Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply.


He had stared at the blank page for almost an hour. His mind was full of meaningless, hollow cliches but Philip Dropher deserved more than shallow platitudes. He had allegedly died nobly, in the service of his country; on a foreign field now stained with English blood. The pimply, gangly boy Tommy Lynley had known at Eton had grown into a respected man, a leader of men, a warrior. The reality Tommy knew was somewhat different. Philip had been a spy and had been captured, brutally raped and tortured before being beheaded. It had been videoed and sent to MI6 but suppressed from the public due to the explicit goriness of the murder.

Now his family had asked Tommy to do a eulogy at the memorial service tomorrow and for once in his life the easy, formal words of his upbringing deserted him. He knew what he was expected to say. It was proper to tell a school anecdote that highlighted the character of the man he was to become, then to summarise how that quality was so admired by all who knew him and was the defining trait of a brave soldier. It was not that any of this was untrue but Tommy felt it was hypocritical to disguise the truth behind the rules of propriety. Surely Philip deserved to be recognised for the truth in his life, not a myth.

The knock on the door of his office saved him agonising further. "Come in," he barked more savagely than he intended.

"Sorry Sir," DS Havers said, "I was just off and thought...what's wrong?"

"Do you ever think you are a complete failure as a human being?"

His sergeant shut the door. She was concerned about her boss. It was barely a year since he had lost his wife in a tragic accident and it had taken him months to even begin to recover. Despite the serious look he had Barbara laughed. It usually helped him see perspective when she took him less seriously than he took himself. "Constantly. Are you writing up my annual appraisal?"

Tommy looked at her and frowned, then understood. "No! No, not you, me. I was referring to how I feel."

She smiled sympathetically. "I know, but you are far from a failure." She moved behind his desk, almost touching him then settled her weight against it. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly. She was tempted to brush the lock of hair that had fallen over his eye back up onto his mop of soft waves.

Tommy shook his head. She was a constant source of strength for him. He doubted he would still be here at work without her having fought for him after the incident with Julia and then whenever he waivered. "Ah, Barbara. I don't suppose you'd accompany me to a memorial service tomorrow?"

"Your friend from Eton?"

Tommy nodded. "Yes. His parents asked me to do the eulogy and well...I don't think I'm up to it."

"Can you politely refuse? They would understand I'm sure."

"Would they? You forget I am bound by the aristocratic stiff upper lip. Pip, pip, tally ho. Once more unto the breach..."

"Stop it Sir," she reproached gently.

"I can't help it. I feel a little...overwhelmed."

He was angry and depressed. She was glad he was not at home or in this mood his bottle of scotch would be draining fast. Her plans for this evening had just changed, not that her laundry held great appeal. She was not going to leave him alone in this mood and she could see the plea in his eyes begging her to help him."I know. Yes, of course I'll come with you tomorrow. We're rostered off but I didn't have plans. What have you written so far?"

Tommy gave her a relieved smile and held up a blank page. "Absolutely nothing."

"Then let's get some food and go to your place, then you can tell me about him."

Three hours later empty containers of Chinese food sat on his coffee table and his speech was typed and printed. Tommy had told her everything from their hijinks at Eton to Philip's death. He even confessed to feeling ill watching the video that a mutual friend in the Service had shown him.

"It's normal Sir. No one should have to see that, especially a friend," she had told him, "now you have to give him the dignity his murderers denied him."

Tommy was grateful for Barbara's help. Talking about Philip and their times together as well as his feelings about life and death had been cathartic. She had not passed judgement or told him to buck up. In fact she had said very little. Barbara had simply sat next to him on his sofa and listened. He wished now he had spoken to her more about Helen's death. He had needed a friend and yet he had ignored the one who always helped him most. "I'm a foolish man at times," he said, slightly out of context to their conversation.

"Yeah, but that just makes you human."

Barbara had called a cab and they were waiting in his hallway. Tommy put his arm around her shoulder and gave a her a heartfelt hug and something between a kiss and a rub of his cheek on the top of her head. He heard the cab toot. "I'll pick you up at ten?"

"That'll be fine Sir. See you then." She slipped out of his grip and with just a quick smile, out of his door leaving Tommy wondering why he suddenly felt terribly isolated and anxious.


The service went well. Many of Philip's colleagues had been there and Tommy had been sure to avoid any hint that he was aware of Philip's real vocation. He had stuck to the accepted formula in praising his friend and had executed his duty with the gravitas expected of The Eighth Earl of Asherton.

Barbara had watched the reactions of the guests. Most were mesmerised by him. She suspected it was his honey-soaked baritone that affected them as it always did her when she listened to him reading. She imagined he could make anything sound interesting, even the Monday crime statistics report. She had long held a vague fantasy that one day they would be sitting on the floor by a fire with him reading to her and then she would lie down with her head in his lap and just listen to his voice. She sighed. It was inappropriate to fantasise about him in a gothic cathedral during a funeral service. She looked up at him in the pulpit with its carved wooden eagle lectern, worn almost black from the years of oiling and polishing. He was looking straight at her and she blushed as the image of him finishing his story then bending down and gently kissing her refused to go away.

"I'm glad that's over," he said as they left the church after shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with everyone, "thanks again for coming."

"I was happy to."

"Fancy a pint and some late lunch?"

Barbara glanced down awkwardly. She was not used to wearing a dress and felt vaguely ill at ease. She had only worn it out of respect. The dress was the only black outfit she owned. "Nah, thanks anyway."

"Oh." Tommy had assumed the invitation was just a formality and that they would spend the afternoon together. He did not want to be alone but he would not impose on her time. She probably had had plans for her day off.

Havers saw the disappointment on his face. She wanted lunch but felt gauche. "I'm starving but I feel like a fish out of water in this get-up. Maybe if we went home first and I changed?"

"You look beautiful in a dress." His words were out before he could soften them. Barbara blushed and he wondered if he had gone too far. In for a penny... "What if we go to a quiet restaurant I know? Where your dress is more appropriate than in a pub. I meant it, the dress suits you and you shouldn't feel embarrassed."

Barbara's face reddened further as she felt his eyes appraising her. On one level it pleased her but on another it was more frightening than her worst nightmares. "Alright, alright," she said hoping to end the rather awkward conversation, "somewhere small." His wide smile did nothing to quieten her butterflies.

It was not the first time he had noticed she had a lovely face but his own face darkened as he realised he was more than a little attracted to her shapely figure. He should not think of his sergeant that way, should he? It was not professional. She was his friend, the only one who soothed his soul. It was not right to think of kissing her and caressing her. He forced himself to stop thinking about it before a picture of her in his bed settled in his mind's-eye.

They chatted nervously about complete trivia as they drove. Normally if they had nothing important to say they sat in companionable silence but today any silence would give them time to think, and the last thing either of them wanted was time to analyse their feelings.

Tommy parked at his house. "It's a three minute walk," he promised.

Barbara's shoes were tight and uncomfortable but she could manage three minutes toddling in heels twice as high as she normally wore. "That's fine."

His natural instinct was to extend his arm but he fretted that it might appear forward. He had already overstepped the unspoken line that had defined their friendship. He had changed it from Lynley and Havers, colleagues, to Tommy and Barbara, man and woman. What frightened him most was that he did not want to return and he had seen one unguarded glance from Barbara that had suggested she might feel the same.