Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. I hadn't intended to publish this so soon, but I am being 'blackmailed' by Tess. Chapters will not be forthcoming daily as I have exams to study for...

The newly promoted Detective Sergeant Nkata lined up his pens, stapler and PC on his new desk. Tired of being located where people could sneak up on him, he had seized his opportunity to be at the head of the row as soon as his old sergeant had vacated it.

"Stop preening, Winston."

He looked up to see his boss grinning at him. He raised his eyebrow. "How's your office, Inspector?"

"Shut up. I don't like it. Feels like I'm in his grave."

"Awkward. If he dies anytime soon he might want it back."

Barbara Havers glared at her partner. "Don't even joke about it."

Winston looked down. "Sorry. You know that..."

"Yes. Sorry, Winston. I'm just having trouble getting used to the idea that, well..."

"That you're the boss now?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry. Everyone here thinks you're great. And I was flattered that you chose me to be your new partner."

"It was you or Guthrie, and he has..." Barbara leant close to Winston. "Personal hygiene issues."

"You mean his arse is like a balloon filled with H2S. One blurt is lethal."

They quietly sniggered. As if on cue, Guthrie walked out from the male toilet and waved. Winston and Barbara waved back then both hurried into Barbara's office before beginning to laugh. They took a minute to collect themselves. Guthrie's bowels were legendary around The Met and from what Barbara could gather, were the main reason that after nearly thirty years he was still a constable. When Hillier had assigned him to her team she had initially resented it, but he was a good detective, so long as you stayed upwind and did not share a vehicle.

The harsh bell of her phone brought them back to sensibility. "Havers... Yes, Sir... With Guthrie and Nkata, yes, Sir." She put the handset gently back on its cradle. "We've been summoned to Hillier."

Winston' face fell. "Do you think someone heard us?"

Barbara frowned. "Probably."

"Just when I finally had a decent desk."

"Relax. I was teasing you. Stuart's requested help to investigate some suspicious deaths."

"Lafferty went to Gloucestershire somewhere," Winston said as they started to walk towards the lifts.

"Great a road trip." Barbara looked around the office. "Where's DC Guthrie?"

"In the loo, ma'am." Barbara did not miss the long-suffering tone of the young female constable who sat next to Guthrie.

"Tell him to come up to Assistant Commissioner Hillier's office please."

Three other senior officers were already in Hillier's office, sitting in the only chairs. AC Cameron was the head of Counter Terrorism and Commander Brady was his deputy. The stern-faced woman in the corner was the Assistant Commissioner in charge of Specialist Operations, Yolanda Trussforth. Barbara and Winston exchanged quick frowns. Hillier looked up from his computer. "Ah, where's Guthrie?"

"He's indisposed, Sir. He'll be here shortly."

The door opened. "Sorry, I'm late, Sir."

Barbara turned and smiled as Detective Superintendent Tommy Lynley strode in. Her former boss looked resplendent in his dress uniform with his cap tucked under his arm. Her smile was answered with only a quick nod. She knew immediately that something serious was happening.

"Lynley, good. How did the media respond?"

"They smell a story. We have already had reporters arriving at the village. The local police have established a cordon a quarter of a mile around it, but they can easily slip past them tonight across the fields. We have despatched reinforcements. They should arrive in Landsborough within the hour."

"Landsborough?" Barbara looked at Hillier. "Sir, what's going on?"

"Haven't you seen the news, Havers?"

"No, Sir."

Hillier pushed the button on his remote. Tommy's face appeared on the screen. As the head of the new Media Liaison Unit, he had become a regular spokesperson on London television. Barbara knew that her rather suave, yet believable, former partner had been chosen to repair the Met's image after two disastrous weeks a few months ago were senior officers had been ambushed by the media and made to look incompetent. That charge had been extended to the whole force when detectives from another team had failed to apprehend a network of serial killers who were preying on teenagers. Hillier had responded by reassigning the case to Lynley and Havers. Within four days they had made seven arrests and Lynley had become a media darling.

Barbara knew that Tommy hated being the mouthpiece for the Met, but had accepted the role with equanimity, understanding that the Met's good reputation was a key to gaining public support. They both knew his more than acceptable looks, smooth voice and the way he held himself had played a role but he had refused to accept that his title, as Eighth Earl of Asherton, was of any consequence. Barbara knew that Tommy was not that naive, just stubborn, but she had agreed with him that if they wanted to work together again, they had to play the game for a while. Tommy was far too good a detective to be sidelined for long.

She turned her attention to the screen. "And so until we establish the cause of death and identity of all the victims and notify their relatives, we ask that the privacy of the village be respected. To that end, we have placed a cordon around Landsborough to facilitate the movement of police and emergency services. I am heading to the village shortly, and will hold a press conference at the media tent in four hours."

Hillier flicked off the television. "Thank you, Lynley. That should buy us time."

Barbara turned to Tommy. "Sir? What's going on?"

Before he could answer, Hillier cut in. "At this stage Havers, we are not..."

The door squeaked open and everyone turned to look at Guthrie sauntering casually into the room. "Ah," he said as all eyes bored into him. "Sorry, a touch of tummy trouble."

Barbara groaned. She was beginning to understand why Tommy had often been frustrated by her frankness in similar situations. Hillier glared at them both. "As I was saying, we are not sure. A man visiting his mother in Landsborough found her, along with most of the village, dead in the church hall. He suspected a gas leak or something similar, but he also died shortly after the police arrived. Those constables also fell ill with serious breathing issues and are currently in isolation in hospital, and may not survive the day. We have isolated the village and sent in hazmat officers and Stuart Lafferty, to establish the cause of their deaths and to determine what action is required. So far we have 64 dead."

"Bloody hell! So where does my team fit in?"

Hillier started to answer, but AC Cameron cut across him. "We need to have people on the ground if we find something evil is behind this event."

Barbara looked across at Tommy. "Something evil?"

"We don't want to create fear by sending Counter Terrorism officers, or find it is an event that has been staged to draw them away from London. At the moment it is being portrayed as a tragic gas leak. It is plausible to have a CID team there, and Lynley suggested your team because he knows and trusts you."

Tommy gave her a half shrug but his eyes, to her at least, betrayed his satisfaction in manipulating the situation to work with her again. "As we have worked together before, I thought it might be expedient."

She nodded, knowing he was itching to be back doing investigative work. "Of course, Sir. Will you be heading the investigation?"

"No, he will not," Hillier said firmly. "Superintendent Lynley is media liaison and your link back here to us. I understand he will want to get involved. But nothing more than brainstorming with you. If I hear Lynley that you're interviewing witnesses or any other activities, I will recall you to Scotland Yard. Is that clear to both of you?"

"Yes, Sir," they answered in unison.

"Good. Now Havers, take your team and drive up there. I expect you might be gone two or three days."

"DI Havers, as you're not familiar with the case, why don't you drive up with me? We will need two cars anyway, so your team could drive up the other vehicle."

"Yes, Sir," Winston said through clenched teeth. Barbara shrugged an apology, and he rolled his eyes. She knew she would be paying him back for weeks.

"I've missed this, Barbara," Tommy said as he pulled out of the car park.

"Yeah, me too. I'm glad you suggested us driving together. I was not looking forward to being gassed by Guthrie. Perhaps he was in Landsborough church hall?"

"Barbara!"

"Admit it, it was a bit funny."

"I'm admitting nothing. Is he still as bad?"

"Worse."

Tommy looked across and smiled. "We should have dinner soon."

"It's not even lunchtime."

"No, I mean after the case. I miss watching you eat."

"So what do you miss about your former partner Superintendent Lynley? I miss her eating. What sort of answer is that? Not, I miss her incisive mind, or I miss her interview skills. No, I miss watching her eat."

Tommy glanced over. "I miss everything. I miss not having you by my side. I miss bickering with you. I miss your opinions, justified or not, and I miss the way you treat me as someone normal, and not some pin-up boy."

"You're way past being a pin-up boy."

"Thanks very much. I thought it was you that told me it was my looks and voice that got me this job."

"Among other things."

"You can't have it both ways, Havers."

"Let's just say that you appeal to an older audience who do not decorate their walls with posters of strange men."

He grinned at her. "I'm not that strange."

"That, Sir, is a highly debatable point."

Tommy laughed. "This will be good, investigating again."

"Hang on, you heard Hillier. This is my team's case. I am happy to liaise but I am not going to piss Hillier off already or have you take over. How would that look to the team?"

"Spoiled sport."

"It'll still be us. I have a feeling about this case." She gave him a soft smile that made him swallow.

"So do I, and not a good one. But at least we're together again."

She looked over and nodded. "Yeah, we are."

Barbara returned to the operations tent set up as their headquarters. She flopped into a chair next to Lynley. "Those gas masks are horrid and hellishly hot."

"What did you learn?"

"Not much. Some sort of chemical Stuart thinks. Inhale it and then it eats away some sort of membrane in the lungs and you stop breathing."

"You didn't inhale any did you?"

She frowned at him. "Yeah, I ripped off my mask and shouted, kill me, gas. Of course, I didn't breathe any in."

"Sorry, it's just... I worry. It's been hell these last weeks knowing you're out there and I'm not there for you."

"Sir?"

"Sorry."

"You've been in that office too long. And I don't need protecting. Now, do you want to hear what else I've learned or not?"