Real Life
She'd returned to London because she didn't know where else to go. Yet even in the city she'd called home for fifty years, she was still in a state of limbo. From the start she'd known that she wouldn't just be able to pick up where she'd left off and continue like nothing had happened; that was impossible. No, she'd returned for emotional reasons rather than for her former career. Or more specifically, she'd returned for him. Jack was gone and she'd lost contact with the Lanes, so…he was the only one left. Despite this, he still felt strangely honoured when she turned up on his doorstep that night. She could have gone anywhere in the world, but she'd chosen to come to him. And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to look after her.
Even now, a month on, she still hadn't disclosed exactly how she and Max had separated. Her silence on the topic was a sure sign that it had affected her, deeply, no matter how much she said she was alright. He could understand why it had hurt her so much- the promise of a new start in a foreign country, with a new bloke and a better job, after everything that had happened…all of that had gone. Still, that was real life. He couldn't change it, despite how much he wanted to hunt the Frenchman down, so all he could do was to help her through. And he had done. He was still doing it today. It had taken time, but gradually he had convinced her that all was far from lost. She was vastly experienced as a detective; she could easily find a new job. She was still the same beautiful Sandra he'd known; she could find new love.
He had been surprised to find that their relationship hadn't been weakened, or even changed by her absence. He was glad; he'd missed her more than he'd cared to admit to his new teammates. The jibes, the laughter, the little arguments, even the mild flirting between them had all resumed after a while. She was still his little sister in all but blood, and he would help her to recover from this heartbreak if it was the last thing he did.