'Dear Dr Blake,

Please accept this as a token, to thank you for diligence, in finding out the truth about Bobby's death. We didn't know what to do with his guitar so if you can't use it perhaps you know someone who can.

Sincerely

the signature was indecipherable, but he gathered it was Bobby Lee's parents '

Lucien looked at the instrument that had been left at his door, and scratched his head. A tingling ran through his fingers as the memories flooded back through his brain. He propped it up against the piano and went into the study to pour himself a drink.

Why now? It was over a year since Bobby Lee had died, nearly two in fact, why had it taken so long for his parents to clear out his things, a reluctance to accept the facts, he supposed.

He was just about to raise his glass when a voice from the doorway brought him out of his reverie,

'You have surgery this afternoon, Lucien.' Jean leant against the doorframe and watched him. HIs drinking had subsided over recent months and he never drank before surgery, so why today?

'Right,' he looked at the glass, 'of course.'

Jean held out her hand, 'Shall I save it 'till later?' Her voice was soft and gentle, knowing there was some hurt trying to come out.

'Lovely,' he looked at her and smiled, 'thank you.'

'Lunch will be in five minutes.' She left him, and took the glass out of his way.

As she put the lunch out she wondered what had set him off. He had had a wistful look on his face, but as far as she knew there had been no case, this morning and there had been no call out, so what had spooked him?

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'So, how was your morning?' She asked as she poured him a cup of tea.

'Quiet, for a change.' He watched her, Jean could read him, he knew and he also knew she was worried about him almost having a drink so early in the day. 'I'm sorry, Jean.'

'For what?' She didn't think she needed an apology.

'For.., you know.' He actually looked ashamed.

Jean pulled her chair closer to him and touched his arm, 'You don't need to apologise.' She looked into his blue eyes, somehow lost.

'What's wrong, Lucien?' Her voice was very soft and her eyes full of concern, 'has something happened?'

'I received something in the post, it brought back some memories.' He whispered, and got up, going to the living room. Jean watched him, not sure if he was going back to his study or going to get whatever it was that had unnerved him. She was relieved to see him come back, carrying a guitar!

'Where did that come from?' She went to him, and took the instrument off him.

'It was Bobby Lee's.' He said, 'his parents have no use for it, they sent it to me to do with it what I think right.'

'Do you play?' She plucked a string, it needed tuning, that she could tell.

'Not very well.' He didn't try to take it off her, nor did he offer any more about why it brought back unpleasant memories.

'I'll put it back, shall I?' She smiled a small smile and kissed his cheek, taking the guitar back to beside the piano. Where it sat it wasn't directly in his line of sight, in fact it could easily be missed when scanning round the room. 'Tell me if you want me to move it.' She took his hand and led him back to the kitchen. In time he would tell her, she had long since learned that it was best to wait.

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Nothing more was said about the guitar, Lucien ignored it at first but the nightmares returned. Jean went back to soothing him, but she noticed that whatever he dreamt about; he wouldn't tell her; had something to do with his hands because instead of flailing about in the bed, he tucked his hands under his upper arms, protecting them, she supposed. Soothing him now took longer, he would continue to moan for longer and Jean started to lie next to him, stroking his cheek and his shoulders, telling him everything was alright, shushing him like a small child. She occasionally dozed off, always waking before he did and leaving his room before Charlie was up. She didn't actually care if Charlie found her in Lucien's bed although she wasn't sure what Lucien would make of it. Probably think it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one! He tried often enough, especially when they were alone in the house, but they had decided to wait until they were married. The trouble was that the divorce was taking longer than they had thought it would and even Jean was getting frustrated. Damn Mei Lin's lawyer!

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During the day Lucien seemed to have gone back to his usual self but one day while Jean was dusting the piano, and she always lifted the lid to dust the keys, he came through and watched her. She tried not to make a noise, he had been avoiding that instrument too, which saddened her. She liked it when he played, when he was trying to work something out but lately he had even left the room when she put the radio on. He watched her as she played two or three notes, she wished she had learned but money had been tight so it was a luxury her parents could not afford.

'I didn't know you played.' He came closer and nuzzled her neck.

She jumped, 'Lucien!' She whispered, then sighed, 'I don't.'

'Oh.' He wondered why she had chosen that particular time to touch the keys, or did she always do that, when he wasn't there? 'Do you want to?'

'I did.' She put the lid down, 'too late now.' She moved off to continue her dusting.

'Never too late.'

She smiled, 'You could play for me.'

'I don't think so, not now.' He too walked off, back to his study. She watched him go, what was wrong? Music used to be so important to him, perhaps she should ask him to teach her, maybe that would bring him back to it. Or maybe he would just find her a teacher in town.

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Lucien out at a crime scene Jean decided to do some baking, she put the radio on and got out her bowls and trays. They were right out of shortbread, again, and Charlie had finished the cake.

She sang along to some songs while she worked, it was nice to have music in the house, she would have to get to the bottom of whatever it was that was upsetting Lucien.

She didn't hear Lucien enter the house but he could hear her singing.

'...something wonderful. He has a thousand dreams that won't come true. You know that he believes in them and that's enough for you.' He snuck past the hatch smiling, the song was a little low for her sweet soprano but she managed it rather nicely. He noticed as she sang she brushed away a tear with the back of her hand.

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Sitting in the study he realised he'd been avoiding the times when she had the radio on lately. He missed hearing her sing, but perhaps that was his fault, he was preoccupied with his memories and the nightmares he wouldn't tell her about. He looked at his hands and flexed his fingers.

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Leaving her baking to cool, Jean went to get her coat and handbag, she had just enough time to go and put a letter in the last post of the day. She had written to Christopher, just a small note asking how he and Ruby were, how was she coping with Amelia? She tried to write regularly knowing he would reply by phone but at least they were in contact. She wished she could say the same of her and Jack. As she opened the door she noticed Lucien's coat and hat on their customary peg. Well if he was in, she could save time and use the car. She went back and called through.

'Lucien!' She looked towards the study, where he usually hid, 'can I take the car?'

His head appeared in the doorway, 'Yes, where are you going?' He asked, not that he was keeping tabs on her.

'Just to catch the last post.' She smiled at him, 'and I've counted the shortbread fingers so hands off!'

'Ma'am,' he saluted. She blew him a kiss. Silly sod.

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He noticed she had turned the radio off. The quiet was almost eerie. Looking at the piano he sighed, and then reached to pick up the guitar. Strumming it he winced, it was very much out of tune. He lifted the piano lid and started to tune the guitar. It was difficult with his hands shaking, he rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath, there was no one there to beat him, he had no need to hide his hands. The tuning done to his satisfaction he picked out a sequence of notes, not a tune that anyone would recognise, just some notes that sounded pleasant together, and better than he had done with the makeshift instruments in the camp. He put it back, enough for now.

He wandered into the kitchen, whether she had counted the shortbreads or not she would know if he pinched a piece, so he did, just to tease her. As usual it was delicious, buttery and crumbly and deserving of a cuppa. He put the kettle on lost in his own world,

'Knew I couldn't trust you,' she said quietly as she looked through the hatch.

'Cuppa, Jean?' He turned and grinned. 'Serves you right for leaving it out.'

'Please.' She went over to him and kissed his cheek. He put his arms round her and held her close, kissing the top of her head and smiling. These little acts of affection were just what he liked, nothing too intense; although intense was good too!

She nestled against his chest, warm and strong.

'Any post for us?' He asked.

'No, not a thing,' She knew what he was asking about.

'I think I'll phone my lawyer in the morning, it's about time we heard something.' He looked saddened, bad enough that after seventeen years of searching he and Mei Lin had found they should go their own ways, but now there seemed to be hold up after hold up, but of her lawyer's doing, no hers or his.

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Jean noticed over the next few days Lucien did not avoid the radio. He still didn't play the piano or put on a record, but at least she didn't feel guilty about having music around the house anymore. The nightmares still happened though, and she continued to soothe him in her own way.

She was lying next to him one night, the moaning almost stopped and he relaxed his arms, letting a hand fall onto her arm. She reached with her free hand to move his, knowing she could go back to her bed, now. As she took his hand his fingers closed round hers, she gasped and looked at his face. There was a small smile playing on his lips and she blushed, knowing she had been caught.

'Lucien,' she whispered, 'please.'

'Thank you.' He kissed her forehead and let her go.

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Jean lay back in her own bed, grateful he had let her go so readily, and yet disappointed he had not held her there longer. She sighed and turned over, pummelling her pillow in frustration. Perhaps he'd tell her what was on his mind now. She drifted back off to sleep.

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Lucien watched her prepare the breakfast. He hadn't meant to embarrass her but he really hadn't known she was still having to comfort him. He wished she'd told him. Charlie came down and joined them noticing that the radio was on, for a change. Really Jean had it on for the news and the weather but she also hummed along to the music, he liked it.

'I'm going into the market today, Lucien,' Jean slid two fried eggs onto his plate, 'is there anything you want or need.'

'I don't think so, thank you, Jean.' He smiled at her.

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Jean and Charlie left the house together, Jean said she'd drop him off at the station. She told Lucien she didn't know how long she'd be but there was cold meat and salad in the fridge which had could have for his lunch, if she was late.

'Right.'

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Lucien had offered to wash the breakfast dishes so she could get off and it was a relatively mindless task that would set him up for what he wanted to do. The pots away and the surfaces wiped, ordinarily Jean just expected the pots to be washed, dried and put away was a bonus, the surfaces wiped? She'd think he done something stupid. But he needed to do mundane tasks, to clear his mind. It wasn't fair that she should have her sleep disturbed because he had a small demon to face. Compared to some of the demons, it was a small demon.

'Come on, Lucien,' he muttered to himself, 'nothing to worry about.'

He went into the living room and looked at the guitar. He rubbed his hands down his trousers and flexing his fingers. He'd managed to tune it so now he should be able to play it. He picked it up and made himself comfortable in a chair and gently strummed in. He noted it had quite a nice tone, but it wasn't an expensive instrument. He started to pick out a few notes and closed his eyes. His fingers flicked and picked over the strings at first in no particular order until he realised he was playing a tune and he liked the sound. He carried on for some time, until he was satisfied with his performance. He smiled to himself and put the guitar back beside the piano then went into his study to check his surgery list for the afternoon.

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Jean found him in the kitchen eating a sandwich. He stood up as she came in,

'Need a hand?' he asked, kissing her cheek.

'Thank you.' She returned the kiss and put her basket down on the table.

Lucien sauntered out to the car to retrieve whatever else she had bought, and Jean noticed the change in his demeanour. He seemed relaxed, and the radio was on. She shrugged her shoulders, one day he'd tell her, but it looked as if he had banished his woes, for now.

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'I should be back about eight,' Jean picked up her bag of sewing and bent to kiss him goodbye.

'Right,' he kissed her back, 'have fun.'

Jean left him to his whisky and his newspaper. The sewing circle called but really she wasn't too bothered. Still, if she didn't go she was sure all sorts of reasons would be debated at Evelyn's house. She only had a little bit of mending to do so she may as well do it there as anywhere.

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Lucien finished his drink and washed his glass. He folded the newspaper and put it on the coffee table. He wanted to try again, to see if he could pick up the guitar and play again. He sat and looked at it, propped up against the piano. Ah, yes the piano. Perhaps he'd play that tonight.

He sat on the stool at carefully lifted the lid. The keys were smooth and polished both from years of play and from Jean's duster. He smiled as he remembered her tentatively play the few notes. Perhaps he should offer to teach her. He played a few notes and then let his fingers move over the keys as he had done so often in the past and the recent past, until the guitar had turned up. Now the relaxing effect of music came back to him, and he played a piano version of the tune he had played on the guitar and then segued into the song he had heard her sing the other day, but in a higher key that would suit her voice, if she hadn't been out at the sewing circle. He stopped and picked up the guitar and started again. Moving over to his chair to sit in a more relaxed and comfortable position he soon lost himself in the music. He didn't hear Jean come in.

She hung up her coat and put the keys down before she realised it wasn't the radio she could hear. She tiptoed into the living room and smiled as she saw him, eyes closed, fingers picking the strings. A lovely tune that she had never heard before, light and airy, notes tripping one after the other, sometimes bumping into each other in pretty harmonies. She waited until he finished before making her presence known.

'Lucien,' she breathed, 'that was lovely. What's it called, I've never heard it before?' She moved over to him as his eyes opened.

'Oh, I don't know,' He grinned at her, 'how about, 'My Jean'.'

'You mean,' she was by him now and crouched down to look up into his eyes, 'you composed it?'

'Um...' he looked sheepish, 'well, it just sort of happened.'

He moved the guitar out of the way and used his free arm to pull her onto his knee.

'Lucien!' She whispered, looking towards the stairs in case Charlie appeared.

'He's out, with Rose.' He nibbled her earlobe which made her giggle softly.

'If that's not playing very well,' she reminded him of his previous comment about his guitar playing, 'how good are you when you do play well?'

He shrugged his shoulders.

'I don't think the nightmares will be back, this time.' He murmured wrapping his arms round her.

'Oh,' she sounded almost disappointed. Then she thought about it, 'you don't have to tell me, but what were these ones about?'

'When I was in the camp,' she deserved to know, he'd disturbed her sleep, again, 'we used to make guitar like instruments out of all sorts. If we were caught playing them we were beaten, I guess the guitar brought it back. I'm sorry, love. I know you keep getting disturbed and lose sleep.'

'It's ok.' She snuggled into him, so that was why he hid his hands, 'I don't mind.'

'You could always...' he moved his eyes in the direction of his room.

'Mm...' she sighed, it had crossed her mind more lately. 'maybe.' She stood up, 'but for now...' She bent down and kissed him, deeply. 'Goodnight, Lucien.'

He stood up, 'Goodnight, my Jean.' He watched her leave and smiled, damn the lawyers, and the gossips.

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Jean lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and smiling to think he had 'composed' a piece of music and called it after her. How had something so sweet come out of nights of disturbing dreams and bad memories. She turned onto her side and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come.

'This is ridiculous.' She told herself, 'he'll sleep so you don't need to wait for him to start calling out again.' She turned over again, then lay on her back. She sat up and sighed, she wasn't going to get any sleep at this rate. She got out of bed and put on her robe.

At the foot of the stairs she stood and looked first towards the kitchen, should she make tea? Not thirsty. She looked the other way, there was no light under his door so he was asleep, all was quiet. She found herself standing outside his bedroom door, how had that happened? She pushed it slowly, and peeked in. She could just see him in the moonlight that came through the crack in the curtains. She slipped into the room, just as she did when he had a nightmare. His hands were tucked up under his armpits, still protected from any potential beatings. She sighed and hung her robe on the back of the door. Lifting the covers she slipped into his bed and lay there.

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She woke safe in his arms, where she would wake from now on.

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I hope I have done Hikerlady's idea justice, she is so generous to allow me to take her ideas and 'run with them.'

The lyrics Jean sang are from 'Something Wonderful,' from 'The King and I', and it is usually sung by a contralto.