Kim awoke slowly, feeling tired and drained. Her head ached. What could she have been doing to have wound up feeling this bad? The truth dawned on her slowly, and it was all that she could do to avoid smiling with glee. She had been talking, for hour after hour, to Toby Lourdes, the old ex-pat to whom she had been introduced by the handsome doctor. Salvo had entered into the spirit of things with aplomb, introducing her as a rich heiress without a care in the world. Lourdes had warmed to her no end, and a lazy, happy smile spread its way across Kim's face as she remembered their conversation. Lourdes was sick of gold diggers - tired of people trying to insinuate their way into his life in order to get their claws into his money. A rich heiress, naturally, had no need of such ploys. Kim had to congratulate Salvo on that move; but she still wasn't altogether sure how far he was on her side, and how much he had just assumed that the way that he introduced her was the way that she really was. She would have to wait and see. She sat up, looking about at her bedroom. James was fast asleep in his cot next to the bed, oblivious to his mother and all of her schemes. She stood up, deciding immediately to change into a fresh set of clothes. She had fallen asleep fully dressed, and her previous attire was creased and crumpled to the point of ridicule. She checked her watch, saw that it was past time for the hotel's last dinner sitting, and wondered whether or not to take James to the club for something to eat. It was about time that the people there met him. If she was to enter into any long-term arrangements with any of them, they had to know about her son. "Not long now James," she murmured to the sleeping child, as she finished dressing and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She had to look good, and she had to look rich; but neither was exactly a problem for her. She had style and grace in abundance, and the money in her bank account here in town was enough to keep her in the lap of luxury for some time yet. It would be a long job to win the confidence of a man like Lourdes - of that much she was sure - but she was in no immediate need of his money, thanks to a certain insurance company, a certain horse, and the plans of a certain Steve Marchant. She wondered what sort of a day he had had, and smiled to herself. Maybe she would send him a postcard. The sound of a knock at the door startled her, and she finished patting her hair into its usual carefree style. A frown creased her brow. She was not expecting anybody. Salvo had her address now, she had seen to that, but she could think of nobody else who would wish to pay her a visit. She wondered if the doctor had come up with another mark; somebody with wealth to match that of Toby Lourdes, and who was in even worse physical shape than that particular sick old man. The police knew her address of course, but she was sure that they would not be coming to see her. She vaguely remembered calling them from the club earlier, and promising them another sizeable bribe if they would release Chris Tate; but unless he had risked all by telling them who she was, she could see no reason for them to be here now. That only left one person, and an expression of mild distaste showed itself on her face. She had told him to leave her alone. If he was looking for trouble, she had a station full of policemen ready to do her bidding. She would stop at nothing to keep a man like Chris out of her hair once and for all. She opened the door in a rush, her body language displaying her anger even before she looked down into the cold, calculating eyes of her archenemy. He smiled at her, eyebrows slightly raised, head cocked at a questioning angle. His whole demeanour suggested faint amusement; a gentle challenge within the usual icy front. She let him receive the full force of her most glacial stare, but he made no obvious response. "Evening." He was still smiling at her, and she felt her exasperation grow. "Can I come in?" "We had a deal, Chris." She moved aside nonetheless, allowing him to pass. "If you try to cause any more trouble, I can have you back in prison in the blink of an eye. They're happy to do whatever I ask, and you know it." "Naturally." He wheeled himself about the room, glancing at the toys, the furniture, the papers on the desk - all with a vaguely proprietary air. "I have no intention of causing you any trouble. When did I ever want that? I just wanted to say goodbye, that's all." "Then you're leaving." She kept her tone clipped and professional, but he did not seem to care how she spoke to him. "Our plane leaves tomorrow morning. It was the first one we could get." That was not strictly true, but he didn't care if she suspected it. He was not in that much of a hurry to leave. "We should be back in Britain by lunchtime, and home before it gets dark. With a bit of luck." "Luck never was your strong point, though, was it." She smirked, seeing the hard glint in his eyes as response to her jibe. "Come on Chris, there's more to it than that. I can't see you wanting to say goodbye. You're not the sort. You've been beaten fair and square, and there's no way that you can deny it. So where are the tears and the angry speeches? Where's the spoilt little boy we've all come to know and loathe?" She batted her eyelashes at him. "Maybe you decided to come and have one more go at getting what you've always wanted." "In your dreams." He performed another idle circuit of the room, his eyes straying lazily over the furniture. "Are you going to offer me a drink?" "If you like." Her patronising smile drifted back across her face. "Providing you think you can handle it." "Oh I think I can." He watched as she poured a pair of drinks, then took the glass offered to him. "No arsenic?" "Of course not." She sipped her own drink, watching him over the rim of her glass. "I much prefer cyanide. It has a moreÉ exclusive air to it, don't you think? The connoisseur's poison of choice." "Of course." He drank slowly, all the time watching her as closely as she was watching him. When the glass was still half-full he stopped, staring into the amber depths of the liquid. He appeared to be deep in thought. "If you're about to come up with some new threat, you don't have to bother." She rested her glass on the bureau beside her, her icy eyes still fixed on him. He shook his head. "No threats. I was just wondering what you said to Laura yesterday." "Laura?" Kim shrugged. "Nothing much. She said most of it for me actually. You know Chris, you really ought to start wondering what it is about you that makes people so willing to believe the worst. Even your girlfriend believed my side of things more readily than she'd believe yours. Now what does that say to you?" "That I don't resort to stooping to your level?" She had struck a nerve, and she could see it clearly. His eyes had blazed for a second, before he had regained his tenuous control. "I don't care what she believes, or what she thinks. I only want to know what you told her." "That I was looking for a new start in life; the same thing that I'm going to tell you. I want it to end here, and we'll say no more about it. You go back to Emmerdale, I'll go off to - well, to where my next plans lie. I know that you'd like a chance to get back at me for what I just did to you, but this has got to end somewhere. Right?" "Absolutely." He saluted her with his glass and drank the rest of its contents in one mouthful. "It ends here. I have no problem with that. I only have one thing to ask." "What?" She sounded suspicious, and he smiled. "Nothing much. I just want to see James. To say goodbye, if that's okay. He is my brother, and I've missed him these last few months. If I'm never going to see you again, I'll never get the chance to watch him grow up." He shrugged, his hand falling to a carrier bag lying next to him in the chair. "I'm rather attached to him." "You're not attached to anything except yourself." She hesitated for a few moments, then shrugged. "Fine, I'll go and get him." He began to move forward, but she shook her head. "No. You stay there and I'll bring him to you. I don't want you nosing around." "As if I would." His smile was filled with the purest innocence, but it had no effect on her. She disappeared into the bedroom, re-emerging several moments later with her son, still half asleep, in her arms. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, blinking at Chris with a smile of recognition. Chris smiled back. He was discovering that he really would miss the small boy, and it still galled him to think that there was no way as yet that he could take James away from Kim, and back to Emmerdale where he felt that the child belonged. "Hey James." He wheeled closer to the pair, looking up at the sleepy boy. "I brought you something." He picked up the carrier bag and opened it, drawing out a brown teddy bear with huge black eyes. The fur looked deep and soft, and was finished off by a bright blue bow which was tied around the creature's neck. James' small face lit up, and he bent towards the toy, encircling it in anxious, eager arms. It engulfed him, and he had to struggle to look around it, back towards his mysterious benefactor. Kim put both boy and bear into a nearby armchair. "Thankyou," she told Chris. He shrugged. "He's my brother." "I know." She sighed. "Look, you really ought to be going. I have plans for this evening." "Yes, I'm sure. Is he old? or just sick?" "You never change." She preceded him to the door. "Goodbye Chris." "Goodbye." "Try and make sure that your plane doesn't crash on some remote little Yorkshire village." There was humour in her voice, and he stared up at her, for a moment seeing a glimmer of the woman that everybody else saw; the caring mother and desperate victim of other people's unfairness. The illusion lasted not even a second, and as the ice returned to her countenance, he turned about to face the door. "Have a long and unpleasant life," he told her, his back to her face. She laughed rather harshly. "That's just what I was about to wish you." She followed him to the door and stared out into the corridor, watching as he wheeled himself away. He did not look back. She smiled a last smile at his retreating figure and then closed the door, her eyes burning brightly for just a second. She did not believe for a moment that she had seen the last of Chris Tate; but for the meantime, at least, he was gone; and there was nothing that he could do to her. Outside in the corridor, Chris stopped as he reached the lift. The doors slid open, revealing the eager young attendant, but for a moment Chris made no move towards him. For the first time he turned to look back at the door. It had closed, and he could no longer see the woman on the other side; but he knew just what she was doing. She was turning back to her son, all thoughts of her hated rival gone from her mind. She had underestimated him again. Were it not for the fact that this certainty stung his pride, he would have smiled to think of it. She would learn. Soon.

"You've been gone a long time." Seated at the desk in their hotel room, Laura looked up as the door opened and Chris entered. He shrugged. "I had some things to do. I might have to go out again early tomorrow morning. Just some last minute business." "You never stop, do you." She rose to her feet and went over to him, putting her arms around his neck. "Look, I wanted to apologise. I was a little uptight earlier." "It's okay. So was I." He smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid that's the effect that Kim has on me." "I'm sure." Laura let go of him and sat down on the nearest chair, glad of the chance for them both to be on the same eye level. "I realise how hard this must be for you." "What?" He seemed genuinely puzzled, and she could not prevent a smile from bursting out across her face. "You know damn well. Kim. Having to go away and leave her here. You really want to take her back to Britain to stand trial, don't you." "Of course I do." He smiled at her, taking her hand. "She did do some pretty unpleasant stuff, Laura." "I know. And she hurt you, which is reason enough for me to want to support you. But I just want what's best for you Chris; and I think that leaving Kim here and giving you both the chance to start afresh has got to be a part of that. Carrying on this feud isn't going to do anybody any good. Do you think it's what Frank would have wanted? To see his son and his wife trying to hurt each other all the time?" "Huh." He did not answer that question, knowing the answer all too well. "It's all water under the bridge now anyway. We're going back to the UK, and she's staying here. I'm okay with that." "Good." She pulled him towards her, as close as she was able, and kissed him. "Thanks Chris." "Thanks?" He sounded puzzled. "For what?" "For being so understanding." She smirked at him. "For a while there I didn't think you'd go through with it. I thought you'd be desperate for one last crack at her, but you're not, are you. You're okay with this. That means a lot to me." "Hey, no problem." He wheeled himself away from her, heading for the desk. "Come on. We have work to do." "All work and no play, remember?" "My name's not Jack." He began to rifle through the stack of documents, looking for a change to their most recent topic of conversation. He had been right, he now saw, to keep Laura out of his latest scheme. Let her think that he had abandoned his on-going battle against the bane of his existence. Let the lady herself think the same thing; for now at least. It would have been nice to have had somebody that he could share it all with, but the long and the short of it was that his battle with the self-styled Wicked Witch of the West was nobody's business but their own. If Laura wanted to think that it was over, then he would show her in no uncertain terms that it was; but the truth would be something different. The Chris/Kim feud was going to continue for as long as both sides were standing; whatever the consequences. There was no other way forward for either of them.