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First Light
by Emily Duncan

Eleven

It was early.

Too early, in fact.

The sun was just starting to rise, turning the grey sky into candyfloss, clouds pink and pregnant with the weight of the rain that would probably fall by the bucketload later on.

Flicking the CD player on to "random", Nia paused for a second to berate herself for forgetting her umbrella. Not that they were of any use in Manchester - instead of protecting the carrier from the interminable downpour, they generally blew inside out at the first puff. But wrestling with a recalcitrant umbrella was a tradition on wet days in Northwest England.

Hmmm. Maybe I have a spare one in the office. I lose enough of the damn things - odds are one ought to turn up where I left it eventually.

She grumbled to herself as she picked up her clipboard and continued with the stock check, excruciatingly aware of the vision in the corner of her eye - Max, working doggedly, crouched in front of the other fridge with a set look on her face.

The relationship between the two close friends had been strained ever since the night the Blue Caps - and Jake - had paid Fire and Ice a visit. Nia had been furious at Max's overprotective behaviour, and the small butch's fears for her friend's safety had only grown worse with time and the silence that had fallen between them. Max's imagination was lively when it came to those she loved - and Nia's situation was dreaming up all kinds of possibilities for her faithful, fretful assistant. As far as she was concerned Nia's flirtation with fire would only end in a blaze that might consume them both. They were far too fond of each other to be uncivil - but the repartee that had always underpinned their relationship was frozen for a moment, by the tension in the air around them.

I miss her.

Looking directly at the stooped figure of this most dependable of her employees, affection finally got the better of Nia's annoyance. It was like her to concede first - and once roused, goodwill soon grabbed a handhold and shifted her brain up a gear, insisting that enough was enough - it was time for her to make the first move before the pair drifted too far apart.

"Hey, Max, did you see that programme last night? Richard Attenborough got a camera right inside a pride of lions. It was interesting watching - the females hunted for food, raised the young and made the den - in fact, did everything - while the males just slept and tried to mate with them. Isn't that just typical?"

Max chuckled softly, recognising the gentle olive branch her friend was extending and taking a moment to cherish it. It was a small act but at the same time momentous - because it required gumption she rarely felt herself capable of. The prospect that her advances would be rejected invariably cracked her courage, and she preferred to turn her energies towards dealing with the inevitable loss, rather than rebuilding the chasm that gaped in front of her.

But Nia was different.

Behind the blonde's back, the butch allowed herself a doting look.

She's always the first to give in. God, Max - she's so evidently a bigger person than you.

Out loud, she said,

"Yeah. But it wasn't Dickie, it was David - and anyway, David Attenborough didn't even organise the camera. John Downer did - David's just the storyteller."

"Just a storyteller, indeed!" Snorted the femme. "That man is the bard of the natural world."

"Anyway, stories are important, Max - they're one of the basic building blocks of culture."

"Whatever."

Replied her friend, sighing with the studied ennui she normally used to slow Nia's ever-ready lectures. It worked a treat - the Bar Manager subsided with a smirk, secretly delighted that they appeared to be slipping back in to their old routine so fluently.

"I don't think much of him, Nia. I think that girl who watches the monkeys is much better."

"How predictable." In between counting alcopops, the blonde affected a yawn.

"But you watched it, anyway."

"Yeah, I did." The butch admitted, with a grin.

"Watched it with my Mum. That was an experience in itself - she kept complaining about all the gratuitous violence."

"What?" Nia almost dropped the bottle she was holding.

"She thinks even lions should be vegetarians. She's never been the same since the peace camps at Greenham."

"I can believe that." The bar manager stared at her clipboard.

"Actually, you should see it when she gets together with her friends - ageing hippies are pretty entertaining. They're against just about everything - you'd probably get on with them."

"It's a good job you're my friend, Max - or I'd sack you for that piece of outrageous cheek."

The conversation ended in a hearty laugh that washed away much of the previous week's discord, leaving both women in better spirits.

Max stood up and tore the sheet of paper from her own clipboard, handing it to her Manager with a smile and a squeeze on the wrist that made Nia want to cry with relief.

"And did you see the article in the Daily Express about the six-million year old thighbone they found in Kenya? They think it belonged to the Missing Link…you know, between the apes and man."

"Missing Link, eh?" Nia mused, eyes twinkling.

"I think I've dated that guy."

"Very funny. The sad thing is, you probably have." Max shook her head.

The blonde added Max's totals to the boxes she'd already counted down in the cellar, and wrinkled her nose as she did the mental arithmetic.

"Listen, Nia." Said Max, in a small voice.

"I'm sorry about the other night. With your friend."

The blonde had never been too adept at bearing a grudge. Some even thought she was too forbearing - since the words "I'm sorry" were always sufficient to bring her umbrage to an end, no matter how vile the misdemeanour. So as soon as they were out of Max's mouth she was at her friend's side, tenderly taking the butch's face in her hands and nodding her understanding.

"Don't mention it. You had my best interests at heart."

"I'm glad you realise that. I'd never intentionally hurt you, you know." Max stared at her feet.

"I know." Both paused to acknowledge a declaration that had always been taken as given between them.

"I think you're being a little too vigilant, though." The bar manager's tone was earnest. "If Jake was connected with Matt she'd hardly have shown her face in here again after the other night. I don't expect gangsters to be breaking down my door or anything."

The dialogue broke for a second, as the assistant manager wondered whether she could summon up enough pluck to share the real disquiet that had kept her awake at night, ever since the raven-haired woman strode into Nia's life.

"That's not what I'm worried about." She finally owned.

Another pause descended as Nia digested this statement with a frown. The blonde was intuitive enough to discern that the conversation was about to turn a corner - and she wasn't sure she was going to like what was around it.

"I don't understand. Then what's the matter?"

The manager drew her assistant over to the nearest table, and as they both sat down, apprehension and distress began to stain her pretty features.

I can't remember the last time I saw Max this upset. Something must be bothering her an awful lot.

"Come on, Max - tell me what's on your mind."

Their gazes locked - the ingenuous green of Nia's drenched with trouble, and mutely imploring her friend to express herself. So Max took a deep breath, and decided to speak.

"I'm scared that you might get hurt." The small butch admitted quietly.

"But I'm talking about your feelings, not your physical safety, Nia."

"What do you mean?" The blonde asked.

"You really like this woman. I can tell." Max told her.

Nia's eyes lowered to the table between them, and a ready blush took possession of her cheeks. Sighing as the blonde's mounting colour confirmed her fears, Max carried on.

"And she's a complete mystery to you. Alarm bells are going off in my head - I can hardly hear myself think sometimes."

Although the bar manager's head was still bowed, Max saw her friend flinch - and almost fell silent. But conscience and concern forced her to continue, no matter how much her words might wither the rose.

"Remember what happened the last time you went for one of those dangerous types? By the time you found out what was behind her tough exterior, it was too late. You were so in love with her, and she turned out to be such an ogre. You were crushed. It broke my heart. I can't help thinking you should look before you leap this time." She said.

Max tried not to stop breathing as she waited for her friend's reaction. Her nature rarely inclined her to be bold - but once she decided upon a particular path she was certainly tenacious. She minced none of her words, and they slammed straight into Nia's heart - the verbal offensive would have sent the Bar Manager lurching had she not been sitting down.

She's right.

I was devastated.

I never knew a human being could hurt so much. What if I'm setting myself up again?

Nia approached all things with the same unadulterated zeal - and this was especially true of her relationships. She was among those rare beings who are usually mocked and envied alike - because she lived for love. Most of those she came across viewed affairs of the heart as pretty diversions or necessary hassles - but for her, romance had to be all-consuming. She didn't want to be swept off her feet - her healthy suspicion of melodrama telling her that passions declared in hushed tones often proved more robust - but she was desperate to meet the one who would really know her, who could be trusted implicitly with her heart, and even her life. Looking back, she realised that her impatience at the lack of this elusive figure had probably turned her into a fool.

Immediately following the breakup with Paula, she'd been as good as slapped across the face by the charms of an incredibly charismatic butch - a regular in the old-school gay bars she was frequenting as part of her search for that which she could not yet define. She'd fallen hard and fast. To start with, the liaison had been a fairytale - fodder for romance novelists in its tempestuous zeal - and as a result the young femme was deeply attached by the time she realised she'd made a very bad call. Her adoration for KJ was unrequited - her butch was in love with someone else. Not a real person, either - she was impossibly involved with the memory of an ex-girlfriend she'd never been able to forget. KJ's only desire was to relive her past - insensible of the fact that she would never find the magic she sought, unless she let the ideal go free. And just a few short months into the relationship, it became apparent to the butch that Nia was never going to match up to the woman whose appeal was unparalleled, after years spent sitting in state upon an imaginary pedestal.

When the bar manager realised that KJ's heart wasn't accessible to her touch, she was devastated. The discovery smashed her self-esteem into smithereens and the fragments were left to rot, untouched inside her emotional isolation. Having to compete with a Goddess-like ghost of relationships past was soul destroying for such a sensitive young girl, especially one who was desperate to find some security in what seemed to her a horribly hostile world.

The relationship had gone rapidly downhill from that point on.

Nia couldn't remember exactly when the condemnation had started. All she knew was that KJ was brandishing the spectre of her ex-lover like a weapon, goring her through and spitting her on its perfection, over and over again.

It was like tiptoeing across a minefield, or playing a game of cat and mouse with a panther - as long as Nia made all the right moves she was sure of survival, but one false step and she awakened a white-hot snarl that left her afraid and reeling - and she knew it would eventually harden into resentment. So, understandably, she alternated between silence and saying only what KJ wanted to hear - afraid to speak her mind, in case she ignited the ferocious blast. Nia had sense enough to know that the anger she shrank from was not explicitly directed at her - it was years of hurt and disappointment never entirely expressed - but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

The epiphany was a while in coming, but the young Bar Manager eventually realised she had to leave - before she became inextricably embroiled in a relationship with a person who was utterly, unbearably unlike the glorious butch she'd fallen in love with, all those months ago.

She remembered it so clearly. It was as though she'd stepped out of herself, to hear KJ make some disparaging comment about her dress, her walk, or the way she wore her hair, seeing the contempt that crept on to her features as she did so - only this time Nia was playing the role of impartial observer, the unbearable emotional strain propelling her detachment - and she idly wondered why she stayed put to listen to the insults that rolled off her lover's tongue. She had started to scream inside after the first few months, and now the cries reached a pitch that was almost deafening - the incumbent explosion needed little more to ignite it.

Nia wasn't stupid. She knew relationships took work, and she even half-believed the old romantic adage that love was supposed to hurt - the curse of feminists the world over. But she also knew love wasn't designed to reduce a girl to a constant state of depression.

Which is where she found she'd ended up. The quiet, thoughtful girl had grown used to standing up to bullies when she was a child, but it never crossed her mind that she might be subjected to similar debilitating emotional brutality again, especially not in the context of what was supposed to be a loving relationship. When combined with the weight of Matt's thugs bearing down on her constantly, the gentle Bar Manager felt as though she was beset from all sides.

So she'd taken a deep breath, and ended the relationship. After this, she congratulated herself on having handled the whole affair with grace and dignity and decided to move on.

However, the cruelty had already taken its toll, and Nia's body eventually collapsed under the strain. A few weeks later, a small ovarian cyst she didn't even know she had grew and ruptured inside her - landing her in a hospital bed in Manchester's Royal Infirmary. And during the month following her collapse, she lost her voice to laryngitis as she struggled to regain her health - and her self-respect.

The recovery was arduous. But through the ailments that troubled her body, Nia's spirit gained in strength, and with the natural buoyancy of youth, she learned to forgive, if not to forget. Not a day went by without KJ crossing her mind - that was part of her nature. When confronted with evidence of her own failure, she couldn't rest until she'd formulated an explanation. But she'd gradually come to understand that she had no control over the inadequacies KJ had perceived,, because they were directly connected to who she was. Or rather, who she wasn't.

And Nia was less fragile than she looked. Otherwise, she might not have been able to avoid the bitterness and animosity that normally emerge close on the heels of heartache, malevolent siblings that irritate and enrage. She turned her back with an emotional austerity and self-discipline she would never have expected from anyone else, forcing herself to shun them, erasing the bad and remembering only the good.

Max did not find it quite so easy.

Shocked to see such unnecessary pain inflicted on one she'd grown to love more than herself, Nia's assistant internalised a barrage of resentments that the blonde had managed to keep at bay. Despising KJ for being able to pull the wool over her eyes, and at the same time blaming herself for failing to see the ghouls that had been lurking behind the walls of the butch's emotional fortress. It was this - and her own tacit devotion to her friend - that motivated Max's suspicion, her jealous protection of Nia's interests, and the loathing that she could not help whenever she thought about Jake. As far as she was concerned, the dark woman was a wildcard who would probably turn out to be the Ace of Spades rather than the King of Hearts - Nia might win a few tricks along the way, but she was doomed to lose the game.

"Max, I'm over it. I wasn't the one for KJ, that's all."

"Come on, Nia." Said Max, exasperated.

"You were the best thing to happen to that woman - she was just too stupid to realise it."

Nia couldn't resist a smile, appreciating her assistant's blind loyalty, but knowing it was probably misplaced. Max saw her friend's lips quiver - which provoked her ire.

"It's true! Why is it that in relationships where one partner's so blatantly unworthy of the other, the worthless party can't show any respect?"

"Max…you're biased. Let's not go into it. It's water under the bridge. Don't get upset." Nia tried to placate her friend.

"I'm not upset!" Max's tone belied her words.

"And I don't care if you're over it or not. I'd still like to rip out that woman's throat."

Although her own vitriol over this particular episode was long spent and faded, Nia had retained a lively sense of humour when it came to scenes of imaginary revenge - and she allowed herself a wry chuckle at the image of Max going after her ex-partner like a vicious pit-bull terrier.

"Well, I should have wrung her neck myself. I still can't believe I let anyone treat me that way."

She looked sheepishly at her friend, for all the world expecting to be rebuked for her own part in an unpleasant drama she would much rather have avoided.

"Don't do that." Max stated, quietly.

"What?"

"Take responsibility for her behaviour. You're a good person, Nia - but that doesn't give people the right to walk all over you."

The bar manager sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"So stop making excuses for that woman's shortcomings."

"But…"

"I mean it, Nia!" Max slammed her fist down on the table in frustration, making her friend jump. "She was an asshole, through and through."

"But…" The bar manager half rose, frightened by Max's outburst.

"No more buts." Said her friend, a little more calmly. "You're too lenient with people who treat you like shit. You deserve better - until you realise that, you'll always be paired with bastards." Shaking her head, she followed the manager to the bar.

"Max, she wasn't a bastard." Nia switched on the coffee machine. "She just didn't know how to handle her own pain."

"Well, perhaps not. But she should have tried to treat you right. She shouldn't call herself a butch if she doesn't know the rules." Max replied, as Nia handed her a cup.

The blonde squeezed her friend's hand with a lump in her throat. If there was one thing she loved about Max it was her unwavering respect for women. Her gentlemanly qualities were the strongest defining elements of the assistant manager's identity, and friends and lovers alike treasured her it.

If only there were more people like her in the world…I might have a chance at finding one for me.

However, the strange impulse to defend the new friend against the old was growing stronger, and as peace fell between the two, Nia began again.

"Max, listen to me for a second."

"I can see how you might feel inclined to compare KJ to Jake. She's powerful and very enigmatic, and it's a fair assumption that she might have something to hide."

Nia's eyes were wide and earnest, willing her friend to believe what she was saying. It was completely irrational, even considering the snippets of information she'd managed to collect during her date with a woman who was impenetrable more often than she was frank, but she was telling the truth.

"But KJ was proud of her scars. She cultivated the fact that nobody could get close."

The bar manager took her friend's hand between both her own as she uttered her final petition.

"Yes, Jake's got similar defences - and if she proves to be as attached to them as KJ was to hers, I'll run a mile. But I feel as though I can trust her - and that's a brand new experience for me." She confessed.

Max looked at her friend for a long moment.

"This isn't a romance novel, Nia." She muttered, as she picked up her clipboard.

And as her assistant shuffled off to count kegs in the cellar, Nia sighed inwardly.

I hope I'm not wrong this time. She thought.

I was wrong about KJ and I suffered for it.

But I always expected her to hurt me - and people generally get what they expect.

Oh well…she comforted herself, as she started on the spirit stocks.

At least I haven't slept with her yet.

The sun almost seemed to be smirking as it rose to encounter two prone figures, the smaller one pale and slender as the sickle moon, enveloped by the other like the night sky that had already been fractured and dispersed by the morning's rays. The femme stirred and whimpered a little, causing the butch at her side to draw her tighter in a motion that appeared oddly instinctive. Her cheek pressed to Nia's golden hair, Jake slept on unawares.

A luminescent finger poked through the vertical blinds and wagged at the blonde, whose resolve to delay the moment had proven to be as brittle as the glass vase by the bed. The ornament had gone flying and smashed into a thousand pieces during the course of the previous evening's acrobatics.

It had been quite a night.

Having exercised an admirable degree of self-restraint on her first date with the dark, mysterious butch, Nia soon discovered that she was unable to follow through. In the face of an almost primordial desire that grew in intensity until she felt ready to faint, she gave in to her baser urges no later than their second formal meeting. And not only that, it was her idea to do so - since the butch's ego was still a little frost-bitten and sore, the femme found herself making the first move.

Although it hadn't taken Jake long to reciprocate.

Not one to revel in being chased, the dark woman had rapidly taken on the role of stage-manager and had ravished her new lover for all she was worth, while Nia bit down on the pillows to keep from screaming Jake's name and waking all the residents in the neighbouring block of flats.

And the dark woman had taken Nia beyond the brink, over and over - until her thighs were aching and the sheets were sticky, and both were sleepy and satiated.

So they slept on.

But the sun was beaming now, throwing shafts of light over the snoozing couple and prodding the femme out of her restful state.

Still not fully conscious, Nia's first reaction was to chastise herself for giving in too soon. But the physical compulsions of the previous night had been too strong for her to withstand. And although she was barely awake, the fact that Jake had stayed in her bed to greet the morning light was reassuring. She guiltily allowed that perhaps she'd misjudged the butch who remained in her arms until the sun came up, and made assumptions about the persona she'd read as a ruthlessly independent sexual virtuoso.

She was fantastic…she thought drowsily.

I don't think I've ever let my body take charge before.

God, the first guy I slept with had to ask me 27 times first.

She giggled softly to herself, eyes half-lidded with sleep, drinking in the satisfying scent of sex, aftershave and sleeping butch next to her.

Poor Theo.

Sighing with contentment, the bar manager snuggled tight into the warmth of Jake's embrace, before dropping back to sleep with a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

By ten in the morning neither woman had yet risen, and the cold February day was growing bizarrely bright in its impatience. But both were exhausted, drained after the antics that had kept them going for most of the night. Like most "first time" experiences, the encounter had been onerous and a little fumbling, and Jake in particular had been surprised by Nia's seeming lack of sexual confidence. But she touched the young blonde slowly at first, waiting for consent to be followed by desire as Nia's green eyes grew sultry, not stopping to question her own unusual patience while she focused her attentions solely on the beautiful face and body beneath her.

Partly thanks to her recent heart-to-heart with Max, Nia's thoughts had stubbornly turned to KJ, even as she strained to watch the dark head that bent between her thighs, tasting her core and making her grind her teeth in pleasure. But the blonde's ecstasy partly derived from comparing the honesty of this experience with the sexual machinations of her past. Towards the end of her last relationship sex had become a battleground. Mostly the butch would roll over and sleep without a word - which was preferable to the other times, when she would take what the young femme offered in an advance that was rough with unnatural desire. Love and loathing reached a terrifying climax as KJ tried to exorcise her ghosts by forcibly ingesting her present. And the blonde was expected to lie inert, mistrusted and disempowered by KJ's sexual caprices. KJ wasn't strictly sexually stone - it was more that she used her body as a means to dominate Nia's mind, sometimes placing it in the blonde's hands under her governance and sometimes withholding it, taking her pleasure alone while Nia looked on, helpless and rejected.

This merciless veneration felt like another universe away when her new paramour took the bar manager close in her arms, the blonde moaning her release into her lover's ear.

Jake was the first to wake properly, about 15 minutes later. She felt surprisingly comfortable, even with two hands full of dozing blonde sprawled across her midriff - it was the strangeness of the bed and not the invasion of her personal space that eventually woke her up. Shading her eyes from the curious spring sunlight, she watched, as her bed-partner began to stir.

"Morning." Nia murmured, sleepily.

"Morning." Replied the butch.

Jake watched with fascination as her new lover sat up and stretched, the delicate muscles in her back and shoulders rippling as she did so. Nia was a slim woman, but through exploring every nook and cranny of the pint-sized body, the butch had soon found out she wasn't just skin and bone. Her limbs were beautifully toned - and although she was velvety soft, she was also as firm as the waxy, dwarfish crab-apples that appeared in the Autumn and replaced the blossoms in the postage-stamp garden outside. Her skin even had a similar subtle, spicy scent - Jake sensed rather than felt her mouth going dry, and she had to swallow several times, observing the sunlight dancing on the bar manager's silhouette, highlighting the soft down of cobweb-fine hairs that covered it. She remembered those places her tongue had tasted and touched, Nia's fingernails raking down her back, teeth tugging at her earlobe in a passion that was almost crazed in its intensity.

And now Nia's lips were on her again, but in the morning the kiss was tranquil - quiet but not chaste, the butch's arms tightened around their prize.

Amidst the exhilarating confusion of the "morning after", Nia had a nagging feeling that she would need to play this one very carefully. Her lover was easy and discomfited by turns - and although the newness of the experience, the traversing of boundaries and the ambiguity that followed were adequate explanations for this behaviour, she sensed something more.

The femme stole a glance at her new bed-partner, noticing that even though it was approaching 10 o'clock, the butch was struggling to keep her eyes open. She briefly considered letting her sleep in, but the turbulence of her emotions, and an almost painful fascination with the woman who'd brought her screaming into rapture for most of the night, pushed her to make the most of this chance to be alone.

She prodded her lover in the ribs.

"Ow!" Sapphire eyes opened wide, regarding her with an injured stare.

"Sorry."

The blonde suppressed a giggle at her friend's indignation.

"I don't want to sleep any more, Jake. I want to be awake with you, and talk to you a little bit."

This seemed to do the trick. The cerulean gaze mellowed, and a half-smile started to curve the butch's full lips.

"Ok...let's talk." She said amiably.

"Where did you learn to play the piano?"

She asked, winking and harking back to the skirmish they'd had on their first date. Nia feigned a glare, but answered nonetheless.

"Well, I did most of my training when I was a kid."

"So you were a child prodigy, then?" The butch sat up and regarded her intently, chitchat giving way to legitimate interest.

"You were…weren't you?" Persisted the dark woman, in response to Nia's blush.

"Yeah." The bar manager admitted, with some reluctance.

"I was...a little bit."

"Oh, hell." She laughed, as Jake's eyebrows shot up.

"I was downright precocious - I was talking by the time I was 7 months old. People used to flock to the house to watch me perform - isn't that awful?"

Nia's expression grew serious for a moment, and she gave vent to a shrug that was almost forlorn.

"I'm in my late twenties, and my Mum still brings it up. I think she likes to remember me as the perfect child - because I turned out so contrary to her expectations."

She shifted slightly between the sheets, managing to pull most of the covers off her companion - who smiled indulgently, half to herself, and said nothing.

"Do your parents know you're gay?"

Nia was hesitant as she asked this of her new friend. It was important for her to know at least the rudimentary details of her acquaintances' lives, not least those she had a habit of sleeping with. But it hadn't taken her long to glean that the dark woman would be loath to unveil even the most superficial of layers, if the bar manager's efforts to unwrap her emotional bundle were clumsy or crude.

The reply was candid, all right - and it almost knocked her for six.

"I never knew them." Jake said.

She spoke with no bitterness, but with a resignation that if not deadened, was at least anaesthetised in tone.

The blonde could have kicked herself for the tactlessness of her question. However, as was her wont, she refused to ignore the disclosure. Instead, she seized the revelation with both hands, and gave a good tug.

"I'm sorry. If I'd known I'd never have asked…"

"It's okay, really." The dark woman's voice was surprisingly warm.

"It's not as if they died or anything."

"So…how come you don't know them?" Nia ventured timorously.

"Because they put me in care when I was just a baby."

"Oh."

The blonde said no more, but her look spoke volumes as she trailed a small hand down the side of Jake's cheek. This quiet compassion was typical of a person whose solace was like a magnet for the troubled and heavy-hearted, and it seemed to urge the butch to carry on.

"I lived in a residential home." Jake said.

"It wasn't bad - the social workers were nice, but they were too busy dealing with the violent ones to parent us properly. And we didn't expect them to. After all, they had their own families at home, at the end of the day."

The dark woman's tone was low, sounding repressed and stilted to her listener, who wondered whether she might be pushing too hard.

Come on, Nia...perhaps you should give her a break. Not everyone can reveal this stuff so glibly as you.

But privately, the butch was amazed at herself. It felt to her as though the words were tumbling down a waterfall. And she was damned if she knew why, but she felt intrepid enough to navigate the rapids that surfaced ahead of her.

"While I was at college I managed to find out where I'd come from." She confessed.

"And was it what you'd expected?" The blonde asked.

"Not at all." Jake gave her lover a reticent and almost apologetic smile.

"My grandparents were gypsies who came over from Eastern Europe, I'm not sure where, exactly."

If Nia was taken aback, she certainly didn't show it. And the soundless absorption of Jake's little speech felt unbearably pleasant to one who'd spent the best part of her life being judged. It made her ravenous - she could glimpse cornucopia within the verdant mists of the bar manager's eyes, and she was impatient to find it. She took it like the Blessed Sacrament - a last cleansing, lingering peep - and elaborated.

"They came over during the Holocaust. But when they got here, they found it really hard to scrape a living." She sighed, quietly. "They escaped the gas chambers, but they almost starved instead."

Nia frowned, shaking her head in sympathy as she spread the duvet back over her friend, tucking it in and patting Jake's leg.

"My parents were even poorer than their parents were. So when I was born, they turned me over to Social Services." The butch finished, matter-of-factly.

"And they didn't keep in touch?"

The bar manager's question was mournful, because she already knew what the answer would be. The grief washed over her like a tidal wave, and she felt overwhelmed by it - not on behalf of the woman lying beside her in the morning sunlight, but for the abandoned child she could almost catch sight of, if she closed her eyes.

"No." The child sobbed, as the woman shook her raven head.

"While I was at college I tried to find them - but with no joy. They could be anywhere - It's not as though the Rom are asked to complete the Census." Jake said.

"I suppose not." Replied the blonde.

"I don't even have a birth certificate." Jake chuckled sadly, before stopping for a moment to gaze at the femme whose emerald eyes were still full of sympathy.

"I've never told anyone about my parents before." She confessed, in a whisper.

"Not even Kim?" Came the tremulous question.

"Not even Kim."

Lowering her eyes, Nia tried unsuccessfully not to gloat.

"So, why did you tell me?"

"I don't know." Was the honest answer.

"Well, I appreciate it." Whispered the bar manager, leaning forward to brush her new lover's lips with her own.

The kiss was gentle, and although it lacked the fervour of the previous night's exchanges, it contained something more significant and even more intimate - they were building a raft, a basis of trust and understanding. Jake felt her heart grow weightless within it - and playfully, she turned over, flipping the blonde on to her back.

"Now", She said, resting on her forearms and giving her companion a rakish grin.

"Play fair. Tell me something nobody else knows about you."

Delighted, Nia screwed up her face in concentration.

"I had six toes on my right foot when I was born." She deadpanned.

"You didn't!" Laughed the dark woman.

"I did."

"And you call that a confession?"

"Hey! Nobody else but my Mum knows that! It was really hard for me to share it with you."

"Yeah, right." Replied the butch, with an affable tickle between Nia's toes, where she was inspecting the scar.

"Right."

The dark woman gasped as Nia's body stretched out languorously before her - lithe and slender, built like a gazelle - or perhaps even a cheetah.

Yes, That's it…she thought.

A green eyed, golden-haired cheetah, with all its beauty and lacking none of its power, staring up at her with a look of total trust that she knew she didn't deserve.

God, I'm waxing poetic…I must have it bad.

She pressed a kiss to Nia's collarbone and heard the blonde sigh in response.

Last night, in the dark, she had strained to see her new lover with such spectacular clarity. Then, her sense of touch rather than her vision had been aroused, as she devoured Nia's soft skin and silken folds with her fingertips and tongue. This morning, her eyes were partaking of the feast.

"You are so beautiful, Nia." She breathed.

The Bar Manager shivered a little.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Whispered the butch tenderly.

"Not ever." This so faint, remote, under her breath - that it was barely audible.

Then the blonde spoke.

"Don't make promises you might not be able to keep." The growl startled her companion.

"Kiss me instead."

"Not there." Nia grunted, as the butch went for her mouth.

She raised her knee, propping her foot on the bed.

Was it an invitation or a command? Jake didn't care.

She just complied.

Twelve

Nia bit her lip and stared fitfully out of the bedroom window in the twilight. The dark woman was gnawing gently on her neck, and she answered with a tiny, appreciative moan - but her body did not respond just yet.

Tonight was going to be the night - she knew it.

It was dark in the small room, and silent - even the most inanimate objects looked strangely unfamiliar, as though they'd been moved just a little out of place. Not enough to make anyone look twice - but as much as was necessary to create a sense of unease. There was anticipation in the air, but not impatience - like the peculiar peace that falls when treasures long sought are within reach. The bar manager felt like a child on Christmas morning - tripping down the stairs at the end of a sleepless night, imagining the gift to come - and finally spotting it, beneath the tree. She felt no urge to move just yet. She just wanted to stay still for a minute, even to hold her breath. She knew that never again would this moment be so completely and utterly hers - that once she'd removed the wrapping the moment of offering would be over, reward granted - she might need to remind herself every once in a while to cherish it.

Then the blinds moved in the breeze and a weak beam from the streetlamp outside stole through, casting odd shadows on the surface of the bed. Nia's nerves responded to the faint wash of light, agitating and threatening to choke her. Her throat felt dry and constricted as the butch grasped her small hand, guiding it lower between the sheets.

"Are you sure you really want this?" She whispered to her partner.

Jake made no answer, but her grip was reassuringly firm as the blonde's fingers, beneath the dark woman's, made first contact with skin. The butch's thighs were surprisingly smooth, and Nia lingered there, and then amongst the damp, downy curls, as if to prolong the moment still further - before reverently parting the folds, nuzzling Jake's neck in an manner that was almost coy. She felt timid in the half-light - afraid to meet those piercing blue eyes, in case the butch saw the chaotic hunger swirling in the depths of her own.

The bar manager moaned in delight when warm wetness engulfed her fingers. The first touch was slow and uncertain, but the movement soon became instinctive as their tongues tangled together in the dark woman's mouth. Using the flat of two digits Nia made minute circles in the centre of the cleft, careful not to penetrate, and gasped involuntarily as flesh yielded under her hand. Feeling the nub of Jake's clitoris harden, she began to concentrate her ministrations there, wanting to feel it quiver as she rolled and tweaked it lightly between her fingers.

A fortnight had passed since their first sexual encounter.

And since then, the butch and the femme had spent at least part of every day together - enjoying conversation, silence, and a great deal of hot, heavy sex. Barrier after barrier had fallen away when confronted with Nia's empathetic presence, Jake fascinated by the woman who was able to diminish her defences so easily without making it a conquest. And Nia was slowly but surely beginning to feel safe.

But like Alice through the rabbit hole, she knew that there were plenty of doors yet unopened - she felt surrounded by them. Turning from one entrance to the next, she was poised at the largest of them all. She knew she could unlock it. She just had to make herself tall enough to reach the key.

The Bar Manager was aware that they'd assumed clearly demarcated roles in the bedroom as much because of her own mental block about giving gratification, as the butch's reluctance to lie on her back. At first, sensitivity and an intuitive respect for possible sexual boundaries had made her reticent - but even after it emerged that her new partner did indeed crave her touch, she felt impeded by her own lack of confidence. So she hesitated. And then she hesitated some more. And then she came close…but hesitated. And the self-doubt that often put shadows in the young Bar Manager's sea-green eyes had eventually made the dark woman forget about her own trepidation and unwillingness to surrender control - anything to chase the darkness away. Because when Nia smiled, it felt to her new lover as though the sun had come out to play.

And with every grunt of enjoyment sounding deep in the back of the dark woman's throat, Nia felt her courage bolstered. She knew the power of assurance as aphrodisiac, which drove her to maintain it - even though her insides were churning with nerves and insecurity. She forced herself to be wilful - to experience nothing but voracious, shameless lust - and image and reality began to blur. She turned into something debauched, immoral and relentless…and it was terribly sexy.

Jake was powerless to do anything but respond.

The butch's hips started a slow grind, and her thighs began to jerk in response to the work of the blonde's fingers. Her clitoral erection felt so good it was almost painful. The duvet had already hit the floor - but funnily enough, neither woman was cold.

Their tongues circled again, and then the dark woman began to devour the bar manager's throat - nibbling so doggedly that the blonde was almost distracted from her task.

Almost.

But Nia needed this. She needed it like a drug, the sensation of her own sexual agency. The thought that she, Nia, was capable of acting as provider, giving fulfilment to such a potent partner, already had her wound so tight she felt she might explode. It was intoxicating. She wanted to take the woman into her mouth, to swallow her whole in one compulsive, succulent gulp - and she felt as though she would die, if she made Jake come. She also felt as though she'd sink into a hole in the ground if she didn't.

"I need your tongue, Nia..."

The dark woman breathed, stammering a little, into her lover's ear. Her eyes were closed and she threw her head back against the headboard as she asked for what she wanted, voice cracking at last with the abandonment of desire, limbs cumbersome in her intense arousal. Nia had never seen such a powerful sight.

And she needed no other invitation. Inclining her head in answer, limpid green eyes dark with sensuality, she traced a line down the dark woman's torso with feather-light kisses, striving to remain self-possessed. She loved the firmness that rose to meet her lips - and moaned in greedy satisfaction while she stopped to pay attention to the large, reddened nipples, lavishing a few butterfly flicks until they stood hard against her tongue. It was stunning, the way they crowned breasts as flat as a man's, merging into solid pectoral muscles that were as tense as the veins in the butch's neck, overwrought with stimulation. Sliding downwards, past an intricately toned, washboard abdomen, the blonde lowered her face to the dark triangle between her lover's legs, drinking in the womanly scent with a deep indrawn breath.

She felt quite wanton.

It was incredibly, subversively sexy - the juxtaposition of the masculine torso against something so unmistakably female. Her mind and body were besotted by it.

First, she used the very tip of her tongue - painting her desire in a fine, delicate line and making the butch hiss with pleasure.

"Deeper." Came the grunt.

The dark woman reached down and parted herself, exposing her clitoris and pulling back the hood, muscles taut as her hips lifted in expectation. But Nia gently moved the butch's hands, replacing them with her own and stilling her movements for a second.

"Relax. Please." She said, softly.

"I can't do this if you don't trust me."

Both looked up, and at last their eyes met.

"Let go." Whispered the blonde. "You won't regret it."

It was a plea, and was recognised as such by femme and butch alike.

Nia had been to bed with women who were so loath to let anyone else influence their bliss that they did little more than thrust their pussies into her face until they were done. And she couldn't deny that she enjoyed it, being used like a vessel - it was hot because it felt so impersonal, pure sex with no trimmings, just two people connecting on a furiously physical plane. But looking at the butch who lay before her, legs spread to give her access, eyes drifting closed as Nia touched her most sensitive spots, the bar manager's past felt dreadfully empty.

She needed them to be inside their bodies - she needed the butch to know that it was Nia who could make her come. She was tired of being used - she wanted to gobble up this woman from within, to crawl inside the fierce, sweet-smelling cavity before her and become one with the blood that raced around the butch's veins.

And the bar manager felt tears well up in her eyes when the dark woman lay back on the pillows and put her hands behind her head, giving her a crooked smile and a barely perceptible nod. It was a momentous event for both - the movement a tacit agreement on the butch's part, to let the blonde do what she would.

Now Nia had to make sure she could perform.

Parting her lover with her own hands, she entered with her tongue, relishing the warmth that surrounded and buffeted the muscle. Slowly, she began to explore - using a subtle twist that forced her to move her neck and felt desperately erotic. Flesh was throbbing all around her mouth, and she paused for a second to run her teeth over the engorged clitoris, chewing gently until the butch gasped and shook.

Then she took a deep breath, and began in earnest. Her tongue soon reached a natural rhythm, the muscle alternating between short, sharp thrusts and more leisurely swirls that took in the whole landscape between the dark woman's legs.

She vaguely heard Jake whisper her name as she speeded up her assault, and it was as though she was supping at the wetness running down her own thighs as she buried her face between the dark woman's, sucking and fucking amongst the butch's moans and her own. Her own nipples were as hard as pebbles, and as she pushed her face further inside and arched her back they brushed against the sheets of the double bed, puckering and sending a rush of arousal that shot straight to her centre. Blood hammered at the hub between her legs until she felt ready to scream.

Nia knew Jake could overpower her physically - in fact, that was a turn-on in itself for the demure bar manager who normally kept her bit of kink well hidden. It also made her lover's consent even more precious. It made her feel almost faint, the fact that the same woman that could take her with such feral passion could surrender control and accept this gift, hips bucking, face contorted in rapture.

It didn't take long for the dark woman to come. She shuddered with a sensation so raw it was almost frightening. She was less vocal than the blonde - Nia often listened to her own arousal as a means to heighten it. But the femme could tell that the butch was at the point of no return when her limbs went rigid and began to spasm - and her release was marked by a delicious bolt of musky warmth that Nia just had time to drink, avidly licking the butch's skin, before her lover sat up. She was shaking, but her movements were brisk, almost panicked, as she snatched the femme up her body. Then she finally relaxed, spent and boneless, wrapping herself around the blonde with a pronounced sigh.

"I can't get close enough…" She whispered, wrapping her legs around Nia's waist and tucking the blonde's head under her chin.

Nia didn't know how long they lay there. Long enough for the dark woman's breathing to grow less uneven, and for the blonde to wonder whether her new partner had fallen asleep.

Apparently not.

The dark woman shifted beside her, releasing a growl that spoke of a fire simmering deep in her belly. And as the butch began to touch her, Nia imagined herself writhing in ecstasy underneath those firm, practised hands. She whimpered with excitement when her lover crawled on top of her like a predatory animal, pinning her wrists behind her head and sinking her teeth into her neck.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Nia." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

So the blonde made no reply, but reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a harness.

"Use this. Please."

Jake groaned in gratitude as the blonde pushed her on to her back again, taking the dildo in her mouth and swallowing her erection with the same ardour as she'd bestowed on what was beneath it.

"I bought you something."

Drawled the butch lazily, a few hours later.

It was hot and sweaty beneath the covers of Nia's double bed - but neither woman had yet suggested an evening shower. Content to lie there in the evidence of their recent physical union, ensconced in a sanctuary they were loath to leave. Nothing was said about the massive seismic shift that had occurred between them, but another, unspoken agreement to prolong the new familiarity had quickly grown up in its place.

The dark woman reached down by the side of the bed, and pulled a carrier bag from one of the pockets of her jacket.

"Look inside." She urged gently, handing it to her bed-partner with an endearing, lopsided grin.

Nia returned her lover's bashful smile, and drew out a scarf - exactly like the one she'd impulsively given Pete a few weeks ago.

"Oh, Jake…" She breathed.

It was a small token, really - but the gift touched her to the core. The bar manager wasn't normally impressed by presents, infinitely preferring to be granted time and consideration, rather than any material possession. She'd also learned from experience that habitual extravagance of any manner normally had an ulterior motive - namely, to compensate for perceived inadequacies in other areas. Flowers, chocolates, soft toys and jewellery had all been thrown at her - and generally left her cold.

But the enormity of this tiny gesture made her gasp. It spoke to the deep-seated need of a soul that was so weary it belied her youth - that her new friend had noticed her bequest to another person, and had not only appreciated, but also sought to replenish it. It was quite extraordinary.

"This is wonderful. I'm overwhelmed. Thank you."

The femme followed up her thanks with a kiss - and her heart was on her lips.

"Aw…hey now, It's only a scarf."

Stammered the dark woman, obviously a little uncomfortable in the face of her own thoughtful deed, and such effusive gratitude on the part of its recipient.

"It's only fair, since you gave yours to Pete."

"But you're not responsible for Pete, Jake. You really didn't have to do this."

A short silence fell, during which the dark woman stared at the duvet and her new friend handled her present with the delighted wonder of a child.

"I'd had that scarf for years…where did you find this?" Nia asked, eventually looking up.

"Well, it was a bit of a mission." Admitted the butch.

In fact, it had been more difficult than that - she'd spent a whole weekend trawling Manchester's vintage shops looking for an exact replica of Nia's lost accessory. Normally, she would have found such a task irritating in the extreme, but she amazed herself with her own tenacity, the thought of the Bar Manager's sweet, delighted face spurring her on in her quest.

And she had to admit it was worth it. Beaming, Nia stared at the scarf for a few more moments, before folding and returning it to the bag.

"You're a sweetheart." She said.

"In fact, you're almost too good to be true." She continued, playfully.

"I am?" Laughed the butch. "It's the first I've heard."

"It's true! You're an absolute darling." The bar manager insisted.

"I can't even believe you're single - I keep expecting a jealous girlfriend to burst in here and scratch my eyes out at any moment. You're not keeping anything quiet, are you?

The question was half-joking, but it had serious undertones, and both knew it. The femme had already glimpsed parts of the enigma that was her new companion - she realised that some of the secrets would take a while to emerge, and that she would probably need to be patient, if the relationship was to progress any further. But she was eager to get closer - and although she knew better than to push for information, she couldn't resist a light-hearted probe.

The teasing backfired in a dramatically unpleasant manner.

Jake took one look into her lover's earnest green eyes, and the glib response that was about to roll off her tongue stopped dead in its tracks. She took Nia's hand, almost as though she feared that the blonde might drift away, if she decided to reply.

And the shift in her body language, the guilt in her motion, the blink that lasted just a second too long, ignited all the blonde's defences at once. She disengaged her hand from her companion's grasp.

"There is, isn't there?" She asked, tightly.

"Someone else, I mean."

After the intimacy they'd shared, this accusation felt like a bucket of cold water dashed in the dark woman's face. She recoiled from it, automatically hanging her head.

The confirmation the bar manager was looking for.

"Oh, God."

Nia jumped out of bed and began to dress rapidly, tension etched into the lines of her face.

"I can't believe this."

"Nia, wait." Jake managed.

"I haven't even answered you yet."

Nia stopped and regarded her a little sadly.

"You don't need to." She said.

"I can tell by your eyes. You're in love with someone else. I can practically see her."

"Nia, That's ridiculous. Yes, I was in love once - but that was years ago."

The dark woman protested.

But she knew the blonde's assumption, although hasty, was at least partly justified. She'd never really gotten over the beautiful African woman who'd broken her heart, whose name was now never spoken - the feelings had been bottled up, not mentioned, not laid to rest. She couldn't believe Nia had intuited this, but she couldn't completely naysay the hunch that was rapidly growing into a catastrophe in her lover's head.

Nia was fully dressed now, and looked wild-eyed and distraught. Like a woman who was struggling to maintain control - who would come undone as soon as she was left alone.

"I can't believe this is happening to me again." She whispered numbly.

"Nia, let's talk about this. Please."

Jake tried again, helpless in her nakedness and in the face of the blonde's obvious distress.

"There's nothing to talk about. I don't want to know. I think you should leave."

"Nia…"

The butch's last attempt was summarily and decisively silenced when her new lover collected her clothes into a ball and threw them across the bed towards her.

"I mean it! I'm sick and tired of being second best, Jake. Why is it that I'm always the bloody booby prize?"

Realising that discussion was futile, Jake blindly began to don her clothes. The over-reaction was becoming hurtful in the extreme. And deciding that the best course of action would be to get out as soon as possible, to save either of them any further humiliation, she resolved to let her new friend endure her pain in peace. Not stopping to think that perhaps walking out at that very moment would bear out all the blonde's worst fears, that what Nia really needed to know was that the dark woman had staying power, that she was prepared to fight for the budding relationship they shared. Which meant insisting that they talk things out - instead of vanishing at the first sign of trouble.

But she knew no better than to disappear - and in a few moments she was at the door.

"Just let me say one thing before I leave." She murmured heavily, before she opened it.

The blonde gave her a tight-lipped nod. Anguish was stamped on her features, and the butch had to force herself to remain calm, gulping back the lump that rose in her own throat at the sight.

"You're not second-best as far as I'm concerned. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met."

She really meant it, she realised, even as the words escaped her.

The femme had stopped her manic movements, and the dark woman paused again, her hand resting reluctantly on the doorknob. Realising that when the door slammed shut in her face she might never walk through it again, and hoping against hope that the agitated blonde might relent and give her a last minute reprieve.

But the green eyes grew shuttered, and when Nia spoke again her voice was detached, as though she was speaking about some other person, living some other life.

"Listen, Jake. The last butch I fell in love with was unable to love me back, because she'd already given her heart to someone else. She ended up hating me for it. And I stayed because I didn't think I deserved any better. I thought it was right for me to be an unpaid slave who cooked and cleaned and made myself available for her to grope when there was no sport on telly. I thought it was normal for me to spend my evenings sitting in bars, nodding and smiling while she played pool and danced with other women."

Her voice broke as she continued.

"And later on, I thought it was acceptable for her to yell at me, push me around and call me worthless. So you see, even the slightest possibility that there's someone you haven't quite gotten over, is too much of a risk."

The butch made no answer. Refusing to take responsibility for another woman's obvious mistakes, she could nevertheless understand the agony that motivated the bar manager's excessive response. She'd felt it herself, when her heart had been broken - although somehow, being the spectator as Nia relived the disaster seemed even more harrowing than her own had been.

"Look." The femme muttered, a little more calmly.

"I think you're a wonderful person. I'm terribly, desperately attracted to you. But I need more than you telling me it's really me you want, before I can feel safe."

"I don't understand."

"You can tell me over and over again, Jake, but I've heard it all before, and it turned out to be lies. Words are easy. I need to be shown."

The butch turned to leave. But before she did, the blonde bar manager grabbed her coat sleeve in a last fraught, penitent plea.

"I can't be a victim of your past. And if you really wanted to put it behind you, you could."

The words were harsh, and after she finally left the small flat, they rang in the dark woman's ears for days.

"I don't think I can see her again, Rach."

Nia spoke sadly into the phone, a few hours later. It was almost midnight - and she'd been pacing her tiny apartment. Remembering Jake's kind, sensitive face, and the way the dark woman had felt beneath her hands, and berating herself for letting the butch under her skin too soon.

"I like her - I really do. But she's starting to look like a bad risk."

The sound of Rachel's heavy sigh made her friend flinch.

"Do you really want my opinion, Nia?"

"Yes."

The blonde spoke a little tentatively, knowing she was probably in for a few home truths. After the fiasco with KJ, Rachel had spent the best part of three months telling her friend how stupid she'd been, how she really ought to be a better judge of character, and sharing various gems of wisdom concerning her terrible choice that had made Nia reluctant to even start a conversation.

Wincing, she held the phone away from her ear, expecting more of the same to come careering down the line.

But Rachel's answer was totally unexpected.

"I think you're being terribly hasty and a little unfair."

The bar manager felt almost physically winded.

"Wh…what?" She stammered.

"I know you've been hurt before, Nia," said her friend, "but you really can't tar everyone with the same brush. And I think you'll regret it if you don't see Jake again."

Wow…thought the blonde, managing to regain her composure. I definitely didn't see that coming.

"Care to explain?" She asked.

Rachel took an unusually melodramatic breath that resonated painfully in her friend's ear. Nia was rapidly starting to wish she'd sat on her impulses and not picked up the phone.

"First of all, you didn't even wait for her to explain before you told her to get out. You're making some pretty big assumptions based on very little evidence, Nia."

Unseen by the computer programmer, the blonde hung her head.

"I suppose so."

She owned, in a small voice. Deep down she knew it - she'd over-reacted dreadfully, letting her own scars dictate her behaviour toward someone who had nothing to do with them.

"And I think you need to learn to trust again, Nia - or soon it'll be too late." Unaware of the turmoil her words were causing, Rachel carried on like a bull in a china shop. Nia could almost hear the sound of objects smashing, as her friend ransacked her emotions with the usual lack of tact and diplomacy.

"What on earth do you mean?" Asked the blonde.

"Just listen to me for a moment." Her friend told her. "You've had a tough ride with relationships, I know."

"That's certainly true." Nia agreed wryly, eyes flicking round the room at the evidence of this statement - pictures of ex-lovers, memories of failed pairings - smiling sadly back at her. Some who'd hurt her feelings, some whose feelings she'd hurt, some who'd just drifted away - every time leaving her a little more alone than before.

"And it seems to me that most people are attracted to you because of what you give them, rather than because of who you are." The computer programmer began her analysis.

"Yes, I generally do give more than I get back. But I'm cool with that, Rachel."

Nia could almost see her friend shaking her head in exasperation at what was obviously a blatant lie.

"Are you really? I don't believe you're cool with the fact that nobody seems to give a damn about what's inside you. Don't you want them to care about what makes you tick? You're all things to all people, Nia - and you always lose yourself in the process. Are you really cool with that?"

"No." The bar manager fought back the urge to cry, as her friend became increasingly irate.

"It's as though you have this instinctive connection with anyone in pain. Even if the magnitude of their pain is outside the realms of your experience. I've never seen anything like it."

"I can't help caring, Rach."

"I know. But it drains you. You bleed a little, whenever you see someone suffering. You feel for them, you wind up taking their troubles on if you possibly can. You want to heal the world. And you can't do it alone."

Finally there was quiet, as a fundamental truth was spoken. It rested between them for a moment - Nia completely overwhelmed, and Rachel wondering whether she'd finally overstepped the mark.

"But I've always been on my own." The bar manager replied eventually, sadness tingeing her voice.

"Right." Came the quiet reply.

"I can sense that sometimes. It's in your eyes - because nobody seems interested, you've decided to keep yourself to yourself, to avoid being disappointed when they turn out just like everyone else. You don't really trust a soul, because you feel as though you can't count on anybody to be there in your time of need."

Tears streaming down her face, Nia nodded into the phone.

"Unless you find someone to lean on when you're tired, you're always going to feel this way." Said Rachel, a little more kindly. "You need someone who knows that sometimes you need a little looking after, that you need a safe, quiet space where you can regain your strength."

"Yes, I do." Nia replied, heavily.

"But I've come to the conclusion that such a person doesn't exist."

Rachel took the phone away from her ear for a moment, to brush her own tears away from her cheeks.

Nia was the most sensitive, empathetic person the computer programmer had ever met and probably would ever come across - and she knew that for someone like her beloved friend, the world could seem very cruel. Perhaps Nia was right - perhaps what she was looking for didn't even exist. But until she was shown conclusive proof of this, Rachel would refuse to believe it.

She felt helpless, and she hated the sensation. So she did what came naturally to her - she tried to provide a solution to the situation at hand, instead of speculating about problems she couldn't control.

"Well, I don't know Jake at all, but from what you've said, it seems to me as though she warrants a second chance."

"Rachel..." Nia began.

"Just think about it - think about how close you've gotten in such a short time. Look at how she behaved with that homeless guy. And you've already told me that she's a gentleman - which is a big improvement on that reptile you dated before. Give her another chance, Nia - it's worth a shot." Rachel said.

"But it's not that easy, is it?" Nia continued to protest. "Yes, she's all those things you just said…and more."

"So what's the problem?" Unseen by her friend, Rachel threw up her hands in disbelief, while Nia emitted a tragic, high-pitched laugh.

"She just walked away." The bar manager said, quietly.

"Nia, you threw her out!"

The blonde sighed, knowing she was beaten this time.

"Give her time, Nia." Rachel said. "She's probably licking her wounds."

"Maybe." Was the glum reply.

Rachel smiled into the phone.

"She'll be back. And if an ex-girlfriend is all she's hiding, you're lucky."

For the second time that month, Jake pushed open the doors of Fire and Ice with her heart in her mouth. She could hear soft music coming from inside, and the gentle melody seemed to fuel her agitation, rather than soothing it.

She was terrified.

It had taken her days to decide to come - and she didn't really know how she'd reached the conclusion. It wasn't even rational - she felt driven, compelled to make the Bar Manager listen to what she had to say. She'd been miserable ever since she left the blonde's apartment, unhappier than she'd been in years. Nobody in her recent past had managed to have such an impact on her state of mind. Normally, she would have resented it - but instead, she felt as though she was just waking up, roused by the power of these unusual emotions. She felt wretched, but at the same time more alive than she could ever recall.

As was her habit, she hadn't spoken to a soul. She'd considered going to Kim for a few words of advice but had shied away, feeling that a talking-to from even her gentle friend would probably be too much to bear. So she'd gone it alone - but this time, instead of brushing the confusion aside, she'd taken the plunge and examined it.

It was the first time in years - and she was a little out of practice. In fact, the dark woman was so unused to self-analysis that it had taken a manic workout and a few bottles of beer before she could even bring herself to sit still and think about what had passed between her and the sensitive, anguished femme. So it was a miracle in itself, that she'd turned up at the door of the bar so soon.

Jake wasn't emotionally stunted, but she often did a good imitation of it. She'd spent years "playing it tough," bottling up her feelings, ignoring her emotions, and compartmentalising her experiences. She just didn't want to deal with them. At the time, she'd told herself she just didn't have the energy for all the negativity, but in reality, it was more that she was afraid.

As afraid as she was now. Except this time, something was different.

Nia's tear-streaked face, her quiet plea to be shown proof of their burgeoning bond, had made the dark woman realise just how effectively she'd shut any genuine communication out of her life. She'd hurt women who had loved her, and had thought it was acceptable to do it, because someone had hurt her before. Then, she'd wanted a woman who looked nice and didn't talk back. Now, she told herself it was time she grew up, and made herself available for someone who could really be her equal.

And in addition to all this, the thought of wounding the small bar manager seemed totally unconscionable.

She shook her head at her own timidity, and stepped through the door. Heading straight for the bar, navigating a few tables and chairs placed in her way, she took a deep breath and prepared to ask for an audience.

The petite brunette she normally made a habit of checking out was manning the pumps. But unusually, the butch barely noticed her. She certainly didn't bother with the customary flirtation, and her lack of interest caused Lizzie to look a little miffed. But the dark woman didn't seem to notice this either. For once in her life, she was focused on one woman, and one woman alone. The instincts that had dictated her social behaviour and fed her ego in times past were well and truly curbed. She had one object, and what she would previously have defined as harmless fun now seemed like a gratuitous distraction. Kim would have jumped for joy to see it.

"Is Nia in?"

Was her immediate, purposeful question. And after answering Liz's nod with one of her own, she turned towards the stairs.

She paused outside Nia's office. She'd reached her destination, and the sight of the closed door threw her for a blank. All the soul-searching of the past few days seemed suddenly futile, when confronted with the thought of Nia's reproachful face. Her courage began to falter, and she almost turned on her heel.

In other relationships, Jake had invariably indulged her instinct to walk…no, to run…away at the first sign of failure, telling herself this was the only route that would afford her any dignity. Mistakenly interpreting what was actually an overweening pride and defining it as self-respect, she'd lost friends and lovers as a result. They'd all been relegated to the bottom of the litter-heap that was forming in her heart, while she moved on without looking back.

But for some reason she felt unable to take flight this time. The urge to break away was tempered by something infinitely stronger. She was unable to define it, but it was beyond her control - she felt an irresistible pull towards this dirty Manchester bar, and its charming young manager. It came surging up from her gut, and it felt inexorable as the tides. There was something she wanted, and she was prepared to fight for it.

So she swallowed her pride, her qualms and her past, and pushed at the door. She didn't even think to knock.

And when it swung open, there was no need for words. The femme had risen from her desk, but when she saw the dark woman standing there, contrite and anxious, she froze. For a moment she looked as shocked as someone who'd been shot.

"Nia, please…"

The butch choked out, before her arms were full of shaking, stammering blonde.

"I'm sorry…" Nia whispered.

Thirteen

Nia leaned back in her swivel chair, pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled quietly to herself.

What she really felt like doing was purring like a cat.

Or standing on top of her desk and giving three cheers.

If the staff hadn't all been downstairs setting up for the lunchtime rush, she might have done just that.

She sighed contentedly.

The past few weeks had been some of the happiest of her life. For once, everything was right with the small woman's world. On the surface, nothing appeared to have changed - but underneath, a strange sense of clarity was edging its way into the midst of the usual confusion. And the strangest thing about it was that the reason for this new peace was the dark, mysterious stranger who'd walked into her life less than three months ago and who had, paradoxically, brought her a flash of light. And even more marvellous, after the first flash the brightness had decided to remain, transmuting itself into a warm glow that filled them both with joy.

The two women had since laughed - albeit a little nervously - about the blonde's initial conviction that Jake spelled trouble. Because it had turned out that since their first confrontation and the butch's mad dash into the bar to try and patch things up, their relationship had gone from strength to strength.

That afternoon had been one neither would ever forget. After the worst of the emotional storm abated, they sat in Nia's small office for hours, the dark butch holding her lover tight against her chest as the first waves of discord broke over them...and passed. They talked a little, trading stumbling, incoherent declarations and confessions - and had eventually realised there was no more need for words. Their understanding was already becoming deep and instinctive, and was born from a few core similarities that transcended their dramatic differences. They were as unlike as night and day - but seemed to come together in the half-light that united the two.

The bar manager smiled to herself again.

She was starting to feel very, very lucky. For the first time in her life, she felt as though everything was going her way.

If she'd wanted proof of the butch's burgeoning attachment, she had certainly been given it with the appearance of the dark woman at her door that day - eyes full of regret and trouble, voice breaking with the fear that she'd really screwed up this time. The blonde's resolve to stand firm against any efforts to charm her chagrin had not been able to withstand the image that confronted her - the butch was genuinely distraught that conflict had broken out so soon between them and was clearly desperate to put it right - something that the femme could sense was not usually the case with her proud companion. So Nia had taken a deep breath - and decided to trust. And she was starting to realise that this was the best decision she'd ever made. Just a month later, the feelings of security and safety she experienced were new…and also staggering. The sense could actually be described as tangible, she reflected - she could actually put her finger on it - in short, it was real.

For a start, the two women were becoming friends. Not just acquaintances who enjoyed each other's company in the bedroom as well as outside it - her usual, empty experience - but real, firm friends. It was far and away the closest and most fulfilling friendship to have touched her short life…and her new friend also happened to make her weak at the knees. This was a phenomenon as far as the bar manager was concerned. Or perhaps, she could more accurately term it a miracle. Sex and communication had been sadly disparate entities in her life thus far, since once one began, the other tended to disappear. In her shakier moments, she feared that the novelty would wear off with this newest and most precious acquaintance, the little voice of doubt whispering that Jake was bound to get bored and stop making the effort eventually. But deep in her heart Nia was sure that these new feelings were too solid to be frightened away. They filled her mind, and were beginning to gain purchase on her heart.

Sometimes, the blonde felt almost pitiful in her gratitude, ashamed to admit that nobody had been interested in her before. But nobody really had. She hadn't been beneath notice - scores of people had sought her out, all wanting something they knew she could offer - but this attention had waned once the desired prize had been granted, leaving Nia with a full and hopeful heart that was destined to be disappointed. The loneliness had eventually become too much, and in reaction, she locked the most precious parts of herself away, no longer able to risk the rejection that threatened to crush her with each new neglect. But with every day spent in the dark woman's presence she increasingly felt as though she was the subject of a true and genuine attention. And as this impression was cemented over the course of picnics, dinners, coffees and plenty of whispered bedside confidences, the two women related many of their experiences and aired feelings that had barely before seen the light of day. The mutual risk-taking this involved was slowly but surely forcing Nia's fears to dissipate. When first confronted with the strength and power of her new companion she found it hard to divorce her feelings from the self-absorbed brutality that had come at her from her previous lover and the thugs who dominated her life. The pain she'd endured had taken its toll, and the resulting scars were deeply etched - not manifesting themselves in bitterness and resentment, but in skittishness and an inability to meet the butch's eye. But these misgivings were gradually beginning to slip away. Nia knew her new lover was dangerous. Probably deadly, in fact. Nobody admitted to the privilege of her company could come to any other conclusion. But somehow, in the presence of the small blonde the dark woman became milder, her impulses for competition and aggression unable to withstand the bar manager's sweet, empathetic face. She found herself wanting to be unusually gentle - because before she even knew it, her heart was sweetly and gently possessed. It was an inadvertent surrender by the primeval force that had terrorised Manchester's underworld for so many years. And as Jake put her heart on the line and took Nia's small hand in her own, it became almost impossible for the blonde to hold back.

Nia remembered waking up in the middle of the night not long ago, to find the butch resting on one elbow, watching her, with a smile on her face and a strange light in her eyes.

"What are you doing, Jake?" She murmured, sleepily.

The butch smiled sheepishly - and Nia caught her breath at the look her companion bestowed upon her. There was admiration there, and tenderness - and something else that she could not define.

"Just looking." The dark woman replied, searching the blonde's eyes with her own, before reaching out with a gentle hand to smooth a strand of fair hair away from her face.

Nia smiled and heaved a drowsy sigh, and as her head began to nod she felt herself being pulled close by strong, steady arms. She fell asleep on the butch's chest, to the sensation of her back being gently scratched and her lover breathing in her ear.

Jolted from her thoughts, Nia looked up rather apprehensively as Max entered the room. The two exchanged a nod that was polite, but sadly lacking their usual camaraderie.

Things had been…difficult…of late.

As her relationship with the dark woman had grown more serious, Nia had become increasingly concerned about her assistant's feelings. At first she'd tried - albeit unsuccessfully - to curb the joy of her new romance in her friend's presence. She hung her head to hide her flushed cheeks and shining eyes, made feeble excuses for rolling in late to work, and became unusually withdrawn as she attempted to restrain the desire to share her bliss with all and sundry. But instinct and good sense both told her that this solution would be transient at best. That apart from the fact that she was a lousy liar, feelings would be hurt, sooner or later, if she continued to dissemble. Respect for new lover and old friend had eventually driven her to come clean - she knew the budding relationship that occupied her waking hours, and most of those during which she should have been asleep, was not going to prove to be a flash in the pan. And as well as being anxious to grant this fact due recognition, she also felt the futility of any effort to spare her assistant immediate pain, when this was bound to lead to greater upset in the long run. Nia preferred to take action and make herself responsible for the earlier hurt, rather than let inaction invite a later one. And although she cherished her friendship with the small butch, she was reluctant to pander to the fear and guilt that weighed on her mind, because she knew that the omissions that made her blameless would also break Max's heart eventually.

So, she had resolved to lay bare her connection with the dark stranger who had filled her assistant with such dismay on their first meeting. She was heartened by the possibility that if she did so, her friend would eventually decide to find some other object for her attentions. Frankly, Nia felt that it was a terrible waste - Max had a capacity for love the like of which she'd never seen. To squander that on someone whose feelings would never be mutual seemed senseless, as far as the bar manager was concerned. She had told her assistant the whole truth - she'd spoken quietly and clearly and tried with all her might to break the news as gently as possible - but she had also been candid and direct, refusing to mince any words. And the selflessness of the butch's devotion had been revealed in her response - cognisant of the fact that her misgivings had already been voiced, she had kept her mouth tightly closed and offered nothing but her support. Nia had come away from the conversation with an unshakeable conviction that no matter what happened, Max would be behind her all the way. It was a gift for which she could find no words of adequate thanks.

However, adjusting to the new situation in practice rather than in theory was another matter. Previously, Nia's status as a singleton had put her fairly constantly at her friend's disposal, and Max was not accustomed to being anything but first on the bar manager's social list. So she veered between being sulky and melancholy, or angry and critical, depending on her mood - and despite all their best efforts, relations between the two friends had become extremely strained. Max was dealing with her tumultuous emotions as best she could, and Nia was feeling ready to plummet, as her friend finally began to chip away at the pedestal on which she'd sat for as long as they'd known each other.

Shuffling past her manager's desk, Max sat down at her desk without a word.

Nia sighed, and turned back to her work. Fire and Ice felt alien and strange without their usual banter. The easy rapport she'd developed with her assistant had brought them through periods of stress and boredom alike - and its absence had been noted by both. It was upsetting. They'd reached a point where they'd begun to work in miserable silence - and neither was able to get anything done because of it. It was pretty intolerable, Nia reflected, as she looked down at the order summary she'd been filling in for the past hour and shook her head.

Gotta get over it, Nia - or this place is going to go to pot. You've got a job to do.

And as the femme turned back to her task with renewed concentration, the butch looked up from hers. Her assistant had been thinking, Nia could tell - there was a familiar furrow creasing the broad brow that signified something was about to happen. And a moment later, with a brief, decisive nod of her head, Max held out the paper she'd been reading.

"Hey, have you seen this?" She asked, a little awkwardly.

Nia quirked a tentative eyebrow - having caught a glimpse of the headline, 'SWAGGERING INTO SOFT-TOUCH UK' - and held out her hand.

She knew she was accepting more than the paper, as her assistant passed it across the desk towards her - it was a conciliatory gesture, made in the only way Max knew how. It looked as though they were going to have their first argument in weeks.

"What is it?" The blonde asked, hiding a grin.

"Oh, the Mail are being xenophobic again. Apparently, we're letting in millions of asylum-seekers through an 'open door' in the Balkans."

Max informed her, with a familiar look in her eye. She was being provoked, Nia knew it - and inwardly rejoicing, she decided to take the bait. Smiling to herself, she gave the article a quick skim.

"God, I wish they'd give those people a break!" She said, with genuine anger colouring her voice.

"Isn't that part of being a developed country? Don't we have a duty to provide refuge to citizens who aren't so lucky?"

"I don't know, Nia..."

Max began, automatically - words that were bound to goad her friend into a full-blown rant. It was a pattern as old as their friendship - they'd been interacting this way ever since they first met - and after the enmity of the past weeks, the bickering was inordinately comforting to both.

"No, really...I'm serious."

The bar manager sat bolt upright in her chair as she began to get into her stride, and her assistant unsuccessfully tried to conceal her glee. Max was fond of playing 'devil's advocate' where her small friend was concerned, willing to make statements that were outrageous and basically untenable, in order to see Nia get on a roll. It was pretty spectacular, as most of their staff would agree. A keen intellect, plus a passionate belief in justice and an often-ridiculed belief that wrongs could be righted, made the bar manager a formidable opponent in any discussion.

"We should take a leaf out of Sweden's book, Max - the first thing they do with newcomers is explain their rights. The first thing WE do is try and work out how soon we can send them home! And anyway, I'd rather make room for two billion asylum-seekers than all the drugs that seem to be slipping to us through the Balkans these days."

"I don't know, Nia..." Max demurred again, in a tone she calculated would be non-committal enough to stir a further burst of indignation.

"Who let the Daily Mail into this bar, anyway?" Nia scowled, playing - as both knew she would - straight into her assistant's hands.

"Bloody Nazis, all of them. Honestly, Max - all the journalists probably have copies of Mein Kampf and The Fountainhead jostling the pens for space in their desk drawers. It's disgusting."

She let out a disdainful snort.

"And the people who read it are almost as bigoted - the sort who start every sentence with, 'I'm not racist, but…' You know that's bad news."

"Please don't buy it, Max - it upsets me." She finished, a little more mildly.

"But the sports pages are good."

The butch eventually managed to object, elated with the knowledge that resistance was futile.

Looks like I'll have to start reading another paper. She grinned wryly to herself. Trying to change Nia's mind once she'd made it up was about as easy as trying to stop a steamroller.

The two exchanged a genuine smile, before Max went upstairs to put change in the tills, giving Nia's shoulder a friendly rub before she went.

The daily downpour had started, and the sound of the rain against the small windows of the office was strangely comforting to the blonde woman. Manchester felt eerily silent without the rain - not quiet, but somehow empty. The rumble of the buses and the screeching of the trams carried on regardless, but the buildings and streets looked perversely greyer in the sunlight - the sheeting water that usually covered the city softened the concrete tones and dulled the sharp silhouettes.

Somewhat mollified by her conversation with Max, Nia turned back to her work with renewed vigour. The silence that had fallen between herself and her assistant had been a source of great distress over the past weeks, and after the friendly interaction her heart felt considerably lighter.

I really thought I was going to lose a friend over this…she thought. Looks as though I underestimated her. That was pretty unfair, Nia.

Feeling a little guilty, she opened the drawer at her feet and began to rifle through the hanging files. An old member of staff had written to complain about a missing paycheque, and Nia had promised to sift through her records in order to get to the bottom of the problem. It was going to be no small task. Pulling out a wad of papers and setting them down in her lap, she began to thumb through, skimming the names and photographs with a practised eye.

While she did so, she resumed her contemplations. Her relationship with the dark woman was in its infancy, it was true - but there was already an understanding between them, a genuine bond, that was as rare as it was precious. Beyond their initial, physical attraction, the two women had discovered that they just plain liked each other - a luxury Nia had never experienced as part of her relationships in the past. She reflected wryly that had she met many of her previous lovers in different situations, they probably would not have even warranted her interest as friends.

A couple of weeks ago, Nia had decided that she wanted to do something to show her appreciation for this new friendship - so she invited the dark butch over to her flat for dinner. She was determined the meal was going to be a masterpiece - and had slaved in her tiny kitchen all day long, in order to create a dish worthy of a true culinary virtuoso. The desire to impress her new lover had also driven her to shop for the occasion, and before Jake arrived, the small blonde slipped into her latest secret weapon - a dark blue cocktail dress cut so low in the back that she blushed at herself in the mirror. But her fight with her inhibitions proved more than worthwhile, when she saw the look of stunned appreciation on her guest's face.

"You look…beautiful." Managed the butch, stooping down to confer a kiss that almost left the bar manager breathless.

The Thai curry Nia had lovingly created was almost left to blacken in the pan after this - and it was only the memory of the day's efforts that motivated the blonde to stay her partner's wandering hands long enough to serve up her creation with a couple of large glasses of wine.

Excitement had put a damper on the bar manager's hunger; and she did little more than chase her portion around her plate, watching lustfully as her guest devoured the meal and bestowed praise that made her verdant eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

"This is wonderful, Nia." Jake said, and the blonde beamed with delight.

After a few mouthfuls, the butch sat back in her chair, taking a long swig of wine. Rather too long, Nia thought…noticing a suspicious pucker at the corners of Jake's mouth.

Her own plate remained untouched…and tentatively, she put the first forkful in her mouth. It took all her self-control not to spit it straight back into her napkin. The curry was unbearably hot - leaving an unpleasant aftertaste that Nia found somewhat reminiscent of sour milk.

"My God!" She exploded. "This is disgusting!"

She met the butch's eyes, and saw relief mingle with embarrassment between the shades of blue.

"It's kinda…spicy." Jake admitted.

"But I'm enjoying it." She said earnestly, trying to placate the mortified chef.

"Nobody could enjoy eating that, Jake." The blonde snapped back, overcome with discomfiture at her failure. "It's horrible. I must have got the proportions wrong, or something."

Looking down at her feet, Nia fought the urge to cry. Her plans for the perfect evening of seduction had gone sadly awry - and she found herself uncharitably wishing that her guest would just take her leave, and leave her alone with her misery.

However, Jake had no intention of doing anything of the sort. Nia suddenly found herself looking into a kind, sympathetic face, as the butch got down on her knees before her.

"Nia, the meal was perfect. It really was." She said, softly. "Because you made it…for me."

Despite a strong compulsion to sulk, to show the butch the door and to berate herself after it closed in her face, a smile tugged at the bar manager's lips.

"I never thought a tough guy like you would be such a sweetheart." She confessed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Returned the dark woman. "Now can I please have a glass of water?"

The meal was finished with a hearty laugh and some grilled cheese sandwiches - and for Nia, a feeling of real intimacy that she'd long been deprived of. With KJ, any small mistake had been treated as a crime - and had usually been accompanied by a torrent of abuse. The small blonde had laboured under the image her partner had projected upon her since the day they first met - and it turned out to be an impossible set of instructions, designed to make her feel as though any minor imperfection was a disaster of heinous proportions. Being allowed space to screw up was certainly new to her experience.

Jake would have eaten that whole plateful of curry, rather than hurt my feelings…she thought, amazed. I can't believe anyone would do that for me.

Her thoughts snapped back to the missing paycheque, as she caught sight of a familiar face on one of the staff files. Examining it more closely, she noticed the job title 'Manager', and realised that she must be looking at a picture of her predecessor. A clean-shaven man with deep-set, merry eyes - Nia idly wondered where she'd seen the face before. And as she stared at the small passport photo paperclipped to the foolscap wallet, a beard began to grow in her mind…getting longer, coarser, and more bushy…until the face confronting her was that of Pete, Jake's homeless friend.

She blinked a couple of times in disbelief.

It can't be. Pete used to manage this place?

I wonder what happened to him?

She unclipped the picture and held it up to the light to study it more closely.

Jake said he got addicted to crack. No…she said that someone 'got him' addicted. That means Matt and his gang were probably responsible.

And with a sinking feeling, Nia knew she couldn't put this kind of cruelty past her aloof, inscrutable boss. She'd long known that Matt's distant manner and cool detachment were merely a veneer assumed to hide an implacable, noxious ferocity. To assume that the man adhered to any kind of moral code would have been foolhardy to say the least.

She stared at the picture again. It was unmistakably Pete - the face was clean of muck and streetwise stubble, but the eyes - kindly, almost ingenuous - were the same eyes that had filled with tears when she wrapped her scarf around his neck on that cold night, almost a month ago.

So how does Jake know him? Her mind turned rapidly from one possibility to another. And it was testament to the bar manager's growing bond of trust with the dark woman, that the obvious answer was not uppermost in her thoughts.

But suddenly…the penny dropped.

"Oh God, no!"

Nia felt sick to her stomach. The photograph slipped from her limp fingers, and disappeared under the desk as she collapsed against it. She retched, holding on to the back of her chair for support, as the betrayal hit her with full force.

Jake's involved with Matt, after all.

The blonde closed her eyes, unable to keep her balance as her brain turned in circles around her, accelerating from zero to five hundred miles an hour, in about a millisecond. What little she already knew of the dark woman told her with certainty that if Jake was caught up in gangland activities, she wouldn't just be a small-time thug. She wouldn't be one of Matt's satellites, she'd be his right-hand man - the jewel in his crown, glittering black and fierce beside him.

I don't believe it.

Grisly details began to flood her senses, threatening to overwhelm Nia's troubled mind as she called up snapshots of gangland legends she'd heard people whisper about - one of these a vengeful fiend who was at once boy and girl but also neither - and who invariably disappeared into the night leaving death in her wake.

She fell to her knees beside her chair.

Remembering Jake's appearance in Fire and Ice on New Year's Eve, and on the dot of six O'clock on New Year's Day - and realising with a sick feeling that these had both been scheduled times for drug pick-ups. Recalling the terror on the Blue Cap's face when the dark woman surprised him in the cellar, Matt's shocked expression when he first clapped eyes on her, and her subsequent hasty exit from the bar. Recollecting her equally hurried and inexplicable departure from Al's party - which had occurred at about the same time as the clientele began to look shady, and the cocaine began to flow.

And also thinking back to the incident in the Ladies' bathroom…when Jake's masculine appearance had thrown suspicion upon her right to be there. And as the pieces clicked into place, the odd moments of disquiet the blonde had been suppressing over the past few weeks suddenly gained significance.

Of course…she thought.

The drugs are always left behind a panel in the Gents'. Matt uses that system in all the bars he owns.

Jake's looks are a perfect cover - she's probably been one of Matt's pick-ups for years.

She can slip into the Gents' unnoticed, but if the police call in, the fact that she's a woman is the ideal alibi. They always search the men first.

Why didn't I think of that before?

Nia could have kicked herself.

Blinded by my emotions and my libido, that's why. I should have listened to Max.

I'm such a fucking idiot.

And now, not only am I involved with a gangster…I'm sleeping with one of the most dangerous people in this city.

As comprehension dawned, Nia also realised that if Jake was associated with Matt, then any relationship that developed between the two women after the night in the bar would have to be under his orders.

He probably told her to watch me in case I 'talked'…she thought, miserably.

And she decided to bed me into the bargain. What better way to gain my trust?

Nia's burgeoning bond with the dark woman dissipated in the bitterness of her reflections, as she looked back upon the development of their friendship with new-found cynicism, and found in her anger a respite from the pain.

This whole thing has just been one big charade. I've been so stupid. I was taken in again.

I almost…fell in love…with her.

This last revelation was almost too painful to bear.

Need to find Max…was Nia's only coherent thought, as she rushed towards the door.

But before she could even grab hold of the handle, the reality of Jake's treachery hit her once more, and with full force. She slid down against the doorframe, tears pouring down her cheeks, unable to move.

It was here that Max found her, over an hour later.

Shock registered on Max's face as she stumbled across the wreck of her friend, sobbing uncontrollably, her breathing coming in fits and gasps. Saying nothing, she crouched down and opened her arms - and Nia fell straight into them. The blonde was shaking with grief, and Max found herself immediately assuming who was to blame.

I bet Jake's done something to upset her. She thought. I knew she was no good. I warned Nia, too - but God forbid she should ever listen to me.

A little embarrassed by the bitterness of her reflections, she pushed a strand of hair away from the bar manager's face, and shifted her focus to her friend's obvious pain. Nia was calmer now, and looked up at the butch with red-rimmed, watery green eyes as Max asked the obvious question.

"What's going on, Nia?"

A stifled sob escaped the back of the blonde woman's throat.

"Jake's involved with Matt." She delivered the bombshell.

Max found it extremely difficult to be surprised at this news, given her lively suspicions during the past month. However, she managed to manufacture a look of shocked sympathy, and gave her friend's back a supportive rub. Nia leaned her head against her assistant's shoulder, drawing comfort from the strong, solid muscles, as she sat amongst the debris of the little world that for the previous weeks had made her so happy. Now, she knew it had all been based on lies - and it made her sick to think of how easily she had been taken in, and how willingly she had given herself to the dark woman, without once suspecting the truth.

"How did you find out?" Asked Max, gently.

"Well, I met this guy when I was out with Jake, and he was homeless…and he said he used to manage a bar…and then Jake told me the reason he was on the streets was because someone got him addicted to drugs…and then I was looking through the files for Tony's missing cheque, and I saw his picture."

The blonde paused for breath, and looked at her friend for signs of comprehension.

"I'm confused." Max was having trouble keeping up. "Whose picture did you see?"

"Pete's!"

The butch continued to look puzzled.

"The homeless man…his name's Pete. He used to be the manager here." Nia elaborated.

My God. The pieces finally began to click into place for Nia's assistant. So that's what happened to the last guy.

"And then I thought, so how does Jake know him? And how does she know how he ended up on the streets? She must have been involved, Max." Finished Nia, a little breathless.

"It does look that way, yes." The butch said, thoughtfully.

"And then I got to thinking about how we met, and I realised that it's all been a big lie. It's got to be, Max. If she's connected with Matt, she wouldn't come near me unless he told her to."

"So after things kicked off with the Blue Caps, he asked her to watch you…"

"In case I talk." Whispered the small bar manager. The tears welled up again, and she voiced her hurt to the only person in the world she felt she could trust.

"I thought she was interested in me…because of me."

As she wrapped her arms more tightly around her injured friend, Max fought to gain control of her anger. She knew that a ranting, raving butch was not what Nia needed - she needed comfort, not another dose of angst. But inside, the assistant manager was furious.

What a thing to do.

I knew Matt must've had some way of keeping his managers in post - he couldn't get Nia addicted to drugs, so he intimidated her instead. And then when he got scared that wasn't going to be enough, he decided to get one of his lowlife thugs to bed her.

She's in love with that woman. I can tell.

The small butch's jealousy of Jake turned rapidly into outright hatred, fuelled by the suffering that was written all over her friend's face, and her own concerns for Nia's safety. If Jake was capable of using someone in cold blood, it was certainly a possibility that she'd come after the bar manager, when she found out Nia knew the truth. So hours later, when Nia had gone home to rest her weary head …Max picked up the phone.

"I'd like to speak to the Sergeant in charge, please. I need to file a formal complaint."

It was only after she'd confessed everything to the police that Max realised she'd probably just opened Pandora's Box.

Nia woke the next morning with a raging headache. She groaned, and squinted in the spring morning sunlight - the brightness felt unbearably at odds with her disconsolate mood. For a moment, she considered the idea of turning over and going back to sleep. But then anger began to seep into the edges of her depression, tensing her muscles and making her feel more than ready to jump out of bed.

She didn't even remember how she'd gotten home the previous night. After her conversation with Max, she'd wandered the hostile streets for a while, blindly getting on a bus when the cold became excruciating. Her movements after that had been automatic, she was sure - and she had finally fallen into bed, exhausted by her tears and emotional distress. After KJ, the young bar manager had resolved to never again let her heart be so easily touched - to hold back and hide the most precious parts of herself, until the next suitor proved worthy of the gift. But her feelings for the dark woman had tolerated no restraint, and now here she was, alone and picking through the ruins of a broken heart…again.

I can't believe I was so damn stupid…she thought, for the umpteenth time.

I probably fell for every line in the book.

Shuffling into the bathroom, she inspected her face in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her eyes were red and puffy from the previous day's crying, and behind them swelled an emptiness she knew all too well. During the past few weeks, the void had begun to retreat - now, it gaped and sent shooting pains into her heart, as she stared into her own vacuity.

She practically ran into the small kitchen, unable to bear the sight of her own reflection. Fresh tears fell into her morning cup of tea, as she remembered how she and Jake had gazed into that mirror together - fair and dark, day and night, blending in satiated contentment. They'd spent many lazy mornings in Nia's flat, leading to plenty of raised eyebrows amongst her staff, as she left Max to open the bar and turned up in time for the lunchtime rush, looking flushed and dishevelled. Insulated by the passion of her new romance, she'd ignored the whispers - now, she doubted whether she could ever face her employees again. She knew that word of Jake's betrayal would spread rapidly, and she'd already contemplated taking an extended holiday while the gossip died down. But this would have to be authorised by Matt - and she had an uncomfortable feeling that once he found out she knew the truth, he'd want to keep her in a place where she could be watched.

There's nowhere for me to run…she thought, miserably. And nobody I can really trust.

The realisation was stark, and she collapsed on to the sofa, hiding her head in her hands to shield herself from the pain. She'd long ago learned to live with her loneliness. But knowing that someone could use her so unfeelingly was something quite different. It felt as though one of Jake's large, powerful hands had wrapped itself tight around her heart, squeezing relentlessly until Nia's lifeblood ran dry through her strong fingers.

She didn't know how long she sat there. It could have been as much as an hour or as little as a minute. But she was stirred by the sound of the telephone.

The blonde woman looked at the machine as though it was a bomb. She knew who would be on the other end of the line. For a moment, she contemplated letting the caller ring off - but her hands seemed to have a life of their own, as she picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

"Jake?"

"Hi, darlin'." Came the familiar, husky voice. Nia choked back a sob, resolving to harden her heart.

"You've got a nerve, calling here." She said, quietly.

There was stunned silence on the other end of the line at this - during which Nia fought the urge to scream.

"What's going on?" Jake's voice sounded wary.

"I should probably ask you the same thing." Was the blonde's chilly reply.

"Nia, what are you talking about?"

"I know the truth, Jake." Said the bar manager, dully. "About Pete. You've been working for Matt all along."

The butch said nothing for a very long time - her silence confirming Nia's suspicions, provoking her ire and dissolving her decision to remain calm and aloof.

"Don't you have anything to say?" She asked, sharply.

Jake sighed, and the soft sound launched spears through the blonde woman's soul. "Not really, no." She said.

Nia took a deep breath, and held her courage in both hands.

"Well, I suggest you leave me alone from now on. I don't want to see you again. Not ever. Do you understand?"

The line went dead.

Kim regarded her sullen friend with sad grey eyes.

"Aren't you going to go and explain?"

"What's the point, Kim?"

Jake sighed heavily.

"She hates my guts. I'll only embarrass myself if I go crawling back. She's already made up her mind that I'm a good-for-nothing. I'm not going to beg her to change it."

The butch folded her arms and slouched in the armchair, daring her friend to defy her. Kim almost let loose a yell of frustration.

"Jake, you can be so irritating! She doesn't expect you to beg, you idiot. She just wants a reason to believe in you again."

"Why should I give her a reason? She should believe in me anyway. She should have trusted me, instead of jumping to conclusions." Came the glowering response.

Wow…thought the femme. Jake's really offended. I haven't seen anyone get to her like this before.

"Do you care about Nia?" She asked, quietly.

"Yes." The butch grudgingly admitted. She started intently at the cuffs of her leather jacket, turning them between her fingers, as she contemplated her feelings.

I really do care about her. When she told me she didn't want to see me again, it felt as though the sun went out.

"Well, are you going to let her go without a fight?" Asked Kim, in a reasonable tone.

"You can't just sit back and let life happen to you like this, Jake. Go and see her, and try to explain. Isn't the possibility that she might understand worth the risk of putting your pride in your pocket?"

"I suppose." The dark woman allowed.

"But she didn't seem willing to show me any understanding on the phone, Kim. She just assumed the worst and told me to leave her alone."

"So you're going to?" Kim took one of the butch's hands in both her own.

"That's what she wants." Said Jake, managing to meet her friend's eyes. The hurt and rejection Kim saw written all over her friend's features slammed straight into her heart.

Sometimes she looks like a bewildered child…she thought. Like an orphan who knows she's not wanted, but doesn't understand why.

"Jake, that's not what Nia wants at all." The femme said, gently. "She's hurt and confused, and doesn't know who she can trust. How can you expect understanding from her if you haven't even deigned to try and explain?"

"But…"

"This isn't a novel, sweetheart." Kim gave Jake's hand a comforting squeeze. "Life isn't that simple. Sometimes, it doesn't matter who's right and who's wrong - as long as somebody makes the first move. You have to go and say sorry, or risk losing her."

A wave of pain crossed the butch's face.

"I don't want to lose her." She whispered. "I don't…I don't think I could handle that."

For a split second she looked inside her own heart, and was overwhelmed by what she saw there.

"I…need…her."

For the most fiercely independent inhabitant of the North's most inhospitable city, this was an admission of gargantuan proportions.

"So go get her." Said Kim, gesturing towards the door.

There was a moment of silence, as pride warred with emotion inside the dark woman's head. But she rose suddenly, looking fierce and resolute.

"You're right." She said.

"It was silly of you not to tell the truth from the start." The femme said softly, as the butch made a move to leave. "But being too proud to tell her what's going on now would be an even bigger mistake."

Jake gave her friend a single, grateful look before she closed the door.

The dark woman contemplated Kim's words as she trudged through mud and rain towards the bar. She'd thought about telling Nia the truth hundreds of times - but the truth always seemed too complicated for her to communicate.

How would she have reacted if I'd told her how vicious I used to be? She thought, bitterly.

That I used to break arms, legs…and necks…for a living?

Would she really have been interested in the fact that I've changed?

The butch had been afraid the game was up when the two women had stumbled upon Pete.

The homeless man had been nothing but a puppet while Fire and Ice was being bought and set up, and Jake had watched as her remorseless colleagues got the poor chap addicted to every narcotic under the sun. But she'd done nothing about it. She'd felt too secure and important in her position at Matt's right hand, indispensable as his mainstay and troubleshooter, to want to jeopardise that with something so feeble as sentiment. She waited until the bar manager broke down and ended up on the streets - and that had been her catalyst for change. Something shifted inside the proud, dark butch when she saw what Pete had been reduced to - wrapped in a blanket, grubby and starving, out of his head. A little intimidation on behalf of a powerful drug dealer was one thing - playing God with the lives of innocent people was quite another.

So she decided she needed to get out. And Matt knew better than to argue - he'd seen enough of Jake's strength and ferocity to know he couldn't hold her against her will. But the gang chief had one last card to play - the dark woman was well aware that her boss had enough information to put her in jail for a very long time, so he let her go on one condition - that she would help him out if he needed a favour.

Jake had been paying off a dual debt ever since, beholden to the Mob but also putting her heart and soul into her new field of work, as an outreach worker for the homeless, drug-dependent and disenfranchised. She paid her dues and alleviated her guilt in her own way, working day and night in the service of the people whose lives she felt she'd helped to ruin - and tried to forget her old habits as she left them behind. But when Matt and his cronies wanted something from her, she had no choice but to acquiesce.

The last phone call she'd received had been on New Year's Eve. A massive shipment of heroin and cocaine had been successfully smuggled in from the Balkans, but after the drugs were past Customs and safely stashed on British soil, the police had been unusually quick on the draw. Matt needed to shift his portion fast - and Jake was the only person he felt he could trust. He needed someone who could sneak in to Fire and Ice on its busiest night, and pull off a pickup. He told the dark woman that nobody else would do.

Jake realised ruefully that had probably sealed Nia's fate.

I should have stayed away from her…she thought. The last thing she needs in her life is someone like me.

But she kept on walking.

As Jake strode purposefully towards Fire and Ice, Nia wandered aimlessly around the town. Eventually, her troubled meanderings brought her close to one of her favourite places to walk and think - St Peter's Field, the site of a famous massacre of working-class radicals over a hundred years ago, and now home to the Free Trade Hall. The grey city contained few oases of green, and St Peter's was one of the prettiest - poignant in its loveliness, because it reminded all who visited it of both the beauty and the frailty of life. For the bar manager, it was a gentle reminder that no matter how hard she struggled, she always had something to be grateful for.

After her disastrous telephone conversation with Jake, she'd decided to let Max open the bar alone, feeling too distressed and vulnerable to face the outside world just yet. But after an hour spent moping around her tiny flat, she realised that idle solitude was doing nothing to ameliorate her gloom. So she got dressed and braved the cold - hoping to make it to Fire and Ice before midday, so she could make herself scarce in time for the arrival of most of her staff.

Rarely in her short life had Nia felt quite so alone. With her quiet, cheerful disposition and air of confidence and capability, the small blonde was never short of friends or people to spend time with - but strangely, this jovial network seemed to disappear whenever trouble was afoot, leaving her with the distinct feeling that there was nobody left to turn to. Rachel was normally her prop and mainstay during testing times - but the shady dealings that went on behind the scenes at Fire and Ice were not something Nia wanted to share with her best friend. Not as long as she valued both their lives, she thought, as she traipsed through the mud covering the well-worn path to the park.

The small blonde paced the grass restlessly, followed by a significant number of admiring glances. Although she was well bundled up in scarf, gloves and winter coat, the gloss on her golden hair and the soft shine in her eyes couldn't fail to attract attention. She epitomised the effortlessly stylish city girl that was Manchester's most famous export - but inside, she felt like an open wound. Tripping over carelessly strewn litter as she walked, she wished she could double up inside to relieve her pain. So she groped her way to a park bench and sat down, feeling helpless in the midst of an unhappiness that seemed insurmountable.

The hardest thing to bear, she reflected, was that she was beginning to blame herself.

Immediately after telling the butch to leave her alone, Nia had started to regret her words. Because with the click of the receiver as Jake hung up, the bar manager realised she'd said goodbye to any hope of an explanation.

I'll never find out the truth, now…she thought, desperately.

I know I told her to get lost. But I didn't really expect her to take me at my word!

And I can't be very important to her, if she's prepared to just walk away.

The blonde woman stared blankly into space, contemplating the futility of her situation. She'd told Jake to leave her alone - so she couldn't really blame the woman for doing what she asked. And she was already painfully well-acquainted with the dark woman's pride - she knew the butch would never return after being told she wasn't wanted.

Shit. She shook her golden head at her own stupidity.

I've really messed this up. I should have given her the benefit of the doubt and let her explain, before I went off the deep end.

Her eyes dropped to the grass at her feet as she spotted a tiny form moving close to her shoes. It was a wagtail - a cheeky, black and white bird - and it cocked its head at her as it hopped close, seemingly unafraid. Nia was fixed for a second by its beady stare, before the bird spied a crumb, snatched it up in its beak, and flew away. And as it alighted on the monument that commemorated the Peterloo massacre, Nia's world began to seem brighter.

Life goes on, Nia…she chided herself.

This isn't a novel, and you're not a tragic heroine.

You got over a broken heart once before. That means you can do it again. Now get to work, and get on with it.

The bar could have been a beacon, even in the stark grey light of midday - glowing with flames and billowing smoke into the cold air. The smell of the fire mingled with the smog of the city, sending a horrendous, warning stench into the atmosphere.

Both women rounded opposite corners at the same time. Unable to see each other through the dense curtain of smoke that surrounded the building, they stared at the wreck of Fire and Ice in stunned and separate disbelief.

Nia…thought Jake, breaking into a run.

"MAX!!!" Screamed Nia, as she dashed towards the blaze.

Jake reached the burning building first, and unaware that the bar manager was following close on her heels, dove straight in with no thought for her own safety. She felt too sick to think - with images of the death and carnage of her past flashing before her eyes - except this time, the bleeding and tortured victims she pictured all had blonde hair and Nia's face.

On rounding the corner, the totality of the blaze had told her this wasn't a mere accident. It had the look and feel of arson about it - and in her gut, she knew Matt and his gang were tying up loose ends. She wondered if Nia had finally cracked and gone to the police. That could be the only explanation for a total destruction like this - the operation was imploding, and Matt needed to dispose of the evidence. And that included his bar manager. She knew there would be a gruesome price to pay for the blonde woman and anyone else who happened to be in the way, when the gangsters came to finish the job. She also knew she had probably arrived too late.

Pulling her handkerchief over her mouth to keep out the dense black smoke, she picked through piles of chairs and tables and made her way towards the bar. So far, the blonde woman was nowhere to be seen.

Jake looked fearfully towards the office.

If the bar manager was down there, the chances of getting her out alive were going to be slim - judging by the crashes coming from the direction of the stairs, timbers were already beginning to fall in the basement.

Stifling the urge to cough, the butch headed for the staircase. From the amount of smoke puffing out of the stairwell, she'd rapidly worked out that the fire had started downstairs - and gritting her teeth, she strode purposefully towards it. Perilous and foolhardy it might be - but she had to try and find Nia if she possibly could. Even if just to reassure herself that the bar manager had perished in the inferno, and hadn't been dragged away by Matt's thugs, to be used and abused for their express amusement.

She felt queasy at the thought - and pushing her dour speculations aside, she concentrated on navigating the stairs.

I hope to God the cellar hasn't caught yet …the dark woman thought grimly, as she gingerly stepped upon creaking wood. Once the barrels caught alight, she knew it was only a matter of time before they blew, causing an explosion that would destroy everything in its wake.

She also knew that if she didn't get out soon, she'd be blown to bits.

Bent over from the effort of trying to breathe, Jake cautiously pushed open the door to the office, and winced as a cloud of smoke hit her squarely in the face. It was almost impossible to see through the angry black haze, but it didn't take a genius to work out that the construction was already starting to buckle.

She took a frenzied look around - and gasped with shock as she saw a body in the corner of the office, trapped under a timber.

Oh, please. It can't be her. She thought, desperately.

Jake practically dove across the piles of mess and rubble until she could squat down beside the prone figure.

And the face that confronted her - bloody, bruised and covered in soot - was not that of the bar manager.

It was Max.

Even as she lifted the timber that was wedged across the butch's chest, Jake knew Max was dying. Blood trickled slowly from one corner of her mouth - a sure sign that ribs had been broken, and had probably punctured the assistant manager's lungs. Judging from the harsh rasping sounds the barely conscious woman was making, the smoke was fast taking over her breath.

Jake winced in sympathy as she took the butch in her arms - careful not to cause any more damage, even though there was probably no chance of saving her. Max's head lolled on the dark woman's shoulder, and Jake feared that she was already dead.

But two tiny words escaped the small butch's lips as they mounted the stairs.

"Where's…Nia…?"

"Try not to talk." Jake replied, grimly. She didn't want to think about where the bar manager could be. Matt and his associates never left a job half-finished - if Nia had been on the premises when they arrived to start the fire, she was likely to be found in an even worse state than her assistant.

Once I've gotten Max out, I'll go back in …the dark woman told herself. But the reassurance was empty - on her way out she'd seen flames licking at the door of the cellar, and she knew it wouldn't be long before the building blew. Going back would be certain suicide - with no guarantee she was going to find the blonde bar manager in one piece.

As they left the burning building, the street was already being evacuated. Jake heard the sirens of the approaching fire engines, and desperately hoping that an ambulance was also on the way, she continued to walk with the dying butch in her arms, carrying her beyond the police barricades and past the gathering crowds.

The dark woman stripped off her jacket, and slipped it under Max's head as she set her on the ground. The smaller woman was already beginning to turn blue - and her voice was almost a whisper, as once again, her friend's name crossed her lips.

"Nia…" She coughed weakly, spattering blood over Jake's shirt.

The tall butch took the assistant manager's hand in her own, and met her eyes for a brief moment. For the first time, an understanding passed between them.

"I'm going back in to get her." She said, quietly.

Max heaved a shallow sigh, and her eyes began to close.

Leaving the fading butch lying on the street, Jake covered the distance back to the bar in a few short strides. Amidst the commotion of firefighters, police and bystanders, she was able to slip through the front door unnoticed.

She knew she probably wouldn't be coming back out.

Taking one last look at the scene outside, she shoved her face back into her handkerchief and began to clear a way through the gathering rubble. She was dreading what she knew she would find - a charred body, visible only by a shock of strawberry blonde hair.

In fact, she could almost see it - and she dashed the tears away from her eyes with an impatient hand. She had no time for anguished hallucinations - she had to find the bar manager's body, no matter what state it was in. But when the mist cleared, the image was still there - and she blinked a couple of times as she registered the figure, leaning over the bar, perfectly still.

It's her.

Jake numbly wondered how she could have missed Nia's body the first time…when the blonde head moved.

She's alive.

Without a word and with a few swipes of her powerful arms, the dark butch forced a way through to the blonde bar manager's side. Nia was doubled over from a violent fit of coughing - but apart from the smoke inhalation, she looked relatively unscathed. Supporting the fainting woman with an arm around her waist, Jake drew her towards the door.

Nia's head began to clear in the fresh air, and as her wits revived, she struggled against Jake's bracing arms.

"No…" She murmured, fretfully. "I have to go back…"

She freed herself from the dark woman's embrace - although she was still on the verge of collapse, she was determined to start back towards the burning bar.

"I can't leave her in there." She said, resolute.

"Nia." The urgency in Jake's voice halted the blonde in her tracks.

"The building is going to blow. We need to get away."

Nia looked at the dark woman, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Max is in there." She sighed.

The bar manager's face crumpled in distress when Jake showed her the bloody figure of her assistant.

"Oh my God…Max." Tumbling down on to the kerb, Nia eased her friend's head into her lap.

"Someone call an ambulance!" Her voice cracked as she feverishly looked around her.

"No…no." Max rasped, weakly. Her breath was coming in uneven gasps, but she managed a small smile as she looked at her friend. "Glad…you're…here."

Nia's eyes swam with verdant grief as she looked up at Jake. And in answer to the bar manager's unspoken question, the dark butch forced a slow nod. Max's chest was filling - she was going to be unconscious in a matter of minutes, suffocated by her own blood. The only thing they could do was leave her be - any attempt to resuscitate her would crush her chest completely, and the cavity would certainly give way under their helping hands. Either way, she was sure to die.

Blue eyes held green for a long moment, and Nia drew strength from the dark woman's sympathetic face before she turned back to her friend. She knew that Max needed her at this moment more than ever - and her slumped shoulders straightened, as she put her own pain aside to do what little she could.

"What happened, Max?" She asked, gently. "The fire alarm went off - why didn't you get out?"

"Looking…for…you." Coughed the butch. "Then…I don't…remember."

She coughed again, spraying Nia's face with the blood that bubbled up from her throat. There were just minutes left - and the blonde squeezed Max's hand with her heart in her mouth.

"I'm…scared…" Max whispered.

"I know." Nia replied, softly.

"I'm here. I won't let you go."

Max's eyes closed, and a tear stole its way down her face.

"I…thought," she gurgled, "when…someone…dies…" she paused for another cough that made her whole body shake. "their angel…comes to get…them."

She opened her eyes again for a last look at her friend.

"I'm…leaving…mine…behind." She choked, through the bar manager's stifled sobs.

Jake turned her face away, ashamed of the hot tears that poured down her cheeks.

It took ten more minutes for Max to die. There were no more words after this - she slipped in and out of consciousness as Nia held her close, whispering tender incoherences that she hoped would ease Max's passage. The bar manager wasn't really sure when the small butch drew her last breath. She felt as though she was waking from a dream, when the paramedics arrived and she watched them take Max's body from her and load it into the van.

Only then did she allow herself to cry. Standing alone on the pavement, she let out a wail - groping blindly around her for something to hold on to.

And for the first time in her life, she found it. As Nia sobbed on Jake's shoulder, Fire and Ice exploded, sending tremors down the length of the Oxford Road.

Fourteen (Epilogue)

It was six weeks since the bar manager had laid her assistant in the ground, and the spring sun was just beginning to hit the North's grey city, gently warming the new shoots that would soon turn into primroses and bluebells, as the grass grew green over Max's grave. The change in the weather had not, however, taken the chill out of Nia's heart - although for the first time since the fatal fire, she was beginning to feel a sense of acceptance, if not peace.

She'd taken her friend's death hard, almost getting herself killed by lashing out and screaming blame at everyone she came across. All thoughts of imminent danger were quickly dashed by her implacable grief - and if it had not been for Jake's constant, hovering presence, the remnants of Fire and Ice's controlling gang might quickly have lost patience with their most recent manager. The dark woman became increasingly concerned, seeing the bar manager's accusations for what they were - a fragile veneer for the fact that she really saw her friend's untimely demise as her own responsibility. The memory that Max had sacrificed her life by remaining in the burning building to look for her kept the small blonde awake at nights as it tortured her soul.

The bar had been totally swept away by the force of the explosion - nothing had been salvaged from the rubble. With no job to go to, there was nothing for Nia to do to take her mind off the pain.

The blonde spent weeks locked in her apartment, imagining what could have happened if she'd arrived at the bar a few moments earlier, remembering Max's bloodied body lying in the street, reliving their last moments together. She saw only Jake - the dark woman was her lifeline in the chaos that grew out of the destruction of Fire and Ice, bringing her news of the tug of war between the remaining leaders of Manchester's underworld, and the slow, painful progress of the police investigation. But Nia had no hope that the forces of law and order would manage to turn up a culprit. Even without their extensive contacts within the metropolitan forces, Matt and his colleagues were notorious for their rapid disappearing acts. So the bar manager sat in her flat, refusing to expect good news - and even Rachel found it difficult to gain entrance, inexperienced as she was with grief of this magnitude.

This was Nia's way - despite her easy openness and cheerful disposition, the strongest emotions struck her very core. She reeled from them - and when this occurred, she preferred to deal with the tidal wave alone, knowing it could easily submerge anyone else who came near. Beaten and suffocated by a current of conflicting feelings, she could do nothing but wait for the storm to pass. She emerged eventually, a little more rested and slightly less wan and drawn, and seemed to have found a grudging recognition of her loss - but the tide had gone out in her eyes, leaving a numb emptiness behind. With the confusion on the streets, she was able to slink quietly away from her old life, secure in the knowledge that everyone would be too busy fighting to try and follow her or even notice she was gone. But she still wanted answers - and there was nobody left who could satisfy her demand.

Matt was nowhere to be found. He'd apparently also gone into the bar, in search of Nia - it seemed that he'd known about Max's call to the police, but knew nothing of the radical plan to dispose of the evidence. The fire had been started without his authorisation, by various renegade elements within his team. Or so said the heavies who paid Jake a visit, a few days later. Apparently, he'd last been seen dashing into the burning building - but a body was never found.

With the head gangster's disappearance, Manchester descended into anarchy. The power vacuum that sprung up gave birth to a number of pretenders with lofty ambitions, and in the weeks after the fire, there was constant war between rival factions. Drive-by shootings, bar-room brawls and street-stabbings grew increasingly common, and although more than one civilian got caught in the crossfire, the police refused to intervene.

A few years earlier, Jake might have been tempted to step into the breach and return order to Manchester's disintegrating underworld. But somehow, the prospect of forging her own empire amidst the ruins seemed strangely unattractive - now she had someone else to consider, and a new focus in her life. The small bar manager had assumed an importance she'd never expected, and these days, her first thought was always of Nia.

Surprisingly, it felt right that this was the case.

"Well, the University kept my place open." Said Nia, slowly.

She leaned back in her chair, and looked questioningly at Jake, silhouetted against the background of the lunchtime traffic. The warm weather had convinced many of Manchester's bar owners to put their tables and chairs out on the street - and the two women were sharing a cup of coffee on the veranda of one of Manchester's quieter gay bars.

"I can go and start doctoral research whenever I like. They're even going to pay my fees." She finished.

The dark woman gave her a serious, intent look. "Are you ready for that?" She asked.

"I think so." Nia replied.

Her eyes welled with tears, as they always did when she thought of Max.

"I miss her so much, you know." She whispered.

"But going back to school will do me good. She'd want me to."

"Yes, she would." Replied the butch, with a smile.

A ray of spring sunlight glinted off her shades, illuminating the face the bar manager had come to love. She smiled back - reflecting that Jake had been a pillar of strength over the past weeks. After the blaze had died down, explanations had been given, and apologies exchanged, although much still remained unsaid. But Nia was beginning to realise that it didn't really matter - what was important was the fact that her trust in the dark woman had been restored. Jake's heroism in pulling Max out of the burning bar, and going back in to look for her, was something she'd never forget.

For the first time in a long while, the blonde woman felt content. The insecure, wide-eyed girl had disappeared for good since she lost her friend - but in her place had grown a woman who knew pain and suffering, and had triumphed over it, as she realised every time she looked in the mirror at the brand new crow's feet and grey hairs that signified the new maturity.

"Who knows what could happen in the future." She speculated, aloud.

Her companion looked down, surprised. "I certainly don't." She muttered, half to herself.

Nia reached for the butch's hand. "Do you want to stick around and find out?"

And as the afternoon wore on, more than one passer-by stopped to stare up at the veranda, captivated by the tableau of the small blonde in the dark woman's arms, both oblivious to the world around them.

The End