A/N: Written by Katrina :)


Until her phone buzzes from somewhere on the desk, it hasn't actually occurred to Maggie to check whether she's received any messages today.

Her work mobile is neatly positioned next to her laptop, helpfully in clear view, but can she see her personal one? No is the short answer, and actually, she can't think of a longer answer at this moment in time, devoting her attention instead to frantically shuffling papers and press clippings around in search of the errant device.

The blasted thing is on silent again - (how does that always happen? She could have sworn she'd turned the ringer on this morning before she left the house, but then again she had been rather distracted by Jocelyn insisting on getting a goodbye kiss, as if that doesn't happen every day anyway) - making her search even more difficult.

A triumphant noise escapes her as she grabs at the now-uncovered mobile, which has, at that exact moment, stopped its insistent buzzing.

The display shows 3 missed calls - oops - two of which were from earlier that morning. Why didn't I hear those? Maggie thinks, then remembers she went out earlier to interview some of the local shop owners about increasing summer tourism. Let it never be said that reporting for the local newspaper of a Dorset seaside town isn't glamorous, but she definitely prefers the editorial side of the job.

Getting back to the matter in hand, however, she manages to unlock the phone in what is probably a record time (normally it takes at least three tries, as her fingers press too quickly at the screen and she inevitably misses a number and sends the screen flashing an angry red warning at her).

She redials Jocelyn's number as quickly as she can, feeling rather apologetic that she's ignored her all day - though never intentionally - and trying not to worry in case Jocelyn needed her help with something and she wasn't there.

The line clicks after five agonising rings as Jocelyn finally answers.

"Hello?"

"It's me, you numpty - do you never check your caller ID?"

"Oh." Jocelyn sounds as though the thought never occurred to her. "Well, at last."

Before Maggie can launch into an apology and an explanation, Jocelyn continues, in her customary unwavering, brisk voice that she normally reserves for brooking no argument when they're squabbling over a crossword clue, or who's turn it is to do the dishes. When she uses this voice, it's definitely because she's wrong, or it's her turn, and she knows it - but hopes to sound authoritative enough that Maggie won't question her. It never works.

"On your way home will you pick up some painkillers? And some Strepsils as well. And maybe some cough medicine, just to be on the safe side."

(Jocelyn has taken to calling it home - their home - much easier than Maggie has, but then again, that's probably because it's always been her home, and only recently become Maggie's as well. The word has been tripping off Jocelyn's tongue for years, but for Maggie it has been mere weeks. It still sounds strange when she says it; makes her wonder when it started wearing into her speech and her voice started curling around the nuances in the syllable. 'Home' used to conjure up thoughts of solitude - an empty shell of a house, with only herself for company. Now it encapsulates the happiness she has found with Jocelyn; of life and love; of walks along the cliffs or sitting up together, late into the night, simply enjoying each other's presence after so long thinking it would never happen).

"Of course... But why? Are we expecting an impending lack in supply of medicinal products in Broadchurch? Or perhaps you're simply planning a change in career and want to become a pharmaceutical supplier?" Maggie doesn't even bother trying to hide the amusement in her voice.

Jocelyn makes a disgruntled noise down the line, and Maggie can tell without even seeing her that Jocelyn is fighting to smother a laugh.

"No," she replies, and says nothing further, still trying to sidestep the issue.

"Jocelyn," Maggie teases, dragging out the syllables in her name in a way that says 'I already know what this is about but I want you to say it'.

"Fine," comes the petulant response. "I've caught your cold." To illustrate the point, Jocelyn gives a pointed, if slightly pathetic, cough.

Maggie laughs softly; feeling sorry for her of course, but Jocelyn always makes an entertaining - if demanding - invalid. "Ah, so the robust Knight constitution wasn't so infallible after all."

"If you're just going to gloat..." Jocelyn mutters, but there's humour in her voice.

"Sorry, sorry," Maggie replies, not sounding apologetic for her teasing in the least. Her voice softens. "Of course I'll pick some stuff up on my way back." The word 'home' catches in her throat again and doesn't make it out. "I thought we already had medicine in though?"

"We did until you used it all," comes Jocelyn's huffy response. Maggie can hear the smile behind the words.

"Oh yeah," Maggie says, unable to think of a witty retort to that, unfortunately, fair-point. She knows Jocelyn will be grinning now that she's all but won the unspoken battle on who has the upper-hand in the conversation. Maggie concedes the loss gracefully - "Okay you can stop gloating now, no one likes a bad champ." - ... Well, almost.

"Says the sore loser," Jocelyn fires back, her voice a teasing lilt.

"I'm hanging up now - lots of important work to be getting on with."

"Yes I have," Jocelyn chips in. "See you later." And with that, she ends the call, beating Maggie to it and thus completely winning the Battle of the Upper-Hand (the mental capitalisation is entirely necessary - Jocelyn is enough of a drama-queen to warrant official titles).

Maggie smiles fondly at her phone as she places it back on the desk, only for it to become engulfed once again in papers as she searches for the stack of post-it notes (that are absolutely, definitely somewhere around here, she promises) to jot down a reminder of Jocelyn-I-don't-get-ill-'s medicinal requirements before she gets distracted by her work and forgets.


When Maggie shows up at Jocelyn's - theirs - that evening, she's not just carrying the promised medicine. She has to rap at the glass of the patio doors with her elbow for a while until Jocelyn appears with a confused expression, which only deepens when she sees what Maggie is holding on to.

The door slides open. "Hello," Jocelyn says, addressing the box in front of her, on account of not actually being able to see Maggie's face around it. "I wasn't aware I was expecting a delivery from the wholesaler of Boots pharmacy." She moves aside though, and takes Maggie's elbow to guide her inside and navigate safely to the kitchen table.

Maggie sets down the box with an attempted flourish, and a barely concealed sigh of relief. "Ow," she says eventually, flexing her arms to relieve the tension.

She looks up to find Jocelyn gazing at her inquisitively. Maggie gestures to the box with a smile on her face. "Surprise delivery!" she says enthusiastically, her eyes dancing. "Not only do we have here enough medicines to survive an apocalypse - providing the apocalypse was the end to all healthcare products and not the world - we also have these."

She fishes two carrier bags out of the box and passes them to Jocelyn. The first contains food: the ingredients to make another of Maggie's speciality pasta dishes - avocado pesto chicken ("Maybe not a catchy name - it does need some improvement - but fairly self-explanatory.") - along with two of the Co-ops finest mousses for dessert ("You're ill, we've got to try and be healthy.").

The other contains… "Law & Order: UK DVD box sets?" Jocelyn's expression is a sight to behold.

"I thought we could watch them so you can see what the law is actually like," Maggie teases.

"Point out everything they're getting wrong more like," Jocelyn says, but she knows that's what Maggie really means.

"Well, I wouldn't want a peaceful evening would I?"

"I think you just want to take care of me," Jocelyn hints, her eyes gleaming. There's a thread of teasing there, but also an unspoken gratitude in their depths.

"If it stops you whining it's worth it," Maggie grins. "You know what you're like when you're ill."

Jocelyn feigns ignorance. "What's in the rest of the box?" she asks, trying to deflect Maggie's attention. By the mirth dancing in Maggie's eyes, Jocelyn knows she's seen straight through the ploy, but kindly allows the change in subject.

"It's the last of the stuff from -" she catches herself in time, "- my house." That's all it is now; all it ever has been, if she admits it to herself. For a long time now she's known that she would never truly be at home anywhere unless Jocelyn was with her. And now she is.

She feels the prickle of tears in her eyes and blinks them away quickly before Jocelyn sees and misinterprets them. "I'm officially moved in," she smiles. There's nothing false in it, but the truth of the words suddenly creep up on her, and her voice suddenly sounds overwhelmed, yet also completely certain as she says, "I'm home."

And the words have never felt so right.