This story is set after Mei Lin but before the divorce, as all mine seen to be at the moment. Jean and Lucien live in relaxed companionship but are definitely NOT sleeping together. This is also inspired by the weather we are having at the moment.

We know nothing about Jean's childhood so I thought I'd weave an incident with a possible family story and a fear that she can share with Lucien. We all have our little fears or worries, mine is small spaces and lifts.

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For the past few days the weather had been somewhat unsettled, rain one minute, blazing sun the next. Jean looked out onto the garden, the grass was far too wet to cut; which was shame because Lucien could do with something to occupy him as he had no ongoing case and no patients that afternoon. She sighed and decided to try and tidy up the borders, some of the plants had been battered by a recent heavy rainfall and could do with cutting back and dead-heading.

In the sun room she picked up her secateurs and slipped into flat shoes reserved for gardening. Outside the air was humid, heavy and still; Jean knew she wouldn't get much done but she'd give it a go.

She'd only been out about a quarter of an hour, but she was already feeling the effects of the humidity. She stood up and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Looking towards the sun room she saw Lucien watching her. 'Typical!' she thought putting her hands on her hips. He smiled and waved, 'Cheek.' She went back to her pruning only to be surprised a couple of minutes later by the tinkling of ice in a glass. She turned to find Lucien holding out a long glass of iced water.

'I thought you might need this,' he smiled.

She returned the smile and took the glass, gratefully. She drank deeply, 'Mmm..., lovely, thank you.'

'How's it going?' he asked.

'I think I'm going to stop now, before I melt,' she answered. 'I was going to ask you to mow the grass, but it's far too wet.'

'Shame,' he grinned.

She passed the glass back to him and they walked back to the house, hand in hand, getting into the sun room as the rain started again.

Back in the kitchen, Jean washed her hands, and began to think about their evening meal. It was too hot to cook a roast or any kind of hot meal so she was planning cold meat and salad. Lucien washed her glass and stood it upside down on the draining board.

'I think there'll be a storm later, should clear the air,' he remarked as Jean went to open the fridge. He was sure she shuddered, 'Jean are you alright?'

'Fine, I'm just not that keen on storms, that's all.' She turned and gave him a small smile. 'But you're right it would clear the air.' She returned to her task and Lucien headed to the sitting room and his newspaper. He wondered how much she didn't like storms, was this her Achilles Heel like small spaces were his? He resolved to keep an eye on here, he didn't want her to feel alone if she was frightened. Lucien knew there was nothing worse than being alone and scared.

He watched her prepare the dinner, keeping busy was probably the best thing for her right now.

Charlie came in from the station, greeted them both and went up to wash and change.

'Dinner in fifteen minutes,' Jean called when she had almost finished preparing the meal.

The sky was beginning to darken. Lucien had put a record on, classical music as usual. His thought was it might mask any thunderous rumblings so he chose some Beethoven. His main concern was Jean. As the weeks had gone by since Adelaide and Mei Lin, he found his feelings for her deepening. He was too old to fall head over heels in love with someone, but his feelings were more than that of a teenager in lust, they were of a mature man recognising a fellow lonely soul that he hoped he could make happy. Together, he was sure, they would find the happiness and companionship they both deserved. Consequently, he vowed he would try to stop her being terrified out of her wits, but he was not sure how. Fears were not solely confined to the very young. Towards the end of dinner there was a low rumble of thunder. Jean tensed but quickly relaxed when Lucien squeezed her hand and looked reassuringly into her eyes. He was right, something had happened in her past to cause this fear but she was not yet ready to tell him what.

'Right, Charlie, let's get these dishes washed!' he announced, taking his plate to the sink.

Charlie followed, slightly bemused but, he too had noticed Jean's reaction to the thunder.

'OK Doc,' he said , cheerfully , and started to clear the table. Jean remained seated and watched the men rattle the pots in the sink, drowning out he rumbles from outside. She smiled, grateful for Lucien's acceptance of what she considered a silly fear. But then she knew Lucien was claustrophobic, though she knew not why.

They all went into the sitting room and Charlie put on the TV. There was nothing on worth concentrating on but the background noise was a welcome distraction from the weather.

Jean settled, or tried to settle, to her knitting, a cardigan for Amelia, Lucien to the crossword in the paper and Charlie to his book, a Biggles adventure.

Lucien got up and poured Jean a generous sherry and a whisky for himself and Charlie. No-one spoke, each engrossed in their own occupation. The storm eventually quietened and Jean finally put down her knitting and said goodnight. The men stood as she left the room but Lucien followed her to the foot of the stairs. He caught her by the arm and pulled her to him.

'If you need me, you know where I am, my door will be open.' Lucien kissed her lightly on the lips.

Jean looked into his eyes and smiled, 'Thank you, Lucien,' and she returned his kiss. he watched her climb the stairs and heard her go into the bathroom.

Lucien returned to the sitting room to find Charlie closing his book.

'Is Jean ok Doc?' he inquired. 'I think so Charlie, doesn't like thunder apparently.'

'I think I'll turn in to then, Doc, good night.'

'Good night Charlie,' Lucien turned off the TV and closed the curtains, leaving just a small gap but otherwise the room was now in darkness.

He went his room and changed in to his pyjamas. Taking his dressing gown he headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. A fleeting thought of a second bathroom went through his mind, but for now...

They had all been asleep for a while when suddenly the biggest clap of thunder and flash of lightning woke Jean with a start and she sat bolt upright in bed. All her fears hit her like a sledgehammer. She leapt out of bed and fled downstairs, not even stopping for her dressing gown. Standing in the lounge in white cotton pyjamas she took a deep breath and looked around for a safe place. The place was in total darkness.

Half an hour later another clap of thunder and flash of lightning directly overhead woke Lucien. He lay in the darkness and thought he could hear a faint whimpering. 'Dog,' was his first thought but the dog he had had as a child was long gone. He got up and went into the lounge. Illuminated by the light through the crack in the curtains he saw a shape in the chair. He went over and found a shaking figure, knees drawn up to her chest - Jean sat staring into space, eyes wide with terror. Kneeling next to her he reached out to touch her. She showed no sign of knowing he was there. her pyjamas were damp with perspiration. He pulled her down to him and held her tight against his chest. She responded by gripping his pyjama top and burying her head into his chest. Gasping sobs rose up to his ears, so desperate was she for comfort. He rocked her like a child, whispering over and over again, 'It's alright, Jean, I've got you, you're safe.' Over and over and over again he whispered while the thunder roared and the lightning flashed. Gradually her sobs subsided to a hiccupping as she fell asleep in his arms. Lucien braced himself from his kneeling position and lifted her into his arms. He carried her into his bedroom, she was light, no burden to carry; and laid her on his bed. She was still gripping his pyjama top so he lay on the bed next to her, pulling the sheet and blanket over them. He soon fell asleep, holding her tight against his body. The storm rumbled on through the remains of the night, finally abating just before dawn.

Jean stirred, or tried to. She was held in a firm grip against something warm and breathing! She opened her eyes and found herself staring at Lucien's chest! How, in God's name, had she got there? She remembered being woken by the storm and going downstairs. After that a vague recollection of a soothing voice, but nothing tangible. Lying there, still, trying not to waken Lucien, she realised the voice must have been his, but what happened next she knew not. Her pyjamas were intact so nothing untoward had happened. She knew deep down that Lucien would not take advantage of her vulnerability, but how had she got into his bed? She looked up at his face, hoping he was still asleep. No luck, he was smiling down at her, softly, lovingly.

'Lucien...' she whispered. He put his finger on her lips, quieting her.

'It's alright. I found you in the chair, you...you were frightened. I wanted to...' Lucien was at a loss as to how he could explain without embarrassing her. 'You're more than "not keen" on storms, are you?'

She looked away, and, as he had loosened his hold on her, sat up, turning away. Lucien guided her round to face him.

'It happened a long time ago, Lucien, I should be over it by now.'

Lucien tipped her face up with his fingers, 'I'm listening.'

She sighed, 'I was six, there was a huge storm. Our parents had insisted we stay indoors, me, my sister and my twin brother, Jimmy. Jimmy was...adventurous, he loved a challenge and rarely did as he was told. We had a swing on an apple tree. The wind blew it around and Jimmy had to, he just had to disobey, and ran out to it. He laughed as the swing rose higher and higher with his kicking and the wind, how he laughed! Then it happened. Lizzie and I watched as the lightning struck the tree. Jimmy was thrown into the air and came down hard on the ground. the doctors said he died from the strike. I've been afraid of storms ever since. I know it was his fault , he should have done as he was told, but he was a six year old boy!'

She sobbed at the memory into his chest and he held her close. He had no idea she was a twin, she never spoke of her childhood, but he didn't much either. He knew she wasn't an only child because she had a nephew, Danny, so she must have, or have had, a sibling, but he had never considered she had another. As an only child himself and the parent of an only child, he never thought about it.

'My parents were really angry at first, shouting at me and Lizzie for letting him go, but Lizzie was only eight, we couldn't have stopped a determined six year old boy! Mum retreated into herself, she never got over it, Dad just stayed angry at the loss of his only son. We were never allowed a swing again. Lizzie and I turned to each other for comfort but Lizzie left home at seventeen: Melbourne, a job and eventually marriage. I married Christopher when I was nearly eighteen, ridiculously young, but he gave me the love and strength I needed. I don't know what I'd have done otherwise.'

Lucien listened, letting her tell her story, stroking her shoulder. When she stopped talking he kissed the top of her head.

'I'd better get up,' she said. But in reality she wanted to stay where she was, comforted and comfortable.

He let her go, watching her peek into the hallway, checking for signs of Charlie. It wouldn't do for him to see her leaving Lucien's room in her pyjamas. Lucien watched, noting she had a very pretty bottom, he moved his gaze upwards, 'Not good thoughts, Lucien' he mused.

Jean disappeared and he heard her bare feet pad up the stairs to the bathroom.

Lucien felt he should tell Jean why he hated small spaces, small dark spaces in particular, but not now. She didn't need that right now. He felt it had taken a lot for her to admit she had a fear. After all she had calmly told Sergeant Hannan to make an appointment when he cornered her in the sunroom, threatened him with a gun when he had Lucien by the throat and calmly drunk tea when Hannan had come into the house with a gun aimed at them both.

For now life would go on, waiting for his divorce to be finalised, stolen moments when they were alone and maybe, just maybe, he could tempt her into his bed again, even if it was for sleep only. He could live with that, because he loved her.