2am
A sigh escapes his lips as he re-reads the paragraph to find the information there hasn't changed, he has hit a dead end. The whole case just doesn't make sense but he can't pick out anything in particular that's strange about it. So much for his promise to himself that he would catch the monster that had done it.
He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he tries to think what he could have missed. It's only two in the morning, he's got all night if he needs it.
That's what he likes about the CID office at this time at night. It's empty. Which means that he has time to think through things without any interruptions from his colleagues. During the day there was always someone to notice that his eyes had moved from the file or his pen was tapping out an impatient rhythm as he pondered. They pounced on that opportunity and would make some remark or even worse they would come over for a chat. Didn't they have their own cases to work on? He often wondered.
At night, however, he had the CID office to himself. Few of his colleagues worked on particularly late in the evenings. Even uniform, who worked shifts, avoided the CID office at this time of night. Of course, it was common knowledge that DI Nixon could be found here all night if she was working on a particularly difficult case but he left early on those occasions. What wasn't well known, was that DI Manson could be found here ridiculously late as well sometimes. Usually he would be working his way through a case as opposed to doing paperwork like some would expect. On those nights he would work late as well, knowing that Manson wouldn't ask him for a second opinion on something or feel the need to spout psychological profiles to him. No, he and Manson both preferred working alone.
Tonight wasn't one of those nights where Manson was ensconced in the incident room or his office, keeping himself awake with coffee after coffee. No, the CID office had the lone lamp on his desk to chase away the shadows.
A siren shatters the silence and blue lights momentarily cast the office in an eerie glow. Then tyres squeal on the road outside as uniform races to deal with some disturbance. Maybe the report will end up on his desk in the morning, maybe not. Either way it reminds him that he has work to do.
Just when he decides that he's not getting anywhere at all, there is a clunk and a mug is set down on his desk next to his hand. The tang of coffee floods his senses along with irritation. Caffeine is just what he needs right now, an interruption is not.
"What are you still doing here at this time of night," The young PC's voice rings with disapproval. Despite himself, he gives the smallest of smiles. He should have known, she's the only person that would think of bringing him a coffee and telling him off at the same time.
"I'm working on a case that doesn't add up. What about you? You aren't on this shift," it's not that he's been keeping track of her shifts. It's just that she had been in the office this afternoon asking about something and he had happened to notice.
"My paperwork's been building up so I thought I'd get it out of the way in one go," he knows her well enough to know that that isn't the whole story. Paperwork isn't a good excuse for her to still be here at 2am when she could be tucked up in her bed or out with the rest of the relief.
"You got a big result today on a case though didn't you? I thought most of the relief were out celebrating?" He also remembers hearing Fletcher asking her to go out with them and promising to buy her a drink.
"Yeah, but I didn't really feel like going out tonight," she shrugs. He keeps his gaze fixed to her, knowing that there's something wrong. She isn't the sort of person that would pass up the chance to go out with friends, at least he doesn't think so. "It's nothing, really."
He won't push her.
"All right. Eh, you know if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here, right?" It sounds so awkward to his own ears. Since when did he start offering to be there if some needed to talk? It's not as if he's ever done it before in his life. So what is it about her that's making him act like this?
"Thank you," she smiles at him. "So tell me about the case your working on, it might help to have an objective party look it over in case there's something you've missed."
He's still worried about her but he gives in, gesturing for her to pull over a seat. He'll tell her all about the case and maybe she'll pick up on something he hasn't.
It's then that he realise that the office doesn't feel empty with her at his side, but it doesn't feel any less peaceful.
"Beth?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for the coffee."
She smiles and Max decides that for all he enjoys working alone, this is so much better.
Authoress' note: I hope you enjoyed the story. I'm not certain whether to leave it as a one-shot or whether to carry it on as a longer story. I've also been toying with the idea of writing this from Beth's POV. If you could give me a heads up on whether you think either is a good idea then that would be great. Reviews are wonderful, especially ones with constructive criticism xx