Title: Reaching Normality
Rating: T for some language and a bit of heavy breathing in later chapters
Disclaimer: Alas, Talkback Thames owns the Bill, not I. Otherwise they'd still be producing episodes full of all our favourites.
Characters: DI Neil Manson, DC Grace Dasari, DC Jo Masters, Jake Manson, Superintendant Jack Meadows and Ensemble.
Summary: How did Neil and Grace get from 'good weird' at the end of Intervention to where they were in Respect Part II?
Author's Notes: This story will sit in the canon-verse as strictly as it is possible to do – I've taken some creative license with the time difference between episodes where it was unclear. For anyone as OCD as me who wants to know my specific timeline, here goes: I placed Intervention two weeks before Solace, which was the day before The Calling. Taking a Stand occurs about a week after that (three weeks after Intervention). Who Dares Wins I've put as being a month after Intervention; and Balance of Power is a couple of days after Who Dares Wins. Respect Parts I and II occur two months after Intervention, with Death Knock and Tombstone occurring in the interim time between Balance of Power and the Respect episodes.
I've also taken some creative license with respect to Jake, whose role in the story will grow over time. In the series, they were not specific on his condition, so I've assumed he's got the most common form of childhood leukaemia: acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. Neil will explain to Grace what this entails later in the story, but all details on his illness are as correct as I can make them.
Neil looked across; double-checking Grace had buckled her seatbelt. She smiled awkwardly at him, as he started the engine and pulled out of the station.
"I know I said a drink," he began, indicating right. "But I was…well…you haven't eaten yet and neither have I, so I was wondering if maybe I could upgrade that to dinner? There's this great little Italian I know." He glanced nervously at her.
"Dinner sounds great, guv," she said, automatically adding the honorific as she fiddled with the clasp on her handbag in her lap.
"Neil," he corrected immediately, glad there was one issue he knew how to clear up. "No work, remember? Or 'hey, you', whatever works."
Grace smiled in amusement. "Okay, Neil."
"Music?" he offered, clearing his throat, after a few moments of silence. "I promise no rave music."
"Sure," she said, unable to restrain a smile at the reference to his youth. He leant forward and jabbed one of the buttons, and the sounds of classical music wafted from his speakers.
"Rave music and classical?" she asked sceptically.
"I like pretty much all kinds of music," Neil admitted. "Except for modern rap and that hip/hop rubbish. You can change the station if you want."
"Thank goodness for that," Grace laughed. "And no, I'm a fan of classical music."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. It was one of the things she'd liked about Neil Manson from the beginning: he never felt the need to fill silences. That was one thing Sunil had never understood; if she didn't speak with him, he'd assume she was mad at him when in actual fact she just didn't feel like talking. Her hands stilled abruptly. It was only a first date (which hadn't really started yet), and already she'd compared Neil, her boss, to her ex-fiancé. A boss she was still pretty pissed at, if she were honest.
"We're here," Neil announced, pulling over and parking on a quiet suburban street. "A friend of mine lives in the area, and we sometimes come here for dinner."
It was also, she noted with some relief, a good twenty minutes to half an hour out of Sun Hill. Unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car, she was surprised when Neil shut the car door behind her and offered her his arm nervously. Slipping her arm through his, he steered them towards the restaurant on the corner.
It was an understated, yet tastefully done formal restaurant, full of smartly dressed adults and older children. The murmur of the place grew louder as they approached.
"Good evening, sir, ma'am," the gangly, pimply boy at the front greeted them formally.
"Evening, Tom," Neil greeted him, eyes flicking down to the nametag. "Table for two, name of Manson?"
"Right this way, sir," Tom led them to a small table at the back of the restaurant, skilfully dodging waiters carrying bowls of food and moving patrons.
Pulling her chair out, Neil waited for Grace to seat herself before pushing the chair in and taking his own seat at the opposite end of the table. Grace took a menu from the middle of the table, taking the opportunity to survey it.
"Their pastas are pretty good," Neil told her, himself surveying the menu only briefly before reaching for the wine list. "Wine?"
"Please," Grace said. She needed it after the day she'd had. "A white, please."
"Good evening, are you ready to order drinks, sir, ma'am?" a waiter asked, appearing next to their table. Grace redoubled her attention on the menu as Neil ordered for them both.
"I might get this one," Grace said, stabbing her finger down on the menu. She smiled sheepishly at Neil. "I've never been able to pronounce these words." Neil smiled slightly in return, turning to the waiter and confidently rolling the words off his tongue before ordering his own meal.
"Anything else?" the boy asked.
"No, thank you," Neil replied, as Grace shook her head. Their waiter nodded and left.
"You're not going to tell me you speak Italian, are you?" Grace asked, referring to his earlier display of linguistic ability. Neil smiled.
"No, no," he assured her. "I speak Spanish pretty well, and there's enough similarities for me to be able to work out the pronunciation."
"That makes sense," Grace nodded, recalling his ex-wife and son lived in Spain.
"Look, Grace, I know I said I wanted to make a point to not talk about work," Neil started after a brief moment of silence. "But I wanted to - I wanted to apologise. I've been, well, a complete bastard for the last month, especially to you."
"I thought this was a date, not you apologising," Grace raised an eyebrow.
"It is," Neil scrambled to assure her. "I just…I wanted to say that."
"Apology accepted," Grace said, with a smile. His acknowledgment of his behaviour made her feel a little better. "I, er, so has your son gone back to Spain?"
"No," Neil answered her tentative question. "He's with Pippa and Liam, her new husband, visiting his brother in Lancashire. They left this morning."
"Must be difficult," Grace unknowingly echoed Banksy's words.
"Watching another man play father to your son," Neil acknowledged out loud. "Yeah. But, well, Jake needs to be close to St Hugh's and Dr Lawson for his treatment for now, so he'll be in England a while longer."
The waiter returned to the table with a bottle of wine, and two glasses. Neil thanked him, and poured them each a glass.
"I thought you said he was in remission?" Grace frowned in confusion. "Or do you mean in case something happens?"
"There's three phases to treatment of acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, which is what Jake has," Neil informed her. "We've just completed the first phase. It's called induction therapy, and so he spent six weeks in hospital receiving chemotherapy to induce remission. We're just about to enter the consolidation phase – they've given him a week off – which is another intense period which is designed to consolidate the remission. This phase is going to last several months, but he'll only be in hospital for short bursts, a few days at a time. Then we'll go into the maintenance phase, to make sure the cancer doesn't relapse, which will involve going to the hospital only once a month. And of course, regular tests and so forth."
The words spilled out of his mouth like a flood, increasing in speed as he continued, and Grace could only stare at him. It was a stark contrast to how relaxed he'd been in the car – she'd never seen him so worked up before.
"How long does this last phase last?" she asked softly.
Neil laughed bitterly. "Three years," he said, quietly, dropping his eyes.
"Three years!" Grace exclaimed. Despite the small part of her that was still furious at him for blocking her out, she couldn't help herself from reaching across the table and touching the back of his hand lightly. "I'm so sorry, Neil."
Neil looked up at her again, and for the second time that day, she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said so quietly she had to strain to hear it.
Neil hesitated, unsure of how much detail to go into. He didn't want to scare her off: having a child with another woman was certainly enough of a burden, let alone one as sick as Jake - let alone telling her that if they decided to make it more than one date she'd be actively competing with his son. Recalling how upset she'd been that he hadn't told her about Jake in the first place, he decided to take the risk.
"Liam's going back to Spain at the end of the week, but Pippa's going to stay for the consolidation phase. We're going to decide next week, but most likely after the consolidation therapy finishes, when he's able to go back to school, Pippa will go back to Spain and he'll live with me."
