TITLE: The Bleak Mid-Winter

FANDOM: State of Play

GENRE: Romance

PAIRING: Bell/Della

A/N: Yet another in a series of Philip Glenister related fanfics! I can't seem to stop myself. Not sure where this came from. Can I be the only one who noticed the subtle chemistry between DCI Bell and Della Smith? Oh, well. I'm an unrepentant shipper. What can I say? This is nothing special. Just a fluffy little winter warmer. Only a few chapters.

xxXXxx

She hurried down the corridor, all while balancing her mobile between her chin and shoulder and rummaging through her purse for a pocket pack of tissues.

"I couldn't, Helen. Not tonight," she said wearily.

"It's almost Christmas," Helen Preger cajoled on the other end. Della could hear the boys whooping in the background, sounding as if the party had started already. Helen shushed them and went on. "We're all going out to celebrate our amazing good fortune this year, which is completely deserved, by the way. Please say you'll come."

"Sounds lovely, but my head's about to explode. I'm on my way back to the office now to collect my laptop, then I really need to just go home and go to bed. You lot have fun."

"Well, if you change your mind…"

"I won't. Thanks, though. See you tomorrow, unless I'm dead. Given the way I feel, it's a real possibility."

Della snapped her mobile shut and dropped it back into her bag while she fished in vain for her tissues through the packs of cough pastilles and old receipts. She finally stopped with a small sigh of frustration and stood with her bag balanced on one knee. She teetered as she gave the bag a shake, hoping the tissues would rise to the surface, but instead, a handful of coins erupted from the top and went skittering and bouncing across the tiled corridor. She cursed under her breath and flung her purse onto the floor in resignation.

Every year it was the same. October and November would roll past without so much as a sniffle, and she would have herself convinced that this year might be different. Then December would blow in, and with it, a cold that left her hacking and sneezing through the miserable holidays. The only thing she'd be drinking tonight was Lemsip.

She winced as the bare patch of skin between her boots and her skirt hit the cold floor and she retrieved her bouncing coins. It was then that she finally sneezed the sneeze she'd been fighting off and then dabbed her nose on the sleeve of her charity shop parka.

"Della!"

It was a familiar voice calling her name out in not-unpleasant surprise. She looked up from her all-fours position on the floor to see the shoes heading toward her, and then he dropped next to her and gathered up a handful of stray coins.

"DCI Bell…" she said and hurriedly stuffed an errant tampax back into her purse as he smiled over at her.

"Come to see me, then?"

"No, actually…" she said and struggled to her feet. "I was just on my way out."

"Oh."

There was an empty beat, and she thought she detected a slight air of disappointment. "I was just…picking up a police report. Follow-up story on Collins," she added in a rush.

"Yeah, I read the article," he said admiringly. "It was really good. Well done."

"Thanks." She smiled. They stood for a moment in silence. She could feel her nose beginning to dribble again. "Well, I should go. Good to see you again. Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, you too, Della."

There was an awkward shuffle as they tried to dodge around each other and then she finally passed him with a light wave.

"Della?" She looked over her shoulder. He was rubbing the back of his neck. "Would you fancy a cup of coffee?"

She blinked. "With you?"

He looked down with an embarrassed laugh. "I can sit at another table, if you'd prefer."

Horrified, she held up her hands in front of her. "Oh, I'm sorry! That's not what I meant! I just thought…you were offering me a cup from the employee break room or something. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I just thought we could talk about some cases you might be interested in. For the paper. Some other time, yeah?" He gave what was meant to look like an indifferent shrug and turned to go.

"I'd love a cup of coffee, actually."

xxXXxx

They sat tucked into a corner of a little place across from the station sipping at overpriced coffees. It was quiet and cozy, though, and she felt a bit weepy listening to the CD of Christmas carols that was playing in the background.

"Plans for the holidays?" he asked after a brief silence.

"I was going to Spain for a few days, but my plans fell through." She laughed what she hoped was a casual laugh and watched as she chewed at his lip thoughtfully for a moment before speaking.

"I know it's tough. Right here at the holidays."

"How do you mean?"

"Well…I mean," he started in a hushed voice, "You just split with your boyfriend and all."

"Oh, God!" She clapped her hands over her eyes. "How did you know?"

"Your boss mentioned it," he said and added quickly, "Just in passing."

"Christ! My boss was talking to you about my personal life? Oh, my God!"

"I'm sorry! I should never have…God, I'm a pillock. I'm sorry."

She finally pulled her hands from her face to see him looking at her with large, apologetic eyes, leaning forward with elbows on the table. He was reaching out with his fingertips brushing against the cuff of her parka. She smiled weakly back at him. "It's okay. Never mind."

She sipped her coffee to cover the awkward silence that rose up.

"Are you all right, Della?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." She waved a dismissive hand. "He was a bit of a wanker."

"No…not about your boyfriend. I mean…" He ran a finger around the edge of his coffee cup before going on. "With everything…your flat getting broken into…what happened at the hospital." He said the last bit in soft, sympathetic tones.

She shivered and drew her coat around her. An image of the officer collapsed on the staircase and bleeding to death in front of her tore through her mind. Her hands shook as she picked up her cup and brought it to her lips. She sipped at it, trying to regain some composure. "I still have nightmares."

He mirrored her and picked up his cup, pausing before speaking. "I wish I could say you get used to things like that."

She warmed her hands against the cup and looked across at him. He was about forty, she reckoned. A good decade older than the men she usually dated. Not that this was a date, of course. This was just coffee between colleagues. But he was handsome in a rough, lived-in kind of way, it occurred to her, and he had lovely eyes that were startlingly blue.

She'd noticed them before. It was the day she'd gone to the station to view some Tube surveillance tapes from when Sonja Baker was murdered. He had sat beside her as she watched for signs of the man she'd seen at the hospital, but from the corner of her eye, she could see that Bell was not watching the tape, but watching her with concern. When she turned toward him just at the moment that the young woman had fallen onto the track, his eyes darted away quickly and he snapped off the monitor. "That's enough. You don't need to see that," he'd said softly.

"I should probably go," she said suddenly and set her cup on the table.

He immediately jumped up and pulled her chair back for her as she rose. "Yeah, sure. It's late. You've probably got…deadlines and things."

"We never did talk about those cases."

"Another time. It wasn't that important."

They walked back out into the sharp December air. She turned to him to say one last thing before parting when she felt her feet go out from under her. She cried out in alarm, and his hand flew up from his side, catching her and pulling her back to her feet before she landed hard on the pavement.

"Careful. There's some ice. You all right?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

They stood on the sidewalk for a moment. His face was lit up by the streetlamp, and she could see his brows were drawn together in concern. Yes, he was handsome. She hadn't really noticed it before. A very masculine sort of handsomeness, tinged with a policeman's world-weariness. No, that wasn't it. Not just world-weariness. It was a heaviness, a sadness, that had nothing to do with his job.

She blinked herself back into reality when she noticed that he was still holding her hand. She could feel the cold metal against her palm. It was a ring.

She pulled her hand from his grip as if she were touching something hot.

"Thanks for the coffee, Bill. Merry Christmas."

"You, as well, Della." He slipped his hands into his pockets and gave her a small smile as she turned and hurried off, and she felt fairly certain that he was still watching her as she turned the corner.

xxXXxx

Dan and Cal were still at their desks across from hers when she walked into the news room.

"What are you two still doing here?"

"Waiting for you! Thought we could twist your arm," Dan said.

"Yeah, you told Helen you were coming right back. Where have you been?"

"I stopped for coffee," she said as she logged off her laptop. She bit her lip and debated whether or not to go on. Why shouldn't she? It was just coffee. "With DCI Bell."

She could see Dan and Cal trade looks, and Dan tried to stifle a snicker. "And how is your copper?"

"He's not my copper."

"Then why are you blushing?" Cal teased.

"I'm not blushing. It's seven degrees outside and I've got a cold, you tossers."

"Ooooo!" both men said in mock outrage and then shoved each other like a pair of schoolboys.

"Anyway," she went on, snapping the lid of her laptop shut. "Not that it matters, but he's married."

"Oh. Tough break, Della," Dan said with a sort of awkward sincerity.

She shrugged without saying anything and headed quickly back to the elevator.

xxXXxx

Her boyfriend. You brought up her boyfriend.

Bell's car wound its way through the streets toward home.

Her boyfriend. What were you thinking? Twat.

He cursed aloud once and made the turn into his street. The front of the house was dark, and he cursed again realising he'd forgotten to turn the porch light on.

He pulled into the driveway and sat behind the wheel for a moment repeating bits of his conversation with Della in his mind. He'd never had much time for reporters before. They were always getting things wrong and leaking things that shouldn't be leaked. All which made his job twenty times more difficult than it already was.

But there was something about her. Maybe it was the way she'd shivered and sobbed in the rain outside the hospital the night his DI had been shot by a sniper's fire. Or the way she'd stormed into his office with her boss and laid into him for supposedly breaking into her flat. She'd tried to be so tough, all 5'3" of her, when all the while she was terrified. She'd sent Cameron Foster off, determined to handle this on her own, and he'd gone to sit next to her at the interview table. He'd given her some standard speech about offering her police protection and finding whoever had ransacked her flat, but all he'd wanted to do was hold her hand and tell her he could make it all right.

You really are a hopeless bastard.

He slammed the car door shut behind him and cursed yet again as he banged his shin in the dark against the planter by the front door. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and he had to find the door key by feel with his thick working-man's fingers. He pushed the door open with a sigh and limped inside his empty house.