CHAPTER 1

This was the very first fan fiction I ever wrote several long years ago now, before I even really knew what fan fiction was! I am currently re-writing it (under the new title of 'Dangerous Games') and so saw no reason to change any of it, so this is the original version... I have only made a few minor alterations to the grammer to make it easier to read. Even so, although I am re-writing this to an extent (althpugh the story plot is intended to be significantly different) I still thought that this was worth an upload! Enjoy!

"Hey ready to go?" Pascoe popped his head round the door of Dalziel's office.

"Yeah come on then, lets go." His boss looked up from a pile of paper work. "Hand me my jacket will you?" Andy Dalziel's arm was tightly wrapped in a bandage and lightly resting in a sling, that went up around his shoulders and was loosely tied around his neck.

"You really ort to get that looked at you know." Pascoe looked with a frown at his bosses injury.

"I have."

"You know what I mean. You've not been to see the doctor since the beginning of last week. You're supposed to be going every morning and evening to get that dressing changed."

"Oh don't fuss Peter, it was barely a scratch. I'll be perfectly alright." Andy placed his hand upon Peter's shoulder.

"Yeah I suppose so." He replied with a smile on his face. "Come on." He dangled a set of car keys in front of his bosses face. "I'll drive." He said with a forced smile. Andy Dalziel gave a little laugh.

…

Out in the station car park the two men walked side by side, hands in pockets, heads face down. It was now Dalziel's turn to break the silence between them.

"I'm sorry Peter."

"For what?"

Dalziel shrugged his shoulders. "Everything."

"You have no reason to be sorry, especially to me. I owe you my life Andy."

The week before Dalziel and Pascoe had apprehended a suspect in a murder investigation that they had been working on. When the man had taken Pascoe and a number of other young constables hostage in one of the interview rooms armed with a knife, Dalziel had interviewed. As Pascoe lay unconscious on the stone floor Dalziel had been stabbed twice, once in the shoulder and again in the palm of the hand. Despite this, Dalziel had somehow managed to knock the suspect out and grab the knife from his hand.

Now Pascoe helped his boss into the front seat of his car. Someone was out to get Dalziel, neither of them knew who, but since that fateful day he had been receiving death threats through his mail, and more recently so, strange phone calls. Pascoe was now feeling concern for his bosses future welfare, and after much perseverance had persuaded him to come and spend a few weeks with him and his wife, and their daughter. Who also happened to be Dalziel's goddaughter. Dalziel suddenly flinched and grabbed at his shoulder.

"Sorry Andy."

"It's alright Peter, no worry's." He held his hand up in protest to his Inspector's concerns. He looked to his front and gave a sigh.

"Andy?" Pascoe frowned. Dalziel turned his head, smiled and winked at Peter. Peter smiled back and closed Dalziel's door. Dalziel struggled to get his seat belt on one handedly as Pascoe went round the back of the car and round to the other side, he opened the door and sat in the driving seat.

"Here let me help you with that." He reached over and clipped his bosses belt in the belt lock.

"I can do it myself!" Dalziel snapped. Pascoe looked to the front, smiled and shook his head. He started up the engine.

…

As the two men drove down the narrow country roads, the night was closing in fast. It was almost dark when the engine decided to pack up, and the car came to a sudden stop.

Pascoe tried to get it started back up again but with no success. He gave one last frustrated thump to the steering wheel. "Dam!" He shouted. Dalziel looked up suddenly.

"What?"

"The blasted engine's packed up!"

Dalziel noticed that the petrol reader pointed to empty.

!No. I don't think so. Look that's your problem, the blasted petrol tank is empty!"

"Great, that's all we need. I knew I should have stopped off at the petrol station a few miles back!"

"Well why didn't you then?"

Pascoe looked disorientated. "It was closed."

Dalziel shook his head in annoyance.

"Can't you ever do anything right Peter? I mean…"

Dalziel's voice droned off into the distance. Pascoe wasn't really listening. He was used to this. He had it everyday at the office. As he sat there twiddling his fingers, he noticed the silhouette of an old run down looking farmhouse on the top of a very high hill.

"Look!"

Dalziel's voice suddenly trailed off.

"What?" He snapped.

"Up there on the top of that hill!" He pointed.

"It looks like some sort of building!"

"A farmhouse I think sir!"

"Quite probably." Dalziel replied vaguely.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Pascoe asked. They both looked at one another,

"Probably not." Dalziel said.

"Maybe it's still vacant!" Pascoe said hopefully.

"What, an old rundown place like that? Be serious Peter."

"I am being serious! Besides it's our only hope, come on."

Pascoe removed his seatbelt and made a move to get out the car. Dalziel grabbed him by the arm.

"No, I'll go." He said impatiently.

"We'll go together." Pascoe said, shaking Dalziel's grip away. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"I'm not incapable of looking after myself." Dalziel said as they got out of the car. "I still have one good arm left."

"It's not your arms that I'm worried about!" Pascoe muttered to himself as he slammed the car door. "Hey wait for me!" He ran fast to catch up with Dalziel, who had already started his trek up the hill.

…

Two watching eyes peered out through the bushes on the opposite side of the road, and watched as the two men became further and further away, and turned into tiny black silhouettes in the distance.