Wide Asleep

Sandra Pullman was vaguely aware of the arm of the loveseat making the side of her head painful, but that wasn't stopping her from sinking into a dream world, which, once she got her bearings, turned out to be a surprisingly accurate replica of her office in the UCOS basement. Well, it probably wasn't surprising, seeing as she spent most of her waking life there, but still. She could even smell the coffee being freshly brewed by Gerry in the small kitchenette, as he did every morning. Yet there was one difference, one vital difference which distinguished this ever so clearly as a dream- her father was sat in the chair facing her.

He whistled tunefully as he entered the office that morning, actually looking forward to having the office to himself for once, if only so he could get some work done to keep Sandra off his back. It wasn't just any old reason that would force him into arriving at work for seven in the morning. He first port of call in the almost eerily silent room was the kitchen area, for a much-needed injection of caffeine…what the hell? He pulled his glasses out of his jacket pocket to make sure that waking up at such an ungodly hour hadn't triggered some sort of bizarre hallucination, but no, his eyes certainly weren't deceiving him. There was his boss, the ball-breaking ice queen that was Sandra Pullman, fast asleep on the little sofa in front of the whiteboard, her legs curled up tightly to her chest, and strands of blonde hair falling across her face. He froze, unsure of what to do next. He'd never been in a situation like this before, especially not with Sandra, of all people, but then again, he'd never seen her look so…peaceful. He should just leave her, he decided, continuing on his path to the kitchen and quietly switching on the kettle.

She felt strangely calm, at peace with the idea that her forty years gone father could be sat in her office as though he'd just popped in for a chat. Which evidently he had, as he was the first to break the silence.

"I'm glad you've met Tom, you know, "he began, looking directly into her eyes. "The lengths I went to just to stop you and your mum finding out, I know, that's partly why I went so soon, but I think, deep down at least, I always wanted you to meet each other. I knew you'd make a good sister, sweetheart. And I know you don't want to be anyone's sister, after all this time on your own, that's what makes you so independent, but I'm glad you've talked."

"So am I," she replied, so softly it was barely audible. "I'm glad I know the truth now."

He nodded slowly. It was a strange meeting, this, she realised. Somehow she knew that his eyes were focused on her, but she couldn't see him, not properly. She felt his presence, but all she had to substitute in was the image of him she had been left with forty years ago, and even that was vague, faded with time.

He glanced up from his work, peering at the sleeping figure as she made a quiet noise, shifting slightly. She must be uncomfortable, he mused, but he still didn't want to wake her. He had spent the last twenty minutes creeping around on tiptoes, finally settling at his desk with a stack of paperwork. Yet ironically, his detective's mind was distracting him- why the hell was she here at this time, and why was she asleep? The sarcastic side of his brain provided him with the simple explanation that she must have been tired, but he was genuinely concerned. At best this was out of character, at worst it was alarming, especially considering everything she'd been going through recently. He tried to cast his mind back to the previous night, to recall how she had appeared, but to no avail. If she'd been anything other than normal he would have been worried, but she had accompanied them to the pub, which meant she was coping, at least. He hoped.

"I never had an office this big," he remarked.

She chuckled. "You were never a Detective Superintendent."

He laughed out loud and she jumped slightly, part of her wondering how her subconscious could possibly have recalled his laugh after so many years, part of her questioning whether it was even his laugh or just her imagination, and part of her just being glad to hear a warm, friendly chuckle which may or may not belong to her father.

"That's my girl," he sighed after his amusement had eventually subsided. "I always knew you'd go far, if only to go against your mum. You've always had it in you."

She stared down at her lap, picking at her nails. All this time she had craved approval, pride from her father, and now she was finally getting it, she felt mildly embarrassed. Still, she'd never been particularly good at receiving compliments, Gerry would vouch for that.

It had been forty minutes now, and despite showing some signs of stirring, she still hadn't woken up. The clock on the wall reminded him of the fact that Jack and Brian would be arriving in around half an hour, and this was one situation that he would rather not have to explain. He looked over at her for what must have been the twentieth time that morning. Five more minutes, he vowed to himself, five more minutes and then he would wake her, before the other two arrived. Hopefully that would give her chance to compose herself, and give him some kind of explanation.

She was becoming ever more acutely aware of the uncomfortable position her head was resting in, and increasingly less attuned to his presence. This time it was her turn to put a stop to the silence.

"I hope I can see you again, one day."

"Me too, darling, me too. Although hopefully we won't be properly together for a long time yet."

"I know. I still need to find myself a nice husband so mum can finally rest easy."

He chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, you'll find someone. Try looking closer to home."

"What does that mean?"

"I think you know, love."

"You're right," she sighed as she felt herself re-entering the real world.

"I love you, dad."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

He watched from the chair next to her as she blinked slowly, adjusting her eyes to the light and the strange surroundings she had awoken in. He had been just about to wake her himself, but he was glad that she had done it of her own accord- it had saved her from even more confusion. She sat up carefully, placing her feet on the floor to stretch out her legs and placing her head in her hands. She hadn't realised he was there.

"Sandra?" he almost whispered, yet he had still surprised her. Her head jerked upwards in shock.

"Jesus, Gerry, you scared the shit out of me," she said, less sharply than she would have done if she had been fully awake. "What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question."

She sighed heavily, returning her head to rest in her hands. "I went for a drink with Tom last night."

"Oh?" he replied in mild surprise. This still didn't explain what she was doing here, but he knew better than to press her when discussing personal matters.

"We talked, a lot. I didn't get home until about eleven, then I couldn't sleep with everything going through my mind. Somehow I managed to start thinking about the case instead and convinced myself I had a lead, so I came here to work on it and…yeah."

"Sounds like an eventful night," he summarised gently. "You alright?"

She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Yeah. Honestly. I'm glad I talked to Tom, I think my dad would be pleased."

He nodded, convinced that she was telling him the truth. "Good. Right, let's get you some coffee. No offence, but you look like you could do with some."

She laughed, standing up and stretching her arms out. "You're right, I probably look a mess. Listen, Gerry, I'm sorry you had to, you know…deal with that."

He turned to face her, a sincere expression on his face. "It's okay."

"Thank you."

"Hey, did you have any weird dreams?" he called from the kitchen. "Apparently sleeping in strange places makes you dream more."

She grinned to herself before smiling fondly up at the ceiling and walking into her office.

"You could say that."