She holds on to her daughter's hand a little tighter. Despite the fact they're in the heart of the Met's headquarters, she is still protective, especially with Ellie's habit of wandering off. "This is certainly not the museum, mum." Ellie comments, a dig at how she promised to take her daughter to the National Gallery after a slight detour. She resists rolling her eyes at her daughter's speeding approach to to teenage angst. She barely survived getting her eldest daughter off to uni without throttling her - she says a quick prayer she can say the same about her youngest. "In a minute dearest," she murmurs, distracted by reading the names on the doors until she finds the one she's looking for, lights off, handle unyielding. She tries to peek in through the frosted glass but can only make out white light from the fog and the black weight of her belongings. In Belfast, Stella seemed larger than life at times, absorbing all the oxygen, all the light, drawing all matter towards her but here, it seems all it takes to contain her is a small room, a box of glass and wood.

.

She avoids drawing a morbid comparison as she roots around her purse for her notebook and a pen. She jots a quick note, scrawls her name and slides it under the door. She feels guilty, in a way, for intruding in Stella's life like this, unexpectedly. If the situation was reversed and she found herself in possession of an unexpected note from the other woman, how would she feel? Intruded upon? Upset? Relieved? A combination of all three? She shakes the thought from her mind as she rises, clears the guilt out. After all, what was a casual visit between almost-friends? Wouldn't it be worse if word somehow reaches Stella that she was in town and hadn't stopped by? Of course it would be, she tells herself. She stops by because she wants to prove to Stella and herself that nothing is between them that doesn't exist between two friends. Two casual acquaintances. "Now, shall we carry on with our day?"

.

She almost misses Stella, standing a few feet away, observing, always observing. It seems the year that passed did nothing to alter the other woman, at least physically. There she was in the same black heels, same black pencil skirt, same silky blouse peeking through a trench, same blonde hair, same pursed lips and quirked eyebrow and... Tanya realizes, the same racing f her heartbeat. "What are you doing here?" The words bounce off the walls, the near-empty halls, but are from neither of their mouths. She turns her head to see an older woman, well-dressed in pressed slacks and crisp shirt. There's tasteful jewelry adorning her neck and wrists. There's an open folder in hand. "I thought I told you Monday, Stella."

"I took it as more of a suggestion than an order." Stella responds with an uncharacteristic shrug. "Why put off to tomorrow and so forth."

"I can make it an order Gibson." The other woman orders as she stands between Reed and Stella. "Your train just arrived last night? This morning? Take the day, process, unpack, do laundry, read a book. I don't care, just as long as you're not here." She snaps the folder shut and blinks as if seeing Reed for the first time. Perhaps she is. "Hello, may we help you?"

"Chief Superintendent Marshall, allow me to introduce Professor Tanya Reed-Smith of Police Service of Northern Ireland, and her daughter Eleanor." Reed notices her daughter's head turn at the recognition, but she says nothing, observing the others around her. Brief pleasantries are exchanged. Marshall smiles as she implores Reed to take Stella with her and see that she enjoys herself, perhaps even see the sunshine. She sighs then continues her way down the hall, leaving the three of them alone.

.

"Hello."

"Hello Stella."

"Well then, shall I see what your note says?" Stella asks, making a move towards her office door.

"You're more than welcome to on Monday morning when you return to work. Right now, however, we've been assigned a task, isn't that right Ellie?"

"She wasn't serious."

"She outranks you DSI."

"You must be Eleanor," Stella changes the subject swiftly, her eyes darting from Tanya to her daughter. "I'm Stella."

"How did you know I'm Eleanor?"

"Your mother has a photo of you in her office."

"Is it that rubbish one with my teeth missing?"

"Well, your teeth were missing, but I'd hardly call it rubbish." Stella commented. "It's actually quite sweet."

"Robbie Schaefer knocked out my teeth the day before."

"Well I certainly hope you knocked his out."

"Stella!" Reed chastises both her daughter and her friend. "No!"

"But I did mum." Ellie smiles up at her mother, then at the other woman, "I did."

"I'm changing the topic now." Reed sighs, "Come along Stella." She turns to look at the other woman, standing there, looking slight and lost with her hands in the pockets of her trench. "We haven't all day if we're to make it through the whole of the Gallery."

"Mum's taking me to the National Gallery. Have you ever been?" Ellie asks.

"It's one of my favorite places."

"Good. You can show us around. Mum gets lost in big buildings."

"I do not."

"Do too." Ellie confronts her mother before turning back to Stella. "It took us forever to find you."

"Did it now?" Stella asks, catching Reed's eye, daring the other woman to look away. Reed, for what it was worth, doesn't break beneath Stella's scrutiny.

.

The three of them walk down the near deserted hall towards the lifts.