Good evening everyone. I'm a newbie, though I have been a lurker for a while! I intended to stay that way, but then this came into my head and wouldn't go away. I had to write it down before it came bursting out of me like something from alien! I'll explain now, it is going to be a few separate stories, with a few chapters in each, when I write, I tend to write one-shoty type stories that all link together. So, if you like this, please drop me a wee comment and I'll keep posting!

This is my head's little idea of what should maybe have happened after series 14/ during series 15. I feel that the writers didn't have enough time to do 'Bloodlines' justice in the following episodes. Look at the way he fell apart after Penny, for example. I think Harry repressed his grief for Anna, so decided to write it myself.

I don't own anything...not a single thing. I don't even own my own house.

Sooooo nervous! Hope you talented bunch like this!

D.A. xxx

June 21st – 2011 – Entry 10.

"Harry. Have a seat."

Her voice is warm, welcoming, in a static, robotic kind of way. It used to make you recoil, scowl, want to throw something. But now you oblige. You feel relaxed, comfortable. You can't deny it; she's good at her job.

"You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes."

"A relapse?"

"Not quite."

She sits back, adopts your body language, an attempt to make you feel comfortable you assume. She is waiting for you to continue.

"These…pills…what are the side effects?"

A raised eyebrow.

"Harry?"

"The side affects. What are they?"

"Well, nausea, drowsiness…perhaps moodswings…why?"

"Dreams?"

She is looking at you, nonplussed. So you continue.

"I've been having… dreams. Dreams that I haven't had before. Vivid dreams. Quite…graphic, some of them."

"What are they about, Harry?"

You're not sure you want to answer her. While she doesn't know and you haven't said it, you don't have to confront it. You can keep it secret, hidden away like you always have. To say it aloud would make it true, even more true than it feels right now in your heart.

They had plagued him for a while now. These dreams. Or fantasies as some would call them. It was almost always the same thing, only minor details would change. Like the song on the radio in the background - tinny in the clinical atmosphere of the cutting room - or the moment at which the dream began.

Or the colour of her underwear.

Other than that it's always the same.

"My colleague. They're about my colleague."

No words are spoken, she's clearing up after a pm, putting things away. He comes up behind her, unnoticed, and places his hands on her hips. She freezes. He leaves a gentle kiss on the bare skin of her shoulder left bare by scrubs and she releases a sigh. He can smell her. That heady, mesmerising smell that he remembers from the times spent at her home, when he was completely wrapped in it. The sheets, the furniture, the air. She spins round in his arms, gracefully, as if in a dance, and drapes her arms over his shoulders. She looks him right in the eye. She looks so stunning he almost staggers back. And the look she gives is so honest, he's seen it somewhere before. She even whispers the words to match the memory, her lips inches from his.

"He thinks you're irreplaceable."

The kiss is gentle at first, apprehensive, but neither of them pull back. Their mouths open in coincidental synchronicity and the kiss deepens.

They end up in the locker room showers, the smell of her damp hair almost as arousing as her naked body pressed to him. Nothing is rushed. They take their time. But there is greed behind it, greed and passion and lust and 7 years of wanting.

He tortures her with his teeth and she explores him with nails on every slip of skin. Sighs and groans can increasingly be heard over the running water of the shower as he pulls her hips to his own with a base grip, teeth on her ear. In the heat of the moment the shower suddenly stops and he curses, punching the button back down and causing her to laugh. It's intimate and it's loving and it's so…them.

Hands pull her closer still as the tension increases. He lifts her with ease, as if she were a child, into his arms and her legs wrap around his hips.

He'll never forget the look in her eyes as she comes.

"I do too."

You can feel your face burning and you don't remember ever wanting the ground to swallow you up as much as you do now.

"So, you're attracted to this girl?"

"Yes…Look is this normal?"

"When someone finds themselves in a state of depression, often repressed emotions, feelings, find their way back into the conscious. The trauma you suffered has probably pushed these thoughts back into the front of your unconscious."

"So it's normal?"

"Expected. But it also means you have a lot still to talk out. It's unusual that you haven't mentioned her before now."

Suddenly, it's all so blatantly, painstakingly clear. Somewhere in between your desk being invaded by bones from the Brechon Beacans dig and watching her get ready for a friend's birthday party in the office, you stopped seeing her as just a friend. It never has just been a friendship. Full stop.

"I'm in love with her."

This confession takes you both by surprise and you run a hand through your hair.

"I suggest you don't act on that, Harry. Not yet. We still have work to do before anyone else is added to this equation."

You thought she knew you. Perhaps she just trusted you. If she did know you she would know that you are stubborn. When someone warns you against something, it makes you more inclined to do it.

At least that's partly the reason you decided to bite the bullet.

The other reason was James.

Professional, rich, handsome, entrepreneur, James.

He's perfect for her in every way. She's not his bit on the side or time-filler or eye-candy. She's his queen, his angel, his everything. He makes her laugh, buys her nice things and takes her out every weekend. He began to fall in love with her and he told her straight. She fell, and he caught her.

Why hadn't you done that?

It gives you a fright, when you see them; matching dress code, arms linked and beaming, at the annual Thomas Lyell Centre summer barbeque.

You know you're not ready. You can feel it with every fibre of your body. You still find it hard to switch off, to sleep. Your skin has thinned and you're less resilient than you were. There is unfinished business between you and your demons. Anna's ghost still lingers.

But she was never going to wait forever.