Description: In chance meetings, Jess and Becker grow closer, learning more about the other than could ever be discovered from personal files. But will what they learn bring them closer or push them further away?

A/N: Hope you like it. Another chapter to come. Please review!

The Parkers

On my only day off of the month, I decided to head out to Homebase to buy the Polyfiller I needed to finally fix the crack in my kitchen wall. It had been there pretty much since I moved in, when, after Sarah had died and we failed to rescue Abby, Connor and Danny; I threw one of my rifles across the room. It had actually been rather satisfying to destroy what had so uselessly defended my friends, and the cloud of paint and dust that fell from my wall held a strange attraction that meant I had to restrain myself from completely ruining my flat.

It was a chilly autumnal morning, where the frost covered leaves covering the pavement crunched underfoot, as I briskly walked to my car and dived in, turning the heating on instantly. The car soon warmed up whilst I concentrated on the roads and where I was going.

Again, once I had parked, I hurried into the expected warmth of the shop, through the electric sliding doors under the green Homebase logo.

I sped past the home aisles filled with lamp shades, wallpaper, bed covers and curtains then past the paints until I reached the Polyfiller, picking up a tube without really looking at the label. To be honest, I just wanted to buy the thing and get back to the flat and spend less time in the chilly warehouse that was Homebase. At the till there was a bit of a queue, and I sighed as I joined it, thinking idly about why shops never seemed to be able to have more than one till open. It may have been a Sunday morning, but in my experience, Sundays were always busy because many people didn't work weekends and took them as an opportunity to go shopping.

I was stood behind a group of three people talking loudly, although one of them seemed to be desperately trying to keep her voice down. I looked at her back, thinking her hair looked the exact same shade as Jess', that lovely brown colour with the hint of red that so beautifully brought out the pink in her cheeks. I always acted like I was emotionally stunted around Jess, and everyone noticed it. But I knew she had a crush on me. Don't get me wrong, Jess was amazing. There was something about her that was just so…Jess. But after Abby, Connor and Danny disappeared and Sarah died, I was left alone on the team, and I didn't want to ever be that close to anyone and then lose them again. I was still stuck in that mind-frame when Jess started, bright and chirpy to my depressed, moody state. And after a while I didn't know how to approach her and tell her how I was beginning to feel.

But lately things had gotten to the point that it was becoming harder to remember why I'd never said anything in the first place. Every time she skipped into a room, my eyes locked onto her trademark colourful shoes, before moving up her slim legs to her unprofessionally short skirt, to her top and then to her face. Her beautiful cerulean blue eyes were just captivating, and I was sure she must have begun to notice me staring into them.

The queue was slow moving – the operative at the till half-heartedly scanning the numerous plants that the first couple in line had bought.

Again, I sighed, bored out of my brains. Trying to occupy my mind with some sort of activity, I visually went over how to disassemble and reassemble an AK47 rifle.

"No, Dad, we've been over this. It has to be lime green. Nothing else will work with Mum's curtains," a voice hissed, cutting into my thoughts. "Anyway, we're not decorating that room today; we'll do it next weekend." It was strange, the voice seemed very familiar, but in a way I also felt like I'd never heard it before.

"Calm down, Jessie. I just don't like the colour, that's all," the elderly man in the brown coat replied.

Jessie? I wondered whether it was possible, and tried to lean around slightly to get a better view of the side of her face. Unfortunately, I overbalanced and fell into a pile of those rubbish invented products that were always advertised on TV.

The woman whirled round in the racket, and I found myself staring up from the floor at Jess' shocked face.

"Jess, fancy seeing you here," I said, smiling genuinely. I couldn't quite believe how long it had taken me to realise that it was her. I was already beginning to feel that my life revolved around her. Dusting my hands, I got to my feet and Jess began to help me restack the products into a pile. "So what are you doing here?"

"Getting paint to redecorate my dad's house," she replied, completely forgetting about that fact that she had to pay for the ten pots of paint. "How about you?"

"I've got a crack that needs sorting." I showed her the Polyfiller and then placed the last product back in place. "Thanks for the help."

"Jessie, do you know this man?"

"Yes, Dad, he's…well, this is Hi-" I cut her off with a sharp look. I hated people calling me Hilary. It was old fashioned, not to mention that fact that it was a woman's name. It was no wonder I'd rebelled against it and joined the army. "Well, Dad, this is…is-"

She was interrupted again by the younger man, who looked incredibly like her now that I could see his face. Although his hair was lighter and mousier coloured, he had the exact same blue eyes and high cheekbones. I was so used to seeing those features on Jess that I actually thought he looked rather effeminate. I guessed, however, that he was her brother.

"Spit it out, Jess," he muttered, rolling his eyes at her.

"Shut up, Tom! Well this is…my…Becker, I mean colleague."

Her father's eyes widened. "What do you mean 'your Becker'? He's not your boyfriend is he? How come you never said anything about him?"

"No, Dad," Jess groaned, and I got the feeling that she was resisting the urge to slap her forehead. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh?"

"We just worked together, Sir," I told him, still grinning.

"Oh so your work is 'classified' too, eh? You can't tell me what exactly it is that you do either?" He grumbled, his wrinkled brow rapidly moving up and down, also causing his tweed hat to shake.

"I can tell you some details, Sir," I replied respectfully, whilst smothering laughter because of Jess' horrified expression.

"Oh? Sir? Aren't you posh. Go on then. Tell me."

"Becker," Jess said through clenched teeth whilst standing on my foot. "We've signed the Official Secrets Act. You can't."

"Relax. You're too highly strung."

"Isn't she?" Her brother agreed with me. "I keep telling her she needs to learn to relax or she'll be scarred with terrible wrinkles before she's forty!"

I was getting the distinct impression that her brother was gay. For one thing, he was dressed even more flamboyantly that Jess, and I didn't even think that was possible.

"Aren't you going to tell me what you do?" Her father interrupted.

"Yes, Sir, right away. I work out in the field for our government department, protecting the team. I'm also the head of security."

"What on earth do you need to protect government workers from? Dissatisfied pensioners?" He joked.

"Well, Sir, we do often deal with the public. One woman said something the other day about flying saucers," I quipped back to him.

"No need to try to fool an old man," he mumbled, turning around after glaring quite fiercely at me. Jess shot me an apologetic look and hurried after him.

"Dad, are you alright?"

"Ah, I'm fine. Just messing with you. I like this guy. Becker, how do you fancy coming back and helping an old man to redecorate his house?" He asked turning around to face me again.

"You don't have to," Jess said instantly, though her eyes were filled with hope.

"I'd love to," I told them all.

"Great," Jess and her father replied at the same time. "Though no more calling me Sir. John will do just fine," her father added.

"I'm Tom by the way."

"My baby brother," Jess explained.

"May I just say you have lovely hair," Tom enthused, reaching out to touch the front coif. He was definitely gay. Jess looked highly amused by my dilemma: I didn't want to offend her brother; but neither did I really want him stroking my hair. I wasn't homophobic, but it was embarrassing in a shop full of people who were already staring in our direction because I'd knocked over tonnes of stuff.

After paying for my Polyfiller, I tucked it inside my coat and followed Jess and her family from the shop. However, we soon parted ways and Jess accompanied me to my car to direct me towards her family home.

"Sorry about that," she muttered as soon as her father and brother had walked two yards away from us.

"Sorry about what?"

"Everything: my brother, the twenty questions…all of it."

"Jess, they're your family," I told her in what I hoped was a gently voice. "You can't change them and it didn't bother me at all, so don't worry about it."

Jess smiled gratefully at me.

"Okay so where are we going?"

"Take the right turning," Jess instructed, speaking to me in exactly the same measure, clear tone she used whilst she was working the ADD and controlling CCTV, GPS and a hundred other things at once. "Carry on about a hundred yards…turn right again. Take the next left. Follow the signs out to the motorway. Take the third exit. No not that one, next one."

When we finally arrived at Jess' house, we'd been driving an hour, and I began to wonder how it was she always made it into work before I did, then I remembered that it was her parents' house; not hers. Jess was much more likely to live in the centre of London, in an incredibly stylish two floor flat, filled with bright colours and electric goodies.

That was the complete opposite to her parents' house.

The house looked like a three storey, listed building, made from stone bricks rather than modern ones, with low cut door frames and ivy growing pleasantly up one side of the picturesque building. It was completely isolated in a sea of never-ending grass, surrounded only by a few posh looking cars – one a mint-condition old Bentley, a seventies Ferrari and a Rolls Royce.

I whistled lowly.

"You're rich."

Jess laughed. "My parents did like to lead a particularly affluent lifestyle."

"Did?" I asked, surprised by the past tense. I would have thought that the tendency for comfort and spending would only increase as time went past, but I was beginning to see why Jess had such a love for shopping.

"Yeah, ever since my Mum died, my Dad became more reclusive, never going out. It was a stretch to get him to agree to come with us today actually. Partly, I suppose the change is good – he gives all his money to me and Tom and lives with what he already has. And, I mean, he would never be able to cope with the advances in technology. Mum was always the one who organised him and did everything – he just took care of the cars or the lawn, fixed the occasional break but nothing serious."

"I'm really sorry," I muttered. It was emotional situations like these that I felt my most useless. In dangerous situations, in war, things were simple. Shoot the bad guy; kill the bad guy any way possible. But wherever emotions were concerned, there was never an easy solution.

"Thanks. It was a long time ago now so we've adjusted, but sometimes I still worry about him. There was nothing we could have done for her – the cancer, it just crept up and she never said anything about feeling ill because she didn't want us to worry. She didn't think we would be able to cope."

"She sounds like a very brave woman…"

"She was," Jess stared into the distance, lost in memory before turning to me with a wicked grin. "She'd give you a run for your money if she had to stare down a dinosaur."

"Then I'm sure she'd be proud of you and what you do every day," I told her, knowing I was proud of her.

"You think?"

I nodded.

"Just a shame we can never really tell anyone, you know?"

I murmured an agreement.

"What do your family think you do?" She asked, turning away from watching her Dad struggle out of their less flashy, convertible Mini to look at me.

"Huh? Oh, this and that. I never told them much to begin with…"

She stared at me, a strange expression in her face, scrutinising me, as though she was wondering why I never really said a lot about my private life, before sighing and getting out of my car.

"Come on, the quicker we redecorate, the quicker you can get home."

"I'm not sure I'll ever be able to find the way home," I muttered under my breath but judging by Jess' smirk she'd overheard me.

As we approached her father and brother, I called out, "Very nice cars, Mr Parker. The Rolls Royce…well they just don't make them that way anymore."

Her dad turned and began rambling about the mechanisms of the cars, the suspensions – comparing every minute detail while I nodded, intently listening.

"Boys," Jess murmured with a shake of her head, drawing a smile from me. "Er, Dad," she said tentatively.

"Ah, enough about cars," Mr Parker exclaimed, clapping me on the shoulder and dragging me towards his front door. "How'd you like the grand tour?"

"Dad, there's no need-" Jess spluttered, red with embarrassment.

"-You can't invite a guest back to your house and not show him around Jess. It's a common courtesy. You obviously need to relearn your manners – you can show Becker around. And by the way, you'll have to tell me your first name; I don't want to be forever calling you by your surname."

"It's Hilary," I told him.

"I see why you use your surname. Nothing to be ashamed of though. I'm going to go ahead and call you Hilary." I smiled, beginning to admire John Parker's honesty and openness.

"Come on, Becker. I'll show you around…" Jess walked through the front door and into the hall, leaving me to follow her. Inside, the house was filled with traditional patterned wallpaper – mostly neutral shades – and held a simple elegance.

Without stopping, Jess headed up the stairs all the way to the third floor and stopped underneath the hatch for the attic.

"Can you get that?" She asked, pointing to the cord she was too short to reach.

I nodded and yanked on it, pulling open the trap door and allowing the ladder to slide free.

"Thanks," she muttered, "Guests first."

"No, no after you. Ladies first."

Jess beamed, amused by our polite actions, before climbing up the ladder and into the loft space. I glanced up after her, forgetting about her liking of short skirts and felt myself flush as I saw a scrap of lace covering her round bottom before it disappeared into the attic.

"Coming?"

I jerked myself out of my reverie and clambered up after her.

Inside the loft, sat a menagerie of boxes and pieces of furniture. An old cot was partially hidden and as I stared at it, Jess noticed and explained, "It was mine. Dad's saving it for my firstborn child."

I nodded and looked at some of the other boxes, flipping the lid off the one closest to me and found myself staring at Jess' family photos. A gentle smile filled my face, as I saw the top one of Jess grinning a crooked grin (her middle teeth missing) as she sat on a swing with a beautiful woman who looked just like her.

"My mum, Mary," Jess whispered from behind me. "She was beautiful."

"You look just like her," I told her softly, watching a light blush spread across her cheeks as she realised my veiled compliment.

Underneath that photo, was one of Jess holding her newborn brother with her parents holding hands on either side of her. They were a proper family; not like mine.

"We should probably carry on with the tour," Jess murmured, moving past me and holding her hand out to pull me up from my crouch. I took it, surprised by its small size and squeezed it gently.

"Where now?"

Jess shrugged as she pressed a switch on the wall to recall the ladder and latch. "Why not follow your muse?"

I looked doubtfully at her, but let my feet take me where they wanted, following the landing around a corner and coming to a stop outside on of the rooms. Hesitantly, I pushed the door open and found myself in a bedroom with a small, white metal bedstead, with walls painted entirely pink.

"Your bedroom," I guessed.

"Nope. My brothers," Jess said with a grin. "You get half a point though because it was mine first. Come on, I'll show you my room."

She led me down a floor, stopping briefly to show me the family room that held her mother's sowing box, before continuing on to her room. On the door, there was still a sign that read "Jess' Room – for your own safety stay out."

"Jess, what on earth would be able to hurt me in your old bedroom?"

"You'll see…" She offered no elaboration and I so I was cautious as I turned the handle on her door and walked through, immediately catching sight of her walls that were plastered with pictures of four girls.

Seeing my focus on them, she pointed out each person. "The blonde one – that's Kirsty and then the two brunettes are Mandy and Beth."

I smiled at a picture of Jess with a massive rucksack over her shoulders and a tent standing behind her as she was on her Duke of Edinburgh expedition.

"You look very outdoorsy."

"I'm not. Trust me. Well you know about the insects…but that was before I knew," she replied.

I nodded and moved around the rest of the room, taking in the book titles on her bookcase. Pride and Prejudice. The Time Traveler's Wife. Jane Eyre. A few Milnes and Boone titles. There was a distinctive theme running through them: romance.

On top of the bookcase stood a large, framed photograph of Jess' mum. In that one, she sat alone on the sofa, looking weary as though it had been taken mere days before her death.

"It's a later one. I was nine at the time. It was about two weeks before she died."

"Why do you have it here?"

"To remind me to stay strong until the end," Jess answered honestly. It was an honourable thing to have the photo for, but I was surprised by how long Jess had lived without her mother.

"So what was the danger?" I asked as I opened her wardrobe, wondering whether she'd always had such bright tastes. I gasped as the air was knocked out of me.

"That was the danger," Jess laughed, pointing at the boxing glove which had just punched me in the stomach.

"Why and how on earth did you rig that up, Jess?"

"I got the idea from one of the Home Alones and well, you know, I'm a genius. It didn't take a lot to work it."

"Clearly."

"And I needed it to stop Tom coming in here and stealing my clothes!" She exclaimed. "But I love him really."

"I can tell. You're much closer to your family than I am with mine, Jess."

"It's not too late to change that…We should probably get back to my dad and get decorating or we won't get done…"

I nodded, though I had a strange urge (one which I repressed, of course) to ask her to stay a minute, to turn her around, take her by the hand and kiss her senseless. Instead, Jess walked out, assuming I was following her whilst I was stuck imagining what kissing her might feel like.

"Becker?" She called, coming back to the door and staring at me. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said quickly and left.

On the way back downstairs, Jess showed me the reception rooms and family rooms and then took me to the kitchen where a pot of coffee was steaming, after just coming to the boil.

Jess and her family laughed, leaving me stood there in confusion.

"Sorry, Becker. We have an old family saying that as soon as someone puts the kettle on to boil whoever we're waiting for will arrive."

"Right," I muttered, remembering my grandmother used to have a similar saying about the milkman. It was probably just an old person thing. "So which room are we painting?"

"The garage actually. We're turning it into a home cinema room." Aside, Jess whispered, "You know so that Dad can have a bigger telly and louder sound so he could actually see and hear films."

"I'm not that deaf," her father complained.

Jess shot him a doubtful look but tactfully remained silent. "Here's your coffee by the way."

"Cheers," I murmured, taking it from her and having a sip. It was good. Expensive, obviously, but it was the strong kind that I always felt like I needed after a long, stressful day at work.

After some mild conversation and coffee, we moved out to the garage and collected the paint pots from the cars. It was a large space, already empty, but simply whitewashed.

"Paint away then Jess, Tom, Hilary…I'll be warming myself indoors in front of the fire."

As soon as Jess' father was out of earshot, I muttered, "I thought we were helping him, not working as slave labour…"

"Dad's never been a hands-on person," Tom told me, whispering conspirationally.

"Jess?"

"It's true. He was never much of a parent either. After Mum died, I did everything really – looked after Tom, made the meals and took over a lot of the cleaning and stuff. If it hadn't been for Auntie Sharon moving in, I'd have probably been overwhelmed. Still, whilst she did all the cleaning and stuff, I still raised Tom. Anyway that's why I'm so good at co-ordinating you guys at work. I'd already had so much practice at home."

"I'm so sorry, Jess."

"Why? I'm fine," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yeah…but you lost out on your childhood and had some really bad experiences."

"Nothing's perfect," she whispered, whilst Tom moved away, giving us privacy and beginning the paint job.

"You are," I murmured, without even thinking.

"What?" She asked, stunned.

"I mean, you're pretty perfect, Jess. Look at the way you do your job…" It was a poor cover up, but Jess appeared to buy it. Though the way her face dropped made me wish I'd never said anything. I couldn't bear the effects of my stance on not getting close to colleagues after Sarah and Danny, Abby and Connor. Every time I saw Jess looking upset because I had rebuffed her again, I came one step closer to falling onto my knees and professing my love for her.

"I'm brilliant; not perfect, remember, Becker?"

"Both adjectives suit you, Jess."

She was silent, most likely embarrassed, before turning to Tom and taking two paintbrushes from him and a can of paint. Offering me a brush, she dipped her own into the paint and swept it across the wall in a smooth wave-like motion, halving the wall crossways.

"We're doing pale blue and half dark blue…just stay under this line."

I nodded. I could do that. It didn't require too much care, but I had steady enough hands that I wouldn't accidentally change the wavy line Jess had created.

For another hour we painted, and by that time it was beginning to get dark. When we finally traipsed indoors and threw ourselves into armchairs by John Parker's fireplace, he turned and said, "Hilary, stay the night."

"I couldn't do that, Sir…"

"Nonsense. I won't have you driving back in the dark. Besides you'll have no idea where you're going."

"I could go with him, Dad," Jess interrupted.

"It's not safe to drive these roads in the dark. They're full of twists and unlit corners. No you can stay and wait till morning and then Jess will show you the way back," he insisted, shouting down any arguments we made whilst Tom looked on in amusement.

Any other arguments I had dwindled into nothing when the family cat leapt down from John's lap and then up into mine. I'd never been much an animal person, and they'd never liked me.

"Becker, meet Cassie," Jess said, smiling and reaching over to scratch the cat behind the ears. Cassie, a tawny coloured tabby, purred appreciatively and kneaded my chest before settling and curling into a ball over my heart.

"She doesn't usually like strangers so you must be pretty special," Tom explained when I questioned his funny look.

Jess murmured something to herself that sounded suspiciously like, "He is special," and then flushed pink and ducked her head.

"Clearly she's picking up on Jess' feelings. I always did say they were so in-tune with one another that they must have had an empathy link…" Tom continued.

"Best be cracking on with dinner then if we've got company," John said, standing up and stretching.

"I'll help," Jess announced, looking extremely grateful for an excuse to escape.

Whilst John and Jess were in the kitchen making some dinner – Jess most likely doing all the work – Tom turned to me.

"You're really not getting all this, are you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked guardedly.

"The old man's trying to set the pair of you up," Tom said matter-of-factly.

"Jess and I are just work friends," I replied mechanically.

Scoffing, he mumbled, "Yeah, and I'm straight."

Deciding it would be best not to argue, I tried to forget about it, but when dinner was ready I couldn't help noticing how John made sure Jess and I sat side by side, close enough that our elbows were constantly touching.

When he took us upstairs and gave me a room, he pointed out the one beside Jess' and said in an undertone, "I may be an old man, but I'm not ignorant of modern customs. If something were to, er…happen, well then that's okay with me."

"Right, well, I'm not that kind of guy, Sir," I told him and hurried into the room, very embarrassed.

It was, however, a long night. I was overtly aware that there was only a thin wall separating Jess and I, and I even thought I could hear her moving in the next room. It was torture to be so close and yet so far away.

Finally though, I fell into an uneasy sleep of dreaming that I was trying to catch Jess and every time I came close to closing my arms around her, she disappeared and reappeared metres away.

In the morning, after a small breakfast, John said goodbye, looking sincerely disappointed and Jess and I left.

"Sorry we stole your weekend," Jess said the moment we got in the car.

"No, I enjoyed meeting the Parkers."