Author's note: As always the characters belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC.

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The urgent clattering of her mobile filled her small flat. It was almost three o'clock on Thursday morning but Barbara had expected the call, sooner or later, and did not need the unique ringtone she had assigned him to know who was calling. Tommy was unpredictable when he was in one of his darker moods and she could not be sure that he would not arrive at her door seeking sanctuary. He had done that before so she had resisted the temptation to drive to his townhouse and park outside. She was dressed and ready and could be with him in minutes. She answered as she always did; Tommy did not need to be reminded how well she could read him. "Havers."

At first he did not speak but she could hear him breathing unevenly. He had undoubtedly been drinking heavily. "Barbara...can you...I need to...talk."

"Morning Sir. Are you at home? Do you want me to come over?"

"No...yes." His voice was faint and slightly slurred.

"Are you at your house Sir?"

"No...the park," he said sounding almost surprised, "Can't do it alone..."

"Parliament Hill? On the bench?"

"Yes."

The park was closer than his house but at this time of night she was not keen about walking up to the top nor was she keen on having him alone and vulnerable in his current state. "I'll be there in less than fifteen minutes Sir. Wait there for me."

"Hurry Havers." The phone went silent.

Barbara grabbed her keys and her Maglite and headed for her car. She drove quickly on the quiet streets and spotted Detective Inspector Lynley's Bristol parked fifty yards along the road from the entrance to the park. She pulled in behind it then holding the torch to provide protection rather than light, she hurried up the path. She could see him slumped across the bench and ran the last forty yards worried he had been attacked.

Tommy saw the light bobbling up the hill. "Barbara! I'm sorry," he called out as she approached, "Thought I would be okay. How am I going to do this?"

He leaned forward with his legs apart and his head in his hands. Tears were streaming down his face and splashing on the grass at his feet. Barbara could see a not almost empty whiskey bottle lying ominously by his left thigh. Barbara sat on the cold damp timbers of the seat and extinguished the torch. There was enough ambient light in the glow from the city and the dull quarter moon for the anonymity of a quiet conversation.

"Hiya Sir. It's okay, I'm here now. We will do it together, yeah?" She wanted to wrap her arms around him and let him cry into her shoulder but theirs was not that type of relationship. Just being here would mean enough until he was ready to talk. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and pulled it protectively around her.

"Thank you." He looked up at her and smiled. He had a special smile he kept only for her that spoke of a decade of understanding, trust, forgiveness and friendship. They sat silently for several minutes. Tommy took another swig of whiskey and offered Barbara the bottle which she waved away. "It's a year...today," he eventually said, his voice now more even.

"I know."

"I don't know," he paused searching for words, "what to feel."

"There are no rules Sir. You feel what you feel. You can't try to feel something you don't."

Tommy nodded as if he understood and agreed but Barbara could tell he was punishing himself. "It wasn't her fault and it wasn't your fault. It was just a tragic accident."

"I froze," he said angrily, "I could have done...something."

"Nothing would have changed it Sir. Helen thought standing there would stop Nina firing. She didn't understand years of hatred and what a single taunt could unleash."

"She was the profiler, the psychologist, she should have known."

"You can't know." Barbara thought back to when she had been shot. She could understand exactly what Helen had tried to do. Neither time had worked. Barbara had been lucky, she had survived. Helen had been unlucky and had died. "You think it will stop someone but you can't stop rage and hatred like that." She saw him watching her and she knew he was also thinking about the two shootings.

"I'm glad you survived," he said quietly as he looked directly into her eyes, "never think I would change that to have Helen back." Tommy stood and started to pace around clearly angry and drunk. Barbara could tell he wanted to lash out and hurt something or someone but the only person around was Barbara and she doubted her would hurt her, at least not physically. He picked up the whiskey bottle and threw it as hard as he could into the bushes and thumped down on the seat. "I'm so angry and I can't let it go."

"It's natural to be angry. Your wife died and you are still grieving. It takes time Sir."

"But I'm not sure I am grieving. I tried hard for months to mourn her but it didn't work then and it's not working now. I miss her as my friend but I was relieved when she died because I didn't have to be married to her anymore."

Barbara was shocked but knew it was important to be neutral. "All grief contains sorrow and guilt and relief. It is natural, don't over-think it Sir. Today is not the day to think about why. Just remember why you miss her and why you loved her."

Tommy sat down and ran his hand through his hair. "Did I? Love her?"

"Yes, you did. For a long time she was your friend and then your wife. You didn't have to be in love with her to have loved her and miss her."

This seemed to make sense to him and he lay down on the bench; his head near but not touching her leg. Barbara thought about cradling his head in her lap like a child to comfort him but she was his partner and friend, not his mother, not his lover. Neither spoke but when his breathing slowly eased and he had drifted off to sleep she rested her arm protectively across his shoulder.

Barbara sat watching the lights of the city flicker as London began to wake. The noise from the traffic built into a low hum and she imagined thousands of workers waking and showering and preparing for their day. Tommy was still sleeping. It was not the calm rest of a man at peace; instead he moved fitfully as his nightmares tormented him. She had spoken softly to him and had even stoked his head to let him know someone was there for him but she worried about what to say to him when he woke. He had questioned before whether he had loved Helen as a husband should but that had been when she had left him. She thought he had sorted that out when they had reconciled but knowing Tommy he had just been swept up in the moment. She tried not to pity him but he would never be happy until he could forgive himself, not only for Helen but for everything in his past. She smiled at the irony. That was something he had once told her she needed to do to move on. No wonder we're a good team, we're as broken as each other.

The morning grew colder so Barbara tucked his coat around him and waited for him to wake. Dawn broke after six but the sun had not been able to break through the clouds and Barbara thought it might start to drizzle. As the light increasingly stole the intimacy of the night she started to gently shake him awake.

"Come on Sir, time to go home."

Tommy sat up too fast and felt the world spin. "I can't."

"We can go to my place. You can sleep there for a while, until you feel better."

Tommy looked at her and shook his head, "That's not fair on you."

"It's either that or I take you to your place and stay with you there."

He nodded and started to walk down the path. Surprisingly he was steady on his feet but she knew he had developed quite a tolerance to alcohol during those first few months after Helen's death. As they walked down the hill Tommy looked across and smiled at her. It was all the thanks she needed.

He saw her car behind his and pulled out his keys. Barbara was about to berate him and stop him from driving when he tossed them to her and walked over to the passenger door. "Just drive carefully please."

For the second time this morning Barbara was shocked. "Yes Sir!" she said as she eyed the relic nervously. Once they were seated she checked the gauges and adjusted the mirror then pulled carefully away from the kerb. She had started driving when she realised they had not really agreed where to go. "So, your place or mine?"

"Yours...no mine, it's bigger."

"Right."

"No, I really don't want to go there."

"Okay, mine it is unless you want to check into a hotel?" Barbara had said it as a joke but Tommy did not seem amused. A serious look crossed his face and she was just about to tell him she was being funny when he asked, "Would you mind driving me to Howenstowe?"

"Oh, in your car?"

"Unless you own something vaguely comfortable."

She resisted the usual banter about his damned car. Barbara was tired and the thought of a six hour drive hardly thrilled her but she had seen the look in his eyes. He needed to go home. His mother would undoubtedly give her lunch and arrange a car for her to come back to London. Inwardly she resigned herself to a long day but outwardly she tried to sound cheery, "Cornwall it is!"

Tommy rested his head on the seat back and before she had found the M4 he was asleep.