I haven't written anything for a little while because of things like exams, so sorry if it's not the best. I know it's not particularly descriptional, I just focused on the characters; obviously I had a time limit because I only watched episode seven this morning. I just wanted to write this before my view was tainted by watching the final episode. I hope everyone enjoys it, and I hope everyone enjoys tonight too! x

Filthy: Scott&Bailey

"Janet," Rachel said.

All of the anger and hurt – and jealousy, because she could admit that now – that Janet had felt towards Rachel since she'd found her and Kevin in bed together disintegrated in that moment, when she heard the tone of Rachel's voice.

She turned her head and saw her colleague standing on the stairs that went down the side of the room alongside Gill's office, and her mouth went dry at the tears on Rachel's face. She found she'd forgotten the words that could express what she was feeling.

"It's Gill."

"What's Gill?"

"She's been– oh shit, Janet."

Janet stood up and let Rachel come towards her, and held her tightly like she'd held Taisie the morning after she'd thrown Rachel out.

It was like there was something inside of Janet that needed to protect Rachel just as much as she needed to protect her daughters, if not more. Rachel was such a damaged and vulnerable character, and yet she had let Janet in, they had understood each other; that was what had hurt Janet more than what Rachel had done in the spare bedroom. Rachel had turned away from the trust they'd established because she was too scared even to talk to Janet.

It was primal, the love Janet felt towards Rachel Bailey.

"What's Gill?"

"She's been kidnapped, she's been taken– someone saw a scuffle in a car park, the reg is Gill's and the car's– we just–" Rachel snuffled into Janet's shoulder like a schoolgirl who'd fallen off her bike, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be– it's just–"

"It's just everything. And it feels like the world's falling apart. I know," Janet whispered, Rachel's tears as infectious as a yawn. She dropped her arms and took a step backwards. "But we can't do this now, Rach."

Rob appeared on the steps behind Rachel, almost as pale as she was. He didn't speak as though he was asking a question. "You've heard."

"We've lost the car?"

"Last known sighting was on the A56 heading down towards Chester Road almost ten minutes ago. We've got a lot of officers mobilised already, and in the area ready for when we manage to track down the car again, but at the moment– You know what it's like, it's a tangle of wool down there with all the little back-roads and the streets they could have gone down."

Janet was glad she wasn't sergeant, she wasn't sure she could have coped with the pressure of this, of knowing that not only her boss but her dear friend's life was in her hands. Although it still was, to a lesser degree. What she did now might determine whether Gill died, and she didn't want to contemplate the possibility that Gill could die today.

"We need to get everyone here and we need to get Julie Dodson in too," he said. Of course he wanted Julie, everyone appealed to authority when they were frightened. "We need someone to find that car."

"I'll start ringing round, get Lee and Pete."

Janet smiled weakly at Rachel's attempt to pull herself together, "Interrupt their scrambled eggs and salmon, 'ey?"

The clock read eight thirty two. Only five minutes ago she'd glanced up at it and wondered how on earth she and Rachel were going to get through the remainder of their shift together without coming to blows. Things changed so very quickly.

"We don't know who's in the car with her?"

"No," Rob said, but his face told Janet that he had as good an idea as she did. She knew that, if they were correct, this wasn't going to be pleasant. "Are you going to be alright, Rachel?"

She nodded.

"I'll meet you in the briefing room in a minute, then," he said, squeezing Rachel's arm as he left the room.

Janet felt a surge of compassion for her sergeant; he always seemed to know what people needed without making a fuss about it. The compassion stretched out like the roots of a tree being unearthed suddenly in a storm, and extended to every single officer in Syndicate Nine, to the way they left their coffee cups to wash themselves, to the way their banter or kind remarks (whichever was needed) made her love coming into work each day. Nobody would give a damn about leaving their breakfasts if Gill's life was in danger.

"It's not going to be easy," she told Rachel, pressing her fingers beneath her best friend's – and yes, she was her best friend – chin so that their eyes met. She'd said these words so many times that they didn't even need saying, but it was something that was always constant, it was something to comfort them both. "Keep your nerve, kid. We'll find her."

XxXxX

Louise knew as soon as she saw the text what had happened.

Some part of her brain must have processed it before the rest, though; she heard herself moaning before she'd fully worked out what she was moaning about. She pressed 'call' but the line was dead. She threw the phone across the room and watched as the back fell off and the battery hit the floor too, and she thought that it was an accurate representation of how Helen must have felt all the way through her life. As though she was constantly falling apart, and as though she could never, ever trust anyone entirely.

It made Louise feel sick, the realisation that she could dedicate her entire life (and she would; that was how much she loved her) to loving Helen, to nurturing her, and it wouldn't make a difference. Helen had been damaged too much for that, she was beyond nurturing.

"Please don't," she whispered to the empty room, "Please."

Helen had been sitting in here only yesterday, in that baggy blue jumper which smelled faintly of pear drops and perhaps would have made her look like a scruff to anyone else. Only Louise liked it because she knew how much it meant to Helen. She closed her eyes and could almost see Helen laughing. Almost, but not quite.

Louise could whisper all she liked, she could say whatever she wanted about rash decisions and hurting people who weren't to blame. She could scream the house down, or set fire to Helen's dressing gown and put the flames out with her tears, but she knew it was too late. It was too late to do anything now, except this.

She found the card where she'd left it, on the kitchen sideboard, maybe knowing deep down that this day would come even though she'd forced herself to believe that it wouldn't. The brain was very clever, and the heart very stupid.

She rang the number from the home phone, seen as her mobile was out of action, and waited until it was answered. Only when she opened her mouth did she realise that she was sobbing. "I need to speak– to Rachel– Rachel Bailey."

"Louise," Rachel said.

Louise thought that she must have a very distinctive voice, for Rachel to recognise her. Then she realised that they had number recognition even on landlines now, or perhaps they'd just been waiting for this call, maybe they'd known too. She wanted to be sick, but she had to do it. "She's done something really stupid, she's–"

"Who has?"

Rachel's voice managed to be calm and hysterical simultaneously. She knew, of course she knew. Louise fell down on her knees and bent her head forward as far as it would go, and wondered how much further it would take for her neck to snap.

"Louise, talk to me."

"Helen."

XxXxX

"I'm sorry, Helen," Gill said softly, "I'm sorry if you feel like we let you down."

"Let me down? Oh, you think that telling the entire world about me is letting me down, do you? You think that them reading everything in the papers, about what happened to my brother and sister, and jeering over it and then thinking 'oh, it's time for another cup of tea', you think that's letting me down?"

"There are always going to be bad people, Helen. You know that as well as I do."

It hurt Gill to think of Kevin's betrayal. Somehow she didn't connect it to this, though, even now; she didn't blame him for this. The trouble was, he wasn't evil, he was just a messed-up kid, a little boy who'd lost his way, and she'd let him lose it. She'd gathered up the pebbles he'd laid out so that he could retrace his steps if he went the wrong way; she'd never given him a chance.

"But I am not a bad person. I joined the police force because I wanted to fight for what I believed, and I won't ever stop doing that. I joined to help people like you, Helen, and I'm angry about what they published in the newspapers too, I'm angry about the CPS charging you, I'm angry that I can't stop people from suffering altogether, because I would if I could."

"It's never your fault. Always someone else's."

"No," Gill said, "It was my officer who leaked things to the press. I'll take responsibility. But not like this, because I don't deserve this any more than you deserved what happened to you."

Helen tightened her grip on the belt and Gill's head jerked backwards involuntarily. The knife being held to her neck was digging into the flesh.

She thought about Sammy and Orla and how happy they were together, and the identical smiles on their faces as they'd asked her to sit down whilst they told her their news. She'd thought at first that Orla was pregnant, and she'd been surprised at herself for not being furious; in fact, the idea of having a grandchild excited her. She thought about the warmth and sweetness of Orla's body in her arms as they'd hugged, like the daughter she'd never had. She thought that these weren't bad images to die to.

She thought that Helen wasn't a bad person to end her life, either, and she knew that sounded perverse. Helen wasn't a cold blooded murderer, she wasn't a Geoff Hastings. She was a very frightened and vulnerable woman who'd been warped through no fault of her own. If Gill had to die, she'd rather die in the hands of someone who'd once had a heart, someone who might one day find that heart again and feel remorse for what she'd done.

"You always call criminals filth, but it's not them that's the filth, is it? It's you, you people who think it's okay to spit people out once you've done with them without giving a damn what happens to them."

"I do give a damn, Helen. Just move the knife and we can talk about it, we can work out what we're going to do next."

"I'm working nothing out with you."

In a way, Helen was like Kevin, and if Helen was like Kevin, then maybe Helen killing Gill made some sort of sense. Maybe this was what she deserved for ignoring the lifebelt hanging on the side of the pool and letting her officer drown because it gave her some sort of gratification, some sort of power. She wondered if anyone had realised she was missing yet, and if so how they felt to think that they might never see her again. Did they blame her for Kevin? For things that had gone wrong, like in Rachel and Pete's lives? Think of her as a cold hearted bitch? She'd prided herself on being harsh with them, she'd thought that it was what they needed.

"Everyone makes mistakes. But this won't be a mistake, if you kill me. It'll be deliberate and you will go down for it. What would that do to Louise?"

"Like you give a damn." Her words slurred. "You've got no time for people like me."

"People like you? Which you? I've got all of the time in the world for you if you're the victim. I will do whatever I can to help you. I promise. But nobody will help you if you're a murderer." She might as well try emotional blackmail; she needed something sinful to add to the last page of her catalogue of wrongs anyway. "My son's called Sammy. Your parents didn't deserve a daughter, Helen, but that doesn't mean Sammy deserves to suffer. It doesn't work like that."

"Maybe it should."

"An eye for an eye and the whole world will go blind. You heard that before?"

"Oh, look at you, with all your bullshit," Helen snapped, pulling the belt still tighter until Gill gagged. "All your empty promises."

"Please, Helen. Don't do this."

You're filth."

She tried to swallow. She had no saliva left, but she could still taste the bitterness of the bile in her throat. Her neck was sticky with blood, but her face was dry. She closed her eyes and thought of Sammy and Orla, and then of Kevin sitting on a beach somewhere in Barbados drinking cocktails with a couple of bikini-clad blondes, still slagging off 'Godzilla'.

She smiled. Maybe it would hurt her team less when the pathologist report came back if Scary Mary told them that she'd been smiling when she died.

XxXxX