Notes:

This story was triggered by the departure of Jason Hughes from Midsomer Murders; Schooled in Murder was the final episode Jason filmed, and he announced his decision to leave the show after filming, therefore precluding the possibility of Ben Jones receiving a proper send-off/departure.

The storyline was triggered solely by one reaction in one scene: Ben's face and body language when he says he is going to join the search for Poppy Ordish.

It has also given me the opportunity to write some back story for Ben Jones, which I've wanted to do for a while, but didn't want to write a biography.

CHAPTER 1

The dinner had been lovely. It wasn't quite the same as the meals he'd shared with Tom, Joyce and, from time to time, Cully, but he was pleased to be included and welcomed. That his boss was a more than reasonable cook was also a surprise though, Ben realised later, it shouldn't have been. Tom had also been an excellent cook, even if Ben had believed it was out of necessity; clearly the matriarchs of the Barnaby clan had been determined that their menfolk would be self–sufficient.

He had been a little surprised that he and Kate were the only guests. Surely after two years in Midsomer, Sarah, if not John, had befriended others? Sarah had known her school colleagues longer than either she or John had known Kate, and as long as she'd known Ben. Ah, it's their choice. When he looked at his own situation, he found he would be hard pressed to choose dinner guests other than those he'd just passed the evening with.

There had been a downside to the evening. After the third bottle of wine it had become clear that Sarah was also using the occasion to match–make. Ben liked Kate, but only as a friend, and not necessarily a 'good' friend, and he certainly wasn't in a frame of mind to play along with Sarah's hopes. Sure, he had thought about it but, in the cold light of day, Kate just wasn't his type. Thankfully, Kate was in agreement with him and had rolled her eyes when Sarah was focused on Ben; he'd had to bite his lip hard so as not to laugh while Sarah was talking to him.

Later, in the kitchen with John and Sykes, John had apologised for Sarah.

"She'd never admit it, but she always gets a little sentimental around our anniversary; thinks everyone should be as settled and happy as we are. She tried to match up the school registrar with the Head of Math last year. I only found out when the registrar came into the station demanding I get Sarah off his back."

"And did you?"

John nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

"How? I think it would be safe bet that you didn't tell Mrs Barnaby to 'back off'."

"Not exactly, but I did tell her the truth."

"Which was?"

"The registrar's gay—and has a partner," John chuckled. "Sarah was mortified that she hadn't noticed. Not only was she frantically apologising to him and trying not to upset him further, she then had to go to the teacher and discreetly explain to her. She tip–toed around for a couple of weeks; I had hoped it would have taught her a lesson, but ..." He peered through to the living room where Kate and Sarah were deep in discussion. "... clearly not."

Ben turned around, just in time to catch Sarah looking up and frowning.

"Will you be in trouble if she finds out you told me?" Ben tried not to grin too widely at the thought of Sarah's reaction.

"Probably. More wine?"

Ben had walked home—alone, again—and spent several introspective hours on the couch, nursing a large whiskey. He reflected on his life—where he'd been and where he was going. When John was his age he and Sarah had already been married five years, and had been together for over ten. What did Ben have? A series of relationships that had ultimately fizzled out. Yes, some had lasted longer than others, and a couple had had the potential to go further, except Ben had rather high standards when it came to honesty and trust. Honesty was a given and trust was earned, and it worked both ways. At least that's what Ben believed. Was it really so hard to expect?

Oh well, it wasn't as though he'd had the love of his life and lost her to someone else, was it? Maybe he was destined to stay a bachelor like his cousin Geraint. Ben had to admit he did envy Geraint. Not because of his Double First from Oxford, which had lead to his thriving law practice, but because he owned a small farm, from which he ran a dog rescue service focusing on large and working dogs. Ben never really understood how he managed to keep both aspects of his life running along smoothly, but he did.

Apart from one not–so–recent visit and two letters a year to his Granny Jones, and a steady email exchange with Geraint, Ben had given little thought to his father's family over the years. And, honestly, why would he? His father had been sent to jail when he was three for armed robbery, and all the family—except for Granny Jones and his uncle—had blamed his mother, accusing her of forcing him into desperate measures to support her and wee Ben. The abuse was so great that she'd eventually fled back to Midsomer and her family, taking young Ben with her.

Ben had learnt the full story shortly before his tenth birthday, when his father showed up on their doorstep in Dunstan, begging his mother to come back to Cardiff. He'd been frightened by the thin, dark man and he knew his mother was uncertain. Yet they'd packed up and left within the week, back to a family and a city Ben didn't know. They'd left so quickly Ben had only been able to say goodbye to Mark and Jack Purdy, as everyone else was away on summer holidays.

His father's family had been kind to Ben, if not to his mother. His grandfather had taken him to the local boxing club to give him an outlet, and he'd also been taken to a professional match to see Teddy Molloy box. However, with his mother's blessing, he'd spent much of his free time at his uncle's house, having found a friend in his cousin, Geraint, and, although they were never really close, they'd kept in touch over the years. Ben smiled fondly as he remembered part of his time there; while he'd never picked up the language beyond a few school yard insults, his Uncle had taught him to recite O Myfanwy in several languages, including Welsh, and he and Geraint would drive their teachers to distraction in class.

In the end, his time in Cardiff was short-lived, as his parents separated within two years, ultimately divorcing, and his mother took him back to Midsomer. When his mother died a couple of years after their return, Ben was given the choice to return to Wales and his father. He chose to stay with his grandparents in Midsomer Parva, as this was where he felt safest. Despite all the changes, he'd managed to keep in contact with his granny and Geraint, only drifting out of contact after he left school. After graduating from Hendon, he'd done everything he could to be posted to the Midsomer Constabulary, because he wanted to give back to the community that was so important to him. It took several years before a vacancy came up, when the newly appointed DI Troy moved to Middlesborough. Once he was settled in Causton, and at his gran's urging, he'd reconnected with Granny Jones and Geraint. He really believed he was where he was meant to be, doing what he was destined to do, with people he cared about.

But now Ben was discontent. He still liked what he did, but he no longer loved it, and it didn't feel enough to sustain him anymore. After a rocky start, he'd fallen into a reasonably comfortable pattern with John, but there was something missing. He still felt the loss of Tom and Joyce deeply; they had, in a small way, become the parents he no longer had, with their kindnesses and gentle guidance. John and Sarah were more like distant cousins, and he missed the sense of family that had nurtured and comforted him during his and Tom's more difficult cases.

Of his own family here, he only had his gran left. She'd celebrated her ninetieth on her last birthday and was still as sharp as a tack, but she was beginning to slow down and continually encouraging Ben to settle down. As the only grandchild he'd occasionally regretted he'd never been in a position to make her a great-grandmother, and knew it was probably too late now. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be a father, as much as he liked kids; he'd seen too much as a police officer, was too aware of all the dangers that faced kids today. Sometimes he had enough trouble taking care of his own needs, and the thought of having to constantly consider two other people—if there was a child, there would be a mother—had given him nightmares on more than one occasion.

Geraint had the right idea; he channelled his need to nurture and care into the thirty or so dogs he regularly had in the refuge. What could Ben do? What did he want to do?

He'd been a policeman most of his adult life. He'd dabbled in a few hobbies, but nothing he could make a career of—or a living from. He was too old to retrain for anything, or consider University—wasn't he? John would probably be able to give him some idea, but asking John would mean telling him he wanted to leave.

I want to leave.

In the middle of all his wool–gathering and reminiscing, Ben realised with a jolt that, for the first time in his life, he was seriously considering leaving Midsomer, packing up and walking away from his career, his friends and everything he knew and trusted.

Ben sank lower in the couch, his chin dropping to his chest as his eyes closed. A sad sigh escaped as the reality sat heavily within him; with almost sickening clarity, Ben knew that he would leave Midsomer, and it would be sooner rather than later. He just wished he could understand why. But then, maybe there was no concrete why, perhaps it just was.

He was too tired to think about it clearly now, however, the one image that was sharp in his mind was the face of Beatrix Ordish when Poppy was missing. He'd faced his fair share of lost and abducted kids, dealt compassionately with kids who were witnesses or otherwise affected by crimes within their families and communities, and arrested more teenagers than he cared to remember. He had never had to deal with a child murder victim.

Was that the bottom line? He'd been a police officer for over eighteen years, the past seven in CID—that he hadn't seen a child victim was sheer luck and his luck would run out one day. It could have been this week; it could have been Poppy.

Ben forced himself to stand up, to move. He didn't have work tomorrow; he'd sleep on it, maybe email Geraint and get his perspective. As a criminal lawyer, he too had seen more than his share of the evil men do as well. Perhaps he could shed some light on Ben's discontent.