so sorry! I... I don't know what I did wrong. Forgive me Dennis, please s-say you for-forgive me! I'm so sorry!"

She... She wants me to forgive her. Forgive her because as she bleeds, our child dies. I gasp at the horror of those words, pulling her close where she cannot hold herself against me, and I rock her, shushing her urgently, wanting to block out her pleas. Doesn't she know that this is my fault? I'm right, I know it. If I'd just left her be, never tried to force my love back upon her, like she assumes I will do now with all physicality possible, then I know our baby would still be inside her and still it would grow. And even for my own pain, at least I would have been able to say I handed the woman I love her every dream.

But how can I allow it when... if I'd left her alone... or never left her to Den's sickened mercy, she would not be here, sobbing into me like this.

Dennis' POV - 4:10a.m.

"Oh Sharon... oh darlin' please, I-!"

"Please! Say you forgive me... Dennis-"

"Alright. I forgive you, I do!" I murmur feverishly against her ear, her singed hair scalding my cheek. "Now shhh, c'mon, please just come with me... I forgive you! I don't want you to get hurt... Sharon, please!"

She looks at me through narrowed eyes as if I'm crazy. I suppose I am, clothes soaked through in trying to save her once again, skin sizzling in protest, but what do I care? I just need to know she's safe. It is several painful breaths before she staggers out towards me. I snatch up the towel from the rail and wrap it around her, not surprised but sorry to hear her whimper as it presses into her blistered flesh.

And yet, she is the one the apologises as she holds the folds around herself, smiling weakly at me as she moves past. I can't believe she thinks the words needs to come from her mouth, but come they do.

"I... I'm sorry."

My words of protest are floundering in my mouth. She has nothing to be sorry for, nothing. The rights and wrongs of these past nights are my responsibility and mine alone. Why won't she just... blame me, hate me? Anything! It broke my heart when it was apparant she did, but now it seems she doesn't. Maybe... maybe she sees me now because she'd never have apologised to Den. All she wants from him are answers because she doesn't understand how or why he would do such things to her. There lies one of Sharon's biggest problems see, she wants to see the good in everyone. Am I wrong in assuming that's how I became her lover?

Shivering, she moves off from me, aimless, like she has no idea where she could be going. I simply slump against the wall, looking in on her as she wanders into her room, gazing anxiously round like she has never been inside before. I don't choose to recognise that once again, I'm dripping water onto the carpet, forcing the walls to drink it in. All that matters is Sharon. But she can obviously feel my eyes upon her back, because with on frightened gasp she whirls round, her lips flickering into a smile as she sees that it's just me. 

Is she not afraid that I have seen her naked, ashamed to surrender her vunerability to me? Because as much as it would kill me, I'd understand. Unless... she doesn't remember what I did to her last time she was wrapped in just a towel? Maybe that seems too long ago now to bother recalling? Maybe it feels like another life to her, another soul? Because I'm feeling that. I truly am.

So lost in all this desperate misery, I barely realise Sharon's coming back towards me, her head tilted thoughtfully to the side as those sad, shimmering eyes analyze my face. She raises her hand and caresses my damp cheek, pushing away the scorching droplets.

"Go & get changed Dennis. You try protecting me from myself much more and you'll get ill. I don't want that. So come back to me a minute yeah?"

I can't explain it, but I can't help but smile. She actually... she cares when six hours ago, she despised me for... for being too late, for being so much like Den. Does she forgive me for that? Oh God, her touch, it's... is it false? Not two minutes ago I was wrenching her back from me, rejecting her because... because I just want her to be who she was. I love her, I'm never just gonna use her like that. I'm through with all that, I just wanna take care of her and I'm so... grateful that it seems she feels the same. So nodding obediently, I promise;

"A minute." It'll be no more, I won't leave her on her own.

As I clatter around in the airing cupboard, looking for a couple of towels, I still feel her eyes on me. Distractedly, I glance over at her, towels finally in hand, closing the door gently. And she smiles again. I just can't tell you how sweet it feels to see her smile, to believe that she could mean it. Pain still stirs however, so maybe bittersweet works better. I'm just so glad all that venom, in all its sincerity is gone from her eyes.

Nodding too, as if I threw across words unspoken with the glance, she drops her gaze and steps back on the balls of her feet, closing her bedroom door after herself. So I slope off to my own room, towelling my neck as I go, kicking my shoes away. My shirt seems like flakes of skin, torn and melded to me almost, I have to peel them off. But the rest just falls away. The hardest thing is forcing down my jeans. So heavy with all the water, all the desperation to keep her safe. As they pool at my feet, squelching in drenched defeat, it feels like I've suddenly lost a stone in weight, like I can move and dare to hope for freedom. I dry myself off quite unsuccessfully, but it's not like I have to care. I simply throw on another pair of jeans and pull a jumper over my head before rushing back to Sharon. She needs to know I'll never leave her.

I crane my neck nervously around her door, still ajar, and I can't believe how dirty I feel, like I'm perving on her, like I'm him. So I gulp back my insecurities, hating how pathetic I am needing several throaty attempts before I can even raise her name.

"Sh-Sharon?"

She's sat at her dressing table, in jeans and a vest top, probably needing as little contact upon her raw shoulders as possible. Her gaze flickers to me via the mirror, stood there helplessly in the doorway, but this time, she cannot smile. Because her face is red and stained with yet more fresh tears as she throws down her hairbrush. She tries to fool me though, she tries so hard, swivelling round, getting up and sinking down onto her bed with a mocking laugh.

"I... I can't do it." she murmurs miserably,  glaring venemously at where the hairbrush has landed against the mirror. Then she laughs bitterly, so obviously irritated with herself. "It... It hurts... too much! I can't even..."

Oh God... she's so scalded that she can't even bear her hair against her shoulders, the poor darling. And she hates seeming so vulnerable to me. But that'll never matter. I go over and I take up the hairbrush. It feels uncomfortably warm in my hand. Everything seems to burn now. Sharon looks at me doubtfully out the corner of her eye as I climb down behind her, lifting the mane of her hair back from her tender shoulders.

Sharon's POV - 4:20a.m.

My every breath is caught in my throat, my stomach jolting as the mattress creaks beneath me thanks to Dennis sinking down behind me. He's so close I can feel his breath on my neck. I expect to feel nauseous; the last man this close to me was the one that made Dennis seem like poison. And yet I can only feel anticipative of his touch, ignorant of the searing pain, tingling instead as his hands sweep up my neck, collecting my hair together to lift it away from the site of pain. I close my eyes, lost in the safety of these sensations.

"Let me know if it hurts OK?" he whispers gently.

And the obviousness of how much he dares to care for me when I am so much responsibility, inflict so much pain in my every suspicion and consequent rejection kicks guiltily at me, right in the chest. He fell in love with an independent woman, Sharon could hold her own and me? I have him here, brushing my hair like I'm five years old, because I can't cope with a few blisters. Didn't I want to feel the pain? He should leave me to it. It's not his fault I'm so indecisive and weak. He should just let me have what I desired.

"Dennis, you don't have to..."

But then I suppose, this is a rejection. Not that I intend it to be like that. He couldn't know how much I need him. But he chooses not to hear my words, daren't compute them.

"Shhh!" he pleads urgently. "Please Sharon, let me take care of you darlin'."

I want to tell him I don't deserve it. I don't... why should he want to take care of me when I am only a stranger? A needy, pitiful stranger? Hope dares to stir with my next thought... does he see her? Can he see glimmers of Sharon in me? Surely Sharon was never this weak? I try to ask her, but she won't answer.

But that's alright, because if she's not around then she leaves me alone with the depth of Dennis' touch and believe me, it's so good. Does he know that it's him making me shiver as his fingertips work absent-mindedly up and down my neck, forcing away my hair as it falls, groomed now for the tackle of the brush? Something about this action feels familiar and I like it. Sharon won't tell me though, doesn't wanna surrender to me I guess cos it belongs to her. But Dennis knows that, right? So he means to touch me like that? Me?

Should I be suspicious of the way I can't help but relax into his path? It feels too gentle, too loving. And in the moments when I can't help but wince, he scoots that little bit further across the bed, his chest pressing into my back as he whispers "I'm sorry darlin', I'll be gentle I promise."

But our shared tranquility is shattered as Vicki flies into the room. And I'm suspicious now, my back rigid in defence. Because I think she wants to take him away. Doesn't she know what he's doing to me... how good he's making me feel? She can't take him now.

"Oh God, I thought..." she gasps, surveying us, sat contently on the bed. 

I feel him lift the brush from my hair, his wrist pressing into the top of my arm as he holds it away. Does this mean he won't touch me again? Oh God, doesn't he know how much I need him? 

"Dennis, you only said you were gonna check on- you've been ages... what... what happened? Sharon... why are you... why are you wet?"

"Shower." I mutter.

And she pales. Guess the image of me and water isn't a good one anymore. She moves forward and crouches down at my side. I give her a look out the corner of my eye that I hope tells her to go. I don't need her right now, I just... I need Dennis. But she's not looking at me, she's looking at him. Is she stealing him, warning him off? Oh Christ, someone explain this fury to me, what's wrong with me?

"What... What are you doing?"

"What's it look like Vicks?"

"Do you, er..." Her attentions refocus on me as she cares to realise who she should be talking to. "...Do you want me to do it?"

"No." I snap, almost before all her words are out. She blinks at me furiously, a little stunned, hurt. But I'm hurt too, she's invading me.

"Are you sure?" Dennis asks nervously, nestling very gently into my shoulder to speak against my ear. "This is the sort of thing she'd be better at."

"I'm sure." I tell him, getting this sickening feeling that he wants to go. Please don't say you wanna leave me. 

I look pointedly at Vicki, hoping that she knows I won't let her take him from me, and she nods slowly, pulls herself up and says, "Right, well... I'll be downstairs then..." thankfully closes the door after herself without my instruction.

We're silent for a few seconds as we listen out for her actually moving downstairs, and then Dennis murmurs, "You didn't have to do that. I'd have understood. She's your sister... this is what sisters do."

I grope around on my stinging shoulder for his hand, lifting it so that the brush he holds tangles in my hair. With a soft sigh, he takes the hint and continues pulling the brush through.

"Well, maybe I'm glad it's you that's doing it."

Dennis' POV - 4:25a.m.

Well, I wasn't expecting that one. I mean, for one thing, if it wasn't for me then she wouldn't have wanted to scald herself, it wouldn't make tears prickle in her eyes just to have her hair about her shoulders like it has fallen so many times before. But I'm surprised, pleasantly surprised, because I never thought she'd so much as let me pick up the brush. I mean, even when Sharon has nothing, Sharon always has her pride. She hates being mollycoddled. But I just... I wanted to take some of her pain, her unease, reduced to pleading with her to let me take care of her. Because that's all I was ever meant to do.

Her back seemed to stiffen at the suggestion but she didn't protest so as gently as I possibly could, I worked the brush through her hair, apologising as it snagged on tangles and hurt her. Without really knowing I was doing it, the fingers on my other hand travelled up and down the back of her neck. To my subconscious, I suppose this made sense, because this used to make her relax and that's all I want her to do right now. I just want her to trust me. I heard her take in one sharp breath as she registered my touch, but otherwise I don't think I heard her breathe again, shouldn't I have worried... why didn't I worry?

I guess it all came clear when Vicki came in, frantic because I was gone so long when I'd only left her counting marshmallows into her hot chocolate, anxious to go and check that Sharon still slept. Maybe I knew she wouldn't be, but Christ, I never knew I'd find her in such a state. Not that it seems Sharon wants Vicki to know the details, because all she will say when Vicki asks her why she's wet is "Shower." She's non-committal, annoyed even.

"What... What are you doing?" Vicki asks me, eyeing the hairbrush in my hand like it's an iron bar or something. That gets me defensive, but then I guess from her point of view it makes sense. Why would Sharon let me so close? I'd love to know... I dare to hope.

"What's it look like Vicks?"

With another odd look, she crouches down at the foot of the bed. "Do you, er...?" I try not to look at her; after all, it's not me she should be addressing, and I think she gets that, her gaze swivelling to Sharon. "Do you want me to do it?"

I fully expect Sharon to turn and to say yes, to beg for her in my vicious place, but the look she gives her is surprisingly cold.

"No."

And Vicki is stung, falling back on her knees. My mouth gapes. I don't believe it, does that mean she wants me to carry on? Me? No, I've gotten this wrong somewhere, I must have. Catching her around the shoulders, so very careful not to hurt her, resting against her neck as I whisper shakily;

"Are you sure? This is the sort of thing she'd be better at." Cos there's the other thing see, Vicki could be more gentle than me, and I'm pretty sure she'd make a better hairdresser.

"I'm sure." she shot back steadily, glaring pointedly at Vicki. And our sister doesn't like it, confused maybe, but not half as much as me. She pushes against the bed and pulls herself back up, backing out of the door, drawing it shut behind her. 

"Right, well... I'll be downstairs then..."

I wanna say something, poor kid. I dunno how many cups of hot chocolate she can stand, even with the marshmallows. But I think somewhere, seeing Sharon and me together, content, she realises how much the closeness means to us both when so much has been destroyed tonight. We just need time, time together to adjust. Maybe that's what Sharon's angling for in refusing Vicki's help? Or am I getting ahead of myself here? I go and grab the bulldog clip off the dressing table, trying to push away my thoughts. 

"You didn't have to do that. I'd have understood. She's your sister... this is what sisters do."

She anticipated my unintentional test I think, because she doesn't say anything, finally breathing again, this gorgeous little sigh as she reaches tentatively around her shoulder for my hand, deliberately tangling the brush back into her hair so I will have no choice but to stay and work at it.

"Well, maybe I'm glad it's you that's doing it."

Yep, she floored me right there, giving me everything I coulda hoped for. And yet all I could manage in reply was this disbelieving, pathetic laugh. But her shoulders relaxed and she accepted it, murmuring as I caressed the back of her neck again. I guess it still works then. 

"You're good at this y'know."

"What's that?" I push gently.

Dropping the brush onto the duvet, I swept all her hair up from her shoulders into my hands, singed but not caring. Sharon obediently stared down into her lap as I twisted this ponytail and held it against her head, snatching up the clip and forcing it open to secure her hair. This leaves her neck and shoulders exposed, and they look so raw and injured. It hurts to look at them, but I console myself that with the possibility of cool air licking at them, she will be soothed. I just wish I could do more.

"I always used to play with people's hair when I was upset, y'know, when I was a little girl. I'd only ever get near my mum's if she was sober... not that often then, so... most of the time I'd get all my dolls out and pretend I was a hairdresser, and once I thought they all looked beautiful, like little princesses, I'd put them in the pram and I'd play mums and babie-"

Dennis' POV - 4:35a.m.

She's silenced as she recognises the treacherous word about to leave her mouth and my smile drops from my lips, her own pain cutting into me.

It's so wrong of me, but as I case her shoulders, wordlessly letting her know I'm here, wanting to take her pain; I can't fight the urge to lean forward and kiss the back of her neck. Because for all her vunerability, I love her so much. Vicki's right... Sharon's here somewhere, and I think that slowly, she's emerging. I'm beginning to see her again, and I just need her to know there's so much for her to remember of me, how much I love her.

I leave myself open to more hurt I know, but it's simply a risk I have to take. That doesn't mean to say I don't feel sick with fear as I move back, awaiting a reaction I know must come, because I do... but I just want so much for Sharon to come back to me. That's all I want.

One painful breath later and she turns, just halfway, blinking like she can't believe she felt it. My gaze is half caught between her look of confusion and the bed. Then I hear it, I hear the smile leave her lips. I look up, insides literally squirming and she's smiling. But it disappears so quickly, I feel sick, wondering if I could have imagined it. Damn you, Rickman. What did you have to go and do that for?

"Dennis?"

The mattress bounces as she turns round, drawing up her knees to cross her legs in front of her.

"Sharon?" I say slowly, not really wanting to head into this exchange at all, barely able to meet her eye. I stare instead at my hands in my lap as I replicate her stance, my own legs, though now dry, still heavy against the bed. I wring my hands nervously as I wait on her words, but none come, her own hands creeping into my lap and claiming mine, cradling them idly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't... I'm sorry I can't... keep it - the b-baby..."

I grip her hands fiercely as I watch the tears brim in those piercing eyes. "Oh... Oh darlin', no! Don't you ever apologise... not to me!"

"I have to! You... You were meant to be a father!"

"I know." I admit miserably, dipping my eyes for a moment. "But what's to say I'd have been any good Sharon? I... I couldn't even take care of you!"

"What do I matter?" she shivers. "I'm a lost cause aren't I? Even my own body's against me, casting out this baby like it could never have mattered to either of us when I... I'm cursing myself because I... I want it so much. It's my... It's our baby! And we would! We woulda have been so good! I'm so sorry I took your chance Dennis, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself!"

"Don't say that!" I beg her, a sob lodged in my throat. "You... You know now that the doctors were wrong, and..." Christ, why am I saying these words? Do I wanna hurt her, or am I trying to dispel my own hope, knowing I'll be crushed, realising that my Sharon is in fact gone, and never coming back, that this abused stranger will never love me like she did. "...one day, you're gonna meet some guy, you'll get married and you'll be able to have as many babies as you want..."

Yep, looks like all I did was hurt her, but how am I meant to talk to her in a way that makes her see she, in fact, belongs with me? Is that what she's waiting for because her tears spill over now, crying as though I've just told her I can have nothing more to do with her. Which I suppose I did. I don't know if I can bear to have anything to do with the hope that surrounds her right now.

"But I... I was... I was m-meant to have your baby wasn't I? I never thought I'd... you must have... Dennis, were we in..."

Oh God, no, please don't ask me that baby, I... I can't lie to you. Yes, we were. Totally and now I can't even look at you without wanting to cry. How tragic is that? I just wanna love you, because yes, I'm in love with you. But please, don't make me tell you, I don't wanna frighten you, I just... I just wanna hope for us, that's all I wanna do.

"Would... Would you have wanted this baby Dennis?"

She... She needs to ask? Has she not seen the number of times I've sobbed like a little boy for the child I'll never know? I never so much as had feelings before I rolled up in Walford, I couldn't afford them because I was... worthless, cruel. And then I met Sharon, the most... incredible woman in existence, and emotion broke through. I burnt with this desire that felt like... nothing before. It wasn't simply because I wanted her, maybe not even just for the idea of sex. I knew she was truly someone, and if she could just want me, then she'd instantly make me someone too. 

After that however, I had nothing to give her. But she deserved something. And a baby... oh God, the idea was just so perfect because it would be mine, the one thing I could give her she wouldn't let anyone else simply because it was me she loved. Except she thought she had to throw me back... to Zoe, to this nothingness because as much as I wanted to give, she could never take.

"Go to Zoe and have your dream with her. Because I can't have children Dennis, not now... not ever."

But she was wrong. Because she had a child, she had my child. I'd given her the baby she wanted so badly. Me. As that doctor had asked if Vicki and me had known Sharon was pregnant... I knew in that second I'd done it. My something. Because in that split second, I knew the child was mine. In the next moments I'd forced myself to doubt it and I would have accused them of lying to me, simply because I hadn't known about any baby. I guess I should have known Sharon didn't know either, because she loved me still, I knew it and she would have told me.

And now, my precious girl is altered so much, she cannot remember how blissfully happy it would have made me to cradle a baby in my arms and not be frightened I'd damage the poor thing, physically or otherwise. Because I'd be too in love to worry, in love with Sharon's eyelashes, her soulful eyes, all in the face of this innocent little creature, a creature I could call mine. My son... my daughter... how, how could I not want that?

Blinking back the fat, miserable tears, I realise how intently she watches me, concern holding the every muscle in her face. God, I need her so much. If I can't have our baby in my arms as I wish so much, then I need her. She doesn't seem to object as I pull her wordlessly to me, curling around her, burying my face in her hair and letting her intoxicating scent carry me away. Except, realistically, I can go nowhere and I am only here, slumped on Sharon's bed, protecting her, loving her with everything I have, however weak I now am.

"More than anything darlin', more than anything..." 

Sharon's POV - 4:45a.m.

I feel so cruel for having to ask him, questioning his sincerity when he is so guilt ridden, desperate to love me even when I am not who I once was. But I have to know, I have to be sure that this child grows inside me out of love. Because if it wasn't, if he could not have wanted it because he could not have me, then I mourn an emptiness. I can't be unsure anymore, because I am haunted by the way he cradles me, crying into my damp hair. He wanted our child "more than anything." My poor darlin'- My poor darlin'! Then yes, I cannot deny I must have loved him with my very soul. All I ever wanted was to have children with a man who loved me... loved me so much, we'd never be able to stand being apart. And I know, however tentatively I do so, that Dennis is that man. I feel sick as I contemplate the idea of being forced away from his arms.

Maybe I cannot say I love him yet, but I... I love him for loving our child, for being here to soothe my pain even if he cannot take it. I don't know if I would let him even if he could; I've hurt him enough with my words tonight, I will not hurt him anymore. If he will be here, then we go through this together.

Murmuring, I pull myself up from his embrace, regretting it - instantly missing how safe I feel there, but I know I owe it to myself, to him to leave.

"Sharon?" he questions wearily.

"I... I can't stay Dennis. There's... There's something I've got to do."

I lean forward against the mattress, searching for my trainers beneath the bed. Shaken now, Dennis gets hastily up and moves round to the other side of the bed, crouching down so our gazes are level even as I search.

"What? What have you got to do? Sweetheart, it's almost five in the morning; what could there possibly be...? C'mon, tell me."

I glance at him quickly as I straighten up, dropping my trainers onto the duvet and pulling up my knees to slip a trainer onto each foot. I feel so uneasy looking at him because if I tell him, he'll tell me I'm crazy, that it can wait, that it doesn't even need to be done. And I just want him to understand. I drop my gaze to my hands as I fumble with my laces, silently praying that he will... that he'll understand.

My hands slapping against my thighs as I stretch my legs out onto the floor and push myself up, I rush towards the door and am pounding down the stairs before Dennis has even managed to stop trying to work me out with that glance. I am in the kitchen, the sound of Vicki's chair clattering back going right over my head by the time I hear him step into the hall, a rather desperate step it has to be said... I think I've scared him. Oh, I'm sorry darlin'. Just... stay with me, please.

I lean over the countertop, repulsion causing me to convulse as I recognise the shattered remains of that hateful coffee mug. Did this... Did this really happen to me... to Sharon? I am Sharon... yes, yes it did. Oh God...

It can't get to me, I won't let it, searching more frantically for the bowl that usually houses our tangles of keys. Nope... could be behind me. I spin away, my head feeling light at even such a meagre exertion. I catch blurred sight of Vicki stood shivering expectantly at the table, I can feel Dennis in the doorway. But all that matters is that I find my keys. Leaning heavily against the counter, my hand almost falls into the little bowl, and I snatch up the set I recognise belong to me, happy to hear them jangle in my hand. Breathing a sigh of contentment, I turn back to them both and feel my lips twist into a smile even when met by their bewilderment.

"Excuse me."

Surprisingly, Dennis does not stop me as I pass, although Vicki predictably lurches forward, crashing into the table and unintentionally moving it a good couple of inches in her haste. I slip out the door as fast as I can, pulling my bag off the banister as I go, resting it on my shoulder. I don't have time for her questions because she'll talk me out of this and maybe this, maybe this is just something I have to do if... if I ever hope to be Sharon again.

"Sharon! What are you doing?"

Sighing with a little more agitation this time - I should have known I wouldn't be able to shake off my little sister - I turn back, just short of stepping off the kerb to go and cut through the Gardens. "I'm going for a walk."

"What?"

"Vicki, for God's sake, I said a walk, not a suicide mission!"

"But you can't- not at this time!" She glances frightfully round the darkness of the Square.

"I want to go now. I need to clear my head, surely you can understand that?"

She wants to fight me further, but her argument struggles to survive even in her throat. So she turns in desperation to Dennis who has just stepped heavily out onto the stairwell. And I long to question why he's not rushing at me to stop me, protect me, why he looks at me with such sadness? Is he hurt? Is it because  I did not stay in his arms as he cried?

"Dennis!" Vicki begs, voice shaking desperately. "Tell her she can't just go-"

His gaze flickers to her distractedly for a moment, looking down on her like she couldn't really be there. And in the next moment, he's looking back at me, this uncomfortable connection is made and somehow I can't bear to break it, even though his eyes burn right through me, shimmering with tears. The way his lips are set so stubbornly tells me they are not tears he will let fall while I look at him. My God, he is so... tortured.

Again, it's Vicki that disturbs us as she staggers down the stairwell onto the street on which I stand, and this time, I am grateful, although I instinctively pace back from her approach.

"I'll- I'll come with you!"

"No!"

"You can't go on your own Sharon!"

OK, so she's right. The idea of it terrifies me but I... I have to go and there's no way Vicki would ever understand why. And though he wouldn't do much better, his pain is mine, he is my only other option, and oh, just to feel safe through all this heartbreak, all this misery. So I move forward, purposefully out and round my sister.

"Dennis?"

He looks up from the floor in one jerky... frightened sweep, like he can't believe I'm talking to him, like he feared it. Sighing gently, he nods and moves down the stairwell. Pathetic I know, but I'm utterly captivated by the way his hips swing as he moves step for step and it's almost worth a smile to know that he's coming closer and closer to me with every breath I dare not take.

Then... he's in front of me, hands daring to come out from underneath the defence of his pockets. So I reach forward for one, immediately aware of how cold and unsteady it is. Slowly I slip my fingers through his, waiting breathlessly to see if he will accept me. And my heart pounds painfully against my ribcage with the relief of it as he curls his frozen fingertips around my hand. The half smile moves daringly out from the corner of his mouth as I raise my eyes to his.

"Will... Will you come? With me and... and the baby? Please?"

Dennis' POV - 4:50a.m.

Why can I not just race after her? Why am I letting her go, at this time, to walk in... in darkness, in danger? What's wrong with me? Is it cos I'm wounded that she pulled back? I mean... what can she have to do at five in the morning that means she cannot stay with me when we need each other so much. Oh get over yourself Rickman, I'm inwardly cursing, she's probably just sick of you being all over her. She doesn't know you anymore remember? She doesn't care about you.

I just follow Vicki aimlessly out of the house, stepping heavily onto the damp stairwell, as still and cold as she is frantic and desperate.

"Dennis!" she begs, whirling around and pleading for my help as soon as she recognises my presence behind her. "Tell her she can't just go-"

I'm not gonna tell her anything darlin'. I'm lost on her now. Sharon's gone.

I look over at her, this tiny emotional figure out all alone on the street, and her eyes seems to meet mine instinctively, searing through me. I almost feel myself fall forwards into her, but somehow I save myself... yes that's right, myself when I could never save her. I tried, and I failed. I have to let her go.

Vicki however, it seems cannot. She bounds down to the pavement, crying; "I'll- I'll come with you!"

"No!" Sharon's adamant in her refusal, pacing as rapidly backwards as Vicki comes towards her.

"You can't go on your own Sharon!"

And that stops her. Sharon almost finds herself off balance she stops so suddenly, looking incredibly frightened... fragile even. Her lips quiver as she stares back at Vicki, her eyes wide and haunting. She shakes her head so very gently, it almost seems like an involuntary twitch in her neck. But then, defeated almost, she gulps and moves back towards the house, pressing her hand into the rain splattered pillar as she raises her gaze back to my face. It makes me flinch as this connection is re-established and I hate that I can feel myself weaken as I admire the shimmering of her eyes.

"Dennis?"

She's got me, of course she has. However pissed off I might wanna seem, without actual cause or reason at that, I could never leave her alone, whether she wanted me there with her or not. I owe it to her, to myself to prove I still care. Sighing, I move forward, berating myself for being such a childish prick. She steps back to accommodate my nearness and I am intoxicated by her once again. Christ, I don't think I'll ever get over how special she is. Or what it feels like when she touches me. All she does is lift my hand, weaving her frozen fingers through mine and gazing at me, waiting to see if I'll hold her or force her back. I can't help but smile at her, just the smallest smile of surrender. Shaking, shaking so badly, but I can't help but squeeze her hand, just to let her know I'm there. That I'll always be there.

"Will... Will you come? With me and... and the baby? Please?"

With the baby. Oh God, I wish she'd stop... stop talking like we can still hope for our baby cos it just tears me up on the inside to realise that that's something I can never hope for again. And yet I have to suffer it for Sharon, because I love her so much.

"Course."

Her whole body heaves with relief, and she stumbles that little closer to me, and oh God, I'm just so glad to feel her so near. Vicki, however, is exasperated.

"Dennis! Please, you can't-"

Regretfully, I pull my hand away from Sharon and move the pace back towards my sister, pressing my hands into her shoulders to straighten her up. Even though she doesn't cry, more shivering for the worry, her cheeks are still so stained. The poor darlin', she must be so... oh God, I wish I could so much as begin to imagine what she's feeling.

"I'll take care of her Vicki, I swear."

She nods miserably, putting her every last emotion into nodding her head, gasping in her every breath. 

Sighing softly, I kiss her cold crown, murmuring "C'mere..." as I wrap my arms round her anyway. She nestles into me, whimpering for just a moment. But her back is rigid, and she murmurs Sharon's name, like she can feel her presence behind us. So she gulps in this huge breath of biting air as she pulls back, sniffling as she wipes her streaming eyes with her sleeve, forcing herself to smile, although she fools no-one, especially not me.

"OK."

And she forces herself to turn away, I guess before she can beg Sharon and me to stay because she is simply... terrified. But I mean it, I'll protect Sharon with my last breath. I'll let nothing happen to her this time. I just wanna keep her safe... keep her close. Sharon however, stays stock still as she practically glares Vicki back into the house, and Vicki, the poor cow, looks so frightened, so hurt as she backs inside, daring to glance over her shoulder at us, watching her go. I don't understand, why is Sharon shunting her, warning her off with the most impossible venom in her eyes?

And why does it disappear as soon as the door slams shut? Her shoulders slope, relaxed all in that moment, and it's then that I dare to step up to her, sliding my arm slowly around her back, giving her plenty of opportunity to tell me I'm hoping for too much in this movement. But she doesn't say a word.

"Alright?" I whisper.

We take out first tentative steps, without a direction almost, but as yet, Sharon doesn't seem to care, smiling gently and resting her head against my shoulder. I can't help but leave a kiss just against her ear, she is... too incredible. But then, she's Sharon.

"Mmm." she murmurs warmly. "I'm perfect."

Sharon's POV - 5:10a.m.

It's weird the things you can come to admire in the right company. Under the first rays of morning sunlight, even this battered, treacherous little Square can look beautiful. Not that I admire it for long because Dennis goes where I guide him, without question, without a single word in fact and it's soon behind us. Silence might have unnerved me, but it just felt so good to know that I could have said anything if there had been the need and Dennis... Dennis would have taken my words, listened and given me back whatever it is I could have wanted. He's... talented like that. I wonder if he knows it?

God, and the way he's holding me so close as we walk, arms wound tight around one another, me wanting to do anything over than lift my head from his shoulder... it hits me. Lovers walk together like this. And why... why do I not mind it's Dennis I walk with?

I barely realise where I have brought him. Not that I really need to because I know exactly where we are, and I feel ever so slightly sick but I... I just sigh softly, nestled into him as he stands there, and I admire the sunlight dancing across the worn tow path, imagine it going across the rippled surface of the water that swishes against the whistling breeze. The water that the sight of which makes Dennis as rigid as he is, his arms falling away from me. I almost stumble forward trying to remain close because God, I already miss him so much. How is this happening to me?

Dennis doesn't really seem to notice them, stepping into the dewy grass and shaking his head in disbelief as he surveys what's around him.

"Sharon..." he says quietly, an edge to his voice that sounds scarily like he's warning me. "What are we doing here... here?"

He spits it out again with more viciousness this time, lifting his hands and twisting his hips a little, as if to say "Look at it Sharon."

But Sharon doesn't need to look, because Sharon knows exactly where she is because this was exactly her... my intention.

"Dennis, relax OK?" I rush at him, framing his cool face with my shivering palms, just willing him to look at me and maybe... maybe stop shaking. Or is it that me? "It's fine!"

"Fine? How can it be fine? Do you... Do you even know where we are?"

I turn away, scoffing. "I may be many things Dennis, but I'm not stupid - of course I know where we are!"

"Oh right, OK, so what you gonna do... throw yourself in now or wait for a bit? May as well make myself comfortable I guess, cos you know... this time I ain't gonna go in there after you!"

His every word stings at me and it doesn't feel like any of them should come from his mouth when I have rested so contently in his arms. I understand his hurt, oh God, how bittersweet it is to understand at last.

"That... That was cruel." I tell him shakily, feeling a hard sob rise painfully in my throat.

He sighs, his hand curling instinctively into a fist as he tries to release his remorse, eyes searching my face, just wanting to know if I'll accept his apology.

"I know... I know. I'm sorry, I- oh Jesus Sharon, I'm scared!"

I can't help but laugh, the murmur of disbelief escaping me as I step close to him, wobbling against the slope of the embankment and pressing my hand rather desperately around his arm. I never thought I'd be so glad not to be wearing heels.

"What... What's there to be scared of?"

"Everything!" he exclaims immediately, his voice so very weak. He kinda lunges forward and catches me round the shoulders, tears sparkling in his eyes, caught against the sunlight. "Oh Sharon, please... just tell me what we're doing here? Why do you need to be here?"

I want so much to just take him in my arms and console him but I... all I can do is rifle in my bag, quite audibly sniffing back tears I hadn't even known were there. The fobs on my purse jangle as I pull it out, yanking the zip across and with an alarmingly unsteady hand pull out Dad's signet ring

For these hours, it's still incredibly cold. I wish I hadn't left my shoulders so exposed because as thankful as my wounds are for it, I'm numb and that's not a pleasant sensation now I know what Dennis saved me from. And my teeth are chattering, I can barely hold my arms straight as I showcase this hateful decoration.

"Where... Where did you get that?"

My bitterness slips out over my lips, and I look fleetingly up into his face, attacked even then by his confusion. Tearing my gaze away, regretting that I can't dispel it for him right at that very moment, I let myself drop down into the grass, resting my hands against my thighs as I glare at the ring. Dennis seems to understand what isn't there to understand and clambers down too, drawing his knees up to his chest and waiting patiently, his agitation however showing in the way he pulls on his hands.

"I took it when... when me and you... when he made us..."

He nibbles guiltily on his lip, staring with those soulful eyes into his lap. "When I left you."

"Yeah." I confirm, trying to laugh his unease away. "Don't you... remember when he was turning the house upside looking for it the next day?"

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd-"

"Be so childish?" I offer, warmth finally enveloping me as amusement plays in his face. "It's pathetic I know, but it was about the only thing I could think of that would stop being totally him y'know? Like... you leaving me stopped me being..."

There's this frightened gasp as he can't help but meet my eye, pained, terrified, like I've just stabbed him in the thigh. He shakes his head meekly, pleading;

"Don't. Please don't."

Dennis' POV - 5:20a.m.

She's trying to tell me that me leaving her broke her, that without me she could never be who she was. And I... I hate myself, hate myself because I have seen how being with me has altered her, damaged her, and yet somehow she still clings to my love. Christ, does she know how much I love her right, need her? But does she know how much I want to beg her to be better than this? I left her, I gave up on the greatest experience of my life because I was so sure that the man that stole her away from me tonight mattered more. I actually believed he might have learnt to love me. And I wonder now, why did I ever care, why did it ever matter?

The both of us are transfixed by the signet ring she holds, shaking so much. The poor darlin'. And it seems she's tortured by my every thought, speaking them out through quivering lips.

"I had to come back here. This was the only place I could let him go. La-Last time I was here, I was so miserable without him and then, I went home... to you and we-"

I wince, try not to look at her. Because I'm going through all these sentences in my head like the words are coming from my mouth. We had sex. The most incredible sex. And in the end, it meant nothing to you did it baby, cos you took my hand and you saw-

"-But you were wearing this Dennis, and I see what I was trying to do now." She hisses, angry with herself, muttering; "And what's worse is that he did too. Dad knew I was trying to hold onto him, he knew I just... that I wanted to see him in you, and darlin', I'm so sorry. But I loved you, in ways I've never... tell me you know that I-"

Oh sweetheart. I know. I've known for so long. Is she expecting me to deny what I know was love?

"I guess I should never have given this to you..."

Well now she mentions it, it always felt so wrong with that thing weighing down my hand. I wore it cos it had come from Sharon, with some sort of love behind it, but I suppose it wasn't love for me. Cos she's right, it was the thing that stole her away from me that night, even after I'd poured my every newfound emotion into telling her, showing her how much I wanted her, needed her, loved her. The hateful piece of junk.

"...because I... you mean so much more Dennis. Please believe me darlin'. I really didn't know he could... I thought he loved me; I... I'm his little girl. You'd have loved our little girl wouldn't you?"

"Little girl?" Oh God... please, don't... don't do this to me.

But it seems she's going to, nodding sombrely. "That's... That's what it could have been. Our little girl. And I remember how you loved me, and I know if we mighta had a little girl, then you'd... never have hurt her, because you'd have loved her... like you loved me. But he destroyed it all, he destroyed my family..."

I choke as a sob rises painfully in my throat. Because she's looking at me, edging closer and closer through the desperation to touch, to be close to me. I love that it's me she needs, but I hate that it's me that's caused her pain by simply being who I am. Maybe that's why she needs me to take it because it's my fault. Yes, it'll always be my fault. So I take her tenderly in my arms, and she nestles down, clinging on like she'll never be safe again. I'll keep her safe. She must know I will?

"You and the baby... you woulda been my family, you woulda been everything... I can't let that go yet. It's him... he has to go... he has to leave us alone!"

And once again, she's fighting her way out of my arms, wound up and feverish, shaking so viciously now, more than ever, and it can't be just cold. I really do think she's going to sag into the canal and be sick. She's been so ill and now she is so hurt. And there's nothing I can do because I can't take away her memories of Den, her insecurities - and I can't give her the promise of our baby. I only want her back in my arms, she... she can't be safe when she is away from me. That was too much of a painful lesson to forget.

I catch her round the shoulders and try to bring her back back my chest but with her flailing arms she keeps me back cos I will not reach forward and restrain her. I can't. I won't prove myself to be anything like that animal.

"I lost him here! I'll lose him here, I never - I hate him!" One huge sob tearing right through her, she tosses the ring back to the water, the fury of this exertion sending her folding double over her stomach, coughing miserable. "He's dead to me... I hope he is dead!"

"Oh Sharon-" And it's then I take her back in my arms, littering her hair with kisses. It's poetic really, and in her misery, she makes so much sense. For fourteen years, until Den stepped out the shadows, that ring was all she had, and these waters were the only thing she could blame for stealing him away from her. But she doesn't blame them anymore. She just wants them to take him under again, to drag him down into their deceptive depths and never let him resurface. 

Because she knows now, painfully so, how much better she woulda have been without him. I know she would have been, because I would have been there, loving her with everything I have, giving her anything she could possibly want. But she does not want to be smothered and straightens her back, levelling with me and casing my jaw in her drenched palms, forcing herself to smile as she gazes at me, drilling in her nails a little to demonstrate her determination.

"I just... I need it to be us for a while Dennis. B-Before I have to say goodbye. I just wanna know what it could have been like to be a family... you, me and our baby. Please? Show me what it coulda been like..."

Dennis' POV - 5:25a.m.

Just us. Just us and a baby someone somewhere is so cruelly determined we will never nuture, adore as Sharon should have been adored. I know what she's asking and I know why she's asking. She's had her heart broken in having this baby, this perfect chance stolen away from her, and she just doesn't wanna give up on the dream just yet. She wants to enjoy it, with me because... she remembers that I loved her, she knows that this is the only thing I could ever have wanted to do for her, to make her happy, to know the reason behind her smile. I wish she'd realise I love her still, but I hope for too much from one so broken. Maybe, maybe if I live the dream with her... She knows I'm hurting after all, and she understands the treacherous truth, she just wants the dream, to know what she could have had to love.

She wriggles across the embankment onto her back, sighing contently as if all she has done tonight is lain here with me, counting stars and watching the sun rise up over the water as morning broke. And it hurts to acknowledge we've done nothing like it. Oh, we will one day, Sharon and me - we'll count the stars until they burn out. I don't wanna be someone she remembers solely for the pain these moments cause her now. I want her to remember she loved me. I want her to still love me.

And yet, all it seems she can knowingly do is hurt me, all in the name of this one wish. Because she's pulled my arm down from against her's and purposely holds my hand underneath hers in place against her stomach. I know I should pull away because I'm aching with the emptiness of this one touch, but I'm living the dream now, living Sharon's dream.

"Sharon..." I whisper sadly against her ear. She'll never know how sickeningly afraid I am of this moment.

"Please Dennis, we don't have long."

"I... I don't know what to do..."

"But it's just... us. We're your family."

Her voice hangs thick in the air, every possible emotion threatening. And I can't say a word to console because she's kicked me, right there, maybe without even realising. How could I ever have been stupid enough to endanger so much? 

Sharon can feel my unease. How I hate that she can miss nothing when she is so upset, so vulnerable, always on high alert. She goes rigid and spluttering on her next breath, pulls herself shakily up, miserably studying her hands before she can bring herself to address me. Why is such unease stirring in my stomach?

"If... If I'd known Dennis.... if I coulda known I was gonna have your baby and I'd t-told you... while we were still together-" She gulps. 

I guess that's the first time she's forced herself to realise that we were together of her will, that I'm not the poison Den made me out to be. Although, what if the bastard has a point...? 

"-c-could we have been your family? This baby and me?" Her voice quivers. Hot, piercing tears are imminent, I feel it and I hate myself so much. Because I can barely look at her, my eyes hazy, deliberately forcing her our of focus so I don't have to register the pain I am responsible for. "Or would he still have scared you? Would you have left me... left our family for the one we never even had?"

My only instinct is to selfishly protect myself. But she won't let me pull my hand back even as I move guiltily away from her. She's holding it with so much pressure, I'm worried the force of my knuckles will bruise her. I look over my shoulder, pleading with this one gaze for my hand back, for my escape from the nightmarish question. But the vicious glittering of her eyes defies me, the question as the more prominent as her lips twist with her emotion.

"Please... Please don't ask me that."

"Why not? Just how brave are you Dennis?"

"I'm not! That's my point Sharon, I'm not! I'm gutless, that's why I left you isn't it? Cos I didn't care, cos all I wanted was my daddy!"

"You are a fucking daddy! You can't be gutless anymore, cos this baby needs you and that should be all that matters to you... that's if... I ever mattered to you. Did I, ever... or would you have just stuck with what was uncomplicated and carried on shagging Zoe hmmm? Cos I'd hate for our child to screw up the harem!"

"You don't even know what you're talking about!" I hiss at her, desperate now, to save myself from this, cos she's really attacking me and I... I just need her. She has no idea how much I wanna be able to delude myself, pretend I am a daddy, that I have a baby to love. Cos all I have is a broken heart. And I hate being broken. Cos I don't know how I fit together, not without her.

"No? Maybe I don't! Everything's been taken from me Dennis, everything I ever had, that I ever believed in! But I'll tell you something, this baby knows nothing either. It's dying, do you know how hard it is to know my own body's rejecting your child when I loved you, when I want it so much? Our baby is dying... I need you - and all you can do is tell me you want your daddy!"

"What am I meant to do Sharon?" I wail. Oh God, I'm actually, truly crying. My chest hurts, I don't even know if I can bear to breathe. I want to die, let her bury me in this shroud of hate, disgust and blame. I'll wear it well.

"I... I can't tell you that. That's between you and baby. Just do what you have to... to know them... before it's too late."

She sinks back, holding herself up only on her arms. The tears are thick and scorcing against my eyes now, I can barely see. My neck is stiff and it hurts to nod in submission. She's truly crucifying me right now, cos there's only one thing I can do, this is the only option this life... my child's life... has left me. Falling back on my knees and pressing my palms into my thighs, I pull in this shallow breath that in itself manages to tear right through my chest. Christ, it is the most... unbearable pain. This has to be the hardest thing I've ever been faced with and I'm someone who hauled a man into the woods and killed him. And I wonder, does this baby know what it was born from? Is it glad to escape me?

My hands are shaking uncontrollably but somehow, my thumbs manage to fall against Sharon's hip bone and pull the folds of her top up from her stomach, exposing her flesh to the biting winds. I look to her, simply waiting for her to scream out to me to stop. Her arms are a little more unsteady behind her, but she simply bites down on her lip and looks back at me with that same defiance. 

I scrunch my eyes shut, blinking back tears and trying to force out that harsh unnatural image, moving down slowly until I feel my lips against the ridge of her bellybutton, planting a trail of the most sincerest of kisses, just praying that my baby feels each one, just as Sharon evidently does. She whimpers, possibly because my kiss is frozen against her marginally warm stomach, or because she realises that this is all I can do to familiarise myself with the child I lose with every passing second. My tears drip pathetically from my cheeks onto her skin too, making it glisten miserably. She shivers every time, and I would have been inclined to believe she was repulsed by my apparant weakness, but she reaches down, curling a rumple of hair that sits just behind my ear around her finger.

And as I draw back from her, she raises her hips, offering me a few more bittersweet seconds with the dream of our child. I smile gratefully, drained by the heartbreak and bow my head to plant a tender kiss upon her stomach. The last kiss, I promise myself. I can't take this hurt anymore. Please Sharon, don't make me do anymore.

"I love you baby." I whisper weakly, daring to caress her treacherously flat stomach with my chilled hands. "Daddy's always gonna love you." 

Sharon's POV - 5:25a.m.

It's like my memories are reattaching themselves, like I have no choice but to realise now that they belong to me. And I can remember the pain of him leaving me like... like it could have been yesterday. Even the agony occuring at every moment right now as our baby leaves us cannot compare. But it's true. Because he says he wants this baby more than anything, and if I'd known I was pregnant, I could have told him as much and I would never have lost him. But I never knew I could get pregnant, so the truth of the matter is that he wanted to be lost. 

"Please... Please don't ask me that." he whimpers pathetically. Irritation stirs, anger even, because for the moments we have left with our baby, it deserves better than this.

"Why not?" I snap tersely. "Just how brave are you Dennis?"

"I'm not!" he cries out, throwing up his hands, agitated by my questions. He turns his head, his brimming eyes burning through me. "That's my point Sharon, I'm not! I'm gutless, that's why I left you isn't it? Cos I didn't care, cos all I wanted was my daddy!"

Ouch. Has he understood nothing... is he really this determined to reject this child? I know I do, but I have no choice. I love my baby, I've told it so, and I'd give anything to keep it. I'm simply resigned to loving what will be lost. But Dennis... is he never going to love it? Because soon it'll be gone, and I'll be left with this feeling that he never deserved to be a father anyway.

"You are a fucking daddy!" I yell, so desperate to just make him see some sense. "You can't be gutless anymore, cos this baby needs you..." I need you. "...and that should be all that matters to you... that's if... I ever mattered to you. Did I, ever...?" I don't wanna doubt him, he was so broken when I forced him away earlier, made terrified of him by Dad's poison, and since he has been so perfect, waiting for the Sharon he knows and loves to return. Right? Or is he back to thinking I... me and this baby... are too much of a hassle? Does he wish for what was, for the pain of our seperation just so that he might sleep? The uncertainity pounds in my chest, so fiercely, I feel sick. Why is it there? Can he tell me? "...or would you have just stuck with what was uncomplicated and carried on shagging Zoe hmmm? Cos I'd hate for our child to screw up the harem!"

That cut at him it seems, because he glares at me as his lips quiver with the force of threatening tears. He doesn't want me to realise they are there and looks away in disgust, hissing; "You don't even know what you're talking about!"

Maybe I don't. But does he think that I won't remember? Is he still hoping that I'll think everything he forced upon me after he abandoned me happened to another woman? Does he think I still cower in the illusion that I am not, that I could never be Sharon? Does he really think I am that stupid? Weak I may be, but stupid? Does he believe our child can forgive him?

"No? Maybe I don't! Everything's been taken from me Dennis, everything I ever had, that I ever believed in! But I'll tell you something, this baby knows nothing either. It's dying, do you know how hard it is to know my own body's rejecting your child when I loved you, when I want it so much? Our baby is dying... I need you - and all you can do is tell me you want your daddy!"

How can you be so pathetic? You've been so strong. I... I don't wanna hurt you. But I never believed you wanted him, not after us; you just don't know how much you hurt me.  Please darlin', hold out for me, hold out for our baby. For however long we have together, we need you. Just love us as you would have done... the both of us. Please.

"What am I meant to do Sharon?"

His voice shatters as he tries to gulp back his mangled tirrade of sobs and burning tears. He's screaming out for my instruction because he is so lost, lost in all the decisions he could have made if only I had known what we stood to lose above each other. But, as ever, I can't help him because I don't know. This is his moment, possibly his only moment with the child he will never know. Whatever he does has to come from his heart, to the baby's. I just want our son, or our daughter to know him, to be shown that we both loved it so very much.

"I... I can't tell you that. That's between you and baby. Just do what you have to... to know them... before it's too late."

And yet, I want to tell him. Because I know what I'm longing to feel. So I fall back, holding myself up with just the strength of my shivering arms, hoping that the way I lie against the bank as I wait will tell him what he meant to do. I just pray he feels it's what he needs to do to be close to our baby because I... I want to feel it so much. I want to know he loves us.

I watch him attentively as he gasps his way through the tears that fall anyway, sat back against his knees, just... well, wondering to himself I suppose. But then he reaches over and presses his hands into my hips, the pads of his thumbs working underneath the folds of my top and pushing it up. My breath gets lodged in my throat because I'm frightened and excited all at once. I think, through all this pain, the darlin' might actually understand.

Yes, it seems he does, because with one pained breath, he covers the vulnerable exposure of my stomach with his own warmth, forcing back the biting breeze that wants to lick at my skin. In its place is Dennis' tentative kiss. And I'm tingling, this fire building on the inside, murmuring wordlessly "I hope you can feel that baby. He loves us... please say you feel that..."

And so this loving trail goes, softer, higher... and I'm burning. Why... Why does this only exist in the face of such tragedy? Would he have ever touched me without it? Tears prickle in my eyes. Because I'm so afraid the answer is no. All he ever wanted was simplicity, because he has been so tangled his whole life. But how is falling in love with your sister simple? He must have wanted it, or he'd never have let himself feel that way... or he'd have taken the sex and... oh God no, Sharon stop! Remember your baby... a baby you have because he... because he dared to love you darlin', you and your every infuritating compexity.

It's not just me either. His tears now marking me he is so close, his shallow breaths so warm against the charge of my skin. And it sounds as though, without so much as the desire to breathe, he's whispering desolately, against a stomach that will never swell with this new life.

"I love you baby. Daddy's always gonna love you..."

I think my baby and I have felt the last kiss.

Sharon's POV - 5:35a.m.

He tries to hold himself away from my splattered stomach, but he's too drained and letting go of one more howl of devestation as he chokes on his tears, he sinks heavily back onto me. It's uncomfortable, but then I don't want to force him back... I shiver as his hands slide round into my hips, his tears spilling onto my stomach, burning me, making sure I feel his pain.

I struggle into an upright position, trying to pull him back, but he's really clinging on, sobbing; "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I love you... s-so much..."

"Dennis!" I cry out desperately, working my shaking hands beneath his jaw to lift his head. He straightens up with the heaviest reluctance, and I have to scramble over to him, pressed hard against him just to keep him upright. He wraps himself tight around me and I nestle into his shoulder, cooing into his ear as my fingers stumb through the curls hidden in the nape of his neck. "Shhh, it's OK. I never meant... oh darlin', please!"

I glare out across the shimmering water, this surge of hate racing painfully up across my chest. I really hope he is dead this time. I hope Dennis did kill him. He's evil, he took my child and he... he broke my baby...

But Dennis isn't willing to appear broken and, shaking, he trains his breathing so that his sobs may not swamp him and he pulls back from me in one quick movement, somehow untangled from my embrace and pushing against the damp earth to haul himself to his feet, stepping away from me. And I feel totally abandoned as I realise he's walking unsteadily across the bank, his back to me, possibly without any intention of coming back. 

Oh God, did I really hurt him that much? Oh Sharon; why? I mean it, I need him. I don't want him to hurt alone and I don't... I don't wanna be away from him. So I push myself up too and laces trailing, I race after him, almost slamming into him, rebound off his shoulder. I wonder if I'll overbalance as I spin away, the floor lurching beneath me, but as it steadies, my head light and uneasy, I realise I'm looking at Dennis. He's not looking at me, his head's tilted away, gaze's averted, fixed on a patch of the ground to my right like its gold dust or something. Please darlin', please look at me.

It's like he hears my words, even though I do not speak them because he gulps and shakes his head gently, lips shifting to the notion of "No..." over and over again. So I reach forward, tilting his head so that he has to face me. It's then I see the strength of the hurt caught in his every feature, and my heart slowly breaks. I have... I've lost everything, everyone. He can't leave me, not when I feel it, so fiercely, right in my chest. He must know it's there?

"Dennis... it's alright. Our baby knows now... it's all alright!"

My every thought and feeling, screaming out, warning me of rejections to come, is poured into me stretching up and letting the salty taste of his tears tease my lips as I kiss them away. It's the most natural thing in the world to move down to his lips and my own rest against his for the most painful of moment before I can bare it no longer and move that fraction further forward, imprinting this tender kiss upon his mouth, his neglected lips drinking in the affection. I am so reluctant to move back because that.... that felt so good. Just for that one sweet moment, I felt nothing I could accuse of being pain. Everything made sense to me, when I have been so confused for so long.

But Dennis staggers back, shaking furiously. My confusion has defected to my strength. It's weighing him down, such bewilderment has seized those depthless eyes.

"I'm sorry." I whimper immediately, without a breath for thought. Oh God, this hurts so much, why should I have to apologise? "It just... It felt right..."

Dennis' POV - 5:40a.m.

Kissing her was... it was everything. Everything I've missed, everything I've needed. And just to know that she kissed me makes it seem all the more incredible. If it was within her to hate me for being too late to save this child, then she'd never have done something so... so tender would she? She'd have hidden from me, proclaimed that she was still so unsure, nowhere close to being the woman I'm so desperate to uncover and bring back to my love. But she kissed me. 

"It just... It felt right..."

And those few words are all I've wanted to hear since me & Vicki found her. They make my heart pound that little bit faster in my chest. So why am I the one so unsure? My tears are still pouring down, even though she's gently worked at kissing so many away. Why do I fall back, barely able to breathe, feeling so suffocated, like she's lying to me? I so wish this wasn't how I felt. For everything I have felt tonight, this isn't normal.

"Well it wasn't." I tell her shakily, wishing I could steady the projection of my voice. "It wasn't."

She chokes out a few incoherent words to begin her protest, but they die out in her throat and she just stares at me, hurt taking over her eyes as she shakes her head gently.

"I... I don't understand. Dennis, please..."

I give her a weak smile, hunching my shoulders in defeat as I step back. "I can't.... I can't..."

And I turn away from her before I begin to cry again, only knowing that I'm still moving by the way the grass seems to swirl beneath me. But she's not willing to let me go, calling after me;

"I thought that was what you wanted."

I have no choice then but to slow up. In fact, I stop completely, astounded. I stay with my back to her for a few more seconds, just trying to take in the meaning of her words, try and tell myself that I must be wrong. Is she... blaming me? There are so many things I'd be glad to carry, but with those words, she's forcing me to drink in the bitter taste of every burden. She can't blame me, not for this.

Slowly, I turn back, looking back at her through damp eyes narrowed with question. "Is that why... Is that why you did it? Because you thought I wanted-?"

She tilts her head up, nibbling on her lip as she studies the clouds crawling across the moody sky. "No." 

"Then why Sharon?" I push, daring myself to stride a few paces back towards her. Don't get too close Rickman.

 "I've already told you why!" she sighs, exasperated and pulling on her hand. "Because it felt right. Don't look at me like that!" 

And she stumbles across the bank, closing the remainder of the gap between us. She is but a pace away when she cocks her head, her hand raised ready to reach across and caress my cheek. But I reach out and grip her wrist, needing this distance to be held because... I know her touch will be deceptive.

She steps back, in line with the distance and drops her hand back to her side, lifting her head and levelling her gaze. "Dennis-" she whispers, sadness weighing down her voice. "-you're the father of my child-"

Those big eyes implore me to remember the life we lose together like I could actually have forgotten.

"Is that the only reason? Cos if it is, that means nothing. Any man coulda given you a child Sharon!"

"But they didn't did they? You did and that's why it means everything. Why... Why shouldn't I kiss you... why shouldn't I?"

She really wants to know and I wish my reply could have remained in my head, that she might have just left me to wallow in self-pity. But the words come from my mouth and she hears them.

"Because you hate me!"

Her mouth falls open and I swear I hear a whisper of "No!" but I think I may be trying to console myself.

"I... I could never hate you." she says softly, defying the distance and brushing her hands across my chest, letting them creep up to case my jaw, hold me in place so that I may take in her words. "Dennis, do you have any idea how much I need you?"

Refusing to look at her however, I wrench her hands away and free myself, flinging her away. "Why?" I yell. "Why is it me you need Sharon - I'm posion, I'm nothing, I'm no-one! You're... You're terrified of me!"

"I was..." she admits hesistantly. "...but Dennis, we- we made a baby, and that means you've been so close, you've been so close, but I... I don't remember. Everything feels like it happened to someone else, and I... I just wanna feel it... for myself."

I can feel my resolve dying. Because one more kiss could be the best thing, it could bring her as close as she has been, teach her what we felt. But one more lie could be the worst. They've hunted us down and they've choked us. I don't know if I have the emotion to give her, to show her what was, what I long could still be. I'm cold now because I'm just too vulnerable to be left open to the suggestion of her love, and all these treacherous thoughts will never rest.

"But I... I don't recognise you." I tell her honestly, wincing even as the words leave my mouth. I can't seem to let myself pull my gaze from her face, wanting to torture myself that little bit more by realising how she is stung, hurt. "I'm through with kissing nameless girls. Sharon knows that..."

And I try and move back, unable to fight the overwhelming urge to escape this... desperate broken stranger and hope that I might just find Sharon waiting for me at home as she promised she would be. That she might let me take her in my arms and tell me she remembers it all, every touch, every kiss, everything. That she might laugh gently at me and say "How do you expect me to forget darlin', hmmm?"

I have no choice but to realise however that Sharon does not wait, because the lost soul left in her place has lurched forward, pulling desperately on my hand to draw back my attentions.

"But I'm not nameless! I'm Sharon! Dennis please, I am!" All I can do however is stare emotionlessly at her. I don't feel anything... anything except lost. And my desire to remain unreachable frustrates her, anger flaring in those shimmering eyes. "You... Don't you dare chastise me for wanting to be... who you want me to be! I just... I want to be Sharon.... if only because she had you Dennis and I... I can't explain why, but I... I want what she had... I want to feel what she felt..."

Sharon's POV - 5:45a.m.

But he won't say a word. For the few minutes of silence that pass between us, I feel like my lifetime has drained away. He won't console me, he won't hold me. He'll only hurt me, just as I have realised what it is I want, that I want him. I need him back, especially if I am to believe what my memories tell me. Because they tell me that he loved me, but he tells me that I'm not the woman he loved. She has to be here, somewhere inside. I mean, it's me that carries his child, so I... I loved him too yes? I can't be estranged from my own life anymore, I just want what was.

Yes, I was terrified of him. He knows it and he can't forget it because it cut so deep. But surely he knows too that I was not myself then? I know who I am, who I want to be... and who I want to be with. And my memories tell me it was this way before we knew about any baby, so how can he be surprised that I should want him?

But still all that I can see when I look in his beautiful face is his disbelief, the most furious desire to turn and run from me, from this. And me? I just wanna cry because... because I thought he cared, I thought he wanted me back? But he is gutless, too afraid to recognise that I might actually be myself, want everything I had, because it's.... right. It felt so right, and he just wants to throw it all away.

"You never would have stayed with me would you?" I whisper coldly, feeling sick right down to my stomach.

"What?"

"You say you wanted this baby... you told our child you love it... but you didn't want me, cos you left me. You don't want me. So even if I coulda told you I was gonna have this baby, you'd still have fucked off and screwed the first bit of skirt to smile at you, I know it!"

His lip curls. There's a rumble of thunder in the rapidly blackening sky above us that seems to illustrate the flare in his eyes very well. He's angry with me. Well, finally, some sort of emotion I recognise! "No, you don't know! Don't you dare-"

"Whattya gonna do Dennis? Tell me I'm wrong? Well, c'mon then, let's hear it, I wanna hear the creme of your excuses darlin'!" And I lurch for his frozen hand. 

He barely realises I'm holding it until I press into into the warmth of my stomach, even his gazes snaps venemously to my own hand, holding in my place and as ever, refusing to let him go.

"Whatsmore, our baby wants to hear 'em an' all, so c'mon!"

He's beginning to shake with his fury as glassy tears cover the surface of those gorgeous eyes. But then I realise his face is splattered with water anyway, and it stings against my skin too. It's raining, coming down harder and harder for every breath the both of us manage to pull in. The stretch of water behind us drinks it in, whereas we cannot fight it off. 

"Sharon, c'mon!" he calls anxiously above the pounding of the rain, trying to pull me down the bank, now more like a mud slide.

But I will not move, I will not allow him to. Like he has never said a word, I carry on, speaking sternly as I grip his damp, shivering hand.

"Your child deserves to know!"

He, however, is determined to escape his responsibilities and tears his hand back, forcing his arm around my drenched shoulders to lead me across the bank. But I shrug him off, growling. Next thing I know, he's peeling off his heavy denim jacket and trying to balance across my shoulders instead.

"Get off me!"

"Will you just take it?"

Scowling at him, I do as he says, pulling it over my head to shield myself from the relentless downpour. We duck against it and run without really knowing where we're going as it lashes down on us. I deliberately push myself out a few paces away from him. If he wants to escape me, then I think I'm entitled to be the one doing the running - he infuriates me I swear it. Blood pounds in my ears, and I wish I could feel some sort of warmth, but I'm chilled to the fuckin' bone, can't stop shaking.

Although I'm almost blinded by the fog of the rain, I can make out the summerhouse just off the path that would eventually lead you back to the edge of the Square. I race straight for it, pulling desperately at the door. I spend a few moments just watching the rain drip miserably from me to the floor, and by the time I have gathered the strength to lift my head, I can hear Dennis' footsteps behind me as he slides in too, ricocheting warningly from the close walls, so I step further forward, letting his drenched jacket fall away from me and land on the floor with a sodden thump, spinning round on my heel to face him. I lift my hands to show him how compact the space we occupy is, that he now has nowhere to run unless he is willing to face the wrath of the rain.

"So are you gonna tell us or what?"

There's a look of disdain on his face that I want so much to scratch away. Are me and this child so worthless?

"Sharon..." he says tiredly, like my name is a dirty word that just gets caught in his throat.

"That's right!" I assert sarcastically, nodding. "I'm Sharon... woman you apparantly love so much, mother of your child, all that jazz? Nice to know you recognise me at long last darlin', real nice!"

The muscles in his face shift and in a moment, he's scowling at me, lips flickering in disblief as a nervous laugh dares to slip past past him, darkness flooding his eyes.

"Are you... blaming me?"

"Why the hell shouldn't I?!"

"Because..." he hisses out the word with a certain amount of desperation, turning away and pressing his head into his hands, rubbing his temples, as if he's trying to clear his thoughts. Hmmm, I should imagine they are pretty mangled right now. I hope it hurts, you contrary bastard. "Oh Christ, Sharon, I don't know!"

"That's about all I'm left with an' all - not knowing! So tell me Dennis, if everything I remember, from yesterday happened to me, me actually being Sharon... when it's pretty obvious to everyone everywhere that we've done a hell of a lot more... why can't I kiss you? Am I too desperate, too broken, what is it?" 

As I move towards him, he whimpers and falls back on the balls of his feet, once again poised like he's planning to make an escape. But I catch him, drilling my fingernails into his jaw as I hold him. 

"Why don't you recognise me darlin'? Tell me, and then maybe I can bring it back hmmm, whatever it is that'll make you see me for who I am, who I want to be. I just wanna be who you remember, don't you know that? I need you..."

Sharon's POV - 5:55a.m.

"No! You think you need me! Jesus, Sharon, you think this is easy for me?"

"Well, I'm not having the greatest time since you ask thanks!" I scoff, rolling my eyes. "You know, I'm not like you, I don't fall into bed with people I feel nothing for, so I certainly didn't expect to find myself pregnant by some bloke that doesn't even recognise me! I must have felt something and so must you, or are you really that cold?"

Will I get a rise out of him? That's all my anger's pushing for. How can he reject me.... me?!

"Some bloke?" he hisses, twisting his hips to come closer. "Some bloke?"

In one breath, loaded with the buzz of anticipation, he's pressed against me, hands curled fiercely, to the point of pain in fact around my forearms, shaking me with each of his words, a fury in his eyes that almost pleads with me to be afraid, but I tilt my head defiantly. He cannot scare me. He shoves me hard against the wall, and the whole structure seems to shiver dangerously into the ridges of my spine, but I have not the breath to care, too captivated by this man, eyes glittering with so much that is indecipherable. My heart pounds, my muscles ache and my skin burns as he kicks my legs apart, shoving his knee roughly in between. 

The warmth of his every sharp breath teases my skin as he leans in, his hurting words spilling from once reluctant lips. "Do you know how hard it was for me to let you go Sharon? Wondering when it was I lost you... if you'd ever come back? So I might be nothing, I might be no-one, but don't you ever treat me like I don't feel, like I'm cold, because I'm "some bloke" that loves you alright?"

I can't stop this smug smile claiming my lips. Cos right there, I've got him. Well done Dennis.

"Do ya?" I challenge huskily, aware that if my heart beats any faster, it's going to shatter my ribs. Oh how can that feel so good? "You love me?"

A sound struggles from his throat that he can't quite make into words as it leaves his mouth and he splutters on it, bowing his head and only nodding when he considers I will not be able to see him. Fool.

I tease him into lifting his head to look at me. stroking his chin with my fingertips. As his eyes meet mine, something gets me right in the chest, something I might not have recognised I have not felt it in what seems so long. Longing. I can barely breathe in waiting for him to come closer. He'll fight, I know he will, cos he's afraid, remembering all those times I was stupid enough to reject him in the past. But I won't, not this time.

"Prove it."

The pads of my thumbs slide down his neck as I wait to see if he will dare, and I feel his every lodged breath pulsing in his throat. His chest is heaving against me, and I know that his resolve is going. I just... I want his kiss back, that's all I want. How hard does one woman need to implore a man to see her?

Apparantly I have done all I need do however because his lips tentatively take mine. I tilt his chin, desperate to feel more pressure in this kiss. His tears are are drying against my skin, and all that can be heard is how our heartbeats give us away. My chest goes tight as he moves gently back, his next breath presenting itself as a gentle sigh. I incline my head so that my forehead might rest against his.

"That's better." I murmur, so quietly that not even I am sure if the words have left my mouth. Not that Dennis, previously so hesitant and unsure really cares either way. Cos as his next breath comes in sharp and his eyes shimmer in a way I seem to remember... remember making me come alive with the ensuing moments. I can but pray for them. I almost moan as his mouth comes hard against mine again, taking my breath. God, every one is his if he'll just...

I wrap my hand into his drenched curls, loving the way that the raindrops caught in them splatter my hand as I drive him harder onto me. His hands are tumbling down my every curve like he's never touched me before, so eager to know everything there is to know about the lover he takes. And he does, he couldn't know how much I love him for this. His touch sweeps feverishly up my back as he twists his hips, guiding me away from the wall. I go, only because I cannot bear to be away from him in times where I might receive a kiss as mind-blowing as this. My arms are looped around his neck and our closeness holds each of us up as we spin away from the wall. But almost immediately I meet another, this time not trying to suppress the moan. 

Dennis takes full advantage of it. As soon as my lips are imparted, he forces his tongue into the cavern of my mouth and I suddenly realise what I have missed so very much. I cannot breathe, I cannot think of anything besides how incredible it feels to be crushed between walls that shiver like they will not stand up behind our force and his empassioned body, wanting only my own and the urgency our kiss. Because it's everything... it's ours, mine and Dennis', when we have been apart so long. And I know he'd never kiss nameless girls like this. I remember him.

Gasping in a breath I could have done without if he'd just never left me, I find myself pulled forward into those glittering pools as he looks at me, that half smile playing in the corner of his mouth. My heart swells. He's so beautiful and he's.... he's mine. I can't tell you how... blissful it feels to belong to someone, someone as incredible as this... someone that can kiss like that.

Working my fingers under his chin again, I try to draw him back.

"I've missed you."

I turn as he meets me again, almost caught off balance at the way he's working my mouth with a ferocity to make me go weak, and I find myself crashing into the third wall. Christ, my back is gonna be so bruised, but I just don't care as long as he never stops. His lips are the shelter for my confusion, everything I don't know, and his kiss is the only thing that dares to make sense to me.

I almost growl in frustration as he leaves me again, but am reduced to whimpering as he wrenches the straps of my top from my tender shoulders and smothers the every blistered section in kisses. I'm shaking, leaning heavily against him because I... I want him so much I simply couldn't hold myself up. How pathetic is that?

And yet I'm smug, almost wish that our father could see us now because... I am not poisoned. I'm still the woman his son wants... the woman who wants his son. Dennis' insistent lips are working up the burning slope of my neck, and I tilt my head back, murmuring how good it feels.

All that there is in this world right now is Dennis and me. There's our ugly truth and what we could make believe. And I just want... I want everything to be perfect. My hands moving down the contours of his chest, I pull up his jumper, just wanting to expose the beauty I remember. But he freezes against me and slowly removes the imprint of his kiss from against my neck, pushing my hands roughly away.

Desire doesn't burn in his eyes anymore. My stomach drops, nausea seizing my every sense and emotion. All I can see now is pure panic. Oh shit!

"Dennis?"

His lips flicker as he falls back. No, no, no! I recognise this.... oh no! What did I do?

"No. Not this. I can't do this. Please... just leave me alone..."

Sharon's POV - 6:05a.m.

It felt like he'd punched me in the chest. Because he just walked off and left me, lips twisted in terror like I'd attacked him, not shown how much I wanted him, how much I wanted him to want me like he used to do. Maybe that's it. Maybe he never saw me. Maybe he just thought if it was pretty much being offered then he may as well take it, especially if the woman he really wanted never was gonna come back. But I have. I'm here, and somehow, through all this confusion and pain, I've... oh Jesus, I've fallen in love with him all over again. Slowly, painfully, every emotion has crept back, almost without me realising. But I am. I'm who I was, and who I was loves him with everything she has.

I tried to race after him, but the truth was, he didn't want to be chased. And my heart sank as I fell back. I've never felt so heavy and defeated in my life, and for a few moments, I was pathetically stood there crying these bitter tears against the lash of the rain. But I realised soon enough that it wasn't gonna make him come back, hold me, surrender his kiss to keep the cloud of confusion at bay. Cos it's choking him now. I turned back to the shelter of the summerhouse, assuring myself that I'd sit here a while, until the rain died off, until the hope of the sun's rays might break through, and then I'd find him, I'd make it right, make him see...

But for now, I'm alone in this drafty little shack, Dennis' drenched jacket still lying its abandoned heap on the floor where I let it fall. I clamber down and lift it into my arms, shaking the excess of the rain to have fallen upon it and this time, wrapping it around my shoulders as Dennis would have wished in the first place. It's heavy and clings uncomfortably to my bare, slippery skin, but I don't care, nestling into the warmth that does not exist to embrace me as I cower here. I rock gently as I cry, burying my face in the sodden material so that I may be intoxicated by the scent that lingers upon it.

And I can... I can smell him. He's managed to teach me heartache when such a short time ago, I could feel nothing, and the bastard's not even here. Oh God, he smells so good, and if I close my eyes, I can just about fool myself into believing he's still here. Maybe with his arms around me? Oh Sharon, you fool. He doesn't want you. You were wrong, you don't belong to him.

But I know I do. It's the only thing I have left to be certain of. If I don't belong to him, if it's not true that I love him, then why have I become so suspicious of my little sister? Hating her almost everytime she is near, fearing she'd be about to steal him from me? That was... That was jealousy, and that's not an unfounded emotion. If I could feel nothing for him, then how the hell have I wound up jealous, shattered by him leaving me when all I want is his kiss?

Wiping my streaming eyes, I drag myself up, holding the jacket clumsily around me, hooking the strap of my bag over my finger so I can keep hold of it as I dare to brave the rain. And yet, in the moments that Dennis and I were finally together, the rain did die away, only the scent of it hanging in the air. I stagger along the pathway, absent-mindedly letting my hand brush over the prickly top of a rose bush. Looking distractedly down, I realise I have pricked my finger. I wince without having really felt the pain, and I defiantly wrench the responsible stem out and carry it to the bank, the surface of the water still rippling.

Swinging the jacket from my shoulders, I lie it on the muddy against and sink down onto it, pulling my knees up to my chest as I roll the stem between my punctured forefinger and thumb, my attentions numbly held by the way the sunlight catches the dew glistening on the crimson petals.

Hatred floods through me as I look out across the water however, and I speak sternly to it, hoping it will carry my words to wherever my bastard father now lies. I hate him, I really do. Why couldn't he just have stayed here, where I thought I'd lost him the first time. He ruined so much in returning when he did, that one reminder weighing down the hand of a man I might have taken for a lover, allowed to make me happy. Because that's what he does. I remember it. And with his kiss, everything makes sense. To me anyway.

"Are you pleased with yourself, you sick bastard? Really think you could take him from me eh? Oh I know you tried, and you damn near suceeded. I was so frightened... but I'm almost thirty-five, not five. I won't be that frightened little girl anymore... and I won't let Dennis be scared, I won't. I'm not gonna let you win. You don't deserve to win! You might have been able to take my baby... and I'll never forgive you... but you can't take... my baby..." 

The words feel uneasy in throat. Because they're true. Dennis is my baby. And I might have lost him, all because once I knew what I wanted, I wanted it all, and I really believed he'd give it to me.

I pluck the silky petals from the rose, its sweet scent making my head buzz. And I feel so utterly pathetic when I catch myself murmuring "He loves me, he loves me not..." as I shred petals over the surface of the inky water, my every thought for Dennis. And how downhearted I feel as the last one floats down to the sound of "He loves me not..." Am I sure I'm not five, it's not like this ever had any real meaning, even in the playground. So why am I pouring my every belief into it, sighing so dejectedly? I press my hand into my stomach, like it is now my only source of comfort, even though I am forced to recognise that with these ongoing stabbing of pain, duller all the time, my only remaining comfort may already have deserted me, just like Dennis.

"Guess that's the way it has to be huh little one? Enjoy the pretty flowers, Mummy meant them for you. Cos I'm gonna have to go home now, try and talk to your daddy..."

Sighing heavily, I gather my things and pull myself to my feet, the muddy ground almost sliding away beneath me. I turn with one last longing look over the water, so many emotions stirring. I choose to believe I lost the father that might have loved me here, so here too is where I dare to release my child to the harsh cruelties of the world I almost thankful it will never know. I guess there's only so much you can do to protect the ones you love... and I certainly don't feel protected anymore.

"I don't wanna have to say goodbye to you baby, I wanna take you home because I love you so much, but I... wait for Mummy, angel. Mummy's gonna be there one day, so don't be scared. Don't you ever be scared, because I'll be there with you, and I'll look after you. Sleep tight." 

Sharon's POV - 6:15a.m.

The Square still sleeps as I arrive back, birdsong abusing my ears as I creep hesitantly up the stairwell towards the house. I pull my key from my bag and ram it into the lock with fumbling hands, stepping inside with my every breath tight in my chest. As soon as I am in the hall, I'm already looking round for signs of Dennis, looping my bag and the mud splattered jacket over the banister as I move nervously around in search. Nausea stirs inside as I lean against the door to the lounge, poking my head round. Christ, this room is just so saturated in poison. And whatsmore, there's no Dennis. 

Sighing in defeat, I straighten up as I back out into the hall again, glancing distractedly in the direction of the kitchen, and realising Vicki is looking back at me, those incredible eyes so wide and bright with such a heavy sadness, her pink lips tight with a smile that quite obviously takes all her feeling out of her. Guilt kicks at me until I feel literally sick, because she's there, on her hands and knees on the floor, sweeping up the millions of shards of glass. I can barely manage to smile back at her, because I've been so awful to her. Clinging to her like a child one moment, hating her when she dares to speak to Dennis in the next, like I might be some jealous lover. I'm pathetic and Vicki.... oh God, poor Vicki.

She falls back on her knees as she watches my approach, tilting the dustpan so that the shards of glass might stay back. She's tremoring and it's like she can't bear for me to come closer because she just shakes her head, dispersing whatever thoughts she may be thinking as she looks at me. I wouldn't blame her if they're not entirely pleasant either, I deserve it. She pushes herself up with a groan at the exertion and turns to pour the shards into the wastepaper basket she has brought in from the lounge and placed upon the countertop.

I slope in as she turns back and dare to catch her eye, hoping she can read the unspoken apology in my face. She smiles again, shifting her weight and dropping her gaze back down to the littered floor like she is anxious to get back down there and clear the rest. She is back upon her hands and knees by the time I manage to force out; "You shouldn't have to do that."

"No, well someone had to clear this mess up didn't they? Honestly Sharon, it's alright..."

"But it's my mess."

"Yeah well," she says rather breathlessly as she drags herself up again, pouring away the glass and dusting off her hands as she puts the dustpan and brush down next to the bin. "I'm done now aren't I?"

 "Thanks." I mumble awkwardly, nodding my head. It feels painfully heavy, and I hear myself splutter on a sob that's swelling painfully in my throat, seemingly only doing so now cos there's someone to hear it, and maybe comfort me. It leaps from my throat and I stare shamefully at my sister, letting the hot tears cloud what little I can see. I pull her forwards, whether or not she might want to come, just because I need her. But thankfully she understands and shakily winds her arms around me as I cling to her, crying into her shoulder.

"Oh Vicki... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I don't know what... forgive me darlin', I'm so-"

"Shhh... shhh, it's alright! What is it Sharon, what happened?"

She forces me back against the chair and pulls another close, dragging it across the floor and sinking back onto it, gathering my hands into hers and holding them in her lap as I sniff back wave after wave of tears.

"Where's Dennis, Sharon?"

"I-Isn't he here? I thought he might have come back here.." And I'm looking feverishly around for him, like Vicki might have just missed him hiding behind the door or something.

"No, I- I thought he was with you... wh-what happened?"

"Oh God!" I shriek, covering my face with my hands. "I don't know... I... where is he Vicki? Where is he?"

"I don't know. I swear, I'd tell you if I did... I can't believe he... look, just calm down yeah? Look at you, you're soaking, you must be so cold. I'll get you a drink..."

But I leap up to stop her, shaking my head. "No, no! I'll do it!" 

Hurt flickers across her pretty face, but she can understand easily enough. Guess I'm gonna be making my own drinks forever now then. I pull down some mugs and heap chocolate powder into them without asking what it is Vicki would like to drink with me. The spoon clatters against the edge of the second mug. I lean against the counter, sniffling pathetically as we wait for the kettle to boil.

"I'm such an idiot." I mutter irritably.

"Why?" Vicki coaxes gently, cocking her head questioningly.

But I'm not necessarily talking to her, turning this tirrade in on myself as it falls from my mouth. "I just thought... the baby... all these... feelings... so confused! But Jesus... why shouldn't it... it felt right and it must have... because he... too. But he really doesn't see me.... he doesn't and I just..."

I can feel my sister's eyes upon me as she listens, but she cannot quite find words to console me because she doesn't know what it is she'd be consoling, so she just reaches over me to pour the ready water from the kettle into the mugs and I slope back, indifferent now. So I slump back onto my chair. Anything could be in that drink I know, but even if Vicki, driven mad by the events of these past nights no doubt, wanted to harm me, I'd probably let her, just to let that sleep take me again. Cos it seems I have nothing to lose anymore.

Sharon's POV - 6:25a.m.

I am absent-mindedly fiddling with the plastic tub of marshmallows, loosening and tightening the lid simply to occupy my restless hands as Vicki places one steaming hot chocolate in front of me, newly frothy with the lashings of milk she has wisely bestowed. I put the tub firmly down, the lid clattering beside it and I cage the mug in the screen of my hands, letting its warmth burn my palms.

"How many of these have you drunk now?"

Vicki hunches her shoulders sheepishly. "I stopped counting after five."

"Hmm. Marshmallow?"

She nods and I scoot closer to her, dropping the squashy pillows of sugary foam into her drink, counting them off quietly under my breath, ticking off the division of the pink and the white.

"One." Pink. "Two." White. "Three." White. "Four." Pink. "Five." Pink. "Six." White. "Seven." Pink.

"Sharon... Sharon!" she gabbles, with a polite nervousness about her words as she exerts pressure on my hands to put the tub down. "Stop."

"Sorry darlin'." I smile as I oblige, shaking hair back from my eyes. "I just thought-"

Her shoulders sag, and the way she drops her gaze to the table tells me, rather uncomfortably at that, that I am being read. "Tell me what happened."

"Oh... I don't even know if I believe it." I tell her miserably, dropping my head into my hands and raking them through my hair, unintentionally messing it as it comes loose from the clip that Dennis so lovingly set against my head. "It's such a mess, but it... it made sense, to me... and I... Dennis just... we were..."

Not that I know how I would have assembled my words in a way that could have made Vicki understand everything to have passed between Dennis and I, but it doesn't matter apparantly because I'm cut off by the slamming of the front door. It's an instinct to look round, and I swear in that moment of realisation, my heart stopped beating and leapt up into my mouth.

Because there stands Dennis, drenched and shivering. God, I reduce him to such vulnerable messes. He must hate me. He seems to convulse as he meets mine and Vicki's imploring gazes but he shakes himself, the denim molded around his thighs scratching together as he walks, head bowed so as not to look at us, clearing his throat to disperse anything either of us may accuse of being heightened emotion we may attack. Vicki and me exchange a worried glance out the corner of one of our eyes, the other trained upon Dennis.

He turns towards the fridge and I take in the glassy appearance of those mezmerizing eyes. He... He doesn't want to be seen, I recognise the barriers he's wordlessly putting up to shield himself, but from what? Our questions, our hurt? Don't leave me out here darlin', please. Let me in.

Unable to ignore the way our glances are pleading with him, he pulls his hand back from the fridge and looks between us both, sat there rigid and expectant. A dubious smile plays across those beautiful lips, but only anger can beat if my chest. Because I know he's lying to me.

"What?" he laughs nervously.

As his eyes meet mine, I'm forced to look away, resting my chin against my palm and covering my mouth with my hand to keep the begging words back. Vicki realises that the duty to speak falls to her.

"Where... Where have you been?"

"Walking." he shoots back bluntly.

"But you... you left Sharon!"  

 I get a twinge in my neck as I feel myself being pulled back into the equation, my gaze falling venemously upon Vicki. I know it isn't fair, but I can already feel Dennis looking at me, his eyes searing into me. I didn't want her to bring attention to me. I know how Dennis feels. And I can see that tension has taken his lips now, his... his guilt hanging heavy in the air.

"Yeah." he murmurs tiredly. "I did, didn't I?"

His tone is just so devoid of... of anything. Shame, indifference, nothing. It's like he's crumbling beneath Vicki's mere address. And it's breaking my heart. He shrinks back as I rise from my chair, whimpering quietly.

"Dennis, please..."

And his lips quiver now, and I really think he might be about to break, but that's good because it means this coldness will leave him and I'll be here, and I'll catch him as he falls, I'll hold him together. I'll do anything if he'll just stay close.

But he's fighting me. He won't let himself be weakened, hardened now by everything to have hurt him. Everything I have done. He turns away from him so fast he almost overbalances, happy to find himself against the fridge. He straightens up, almost with a gasp of loving recognition, and he pulls open the door, leaning in and after much clanking, retrieving a half bottle of vodka.

My eyes widen as I watch the way he cradles it to his chest. No, he can't... he can't do this, he can't drink that. What could it possibly solve? I move forward on my toes, but he glares at me, warning me off as he lurches back.

"Dennis!" Vicki calls, simply because I cannot and she can read the desperation in my face.

"Save it Vicki alright? I'm going to bed."

Dennis' POV - 6:30a.m.

When I say bed, I obviously meant that I'd be curled up on my bedroom floor with my back to the wall, glugging back the necessary evil, its comforting taste mingling with the tears streaming down to my lips, leaving me no choice but to drink in their bitterness. Christ, will I ever give up crying? I never so much as had one even well concealed feeling before I rolled up here, I was cold and emotionless, and believe me, having to feel so much conflict all in one head space just makes me wish for it again. I guess that's why I'm drinking. I've drowned myself in this stuff so much I don't even like the taste that much anymore. It's habit, that's all, and right now, it's my only accessible comfort.

It numbs it all a bit. And if I can't feel then I won't be forced to realise how ashamed I feel, how confused. Because Vicki's right, I just abandoned Sharon, when I'd sworn blind I'd never leave her alone again, just because I couldn't handle... how much I wanted her. As she was kissing me, as I was kissing her, all I wanted was to touch her, caress her, bring out the woman I was sure was there. But our connection was so fierce, it was passionate and we were just... all over each other. For those few moments, sure it felt incredible, there was no room in my head for anything besides the bliss of it.

But I remember where uncertainty and the explosion of all those conflicting emotions bring Sharon and me. I gasp on another mouthful of the burning liquid, scrunching my eyes tight shut as it buzzes through my system, flooding my every sense, trying to blot out the pain of the memory. Because this is how we started out. Me, getting wasted in the dark, trying to forget her. Except she's not the one uncertain anymore. She was, just like the first time, but now she says she wants me. And I want her too, so fuckin' much. But yeah, she made the move on me the first time too, and I cannot take that hurt again. I won't betray what we had like that because Sharon... my Sharon, she'd never reject me now. She loves me. 

I won't take a stranger in her guise, when this stranger has all the power to shatter me in abandoning me afterwards. The afterwards I promised Sharon would never have to exist if she'd just let me close. But it was an afterwards I should have known I could never escape. I ain't invincible. If these past couple of nights have taught me anything, then that's it. I've never felt so fuckin' vulnerable in all my life and what's worse is that I know Sharon can see it. That's why I'm hiding out here.

Maybe the shame, the misery... maybe it's good that it takes me. It reminds me of who I am. Cos out in that summerhouse, I didn't know, I let myself get carried away in the idea that Sharon might actually want me. Really want me. But then.... it got heavy, she wanted everything she could take, pulling at my clothes and I... I remembered. I swore vehemently that I could never forget, but I did, in this head-rush of longing, I forgot that as she stood, clamouring for me, she also lost our baby. Because otherwise I'm under no doubt I'd never have stopped her and yeah, right on the canal bank, we woulda been at it. 

I can't let myself look on it in any other way, because it hurts too much to realise what I have left behind. But I couldn't just think for myself could I? Sharon's right, she was too desperate for what she didn't know, wanting to refamiliarise herself with every sensation while she might still want it. But it mighta done so much damage in every sense of the word. So am I really changed that much, to still be so helplessly driven by my own selfish desires?

I've been so wrong so many times, and I'm never made right just by reaching the bottom of a bottle. Cos that's where I am right now, and it hasn't even begun to touch on the raw pain of it all. My throat just hurts and my head's too heavy for me to even consider I am wrong anymore. But I'm still not right. I'm lonely. That's all I am. 

If booze won't do it, (I let the bottle roll listlessly on the floor, I have no need for it now) then maybe sleep in itself is my truest option. I drag myself up, but as my gaze falls upon the cold, rumpled sheets on my bed I feel sick. Here's me, heartbroken that I can't seem to let myself bring Sharon back to what we had, back to me and she wasn't even the last person to lie with me here. That was Zoe, and... Christ, how can all this have been such a short time ago?

Blindly, I wrench the sheets from the bed, shaking off the pillowcases and wrestling with the heavy duvet to remove the material covering it. All of it suddenly seems so contaminated without the reassurance of Sharon's warmth upon it. And all in this one frenzied attack, more tears spilling down, my room looks as if it's been destroyed. Well, why not? Everything else has.

So I hide away in the duvet, thinking that I wouldn't have done this since I was about eight, hiding away from my mum when she was off her face on about five times the amount of vodka I've just forced into my system, her latest bloke looking for a bit of entertainment, knuckles literally burning to swing into something.... or someone...

But whose gonna swing for me now? Vicki.... Sharon? How can I be so pathetic?

"Dennis?"

I jump as I hear the soft summons in the doorway, gaze flickering to Vicki moving carefully into the room. Her eyes glisten with tears that she cannot bear to cry as she takes in the image of me cowering childishly on the floor.

"Oh Dennis..."

Dennis' POV - 6:40a.m.

She sinks down next to me, and I can see the pity in her face. I hate it, and try wriggling back from her, just wanting to keep this warmth, keep alive the deception that it might be Sharon's as it envelopes me. But Vicki, I think she's spent too much time in my company recently, I don't like having a little kid one step ahead of me. But I'm beaten anyway, because she wrenches the folds of the duvet from my clawed hands and winds herself in next to me. And suddenly I feel like I'm the little brother and that she might be the one 12 years older than me, because as she draws her knees up to her chest, she's also slipping her arm around my back. Rubbing instinctively circles there, she offers me the comfort I could not otherwise find, and I nestle into her as we huddle there beneath the duvet, like we're playing a game of sit-and-wait, wondering if anyone else might dare to come and find us.

"You should be with Sharon." I murmur distractedly.

"So should you." she replies, not missing a beat.

I sigh. This girl, she's definitely determined to throw me, I mean... she can't believe that can she? She hates the idea of Sharon and me. Or is it only now she's encouraging it cos she knows I'm so weak I don't have the energy to secure what was mine. She knows I don't have the will to fight for the Sharon I remember, so she has nothing to fear. Or is it that she's spent this past night going between Sharon and me, quite literally split in two, wanting to console us both, seeing how shattered we are without each other, that she has no choice but to recognise that the two of us belong? Has she whispered the same words to Sharon that caress my ears? Is she trying to bring us together?

"Vicki..." I say, reluctantly lifting my heavy head from her shoulder.

"I don't wanna hear any excuses Dennis, I'd just like to know what the hell happened out there. No-one tells me anything and seeing as you won't talk to each other..." And she gives me this wide eyed look that says "It's be so much easier that way you know!"

"I can't."

"Why not? You decided to go with her you know, you said you'd look after her!"

"I thought I could Vicks, I really did... it was all I wanted to do, but... Jesus..." I rub my temples with the palm of my hand, swallowing the many words that lie in my mouth. "Look, how much do you know? What's Sharon said to you?"

"Nothing." she shrugs. "She won't talk to me, all I heard was that something... made sense to her but... not to you? Dennis, what was it?"

"I... uh... we..."

But the words truly are gone now, because... shit, did it? It made sense to her? Not just wanting what she couldn't remember herself? Sharon actually wanted... me?! I don't know whether to be ecstatic or terrified and the mixture is one of the tightest, most uncomfortable sensations possible.

Vicki inclines her head, trying to catch my eye as I struggle with my confession. Christ, I wish I knew how she would take this. "I... uh... we, what?"

"We... kissed."

Yeah, she struggles with it, flinching as she hears the words begin with, having to sink her nails into my shoulder to keep herself steady. But then she shakes her head, like she's trying to clear it.

"Well, that's.... good, isn't it?"

"Is it? Look, I don't wanna freak you or anything, but I ain't talking a polite peck. We were... all over each other, and I mean really, and it's so fucking confusing cos it was like... like the first time we- Vicki... she was tryin' t'pull my clothes off! And when I think how much I wanted to let her, just... touching her... her..."

Vicki gasps. She wants to be horrified and yet somehow is left with nothing except the words to plead: "Please tell me you didn't-?"

"No, we didn't! But I wanted to, Christ, I really wanted to... just to believe that she might want me after... everything, cos she was really starting to feel like Sharon again and I... I miss her Vicki, I really miss her."

"Well so do I!" she splutters. "But I haven't tried... mauling her!"

"But you're not in love with her are you?" I snap, shrugging her off. Nope, don't seem like she wants to brings us close again. She really is repulsed by it but then I guess I won't be too pleased to have to hear any sort of implication at Vicki's sex life.

"Oh, so is that the only thing you know to do when you're in love with someone Dennis?"

"What do you mean someone?" I hiss, realising how much like Sharon she sounds in those few words. "Sharon's the only one and... she kissed me alright! And I just... I didn't wanna let it go, and it just... went crazy.... and she's kissing me, yanking at my clothes, letting me know she wants... but I knew I couldn't... cos of the baby and I don't think she realised, maybe she didn't even remember, so I had to go! You don't know how much that killed me Vicks, walking away from her, telling myself not to turn back cos otherwise I'd just go back and I'd do it. And not only would I physically crucify her, rip her open maybe, I know that, if she's not Sharon... not ready to be Sharon, then just like the first time, she'd only reject me again, only this time I'd have betrayed the Sharon that was for some stranger that is and I can't take it! I can't shoulder the blame of hurting the woman I love when I don't even know where she is to hurt!"

Cooing softly with a voice cracking with the emotion that sways it, Vicki winds her arms around me again and encourages me to rest my head on her shoulder. Not quite so open to the idea of Sharon and me yet maybe, or maybe I was just too inarticulate in my explanations to make her understand. After all, she's had just as much to deal with as Sharon and me, if not more cos she's wanted to be there for both of us. Guess that what comes of falling so hard in love with your sister, the family simply can't divide.

"She's downstairs Dennis, you know that. She's right there, so please... just talk to her..."

Dennis' POV - 6:50a.m.

But I can't. I just can't. And Vicki's forced to realise that, pulling the duvet out from around herself and picking up the empty bottle, sighing as she promises to go and dispose of it as long as I promise not to go in search of more. Blowing my desire to remain uncommunicative out between my lips in a indifferent tone, I let her go. I've revealed too much of the agony of this to Vicki. It's not fair to expect her to carry it and for another, I remember all too well what happens when you let someone in on your feelings, someone you care about... someone you have dared to love. They hit out at you, they attack you and make you bleed out your every emotion leaving you cold. Cos that really is the best way to be. It's so much easier to be lonely. But it hurts. It hurts so much.

I curl up on the bare bed, quivering underneath the duvet. I feel so much like that little boy I never wanted to remember being, and I hate it, hiding out here as the tears spilling silently down my cheeks, every sob making me choke and causing the most terrifying pain to rip through my chest. But it's OK, it'll have to be OK. At least I recognise pain. My eyes itch and I long to sleep, but it terrifies me all at once. Everything terrifies me now, cos without Sharon there's no-one to care. So I don't sleep. I can't. I've been lying there for ten minutes, crying softly in the darkness, rigid. 

My spine kinda set itself that way as I heard Vicki whispering to Sharon on the stairs. Sharon murmured something about "going to bed" and I almost sagged with relief, because the poor darlin' sounds so tired. I can't imagine how drained she must feel. But then (and this was there the agony of lying like this set in) I realised that she'd be on the other side of the wall. And that had felt so suffocatingly near. She had moved heavily into her room and I heard the mattress creak in defeat beneath her, but then I heard nothing more, barely even her breaths and I just wished away the minutes with the help of the clock on my beside table, the glare of the neon digits burning uncomfortably against my eyes.

With a heaving sigh however, I realised I couldn't just expect sleep to take me and make it all OK. It was more likely that I'd just have to collapse. So, catching sight of the sheets left heaped on the floor, I pull myself up and decide that to ocuppy myself, I'll go and get myself some more; clean, laden with the chance to start over, or at least sleep easy. Collecting them together in my arms, I straighten my back and move out into the landing, pulling the door of the airing cupboard open and reaching in to lift out the laundry basket. Knocking the lid off, more than suffer the effort of having to neatly lift it, I push the tangle of the material down into its confines and heave it back; stretching up to rifle throw the folded sets of sheets rested on the shelves.

Pulling the necessaries carelessly out, I kick the door closed as I turn away, wincing as the volume of the impact, scrunching my eyes shut. I  step forward into this blindness and rebound off another. My eyes spring open and I'm met by Sharon, features fraught with the deep desire to sleep, to forget. Her eyes sparkle sadly in this non-light and they dart, not knowing whether to dare settle upon my face. Her lips flicker and dare to twist into a smile of apology that makes me squirm. I tear my gaze away and stare at the floor, scuffing the toe of my shoe into the carpet, my shoulders instinctively hunching. It's like I want to shrink back into myself. I'm not brave enough to be reached by Sharon yet. But it seems I have no choice.

"Sorry. I... I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." I confess, shaking my head gently.

"Do you want some help?" she offers slowly, her eyes travelling over the new sheets in my hands.

I smile tightly in spite of myself. Whoever she might be, Sharon knows I am the most undomesticated person in existence, Can't even make the bed myself. I twist my hip, slipping past her back towards my room. She sighs warmly, choosing to believe that I have wordlessly handed her permission to follow, and she pulls her dressing gown tighter around herself as she does so.

I'm already shaking down my pillows into the new cases by the time she is opposite me once again, looking piteously around, not that she can see so much of the desperation that lay here anymore. Cos it's all inside, screaming for her.

"How much did you put away in the end?" she asks distractedly, barely looking at me as she peels the duvet away to leave the mattress bare for the sheet.

"Just the cover... the sheet and the... pillowcases..."

The scathing way she looks at me in the next moment, lips twisted in irritation, a sneer of unamusement almost, makes me shiver.

"You know that's not what I meant." she mutters bluntly, leaning over to smooth down the edges of the sheet. "Or are you so wasted now you can't make sense of a simple question?"

I close my eyes as I throw the pillows back against the bed, letting her words sting as she should wish then letting them go over my head. "I'm not wasted."

"Then what are you? Here, hold this."

I clutch the corners of the cover as she feeds the edge of the duvet in, the material swallowing her whole arm as she shifts it round to the other edge, straightening it as she moves out, backing across the mattress. But still she stoops, as do I as we move round, pushing down the poppers. 

Neither of us have forgotten that I have yet to answer her and we look awkwardly at one another each time our eyes meet. My regret rises large and sore in my throat because I'm suddenly more aware than ever how beautiful she is, loving the way the glossy silk falls over her every curve.

Dennis' POV - 6:55a.m.

"I... I'm worried about you." I confess, beating away the creases in the duvet with my hands before I sink down onto it against my hip.

She sighs huffily, her hands rested lazily against her own hips. "Oh honey, that mighta been sweet once."

"What?"

"When I needed you to worry, when I wanted you to care, what did you do hmmm? You left me. Finally, in this whole mess, something feels right to me and you leg it. You left me alone with... everything, every thought. Do you know how terrified I was out there with all that, how terrified I still am?"

I shake my head gultily, nibbling on my lip to keep back words I know will only infuriate her. It's so hard even to look at her. "Tell me." I beg quietly.

And she's silent for a few tense seconds. I guess she wasn't expecting that one, knowing that I am too weak. But I just... want her to trust me with something and if it's all she's got right now, then her fear will do. I draw my knee up onto the bed as she hesistantly settles herself next to me.

"I... I said goodbye to... to the baby, to this perfect idea, this dream that I mighta been a mum, that I mighta made you happy because you'd be... a dad, and I... I coulda done with you then darlin', just to feel your arms around me, but you were too- don't you think I'm scared of what we-? I'm not sorry, I just... you don't know how much more I wanted-"

"Yes I do!" I jabber nervously, feeling a sweat breaking out across my forehead. "But Sharon, we couldn't-" And she scowls as she notices my gaze instinctively fall to her stomach.

"Why not Dennis? You think I haven't had time to think all this over, lying alone on that bed, like you were in here? Except I wasn't trying to drink it all away. Cos I don't wanna forget. Maybe this was special. The baby, the fact that you and me managed to make something that just belonged to... to us... you and me... maybe that... this precious thing I never thought I'd have... maybe that was enough to make me wanna kiss you eh? Because you did that, you gave me that baby. That makes you special too, no matter how much you drink to forget it!"

I'm caught between her words, the moment that holds them and the life I remember, how it used to be led. I want to tell her that she's the last thing I deserve because, Vicki's right. I've been such a fool. Sharon's just been waiting to... come home, she was there. And I've just been too afraid to realise it, to be there and wait for her because I was never sure if she'd want me. And she tried, out at the summerhouse. Misguided maybe, but wanting to bring me back nonetheless, just like I had with her. Why didn't I just hold on that little bit longer? Christ I'm so fucking selfish.

"Is it just that you... don't wanna touch me? Don't you care enough to...?" Each one of her stammered words stabs at me. She thinks I don't care. She sounds so tortured. And as I scan her face, I recognise her. I see Sharon. It's like I've been thumped in the chest. I can't breathe. The relief is like... I just wanna pull her into my arms, smother her in kisses and tell her how much I've missed her. Because I have. So much, I feel like I've died, with the memories, with our child, with the pain. But slowly, I can dare to breathe again. Because she's there.... my beautiful darlin'.

Yet these breaths still get caught painfully in my throat because her mezmerizing eyes sparkle with tears she cries silently. "Is it because you think Den was the last one to... oh Dennis, that's so unfair. I was confused darlin', and the truth of it is... oh!" She presses her head into her hands, sighing heavily, trying to pull in breaths that just won't steady.

"Sharon?" I murmur, shifting closer to her and daring to slide my arms around her quivering form, hoping and praying for my own selfishness that this might be what she still wants, needs. It seems so, and the hammering of my heart that we can both seem to hear stops abruptly as she nestles into me. The moment is passed to her and it seems to weigh her down. Her lip wobbes, she's almost pouting at the unfairness, the uncertainly. Affections purrs in my chest because that's... such a Sharon thing to do, and I've missed all these tiny little details because they died away when she was broken. And now she's here, with me, with the memories of what was, and the whole thing just needs piecing back together. We can do that can't we?

Sharon's reply is ready, oblivious to the questions I'm laying out for her in my head. Her voice is unsteady, she's upset, but that's alright, cos I'm here. I won't go anywhere, not this time. I lean down and kiss her crown gently, just hoping to reassure her.

"He didn't touch me did he darlin'?"

Sharon's POV - 7:00a.m.

The darkness terrified me. I could see all the thoughts dancing menacingly round in the shadows, taunting me, wanting to confuse me and make no sense. And for a while, that's all they did, as my tears fell and my head pounded. I wanted to understand why Dennis might have left me back at that summerhouse, when the passion with which his kiss came back to mine proved that he, even for just one intoxicating moment, might have actually wanted me. Then I had no choice but to work backwards, my cheeks burning with shame at the jealous way I treated Vicki once I realised I just wanted to bring back the memory of this man because he... he excited me, and a curiousity was flaming inside like I had never laid eyes on him before. But I knew I had, made to feel safe with him by the way he had been the one there at the worst times.

What was worse was that I knew he was on the other side of the wall right now, a mess only because he knew no other way to sort his head out than to drink. Irritation claimed the slant of my lips then, because I realised he wanted to push away the idea of our precious baby, our kiss. Because I still don't believe he'd have kissed me like that if he didn't at least think I could be the Sharon he remembers. Because I'm not nameless, I've been simply removed from what I have known for too long. I could never again be Den Watts' precious Princess. Having to think about him made nausea flood my stomach and I was sure I would be sick.

Scrunching my eyes against the intrusion of the nothingness, I took in deep breaths and forced myself to keep thinking. There is no doubt that the trauma he inflicted stole away the child I only wish I could have known to protect. But what exactly was that trauma? Do I even know? Recalling the crushing sensation of this weight, my chest went tight, and I curled up, left with only the instinct to protect what is left of me. But then, my stomach jolted, sending my whole body into spasm, like a charge had gone all through me to bring me out of this nightmare. Realisation dares to finally dawn, because in this haze of manipulated recollection, I heard his voice, speaking words I have not heard before.

"Princess? Princess, wake up now darlin', it's time to wake up."

All I knew in that next moment, as it seemed it had always been, I needed Dennis. I needed him so much it hurt. And here I am now, finally back in his arms. He sees now how much his touch means to me, that I need it to feel safe. I shake already with the misery, the pain of the truth, but as he kisses my hair, I really do tremor. Everything he does sends me reeling in the nost incredible way. So why... why would he stop? I confess my suspicions as the tears creep thick and fast into my voice.

"He never touched me did he darlin'?"

Dennis goes rigid and his breath gets caught in his throat. His arms fall away from around me, and I immediately regret having said anything, because I miss him and am immediately vulnerable without him. His hands come against my elbows and he helps me straighten up when I am so reluctant. He leans in a little and I am pulled forward into his eyes, that glitter manically as he searches for the certainity in my face.

"I don't know baby. Are you... Are you sure?"

"I..." I drop my gaze into my lap and again he stoops, this time sinking down to the floor, his expression loaded with the question as he maintains the eye contact. "I just don't think he... Dennis, when I started to... to bleed, I really thought- and Christ I was so scared. I saw Vicki could believe it and then you... you came in and you believed it too, so I just... I was so frightened.... of you, cos of everything he'd said and I'm sorry, I am-"

"Sharon-" he murmurs softly, tilting my chin and stroking my cheek. "-you don't have to be sorry."

"Yes I do!" I gulp. "I know how much I hurt you and I never wanted- well, I never wanted to lose my baby, but that's what I was doing. That's why I was bleeding wasn't it? Not because he- oh, he was right Dennis, my clothes, his clothes... how could he... when there was nothing wrong with them! He really didn't-"

The way Dennis looks at me says he's waiting on more words, but when I shake my head gently, he realises there are no more to come and pushes himself gently up and drops onto the bed besude me again, murmuring incoherently to himself as he pulls me back into his arms, littering my hair with kisses once more.

"But he gave you-"

"He just wanted to get me away from you, that's all he'll have wanted... to keep us apart." 

His whole chest heaves with the pressure of the sigh of relief he has wanted to breathe for so long. "Oh thank God!"

"Please Dennis, don't let him keep us- please don't let him do that to us anymore..."

"I won't, sweetheart, I won't." he whispers sincerely. 

I shift against him, made uncomfortable by the erratic way his heart pounds. I long to study his beautiful face, and as I lift my head, I see his eyes are overrun with sparkling tears of gratitude for my words. He smiles weakly as he catches me gazing at him, apparantly not even ashamed of the tears that mark his cheeks this time. 

"I swear it." he reasserts steadily, pushing hair lovingly back behind my ear. "Oh c'mere!" 

I gratefully sag back into his arms, and it feels so... sweet because for the first time in a long time, I know I'm right, about what Den did... or more what he didn't do. I just know it. And I know I'm right to lie in Dennis' arms. There is nowhere else I could be, nowhere else that would feel so right.

Dennis' POV - 7:05a.m.

Oh Christ, what to feel, what to feel. Relief? New surges of pure venom for the bastard to have nearly destroyed it all? Chokings seizures of both? I hold Sharon tight in my arms, as content to have her there as she is to lie there. And it feels so good after this suffocating fog of both confusion and pain, just to know that she wants to be close and that she... she was never... hurt. She says it, and I'll believe it. I will, cos I never wanna feel pain like that again, I never wanna have to imagine her being in pain like that, tortured by the unknown. I send up a silent prayer that she might stay here, trust me to keep her safe this time. Because all she wants to do is come back to what she knows. And I'll take her, I will, if only cos I love her with my every wasted breath.

Nerves stir as she wriggles against me, pushing herself up, her gaze levelling with mine. And just the way her eyes sparkle with such passionate certainity makes my pulse race, and I'm on fire. We can barely manage a breath to pass between us as we wait for the moment we know we must bring forward. A gentle sigh escapes her deep-coloured lips and she moves forward, the pads of her thumbs caressing my face, making my skin burn. Her touch is... it's not gonna lie anymore. I can believe it now, I can believe anything, because I... I have her back. I just know it. My darlin' has come back to me.

And her smile breaks out as she leans in towards me, both of us knowing we have to take this moment. I don't wanna run anymore. I just wanna live this dream. And as her lips take mine, this time, I allow myself to take in the every sensation and it feels so... so incredible, because it's true and Sharon's right, this is right, and just to touch her... this is... this is everything.

She edges softly back, her lips teasing my earlobe as she whispers, in that innocent way that makes me long to protect her forever. I can't stop the injustice pounding in my head that screams that I've already failed her.

"Forgive me baby, please say you forgive me."

I laugh nervously. I wish she'd stop this. There's nothing I could possibly ever forgive her for. Guilt kicks, but is eclipsed by the realisation she just called me "baby". Oh Jesus, I love her so much right now. I have to bite down into the cushion of my lip as her own move across the slope of my neck, trailing the sweetest kisses across my desperate flesh. And this time I don't wanna stop her. I want everything she wants to give. I never want her to stop.

"You've... mmm.... I've missed you... you've been gone for too long... far too long..."

"And I'm sorry. Just... don't let me go."

"I won't." I murmur, tilting my head to give the comfort of her lips better access as I search out her hand, creeping across my thigh. I flip up her hand and drop mine on top, slipping my finger through hers and tremoring all the more as I realise she's squeezing my hand tight, her thumb going gently up and down across my snared knuckles. And just in this one simple, innocent touch, I know I'd give anything just to keep her here. I go through the fires of Hell just to keep hold of her hand, just to know that she could want me like this.

I'd have been on my knees begging for my one chance if that's what she woulda wanted, pleading for these sensations with every breath she brings out of me, wanting to know how many might be left, how many I'd sacrifice for her. And the answer is undoubtedly every one. She can have anything, I'll give anything. But I'll never give up. Not now, because in the caress of her lips, there's hope.

She moves up to meet my lips again, and I receive her with all the tenderness I have. I need her to know I mean this, that it would kill me if I couldn't see her anymore. Because she's there, I see her in those enchanting eyes. The window to the soul they say, and I can't tell you what it means to me to see she's not so broken. She's healing. My darlin' is healing.

But as she pushes me back against the bed, the pressure of her shivering form against me as I sink down, her breath gets caught in her throat and it's all she can do to look at me. She's frightened almost, but when it's us, me & Sharon, there's just no room for it because never was so much love held in one glance. She'll never know how much I need her.

"Hey..." I whisper gently, catching my palms around his face as she moves down to me again. "...breathe."

"I don't wanna breathe." she gasps dismissively, kissing me in the next moment like she might never again, making my lips tingle with the ferocity she bruises them. "I just wanna be with you."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere... I'm never leaving you again."

"You said that before... you said you love me, but you... mmm.... don't even know who I am..."

It feels unnatural to have her kissing me as she scolds me, but I just can't bear to make her stop. I need her kisses too much. But inside I'm squirming with the shame.

"Sharon..."

"Shhh! It's alright. Even if you're not sure, I am. I know I belong to you, so you... you're just gonna have to give me this moment baby, please just let me have this kiss..." 

I can feel the smile taking over my lavished lips, already missing her. She lifts herself up and down to my willing mouth, stealing away every kiss she plants there, however hard I try and hold her to make every whisper more permanent.  

"...and this one... and this one... and this one..."

Dennis' POV - 7:10a.m.

This feels like a dream. Everytime she edges back to draw in breath, such a little way that her nose rubs affectionately against mine, it's like I want to scold her for taking her kiss away. Why the hell would I want the chance to breathe when I could be kissing her, kissing her with my last breaths? Christ, that'd be the most perfect way to go. But I ain't dying, I'm coming alive all over again; it's like this power that only Sharon holds. 

She really is a part of me, and I believe that our baby, even though the cruelty of some divine power decided we would not raise it, love it; I believe that the baby proves how right we are for each other, that we're meant to be together. Because that baby was part of me, and part of Sharon, this perfect little life. With that baby, we were destined to be part of each other, and now that my beautiful girl is home, that's how it's always gonna be.

Even with the passion our crushed lips evoke, there's such tenderness in every touch all at once that we're both quivering. I would have wondered whether this was too much for her, whether she was only wanting to pull back, take in that one sobering breath and stay back. But the suspicious squirming on the floor of my stomach was eased each time her lips took mine again. Always over eager to kiss her, God of course I am, I need to rediscover every breath that's passed between us these last couple of nights, because in them I bring back the memories of this Sharon, my Sharon; the woman I wanted from the moment I first saw her.

Does that make me twisted? Sat in that cell, simply waiting for the day I'd be able to get up and wander into this Albert Square and play at happy families. I'd try to say right from the off that wasn't what I wanted, and even now I'm confused because... it had always been a craving that I guess had come from idolising the father I'd never known, but simultaneously, I was fantasising about the moment I could be here, like this, pulling Sharon down onto me, taking her kiss for my own, able to believe every emotion that came out of it.

Yeah right, Dennis Rickman, caring about emotion? Apparantly so. And tonight, I've hated so often and so much that I have been made to feel in falling in love with Sharon, but I know now that that in itself was just the greatest thing. Because I can kiss her, knowing she's kissing me, and I can touch her, hands caressing every curve, knowing she wants me to, moaning softly and making my lips tingle. This is why I always needed her so much, cos with this innocent touch, she's made me everything I ever wanted to be.

And she even... she even made me a father. We made a baby, me & her, and she'll never know how incredible that makes her either. She's given me everything, and I'm taking it as gospel that she never wants me to let her go, cos I don't wanna either. She's everything, everything I need. I just wanna be carried away, to drown in the perfectness of her kiss. We don't have to say a word to each other, because me, holding her here, gasping desperately for her return everytime she chooses to breathe rather than take my neglected lips, shows her that I'm not gonna run this time, because this is what is right... for us.

But I feel her spine go rigid as there is a creaking on the stairs. Blood pounds in my ears and my breath dies in my throat, and this time not in the way of being so immersed in Sharon's kiss. I feel sick, stiffening too as the raised floorboard by the radiator sounds out. And then, there's Vicki's apprehensive summons.

"Sharon? Sharon?"

In reply, Sharon averts her gaze from mine and mutters testily; "Shit."

And she moves off, and panic immediately roars. I guess this is what I deserve because I left her, but she doesn't have to... I thought she wanted...? I struggle up and swing my legs, heavy with forced sleep, to the floor, wincing as they tingle. But I don't have time to care about that cos... she's going to go. I reach out for her, and she whirls round, like she barely realises I'm still here.

"Just ignore her! Sharon please... you don't have to go!"

She cocks her head, studying my face with those sparkling eyes. This makes the clip against her head roll to the side, more hair spilling out, falling around her face, and still she looks so beautiful that she's breaking my heart. Because I know she'll go. She wants me to feel some of the pain I left her to feel. Oh Christ, please, don't do this to me! This gentle smile plays on her lips, and I wonder, can she see the desperation, is she simply waiting to watch my heart break? Please, don't hate me that much. I... I love you.

But then, with this amused little sigh, she leans forward, and I deliberately seize the silky belt of her dressing gown to make sure she knows I don't wanna let her go. Never again, please never again. I tilt my head up to look into her face, maybe implore her to stay. And still those eyes are sparkling, torturing me. Lifting a warm hand, she rests it against my cheek, strached with all those tears, caressing it gently. Is her touch back to lying?

"If you want me darlin'..." she murmurs softly, stooping so that she can taunt me by catching my lips with hers, desperate for her. She draws back, and I flinch, realising I have fallen forwards with her retreat, desperate to retain the sincerities of her kiss. "...then you know where I'll be..."

Sharon's POV - 7:20a.m.

The shimmering of his captivating eyes scares me. Because I have to go. He knows I do. Vicki's calling for me, and for her to come in here, find Dennis and me tangled together in the innocent desperation to touch, to kiss and be close when we have been emotionally seperate for so long, I'm so scared she'll make me doubt him. This reunion is tentative, right now it's all I want, all I can believe in but one word, from anyone, and I believe I'll lose myself again, and him with it. So maybe I should have clung to him, begged him to kiss me until I had no room for any thought besides how much I need him, want him.

But maybe I need to prove to him that I really am who he wants, that I'm Sharon, that I can be strong. And maybe he needs to prove to me that he can be strong too, and if he means it, if he sees me, and if he wants me, maybe he needs to prove that this time he'll come to me before it's too late, that he'll hold me in his arms and that I'll be able to believe him when he says he'll never let me go, that he'll keep me safe forever.

And I'm scared because I slide out from the room like I'm shrouded in guilt when all I wanna do is stay with him. And I don't know that he'll bother to find me again. Because he tried, he tried when I was stolen away from him, and he was greeted by a cold, accusing stranger. Is he like me, does he believe that even Vicki can break me now?

I meet her on the bright landing, having shuffled a few paces across the carpet. Injustice beats in my chest as I realise that rather than get up and follow me, try and protect me, force me back to his kiss and all its sanctities, Dennis has in fact leapt up and slammed the door angrily shut after my departure. And Vicki and me flinch in unison as we hear several consequent crashes that sound as though he's trashing his room. Easy baby, I wanted you to come to me afterwards, that was all, please... calm down.

Vicki, however, doesn't see fit to entertain the idea that I might have just left his room and smiling hesistantly reaches over to take up my hands in hers, whsipering weakly; "There you are. I was worried."

I shake my head, trying wordlessly to let her know that there was really no need. But as I watch the shadows playing across her face, I realise how very tired she looks. She needs to sleep with the same urgency that I need to feel Dennis' kiss again, to believe the every sensation. And yet, she is the one leading me round to her room, pushing open the door and pulling her knees up to her chest as she sinks onto the bed. 

She wriggles round, her legs rested to the side, and she looks up at me, patting the bed. I smile only through her expectation and settle myself opposite her only through obedience. I cross my legs, fiddling with my hands in my lap, just to keep my eyes averted from hers, my shoulders hunched in that defensive way that says whatever she wants, I have no words to give her.

"Did he... Did he talk to you?"

"Hmmm?" I answer distractedly, not really hearing her.

"Dennis, did he talk to you? I know he cares that he left you out there, whatever it seemed like when he came down for the-"

"Did he finish the bottle?"

The look on her face is one of pain. The corner of her mouth is twitching and I just know she can't decide whether to be amused or look devestated. Cos she knows I don't need her to answer me. But she does, laying it out exactly as it stands in my head.

"This is Dennis..."

"Yeah, yeah it is."

"He's been so cut up Sharon, and I know I really didn't help-" She tears her gaze away guiltily, and I choke, like I'm realising everything that has gone by for the first time. The jealousy is back, born out of something as sick as the actions that removed me from his love.

"You kissed him!" I hiss.

"Sharon, I-"

"He's mine Vicki, don't you know it's me he wants? You're... You're his sister for f*ck's sake!"

"Well, so were you 48 hours ago! It's not because I wanted to, I just... I didn't wanna believe it could all be happening again. I was crazy and I know I shouldn't have but he... he's forgiven me, so please, just-" Then she sighs, her words apparantly having deserted her. "You were meant to be our sister..."

"Your sister darlin', yes. But I was meant to have his baby. You can't have forgotten about our baby..."

"Of course I haven't!" she insists, lips quivering miserably. "It's just... we never thought you could did we?"

"And what would you have done if I had hmmm? What if you'd found out about it earlier and it was still inside me, still growing? Would you have let Dennis and me be a family without you?" 

She shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, and I do feel guilty cos I know I'm hurting her, laying out impossible, painful questions like this. Just like the first time, it will feel like I'm pushing her out in favour of something that can make no sense to her. But maybe I have to know. Because she's making no sense to me either. One moment she's helping me, then she wants to take Dennis away and then she's throwing us together even though it still seems she can't stand the idea of us. So what would she have made of our baby?

"I... I don't know."

"You've had to tell Dennis I still love him haven't you? When I was being awful to him, when he could never have believed I was the same person, you had to tell him I was still there didn't you... still the person he loved?"

"Yeah." She lifts her head in one heavy sweep, the bones in her neck creaking with the exertion.

"Did you want the person I am back Vicki? Or were you hoping I'd always be too scared of what I'd felt for him, that I'd never go back to him?"

"No!" she bleats, face already shining with the threat of tears to come. "Well I... I might have been, but that was so long ago Sharon. You don't know what I had to watch. When he... when he saw you in that bath, your blood trickling down to the floor... I was nearly sick but he... he just went white. It wasn't just the colour draining from his face, it was the hope. We really thought you were dead, that we were too late, and I realised, Dennis has only ever had hope because he had you. And he couldn't lose you... well neither could I, but you're everything to him. It was like he was possessed. He just jumped into the bath, water went everywhere, he was soaked, but he didn't care, he just pulled you up from the water, holding you, telling you he loved you, that you couldn't leave him. And even though you weren't dead, you had left him because you... you hated him. And Jesus Christ Sharon, I've never seen anyone so broken as Dennis was out on the landing, and I dressed you for God's sake. And right then, I knew I couldn't be such a selfish little brat anymore. All I ever wanted was my brother and sister, but you... you weren't my sister anymore, and without you... without you, Dennis wasn't the brother I knew either. So you do, you have to go back to him..."

She has begun to cry her tears now, and I can feel compassion stirring and it is such a beautiful emotion. Whether she wants it or not, she knows that Dennis and me belong together in every sense because we're not... we're not right without each other, she said so herself. And I hate to remember that I might have hurt him so much. But he forgives me too. He forgives Vicki for being so confused and desperate as to kiss him to steal him away from what feels right between us, and I can only pray that he can forgive me for so vehemently denying that same perfectness thanks to Den's well orchestrated poison. The poor darlin' has too much goodness in him than can be fair if he can forgive us both. And I love him for that, I do, I love him so much. And that in itself feels more incredible than anything I have ever felt before.

But Vicki has still left one questioned unanswered.

"Are you glad Dennis and me don't have a baby to bring home Vicki?" 

Sharon's POV - 7:30a.m.

Her mouth hangs agape, but all I can focus on is the fact she has said nothing, and I can't even console myself with the idea that maybe she just doesn't know how. I begin to feel painfully cold just to be in her presence, stabbings of pain attacking me all over and making my skin tingle in the most uncomfortable of ways. And again, all I know is that I need Dennis. I'll rush back, to his arms, force him to unclench his fists, to save the pain across his knuckles and just to hold me, to whisper to me in a way that will comfort, make me believe that everything can be alright as long as we are together, as long as he knows that someday, somehow, I'll make up for every painful moment he believed me to be lost forever. If all I can be offered while I am here is the cold embrace of silence, then yes, I will run back to Dennis. He will have me won't he?

Glaring at Vicki, hoping that the pain I know resides in my eyes as she looks frightfully back at me will transfer to her own innocent flesh, and I scramble forward, trying to plant my feet upon the floor, but she lurches for me at the last moment available to her. I almost yelp in surprise, at the horror of it, but sit back against the bed, my spine so straight it hurts.

"You really wanted that baby didn't you?"

"Of course I did. It was mine."

"And Dennis'." she says simply, like I might not have been aware of it. I scowl instinctively.

"And that means everything."

"But Sharon, you were... you were disgusted, you hated him, you said you didn't want it!"

"Do you know me at all?" I quiz scathingly, and she shrinks back, stung, hanging her head like a scolded little girl. "The real me? You know all I ever wanted was a baby. Back then, I was hurt, I was confused, your father had poisoned me against everything... everything that was ever right in my life! But just the fact that Dennis got me, some barren borderline alcoholic... he got me pregnant. And I know to some people that means nothing, sleep with anyone, just the once and wow, pregnant!"

"I do know Sharon." she mutters, cheeks flaming. And it's only then I remember. Slowly she dares to meet my eye and I smile apologetically.

"But I loved Dennis Vicki, I must have done because I... you might not believe this, but I gave up putting it about years ago. And if Dennis got me pregnant, if it was him I trusted to give me a baby when I never believed it would happen, then I loved him. And I love him still because I know how happy he would have been if I could brought our little miracle home to you, Auntie Vicki. Please don't say you coulda blamed something as innocent as that, not when Dennis & me can't love it. Maybe, if it how you really feel, maybe I coulda coped with it if I had my baby, cos I coulda taken them and gone with Dennis, but I... I have no baby Vicki and I barely have Dennis, so please, don't hurt me."

She chokes on something that can't quite become either a sob or a laugh, tears sparkling on her milky skin. She shakes her head desperately and gazes back at me. "I could never have begrudged you your baby Sharon. If a baby woulda meant that you & Dennis coulda been happy then I... please, you have to know if I'd known, I'd never have called, I'd never have kept Dennis away from you and then Dad could never have-"

"Shhh!" I demand shakily, realising only too painfully what she's trying to say. I cover one of her hands with mine, pressing it firmly into the duvet. "You didn't know Dennis would answer the bloody phone did you darlin'? It was me who sent him to find you because he couldn't bear the thought of losing you..."

"But it's because of me that he nearly lost you and you're everything to him! I... I made him lose his baby!"

"I lost the baby Vicki, so Dennis' pain, it's my responsibility, not yours and I want you to know that your dad, he never... I only ever bled because I was losing my baby. And I have to know that you're OK with Dennis and me, because I need him now. I need him more than I've ever done, even with everything with Zoe..." I scoff quietly, muttering; "That all seems so long ago now, means nothing, not compared to-"

"Sharon?" she murmurs gently, basically trying to bring me back to my point, otherwise I'm gonna ramble and wind myself up and cry and cry and cry.

"He deserves to be a dad. He'd be so good. And now I know I can make it happen, I want to because it feels right. I want to give Dennis a baby, Vicki. Our baby. But I can't do that if you'll hate us for it!"

"Would..." She has the question ready, we know it, but at the same time I can read the disbelief in her face. I know what she's thinking. And I hate that it makes sense. 

She's barely lost this baby, thinking it was given to her by a man who is basically her father, and she's already planning the next one because sometime in the past hour, she's finally realised that all that poor bastard is the one whose loved her with all he's got, even when she forgot how much she loved him too. She broke him, she'll hurt him. And there's nothing I can do about it, because they have to be together. Or they'll be broken forever, and I can't pick up the pieces. Only they know how they fit.

"....Would it make you happy?"

"So happy." I tell her certainly without a beat before my reply has left my mouth, nodding my head. 

Why do I feel like a child trying to convince its mother of the validity of the craziest desires? I'm not crazy anymore, and I'm not a child. I'm the mother, I just want a baby to love. And I know now that I can do it. To lose is to have had. So I want to have a baby so that I may bring a smile to my sweetheart's face when it is that I might be able to hand him this squirming little bundle and say "There you go Daddy" and know that I'm not the one forever destined to be relegated to the role of "Auntie Shall" - because I'll be Mummy at long last, mother of the child born to the most loving father ever created.

Vicki picks awkwardly at the duvet, rolling up balls of the fluff as she fights to discover the words. She forces in a painful sounding breath of air and lifts her head to my expectant gaze once again.

"I'm not gonna stand in the way of your happiness again Sharon. If that's... If that's what you want, then that's how it has to be isn't it?"

"No, Vicki, don't say it like that darlin'. I need to know you can be happy too."

"I will be!" she asserts brightly. "As long as you & Dennis are..."

Sharon's POV - 7:35a.m.

I realise now that I can go back to him. I can get up knowing that my precious baby sister, once so tortured by everything I have felt for her brother, is going to be alright. And me, I can make it alright, as long as Dennis, in turn, wants to come back to me, take me in his arms and let me whisper my dreams, hand them to him and wait to see what he wants to do with them. Toss them out, or weave them through his own? I'd love to know what he dreams of.

Get up I do, the dull pang in the centre of my chest screaming out how desperately I am missing him, even when he hasn't moved from the confines of his room. The crashing has died away now, but still, what a state the place must be in by now. I turn back to Vicki, now settled against her knees and framing her damp cheeks with my warm palms, I plant a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

"N'night sweetheart." I murmur, stepping back towards the door and slipping out, drawing it to behind me.

"Night."

And as the door clicks, I allow myself to breathe at last, except it escapes me as more of a heaving sigh that tightens my chest and I... I feel sick. Dennis is close. He's no more than ten steps away, but however much I want to, I know I can't just go in there and demand that he love me. I'll have done nothing but confuse him, hurt him and burden him. I realise that and I never wanted to do anything like it. He needs time, to assess what matters, what it is he wants. 

All this has been just two nights, but it's changed our lives, us as people. And it's gonna be a long time til we know whether that's good or not. Cos we're gonna have to deal anyway, there's nothing we can do to change any of it back. So I have to go back to my own room, maybe at last succumb to the suffocating need to sleep. I don't wanna just function anymore, I wanna be able to survive, to live. But I left the ball in Dennis' court. It's up to him whether we live this life together.

Collapsing beneath my own covers once again, embraced by the warmth they offer, feeling myself tingle gratefully as I burrow down into it, I know that I'm kidding myself if I think I'll sleep, however seductive the offer is right now, my eyelids instinctively heavy. I did not sleep until Dennis was around me last time, and even then I was too captivated by the image of him sleeping angelically next to me to be troubled too much by the idea of sleep. And I wonder now what he was dreaming. Was he dreaming of me... the idea of our future together?

My lips move without me realising, whispering out my prayers repeatedly, sounding as though the words fall from another mouth.

Please still want that baby. Come back to me. I'm right here, you know I am, please come back.

And once again, the shadows that the menace of the sunlight creates dance on my walls, teasing me, taunting me and never bringing me Dennis. Tears sting in my eyes and I realise how pathetic I am. I can't bear to go to him because I believe I will be rejected in favour of simplicity. It's happened before, and I could never blame him for doing it again. I need him so much, but I just can't... and he's not going to come either. Damn me, I handed him a blatant opportunity to back out, and he's legged it, just like back at the summerhouse.

But oh, I'm such a fool. I didn't realise what I'd done and now I've lost him, I know I have.

I roll dejectedly over onto my side, pulling the thick duvet with me, hardly caring for the uncomfortable heat hidden in summer nights. Yeah, right, at nearly eight in the morning? The sunlight stings at my eyes as it floods through the window and I am blinded, trying to fight off the rays, my eyes scrunched tight as I feel it burn on my eyelids. As it lessens, I allow myself to slowly, cautiously open my eyes again. 

And I almost jump as I register the sorry, hesitant figure stood just inside my door. Relief hits almost instantaneously however, and I cough weakly just as my stomach begins to wriggle. Struggling up and resting against my elbows sunk down into the pillow, I pull back the curtain of hair, blinking furiously as if trying to disperse the sleep that has yet to exist in my eyes, to teach myself to believe he cannot really be there.

"Dennis..."

The denim of his jeans scratches together and he wrings his hands as he takes those few apprehensive steps towards me. But he takes too long. If he really is here, then I need him closer, and I need him sooner. So I edge back on my hip, straightening one arm and offering him my hand. He studies it dubiously for a moment, but the corners of his mouth lift in understanding as he reaches over and slips his fingers through. I clasp him tight, just to feel him, and he lets me draw him foward. 

Still clutching my hand, stroking my fingers with the ones of his other hand, he sits, resting against my legs, whispering; "Hey." 

Dennis' POV - 7:30a.m.

I can't help it, being so suspicious like this. I hate being so paranoid, but I feel like all I have done is lose her over and over again and now she's gone. Was she simply waiting for her chance to escape? Would it truly have been so awful for Vicki to find us together, like we should be? It wasn't as though we were mauling each other, it was all so painfully innocent, everything I needed. And now it's gone. And I hate so much that I can feel tears stinging in my eyes, that I'm getting so wound up, so angry. Because really it's simple enough. She left and left me with her kiss, murmuring that this time I knew exactly where she'd be. So she wants me to get up and go back to her when she's done with Vicki's interference, is that it?

Why couldn't she have just left it, stayed with me? What's Vicki's problem anyway; she knew that Sharon had to be in one of seven rooms of this house. This time she wasn't gonna have just disappeared, have been stolen from us. She was safe and for those few minutes, searching out the sincerities of my kiss, she was happy when she hasn't been happy in so long. Happy to be with me.

And I can hear her and Vicki murmuring tiredly to one another, but I can't make out any words from the distance to Vicki's room and I hate that too, because I don't know that Sharon's not pleading with her to save her from where she has found herself, tangled in my oh so willing arms, the collision of her kiss making it so hard, for us both. Maybe she still just wants to feel, and maybe Vicki, maybe Vicki still wants to believe that we simply cannot be together.

So I can't stop myself mindlessly flinging CDs, pillows, photos, whatever it is I might reach, to the floor in this confused rage, just needing to block out that insistent, indecipherable whispering. Because how do I know that if I go after Sharon when she leaves Vicki's room that she's not allowed herself to be filled with poison once again? I know that Vicki would never mean to do it, but maybe she's just reverting to type. She never believed Sharon and me were right together did she? So she'll be trying to take her away from me when I barely had her back, and I can't fuckin' bear it.

It's like all my strength is gone, and I feel too many emotions to experience them all, numb instead as I wait, praying that my darlin' is strong enough to believe, to know that she belongs with me. That's what she said as she stole my kisses, she said she knew, but I...

My spine locks as I hear Vicki's door creak. I watch the intrusive sunlight leap and bound across my wall, unaffected, unmoved. Cos I know I'm gonna have to get up. I miss her. I miss Sharon and now know she's waiting on me, so I... I have to go to her. If I want her, I know where she is. No worrying for her safety, only petrified for the likelihood of our future together as I psych myself up to prove it all to her. 

But I'm so scared that all I'm doing is laying myself open to her next rejection, fuelled by confusion and mistrust. Yet I promised myself I could never give up on the idea of us, not once I was made sure that Sharon was really back. I'm shivering with the panic of it now, knowing I can't escape her test if I want to keep her. That's what it is, it's a test. She went to Vicki to prove her strength of mind to me, and I have to prove the strength of my love by going back to her. But what if she wasn't strong enough? Love alone saves no-one from nothing. And while I'm not assured of how Sharon feels, I'm not safe either. I have to get up, I have to show her what she means to me.

My chest goes tight even as I move the few measly steps out of my room into hers, the sunlight attacking me once again. So there I stand, blinded in the doorway, shoulders hunched, petrified. And there she lies, curled up in a defensive little heap underneath her covers. Her chest rises and falls just as it should as she sleeps, and Christ I'm so glad she does. I know I should go back, leave her to her peace but she's so mezmerizing. She always looks so beautiful as she sleeps and I want so much to creep closer and admire her, but my legs are locked. I'm pathetic. So scared I can't even move.

My heart hammers wildly as she murmurs, rolling over onto her hip, the duvet shifting around her. And suddenly, those glittering emerald pools are upon my face, pulling me in, and I know she's got me. But does she know that?

"Dennis..." she murmurs thickly, pulling herself up onto her elbows and dragging her hands through her messed hair, blinking her way through this haze of sleep that might make her believe I don't stand in front of her. My stomach sinks with that thought. She thought I wouldn't come back to her.

And I think that maybe I should just go, she obviously had no faith in me, in us, so has she trained herself not to want me? Are we done? It seems not because she notices my hesitation and straightens her arm, offering her hand. And somehow, I manage to get myself within touching distance, and she takes my hand, squeezing it fiercely. She really doesn't believe I'm here at all and that smarts, but at least she wants me close. But she's nervous, circling her ankle, her toes nudging against the ridges of my spine as I stare into my lap, stroking her fingers with my other hand.

"Hey."

Sharon's POV - 7:40a.m.

The words come out wrong, they're not the ones I should be saying, because I'm just so relieved that I could collapse into his arms and rest easy there forever. But all I can manage is "What are you doing here?"

He laughs gently, stung as he begins to splay my fingers. "Nice to see you too darlin'."

"I'm sorry." I mutter awkwardly, pulling strands of my hair back. "But...?"

"This is where you are isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

He smiles coyly, lips so soft and inviting. God, if it was ever possible, he's too beautiful. "Then I guess this means I want you don't it?"

My next breath comes out a soft, disbelieving laughing sigh. It's everything, every emotion tumbling out all at once because at last I can dare to believe that I'm going to be alright. I scramble up, pain coarsing down my back, but I shove the sensation away. I can't hurt, not now. I sink back onto my knees and Dennis shifts to accomodate my new position, thankfully never releasing my hand. I don't know what I would have done if he'd let it go.

I scan his face, not being able to stop myself looking for signs of trickery, but all that looks back at me is the pain of his sincerity. The poor darlin' is actually frightened. I love that I can recognise that, that I might know him. And I love even more that he... that he loves me.

It's all I can do to lift myself up and, well, launch myself at him really, desperate beyond all explanation to be back in his arms again. And as he takes me, winding his arms around me, pulling me as close as I might rest, oh God...

I cling to him, my arms tight around his neck, the pads of my thumbs moving up and down the back of his neck in that way he knows he can make me quiver. I nestle into his shoulder, intoxicated by the sharp scent that exudes from his skin. It's so.... incredible. And he leaves a welcoming kiss at the base of my neck, cooing into my ear, making me tingle. I'm falling, I can feel it. Into this moment, I'm falling so deep. And that's fine because I'm... I'm falling for him. There's no bottom to reach. If Dennis is here, I know this can go on forever. That's all I want, that's all I need.

"Dennis? Do you... Do you think you could... st-still love me?" I plead brethlessly against his ear. Please baby, make me believe it.

The corners of his mouth flicker against my skin as he laughs gently, unable to fight off a smile. It's several moments before he moves back and I go cold because still he's silent and his embrace is dying away. In a moment, I'm vulnerable again. He can't leave me out here.

He cocks his head a little and his eyes sparkle like crazy as he looks at me, like his every breath has been pulled out of him at my one desperate request.

"Is that what you want?"

I nod dumbly, feeling myself flush, feeling so very stupid. "I... I know he tried but you... you're the only person I've ever really been sure of and.... you're nothing to do with him are you? And you're everything to do with me. What we had... we had a baby... so whatever we were must have been special... let's make it be like it was."

He bites down into the lip I am so eager to caress with my own, and the nerves instinctively stir as he gently shakes his head. "I... I don't know. Sharon, even if it ain't worth breaking, I can't just hand over my fuckin' heart when I don't know-"

He's been staring into his lap, playing with my hand like he don't realise it's attached. But that's alright, cos it means I could edge closer to him, slip my fingertips beneath his chin and tilt his head so that he will look at me, his piercing eyes going right through me. I wonder if he can, I hope he can read me as I surrender to the desire to kiss him. If he can't make me believe in this like I woulda wished, then it's up to me. He's not gonna pass me by, I won't let him. I move my hands up to around his jaw, holding him steady as I edge back, the gentlest whisper of a kiss left upon his neglected mouth. And I incline my head, resting it against his, loving the way our noses can't help but rub affectionately together.

"I love you. And somewhere, you know I've loved you all along. And I'm so sorry that I doubted us baby. I never meant to. But I miss you. You've missed me too haven't you, hmmm? Your Sharon? Cos I'm right here and... please just say you can love me too..."

My cheeks flame again and I stare into my lap, taking in the way he's tremors as he holds fiercely onto my hand. I tuck hair behind my ear faster than it can fall around my face. The silence hurts, and I look into his eyes through nothing but the terror.

He's taking too long, I'm too late. I should never have made him wait on my love. He can't... he can't say it.

Gasping quietly, he scrunches his eyes shut, maybe to block out the glare of the sunlight as it dances around us, the intrusion of my pleas. He's almost wincing as he opens them again, laughing doubtfully as he throws himself back against the bed, tossing my hand away.

"F*ck Sharon, I've... dreamt about you saying that, wanting to hear me say it, you staying and never wanting me to let you go but I... I'm dreaming... you don't wanna be with me..."

"Yes I do. And I'm going to stay Dennis. If you're gonna be here then you have to believe I'm not gonna leave you."

"Why not? You still think you can save me? Because you really don't need to bother. I don't deserve it, I couldn't save you could I, or our baby...?"

"Shhh!" I insist shakily, wanting to push his words away and take what I know belongs to us. 

I'm reduced to crawling across the duvet and molding myself around his form as I curl up beside him. And his chest heaves all the more, his breaths quick and shallow. I can feel him tremoring as I scoot closer, my warm quivering lips teasing his earlobe.

"Hold me." I whisper slowly, praying he can feel the need, the sincerity in my words, now that I know that they are all my darlin' has dreamt of. "And don't ever let me go..."

Dennis' POV - 7:50a.m.
 
As those words wash over me, I know that I can finally breathe. She wants me. She wants me forever. Because if I do take her in my arms, then it's all she can be sure of to know that I'll never let go her again. I always want to have her so close that I can't breathe. She's right, why would we ever want to suffer the soberity of breathing when we can just lie together? So, instinctively, we roll inwadly on our hips, immediately caught by one's another's glances as we face each other. And I reach, and I pull her into my arms. She curls up tighter, murmuring contently. And I'm toying with her hair in that way I could never help as she lay in my arms, and she's just looking at me... loving me.

"Oh Sharon, where have you been?" I question sadly, knowing she can't really answer. It was just wondering aloud, and yet, she replies, her quiet, nervous words following a gentle sigh.

"Away someplace. But it's all alright now, because I'm back where I belong."

Cautiously, she lifts her hand, caressing my cheek with her fingertips, feeling deliciously warm against my skin.

"You're so beautiful y'know."

"Yeah well, I ain't ever gonna top you am I?"

She smiles, but a haunting sadness has crept into her eyes. "The baby woulda been so gorgeous..."

The smile that I return is tight, because there's nothing I can do or say beyond what has already been done and said to console her. But she doesn't care to notice and nestles further into me. She'll never be close enough will she? That's a pretty pathetic desperation.

"We will have other babies won't we?"

Jesus. She really must meant it when she says she wants all this, that she loves me. Cos she's lying here, trusting me with everything she's got left when I can't give her the baby, protect her memories. She's still going to lose our child, and maybe she'll never truly believe the things she remembers, and yet, she wants to build her life with me. Hasn't even lost this baby for certain yet, hating me when she realised it existed, thinking I'd have said it just to damage her, and yet now she thinks she wants a baby, one that this time her body might nuture in the embrace of safety and protection. She really wants my baby.

"I hope so darlin', I really do."

I pull myself up and she leans back expectantly, those eyes frantically searching my face as she waits. Her lips are soft and so fitted to my own. Sounds corny I know, but it's like she could never have kissed another man the way she kisses me, her restless hands always moving up to the nape of my neck to pull me down harder and to tease the curls that reside there. It's quite comforting to know she remembers what that does to me.

I take my kisses on a trail down the slope of her neck, wondering if I might be pushing our tenative boundaries by nuzzling her. Sharon, on the contrary, moans warmly and tilts her head back into the pillow to allow the insistence of my mouth better access to her skin, her hand still caught tight in the curls at the back. So I guess she controls this. But that's alright, cos she's not shoving me away, she wants this. And she seems to want a lot more besides as she rolls her head to the inside with a gasp and whispers breathlessly against my ear;

"Dennis... I- I want us to... oh God, please darlin' just... make love to me..."

Well, if it did nothing else, it stopped me dead. My limbs felt like lead all in that moment because, she's tearing me apart. I can believe she knows now what she wants but.... oh Christ, I can't breathe. This is so unfair. I...

"I can't. Sh-Sharon, baby I can't."

She scrunches eyes tight shut as my words hit her. She lifts her hand away from my neck, and whilst I immediately miss her touch, she pinches the brige of her nose, her forefinger and thumb resting uncomfortably in the corners of her eyes, like she's fighting to bring herself to her senses in the face of this rejection. She gulps uneasily, before opening her eyes again and pushing me back so that she may struggle up. She draws her knees defensively to her chest as soon as her back is relatively straight and I hate how thoroughly miserable she looks.

"But it... that made everything OK didn't it... last time? I'm not going mad am I? What is it Dennis, what have I done wrong?"

"Nothing!" I insist guilty as I move up behind her, my shivering hands against her shoulders as I litter her neck with rushed, apologetic kisses. "Oh Sharon, please! The only reason there was anything to be made right was because I'd made it so wrong! And if I... God, you have no idea how much I want to, just to prove to you how much I love you, how much I need you, but what if that's wrong of me too? I mean, the baby... I- I don't wanna hurt you and if I do, it's not gonna be what you want anymore is it? I don't want you to give up on me."

She's been pretty non-committal as the words have tumbled out, but at that last sentence, she goes stiff and snaps her head round. I swear I hear several bones in her neck crack at the violent exertion of it. And she's glaring at me, cold, because she hates what I'm saying. And I hate having to say it, but I can't risk causing her anymore pain.

She shifts to my side and straightens out against the bed again sighing almost in defeat. I don't want her to be defeated, I want her to understand how much I care. So I lean back too, tenderly tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"Baby please..."

She claws back her lips. "What are you begging me for Dennis? Is that what I've gotta do is it hmmm? You want me to beg for you, cos I will, if that's what it's gonna take..."

"Shhh..." I soothe unsteadily, moving my hand up to dance through her hair, just hoping she'll relax enough to let me hold her again. "...I'm doing this because I love you Sharon. I really love you and I can't... I can't hurt you again, not for anything. Please darlin', I know how you feel and you must know that I want you too, or how else do you explain the canal huh? I wanted to then just as much as you do now, but we can't and that's why I left you... because I wanted you so much and I know we just... can't, not until we know you'll be OK..."

The mist of tears lifts steadily from her eyes as she nods, dejected sobs still pulsing in her throat. She presses her fingertips to them and timidly attempts to massage them away, never once allowing herself to take her gaze from mine.

"Is that... Is that your only reason? There's nothing else, nothing you're too scared to tell me?"

"Nothing." I answer truthfully, scooching further down into the pillow with the effect of shaking my head to illustrate my response.

"So... will you promise me that when we know we can... promise me we will..."

She relaxes only with the imprint of my kiss upon her lips. The shivering subsides a little and the corners of her mouth dare to flicker with a faithful smile. I can't believe that someone so perfect belongs to me.

"I promise."

Dennis' POV - 8:00a.m.

The most beautiful smile breaks out across her soft lips and I swear, for that second I can't breathe and I love the exhiliration that exists because of it. And now, it ain't misery, confusion or hurt that makes her eyes sparkle. She's happy. She really is, content just to nestle in my arms, her head rested against my shoulder as she brings out her each breath as a gentle sigh. She makes me shiver just being here, knowing that I can play mindlessly with her hair, and this time, neither of us will move, neither of us are battling uncertainities that will make us run from the other. We're OK, we belong.

She idly traces misshapen patterns across my chest, my heart pounding just that little bit harder, that little bit louder the closer she comes. She tries to suppress this gentle yawn, but it's not like I mind. I understand what she needs. She must be so drained, I'm surprised she still functions, feels, believes. It's her instinct to curl up in the foetal position and her knees press into my stomach, her toes shifting up and down my shin as she moves. But she's shaking her head insistently. trying to force away the invitation of sleep, her deep eyes still travelling across my face. They're so wide and bright, it's as though she doesn't even wanna allow herself to blink because she might miss a detail.

"It's alright... I'll still gonna be here when you wake up, I promise-"

"But what if I do wake up Dennis, what if... you, this... what if I'm just dreaming?"

Oh, how much more simple it would be if that could be true? But I know if I pinched her, she'd complain of the pain, and really, she knows that too. So, tenderly, I press my hand against her shimmering cheek, pushing away the frightful tears with my thumb.

"Then I'm still dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go."

"I don't want to. But this can't be real can it? I don't think anything that feels this good to me can be real."

Oh God, she's still so lost. She says that this... me... this is everything she wants, and yet she... doesn't think she deserves it to be real, that she could never deserve to feel anything this good? Doesn't she realise she's lying with me, doesn't she remember my sins? Why would I deserve any of this? My only comfort is that it is real. She has to know that too. 

Pressing her mouth with mine, her only instinct is to take my lips for their every sincerity.

"That... That felt real." she breathes, almost in disbelief as soon as I move back and settle with my arms wound all the more tighter around her, kissing her hair, just wanting her to relax.

"Good." I murmur, smiling in spite of myself. "Cos that's what we are darlin', me and you, we're real and I swear, I'm not going anywhere without you. So you can sleep for a week if you need to, and I still won't leave OK?"

"No... you'll just collapse outta the exhaustion of it instead. Oh baby, I can't believe I hurt you so much... you're never gonna know how sorry I am."

"I don't need you to be sorry Sharon, I just... I need to hear you say that-"

She nods gently, her breaths heavy and unsteady, somehow understanding. "I love you. And I hate that I've been away from you so long. Can you... Will you...?"

The words aren't out in their intended entirety, but she's fighting off tears, and I know her, my precious darlin', I know what it hurts her the most to say. But it's all alright.

"I forgive you darlin'. Believe me, I'm gonna take care of you, I won't ever let you go again."

And it seems she's at last content with these words, already sleepy, clinging to me fiercely as I shift against the bed. 

"No sweetheart, you'll... you'll get cold here. At least, get under the covers yeah?"

"Not without you." she murmurs drowsily, shaking her head weakly.

Scooting down the bed, I can't help but smile as I glance over my shoulder back at her. Because she really wants me, in all this hurt, all this innocence, it's me she wants. Does she really think I can bear to be apart from her when she has words like those? Kicking my shoes under the bed, I get up and move round, pulling back the corner of the duvet still loaded with my warmth. She moans in displeasure as she realises the material is shifting beneath her and rolls over onto her side.

"C'mon Sharon, please, I can't just leave you there."

She gasps, apparantly more alert now. "No, don't... please don't leave-"

My shoulders sag as I realise how the words must have sounded. "No... oh God, I didn't mean... please just get in the bed. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." 

Groggily, she pulls herself up and obediently slips beneath the warmth of the duvet. Satisfied now, I make my way to the other side, smoothing down the creases before I pull it back and sink down next to her. I can't tell you how incredible it is to know that her gaze tracks me as I go, wanting to know that I will keep to my promises and hold her if she is to sleep, how amazing it is to be assured that that's what she wants. I spoon up to her, scooching into the pillow and sliding my arms around her hips so that my hands rest in the soft folds of her stomach, idly caressing where our child once lay. And I pray they both hear me as I kiss Sharon's shoulder, whispering;

"Go to sleep now baby."

She goes rigid for a second and I can only assume she understands... that I'm tentatively letting go of the dream I cannot keep whilst cradling the one I must protect. 

"You too."

"Mmmm."

I can only hope that I mighta fooled her, cos as much as I probably should sleep, I just know I won't. It takes all of five minutes before Sharon, so drained and in need of such a release, has surrendered to the invitation of sleep herself and I pray that it don't torture her too much, that she might actually have sweet dreams, not wake up crying, screaming.... terrified, just wishing for all of this to be a nightmare, wish I'd never told her all the evil truth that snatched her away from everything she was certain of... away from me. Cos I just wanna hold her, I wanna be mezmerised by the way I know her eyelids will be flickering against the sunlight, the way she murmurs dreamily to herself as she falls deeper into the embrace of sleep. I know she looks so heartbreakingly beautiful, but it's all OK because... because's she's my angel for sure. I can't stop my stomach wriggling with the perfectness of this one simple moment, however haunting the ones to have gone by have been.

I can hear the minutes tick by and somehow that's frightening, but I console myself with the idea that my darlin' has slept peacefully for three minutes... five...

As eight minutes slides past, the door creaks. And I can't help but grap Sharon tighter, petrified all in that one moment of suspicion that someone, anyone might be about to steal her away and destroy her so that she may never be recovered. But it's all unfounded, of course it is, because it's Vicki that hesistantly pokes her head round the door. And she smiles in a relief it looks as though she can't quite bring herself to feel as she recognises the shapes beneath the covers as Sharon and me, wound together, as we should be.

"D-Dennis?" she whispers doubtfully, obviously unsure whether I'm asleep too. Just as well I'm not then isn't it?

I pull myself up, regretfully having to compromise how close I might hold Sharon just so that I can instead meet my sister's eye. But as I do look at her, it gets me hard in in the centre of my chest - because she looks as drained and tired as Sharon obviously feels. And that's just too unfair. Vicki never asked to get caught up in all this.

"You should go to bed darlin'." I urge.

She smiles weakly, bowing her head as if it say she accepts my words. "I... I will do in a bit. I just... I wanted to make sure the two of you were OK..."

I nod slowly, biting down on my lip. We're fine. We're gonna be just fine.

"Right, good... well I'll..." She gestures towards the open door with her thumb, stepping back. 

I turn my head, her words floating over me as I smile affectionately down on Sharon, pushing wisps of hair back from her face. But I'm forced to realise that I'm shaking not only because of the disbelief that someone so perfect might wanna let me shape her every dream, but because I'm scared. Scared that whilst Sharon and me are not, Vicki, poor innocent Vicki might still be so unsure how to move forward underneath the weight of these nights burdens.

"She never meant it you know... all the things she said to me, you..."

"I know. And I never meant... oh I don't suppose it matters now does it?"

"No it don't." I confirm softly, shaking my head. "Cos she's home. Sharon's home." So Vicki now too is consoled and backs out onto the landing, now seeking the solace of sleep for herself.

"Night Dennis."

"Sleep tight Vicks."

So I am left with Sharon, the sunlight streaming over her every beautiful feature. I'm falling in love with her for every second I look at her. I'll never get over that feeling, I never want to. Cos she's not gonna move. She's not going anywhere because she knows now that she belongs here. And I can no longer fight off the overwhelming urge to leave a soft kiss on her unresponsive lips. She murmurs as I rest my head against hers, knowing that my apprehensive breaths rush across her face. I don't know whether to worry that she might stir again this soon or whether to be excited that in coming out of this stupour, she comes back to me.

But thankfully, she doesn't wake and I am left to whisper "I love you darlin'", before I sink back against the pillows and curl protectively around her. She's truly mine now, maybe forever. I can sleep now too. I can let what once seemed so menancing take me away, knowing that when I wake, she'll still be wound in my arms, loving me as I love her - completely. I can rest in the peace of her heartbeat against mine, and I dare to hope that I might not wake for a long time yet. I never wanna see hours like these ever again. 

The End