A/N: I will never get over Leo's death and I will never ship a couple as hard as Harry and Nikki. So I've decided to write as if the Silent Witness world exists the way I want. This will be an assortment of short Harry/Nikki one-shots. If anyone has any ideas, feel free to make suggestions.
Disclaimer: Obviously own nothing. Just like to re-write things the way they should be.
"I can't remember. Simple things, like the name of the street where I live.
And really stupid things, like I can't remember which side my fridge door opens from."
Hippocratic Oath (Part 2)
He'd had a plan for her first day back. It involved coffee and pastries on her desk for when she arrived, instead of the mountain range of half-finished reports which had built up in her absence. But that plan had been scuppered by the inconsiderate drunk driver who'd slammed his car into a wall at five o'clock in the morning.
By the time he arrived back at the office, a little after half eight, Nikki was engrossed in one stack of papers, while she used another – which undoubtedly belonged to him – as a coaster for her dripping mug.
"You're sitting at your own desk!" he exclaimed with a grin, clutching his chest in feigned shock.
"Only because Zak was using yours," she responded dryly, before returning his smile.
The sparkle in her eyes caused a rush of warmth through his previously cold body. If there was one person who could make him forget the misery of a damp, early morning crime scene, it was Nikki. The Lyell Centre hadn't been the same during the past week.
"How are…" he started to ask.
"Harry!" Leo's impatient call interrupted.
He turned in the direction of the voice and sighed.
"What did you do?" she laughed, as he visibly cringed.
"Nothing!" he insisted, his voice hitting an unnaturally high pitch. "Leo's just realising he missed his calling as a demon headmaster."
She chuckled again.
"Then you'd better go before he puts you in detention," she smirked, twirling her pen between her fingers as her gaze dropped back to the toxicology results which had previously held her attention.
"Swot," he muttered, flicking her ear as he reluctantly left her alone.
Their next encounter was at lunchtime. And it was even briefer than the first.
Lunch was supposed to involve convincing her to leave the office. A picnic of overpriced, organic, artisan sandwiches eaten amongst the fiery leaves and low autumn sun of a sprawling London park. Or at the very least a coffee shop panini on the bench outside the morgue. A lot of ideas for things they should do had entered his mind as he waited for her to wake up in the hospital. But it turned out some were more practical than others for the twenty minute slot they tended to allocate to wolfing down food in the middle of the day.
"Barbeque or prawn cocktail?" she asked, holding up two bags of crisps as their paths crossed in the corridor. She'd just finished a post mortem and he was about to begin.
"Where are all the good flavours?" he complained, reaching out nonetheless.
She sidestepped him, whisking both packets out of his grasp.
"A simple 'thank you Nikki' would have sufficed," she teased, struggling to keep a straight face at his put out expression. "You can fend for yourself now!"
Though she took several steps away, her brown eyes never left his, and a part of him wished they never would.
"Thank you, Nikki," he told her, his sincerity almost sounding real. "Can I have my all-time favourite barbeque flavoured crisps please?"
She paused for a second, a wicked grin betraying exactly what was going through her mind.
And then she carelessly tossed the pink packet in his direction.
Evening came before he knew it. His carefully thought out treats would have extended well into the afternoon. He'd planned to…
The thought trailed off.
Nevermind.
He hadn't even had the chance to check how she was doing, let alone do anything to make the day special.
True to form, she was finishing up all of her paperwork before she went home. No wonder they'd fallen so far behind while she was recovering. Or as she put it, while she was becoming too closely acquainted with the earlier series of Frasier.
"How are you?" he asked, perching on the edge of his desk, which she'd reclaimed before he'd even made his mid-morning cup of coffee, and finally taking his opportunity to fulfil that one small courtesy.
"It opens on the left," she responded, standing up to slide her arms into her coat.
His eyebrows knitted together, while he puzzled over her statement. The scent of jasmine, which drifted towards him as her scarf was wound around her neck, didn't help his concentration. However, even leaving that aside, he still had no idea what she was on about. She waited a rather impressive ten seconds, before her deadpan expression cracked at his confused frown.
"My fridge door – it opens on the left," she explained, with a chuckle. "I remembered. I'm fully compos mentis now!"
"I'd say fully is pushing it," he responded, shaking his head as she continued to laugh.
A grin fixed on her face, she packed up her belongings. It had been a busy day, but she was getting away on time, and she was so glad to be back.
He watched as she headed towards the door, her high heeled boots clicking on the ground with each step. Was it possible that he'd even missed that sound?
"Nikki!" he called after her, dashing across the room and catching up.
At the apparently serious edge to his voice, she turned back towards him.
"Have you remembered the money you owe me yet?" he grinned.
As she punched his arm, another light-hearted giggle escaped her body, and he found himself relishing in the sound.
The day hadn't unfolded quite as he'd planned, but no one could deny that he could always make Nikki Alexander laugh.