Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. A quick story written in between idyllic scenes on a train in Norway.

Tommy Lynley took the revolver from the rosewood case. As he turned it over in his hand he let the weight of it settle into his palm. It had been his father's gun, gifted by a Texan oil baron in the 1960s who had won the Kentucky Derby with one of the Asherton horses. Tommy examined the fine engraving and filigree in the silver. It was clearly an ornamental piece but a real weapon nonetheless.

There were six silver bullets in the case. They were old but still likely to fire. Tommy picked one up and looked at it. It too was engraved with the donor's initials which added a whole new meaning to a bullet with your name on it. "Still deadly, aren't you." It was not a question. "Why would someone want their initials on a bullet?"

Tommy loaded the bullet then spun the cylinder. He had always imagined you would hear the bullet lodge in place, and was surprised and slightly disappointed to realise you could not tell if it was against the firing pin or not. Russian Roulette really was gambling with your life.

He cracked opened the revolver. The bullet was resting away from the pin. He sighed then removed the bullet and put it back back in its red silk case. He closed the gun, spun the cylinder and held the weapon against his temple. "So very easy really." He pulled the trigger. Even though he knew it was unloaded he still held his breath. Click… Tommy exhaled slowly then put the weapon back in the case. He carried it to the safe and returned it to the place under the title deeds where it lived. "Don't tempt me."

He poured a large whiskey which he drank in one gulp, then went to bed.

Tommy had read one chapter of his book and was just drifting to sleep when his doorbell rang. He glanced at his watch. Two o'clock. It was probably Mrs Pettigew's lad again. Twice in the last month the boy had drunkenly mistaken Tommy's house for his mother's. "This had better be good."

He swung open the door ready to give young Andrewa piece of his mind. His colleague, Barbara Havers, was standing there in her usual coat into which she had shoved her hands into the pockets before pulling it tightly around her. He looked down to see blue flannelette pyjama pants, green fluffy socks and mismatched runners. She looked as if she was about to cry. "Barbara! Are you alright? What's happened?"

"Nothing. Sorry. Sorry to have woken you." She turned to walk away.

"Hang on, Barbara. Wait. Come in. Tell me what happened? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I was stupid. I…thought… doesn't matter." She turned again. This time he was fighting away tears that were welling in her eyes.

"Inside now! That's an order. You're not going anywhere until I know what's going on."

"It was just me being silly."

Tommy put his hands on her shoulders and physically manhandled her through the door as gently as he could. She was trembling. Her face was red and her breathing was rapid. He kicked the door shut and guided her into his study. "Sit there," he said pointing to his old Chesterfield. "Would you like a drink?"

Barbara tried to stand. "I should go."

"For once just do as you are told. Sit there, collect yourself, then tell me what happened."

"Don't be angry… please."

"I'm not angry. Just worried." He sat beside her and put his arm around her. She froze then nestled into him.

"I had a nightmare. I tried to ring but you didn't answer. I… I thought maybe… I know it's stupid but… well, I had to know. I had to try to save you."

"Oh, Barbara, sorry. My battery is flat. It was on charge and I forgot to take it upstairs, that's all. Did you try my home number?"

She nodded. "Twice. All I got was the answering machine."

"Sorry. I must have left it on when I had my shower. I was a little… distracted this evening."

"You have someone here. I should go."

"There's no one here. And no one has left. It wasn't a woman distracting me." Barbara gave him a coy smile. "Or a man."

"I never said that!"

"I know, I just thought it would make you smile. See - it worked."

"Mmm." Barbara gave him a wonderful smile that made his heart skip. "You're okay. I should go."

She tried to push him away but her held her firm. "Don't be silly. Tell me about your nightmare. Mother used to say sharing it takes away its power."

"It was stupid. I don't know why I even thought it might happen, but it seemed..."

"Real?" Tommy found himself stroking her upper arm.

"Yes. It made me feel… ill."

"Take your coat off, have a drink and tell me. There's no hurry. We're not rostered on tomorrow."

Barbara looked down. "I'm in my pyjamas."

He laughed. "In case you hadn't noticed, so am I." Tommy's pyjamas consisted of nothing more that a pair or boxers and an old Rolling Stones tee-shirt.

For the first time, Barbara showed some of her usual spirit. "I always imagined you sleeping with Beethoven, not Jagger."

"Eww, neither are people I would choose to sleep with, thank you."

"Did you really say eww?"

"Yes. I have learned some interesting new phrases working with you."

"I don't say that."

"Stop avoiding the subject and tell me about your dream. Then we can wipe it away and relax."

"It seemed so real."

Tommy waited but when she did not go on, he prompted her. "In what way?"

"You… you had a gun and you… shot yourself."

The colour drained from Tommy's face and he hugged her tighter. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"For frightening you."

"It was my dream. It's not like you were here and did try to shoot yourself. But it was here, in this room. You had a fancy, old-fashioned revolver."

"No, I didn't try to kill myself, Barbara, but I do have a gun like that and I had it out tonight."

Barbara put her hand up to her mouth and emitted a strange yelp. Tommy pulled her closer. "That's worse. How could I have seen that? Or known? And why did I think you shot yourself?"

"Because I thought about what it would be like. To do it. I wasn't going to try, but I did wonder."

"Sir?" She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Hey, I… wouldn't do that to you."

"To me?"

"Leave you wondering if you could have done or said something to stop it."

Barbara looked up at him and frowned. "Could I?"

Tommy found himself looking into her soul, just like he had that night at her flat when he realised he loved her. "Yes, of course, with one word," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

"Tommy?"

His smile felt as wide as the English Channel. "That would be the one."

"Tommy, I…" Barbara reached up and gently ran the tips of two fingers down his cheek. "You know, don't you?"

He smiled and nodded, then leant closer to her. "So do you I hope. Maybe we should just stop worrying about the consequences and..."

"But…"

"We love each other. We both know that. I think it's more though. I think I am in love with you, Barbara, but…"

"You can't believe it's with someone like me."

Tommy put his hand under her chin and made her look at him. "It's not that. I end up trying to possess people instead of doing whatever people in love should do. I don't want to hurt you, to destroy the precious connection we share."

"You've possessed me since Yorkshire."

He smiled."Really? That long? You kept that well hidden."

"I had to. My lot and your lot… it's only ever a distraction or an affair. Upstairs, downstairs. That type of thing. I never…"

"No! It's never been like that for me. I don't care about any of that. I only care that you love me and need me as much as I do you. And tonight, you proved that we share something beyond most other couples. I can't explain it. We don't need to. We just need to be together."

"But…"

"Barbara, the time for overthinking this has passed."

"Mmm."

"So?"

She frowned. "Shouldn't we kiss or something?"

Tommy's answer was eager lips gently pressing against hers. Once the first nervous moments were over they slowly explored years of mixed emotions with violent kisses followed by tender, loving moments.

"What if I am no good at this?" Barbara protested as her trainers flew across the room.

"I've dreamt of a hundred ways to make love to you, Barbara. Just relax, trust yourself, trust me and everything will be fine. We can stop at any point you want to."

Barbara tucked her face under his chin and gently sucked on his neck just below his ear. "I don't want to stop until… Do people really scream each other's names?"

"Oh… yes, Barbara. If you keep that up I will cry your name all night."

She nestled into him and sucked harder as her hand explored underneath Mick Jagger. "Good. I also had a dream once about waking up that stuffy neighbour of yours."

"Mrs Pettigew?"

"Is she the one who looks like she only goes to the bathroom twice a year?"

Tommy laughed as he pulled Barbara closer, managing to slip off her coat. "Yes, that's her." Tommy kissed his sergeant wantonly. "I want to hear all about those dreams of yours… every single one."