Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. This is a little different, more of a 'thriller' than a case fic - and yes, there is a romantic element. I hope you enjoy it. There will not be a chapter a day - more like one every 2-3 days.

Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley added his signature to his letter of resignation then folded it carefully before sealing it in an envelope. He left it on his desk and walked out into the squad room.

His partner looked up and frowned. "You okay, Sir?"

"May I have a word, Havers?"

"Yeah, okay."

His sergeant looked wary. He almost smiled knowing she was busily running through the last few days trying to find any way that she had upset him or the establishment. He walked quickly back towards his office with her lagging behind stalling for time. "I haven't got all day."

"Sorry, Sir."

Tommy shut the door and waved for Barbara to have a seat. He wandered to the window and looked out across the trees, unable to face her. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"Is Hillier on the rampage? If it's about me parking in the loading zone, it was literally only for five minutes. I was…"

"Barbara, stop. This has nothing to do with you."

She sat up and leant forward towards him. "Then what's wrong? You've been acting weird all day."

"Well, it is about you in a way, but not the way you think."

She came to stand beside him. "Sir, just spit it out."

"I'm resigning, and I wanted to tell you first. I meet with Hillier in ten minutes."

"And you tell me now?!"

He turned his head to face her. He deserved her anger. "I intended to inform you last night at dinner."

"And here's me thinking that you liked my company. You only took me out to inform me you are resigning?" Tommy winced at the way she had emphasised inform. It did sound impersonal.

"No. Yes. No, I do enjoy your company. That's why I couldn't say anything. We were having such a great time listening to that band. I couldn't tell you and spoil the night."

Her face iced over. "Am I permitted to ask why?"

"Of course. I'm moving to Singapore for a while."

"Singapore? What the hell is there?"

"Answers, I hope."

"What is the question? No, don't tell me. I can guess. Thank you for telling me, Sir. I have a migraine, so I need to take the afternoon off."

"Barbara, I don't want to do this, but I can't think of any alternative."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Tommy noticed a distinct change in her tone. Concern had replaced disappointment and anger.

"I don't know. It's a long story. I don't want to involve you."

"I see. Right. After ten years together, I thought… Doesn't matter. How long before you go?"

"I'm booked on a flight on Tuesday. I'm taking my leave owing in lieu of my notice."

"Five days. That soon?" Tommy noticed Barbara's bottom lip begin to tremble. "I have to go. All the best if I don't see you again. It's been an honour." Her voice cracked on the last word. She gave a brief wave and dashed from his office.

"Barbara, wait."

As the door slammed, Tommy kicked his desk. He swore loudly as the shockwave raced up his toe and into his ankle.

Barbara grabbed her bag. "I'm feeling unwell. I'm going home," she told Winston before dashing out the door.

Too upset to drive, she made a beeline for the bus stop, running the last twenty yards when she saw her bus approaching. She collapsed into the first seat and stared aimlessly out of the window.

Nothing felt real. Her brain was clouded with thoughts and memories, hopes and dreams that collided and ricocheted like atoms waiting for the catalyst to create a thermonuclear reaction. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw things. She wanted to cry.

Barbara scurried up the road to her flat. She did not want to meet anyone. The last thing she needed now was small talk. She shut her door and threw her bag on the floor. Without bothering to remove her jacket, she collapsed onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow. Finally free to scream without risking arrest, she could only manage a few wracking sobs.

When her doorbell rang half an hour later, she ignored it. Then her phone began to chirp, so she ignored that too. Five times it rang, interspersed by furious knocking and persistent bell ringing. Fearing that the neighbours would telephone the police, she opened the door. "What?"

"We need to talk."

"Not now, Sir. What part of I have a migraine and want to be left alone was hard for you to understand?"

"Barbara, I know I've upset you."

She thrust her head up and try to look as nonchalant as she could. "No, what gave you that idea?"

"The fact you're still wearing your coat for a start. I need to tell you the full story."

For the first time, she glanced directly at him. The urbane Tommy Lynley, 8th Earl of Asherton, looked tired and worried. She wanted answers, and he was here to explain. With a sigh, she stepped back. "Come in then."

Tommy removed his jacket and hung it carefully on the line of hooks in the small space that passed for her hallway. He sat heavily in her chair and ran his fingers slowly through his hair. "I don't suppose you have any Scotch?"

"Yeah, somewhere here." Barbara hung her coat beside his, then made her way to her kitchen and retrieved the bottle from her top cupboard along with two dusty tumblers. She poured herself a drink then handed him the bottle and an empty glass. "Help yourself."

Tommy's hand shook as he slopped whisky into the glass. "I didn't want to hurt you, Barbara."

"Who says you did?" she asked with much more defiance in her tone than she felt. Watching him sitting there, clearly distressed, she had already forgiven him. But she was worried. "Is you mother alright?"

"Mother? Oh, yes. She's fine. This is about... something else."

She sat in the chair opposite him. "You could have talked to me if you have a problem. You still can."

"I didn't want to burden you."

"It's not a burden. What did Hillier say?"

"I changed my appointment to tomorrow. Coming after you was more important."

His eyes had that puppy dog look that she found hard to resist. "Thanks."

"I mean it. You are my friend; my only real friend. You deserve better."

"Than what?"

He looked down and scuffed his foot along the edge of her rug. "Me."

"Rubbish! Do you see a queue of friends lining up at my door? We're in this together. Have been since Yorkshire." He looked up and smiled so openly and affectionately that she wanted to drop to her knees and crawl over into his arms. Instead, she shook head. "That's why you walking out hurt... hurts so much."

"I don't want to lose that either, Barbara. I'm not walking out on you."

Barbara could not bear to watch his eyes any longer. She stood and walked to the front window. "Then why the hell are you leaving me to go to Singapore?"

Tommy walked up behind her. His body was so close she could feel his warmth. She wanted to snuggle back into it and lose herself in him.

"I'm not leaving you. That's the hardest part of all this. Knowing you won't be beside me each day…"

She turned to look at him. Barbara studied his face. Tommy's emotions were in turmoil. He clearly wanted Barbara's support and ideas, but he was unable, or unwilling, to ask."Then tell me what's wrong. We can figure something out. We always do."

"Unfortunately, this doesn't make sense, even to me. I can't really explain."

"Stop being so bloody cryptic, and just tell me what's happened!"

"A friend from Eton was living in Singapore. He died recently. The local police ruled it was suicide, but he sent me a package before he died. He was murdered, I'm sure of it. And I think it is only a matter of time before whoever it was that killed him realises what I have and comes after me."

"So you're going to make it easier for them by going to them?"

"No, I'm trying to find them before they find me."

"Bloody hell, Tommy. You have to tell Hillier and MI6 or anyone who can help."

"I think MI6 might be involved," he said with a heavy sigh. "Hey, you called me Tommy."

"Did I? Sorry."

"Don't be. I've waited years for this moment." He rested his forearms on her shoulders. It was not a hug, but it could easily become one.

Barbara put her hands on his chest and, after hesitating a second, pushed him away. It was that or make a complete idiot of herself by nuzzling her face against his chest. "Don't change the subject. What did he send you?"

"A Chinese carving."

"Made from what? Pure gold? Why is it so important?"

"It's jade, and I don't know. He sent it to me with a note."

"Saying?"

"You have to read it, but essentially it was an 'if I die, you know what to do' note."

"And that is going to Singapore?"

Tommy ran his fingers through his hair. "That's the only thing I can think of that might help. I have no idea what he wanted me to do. If I go, I might learn something to point me in the right direction."

Barbara snorted. "Or get bambooed to death."

"Bambooed to death?" Despite everything, Tommy had to smile.

"I've seen it on those Jackie Chan films. Men in black suits with bamboo sticks beating the absolute crap out of people."

"Poetic licence. Those sticks are called eskrima and originate in The Philippines, not Singapore. And Jackie Chan is from Hong Kong."

"I don't know about es-screamer, but if I were hit by one I know I'd scream."

Tommy took her hand and shook his head. "Thank you," he said as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"For what?"

"For being you."

She grunted. "Ahh. So are you going to let me help you, or not?"

"Let's go to the pub first. We can talk there. If anyone is watching, it will look normal. Then we can go back to my place if you still want to help me."

"Sir, I am not going to abandon you, especially if you are in trouble."