Guy's General Hospital used to tower over London Bridge station. Now it cowered in the shadow of The Shard. The woman on reception directed Ess to the ninth floor, the Sir Humphry Davy ward. Ess stepped out of the lift into an atmosphere of disinfectant, echoes and quiet panic. Gone were the days of middle-aged nurses standing around drinking gallons of hot tea and gossiping about the young doctors. Everyone marched purposefully in sensible shoes, pieces of arcane equipment in their hands. She waited at the ward reception until the nurse finished whatever it was she was doing on the PC and looked up, a professional, sterile smile on her face.

"I'm looking for Mister Whitmarsh?"

The smile was instantly replaced with a look of sympathy.

"Are you family?"

"No, just a -- just an acquaintance."

"Do you know of any family? We're having problems tracing any."

"Sorry. I'm not that close. I just wanted to visit him, see how he's doing."

"Of course. Bay D, bed three. Visiting hours end at seven."

With that the nurse switched off her sympathy and turned back to the screen.

Ess click-clacked down the corridor. Bay D overlooked the east end, miles of flat roofs with the Docklands in the distance. A woman sat by bed three. She turned as Ess approached and Ess recognised her.

"Missus Davenport?"

"Oh, you're the private detective woman, right? My husband's not here, I'm afraid."

"No, I heard about Mister Whitmarsh and I was in the area. I just thought I'd stop by."

The woman smiled and turned back to the bed. Whitmarsh lay under crisp sheets, eyes closed, looking so much smaller than when he was awake.

"He was good to Peter. Really pushed him. Peter just, I don't know, shone when Allen was around. I don't know why. But now, like this..." She shrugged. "Peter would be here, has been, of course, but he was called away to Westminster."

Ess looked at the man in the bed, tubes in his nose and hand.

"What happened?" she asked.

Missus Davenport shook her head. "No one knows. They just found him in the park, unconscious. Goodness knows what he was doing there. A stroke, they say, a massive one. He's been like this ever since. They don't know when he'll wake up, or even if he will. Brain damage, see?"

Whitmarsh stirred and muttered something unintelligible. Under his eyelids his eyes flickered and he whimpered.

"Dreams," said Missus Davenport. She smiled again. "Let's hope they're pleasant ones." She sighed. "Not like ours."

"Sorry?"

Missus Davenport treated Ess to a sad smile. "Oh, nothing. He was a dreamer, Whitmarsh. Said Peter could climb all the way to the top. It was happening, too. But in the last day or two... Oh well, look at me. A lovely family, nice house and I'm complaining he's not Prime Minister. And here's poor Allen, laid low by a stroke." She frowned. "It's an odd word, 'stroke'. I wonder why they call it that?"

Stroked by fairies. Touched by the Gentle Folk. Whatever dreams he's having, I bet they're not pleasant.

Missus Davenport looked at her watch. "Anyway, I must be getting on." She rose and thrust out her hand, the politician's wife once more. "So nice of you to visit."

Ess stayed for a few minutes more, looking down on the man who had kidnapped, threatened and done who knew what else? Even so, an eternity trapped in whatever hell Daisy's family had put in him was not something she'd wish on anyone, even a little shit like him. Then she turned and click-clacked out of his life.

--

Shades got home just before midnight. Ess threw a cushion at him as he walked in through the door.

"What?" he asked. He stood upright and looked at her in all innocence, but his speech was too precise, his stance too poised. Scrawled graffiti covered his cast.

"I've been sat here worrying about you all evening, and you've been getting drunk with your mates down the pub. Not even a phone call?"

"Yeah, sorry." He staggered over to the armchair and collapsed into it. "Should have phoned. Sorry."

"Well?"

"I love you."

"Stop that right now, sunshine, and tell me what happened with your boss."

"Yeah, right, that." He took a deep breath. "Well, he was pissed off, what with me buggering off with no notice and all that. Ted had explained about all the stuff." He giggled. "Off with the fairies. But still, he was not a happy bunny. Made sure I knew that. Slapped my wrists in no uncertain manner."

"But you've still got your job?"

Shades winced. "Well, not exactly. Like I said, he was pretty pissed off at me. So yeah, I'm still working for him, but I got a demotion."

"Oh darling, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, no longer personal protection." He struggled to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know what the bastard did? He only made me head of the day shift. What good is that to me?" He grinned. "What am I going to do in the evenings now?"

Ess clapped her hands. "Permanently?"

"Pretty much. I'll probably have to do the odd night here and there. So, sorry, but I had to introduce myself to the day guys and say goodbye to the others. What about you? What's the SP with Whitmarsh?"

"He's -- been taken care of. They got to him, Daisy's family. He's in a coma."

"Just as well. I'd have done it otherwise. Evil bastard."

"No. Well, okay, he was one, but no one should be punished like that."

"You're a very forgiving woman, you know that? Very forgiving. You can forgive a guy like that, and he hadn't even been drinking with his mates."

"Stop it."

He slid off the chair onto his knees and started to waddle towards her.

"Such a forgiving woman. I'm so lucky."

She tried to compose a stern face, and failed. "Stop it now. I'm still cross with you."

"I bet he didn't even have to go on his knees." He stopped at her feet and looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

"It's not going to work. You should have called."

"And look." He held up his arm. "I'm a wounded soldier. I only drank for the pain."

"Oh, you'll know pain in a minute." He continued to look cartoon-contrite. She burst out laughing. "You're an idiot and I'm still angry. It's a bloody good job you're so cute."

Shades grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I am, aren't I." He looked down at his wrist, then at the bedroom door, and finally back to her. "You know, I'm going to need a little help undressing...."

"Ha! Best of luck with that." But, laughing, she still rose and made her way towards the bedroom.