Lucien lurched through the front door, supported by Charlie. Charlie's first thoughts were that Jean was going to finish the job the rioting youths had started.

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Two hours earlier:

Lucien and Charlie were driving to the morgue. Alice had called to say she had a curious case and would welcome his insight. Apparently a tramp had been found in the creek but there were no injuries, he hadn't drowned and there was no sign of illness. As they drove along Lydiard Street Lucien noticed a disturbance down a side street. He pointed it out to Charlie who turned the car to see what was happening. Getting out of the car they saw it was a fight between some local youths and some aboriginals and it was getting out of hand. This wasn't a little skirmish, it was a full on war! Charlie radioed it in but as he did so Lucien waded in and tried to calm the situation.

'Lads! LADs!' he yelled, trying to make himself heard above the din, 'What's going on?!'

'Get lost!' one boy shouted, 'This is nothing to do with you!'

'I'll be the one patching you up in the cells,' Lucien turned, 'so I suggest you stop now!'

He was rewarded by a fist to his right eye, and he struggled to keep on his feet. Before he knew what he was doing he was fighting with them and they were younger and fitter than he, and he was in reasonably good shape.

Charlie's radio call had resulted in Bill, Ned and the others from the station arriving, ready to arrest or subdue any wrong doers. Charlie, by this time was attempting to rescue the doctor from the melee, and getting in a good few punches in the process. He caught a few to the chest and head, but nowhere near as bad as Lucien. He was on the floor, his arms protecting his head, curled up to keep his abdomen safe. While his colleagues dealt with the youths, Charlie dragged Lucien up from the floor and into his car.

'Right,' he declared, 'let's get you to the hospital.'

'No,' gasped Lucien, 'home.'

'No chance, doc,' Charlie stuck to his guns, 'I'm taking you to hospital for x-rays, at least.'

Every part of Lucien hurt, he didn't have the energy to resist, and he knew Charlie was right.

The x-rays showed he had some cracked ribs, he was lucky, rest would sort those out; his skull was intact, Charlie said it was so bloody thick he wasn't surprised and he said he would take him home. The hospital weren't so sure, but Charlie reckoned he'd make a lousy patient, Jean would have more luck getting him to rest.

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Jean heard the door open, 'Lucien?' she called, her usual bright voice, then as she saw him, bloodied and bruised, supported by Charlie, she gasped. 'What on earth have you been doing?'

'There was a riot near Lydiard Street,' Charlie explained, 'We went to investigate and the doc...'

'...waded in.' Jean finished with a stern look. 'Typical.' She went up to them, Lucien looked dreadful, his suit was torn, his shirt too, and his face; his face looked like he'd tried to head-but a wall. The beginnings of a black eye were showing, he had a cut lip and his nose had been bleeding. She looked at his hands, swollen and bruised, and shook her head. 'Take him into his room, Charlie, I'll clean him up there. Are you alright?' She noticed him wince.

'Yes, the nurses patched me up while I waited for the doc to be x-rayed. He's got some cracked ribs but otherwise...' He smiled, sadly, Jean thought, he'd wished it was Mattie who had patched him up. He helped Lucien into his room while Jean fetched a bowl of warm water and antiseptic.

In his room she asked Charlie to help her undress him, take off his suit and shirt, then she sent him out. She would carry on from there.

'Oh, Lucien,' she sighed, 'what am I going to do with you?'

There was a hint of a smile from him.

She cleaned his cuts and dressed them, ever so gently, in spite of her frustration she would never hurt him. She helped him into his pyjamas, but for once he showed his pain as she moved him.

'I'm sorry, Lucien,' she whispered, 'I don't want to hurt you, just make you comfortable. Where does it hurt?'

He smiled, just, and pointed to his eye; she kissed it. He pointed to his nose, she kissed that, and his lip, and...

'Jean,' he sighed back, 'my wonderful, sweet Jean.'

He slipped into sleep, grateful for her tenderness, but unable to show it, just yet.

Jean tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead, before taking the bowl and dressings out.

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Charlie was sitting in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea. He looked up as Jean tidied her first aid kit away and asked, 'Is he okay?'

'He'll be alright, but why does he have to go in without thinking?' She asked, exasperated, 'He could have been badly hurt. I don't want that, Charlie, I want him whole. He's been through enough, why does he keep wading in without thinking.' She was near to tears.

'Jean,' Charlie was at a loss, this was the first time she had admitted to him how she felt, how much she loved him, 'I don't know why, I just know he can't stand injustice, and will always step in when he sees it.'

'You must be hungry, and I haven't even started dinner.' She tried to sound more in control.

'Don't worry about me,' he said, 'I tell you what, why don't I go and get us fish and chips?'

'If you don't mind,' she was grateful for the idea, Lucien was asleep and would only need something like soup if he woke up before the morning.

'No problem,' Charlie got up and squeezed her shoulder.

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Jean awoke suddenly in the early hours of the following morning, a strange noise had disturbed her sleep. She was a light sleeper anyway, so any odd noise was bound to wake her. She got up and put on her robe, she really must get a new one, this old pink one was definitely past it's best; and went downstairs. The noise had subsided but she knew instinctively that it was Lucien that had cried out.

She went into his room without knocking. If the nightmares had returned she knew she would have to be quiet and comfort him silently, but if he was in pain she didn't want to make him jump.

He was still, but had obviously been moving about; the covers were all over the place, some on the floor, some twisted round him. She smiled, and went to tidy the bed, and make him more comfortable. As she did so he stirred and opened his eyes.

'Jean,' he grunted, 'did I wake you?'

'I thought you were having a nightmare,' she sat next to him, and stroked his cheek before leaning over and kissing his black eye.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I've made you cross again, haven't I?'

'Oh Lucien,' she brushed a stray strand of hair off his forehead, 'why do you have to wade in like that? One day it's going to be so much more serious and I don't think I could bear that. I want you in one piece, not in pieces.'

'Really?' Up until now he hadn't thought she cared that much, she was his housekeeper, and a good friend, but although he had deeper feelings for her he didn't realise she had the same feelings, even if she had kissed his wounds earlier.

'You dolt!' she exclaimed, 'Do I have to spell it out, I love you.'

He sat up, painfully, but he did sit up, and he grabbed her, and held her tightly.

'How much?' a dangerous question even he had to admit.

'Enough to stay here for the rest of the night, and never mind the gossip!' There she had said it, she loved him but it was obvious she had to spell it out in capital letters. SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH LUCIEN BLAKE! He was so blind to people's feeling sometimes he needed a kick.

She lay down beside him and they held each other, very gently and slept, deeply.

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This could be set any time in season 4. It's the reader's choice.