What must the few minutes following the end of S4E3 have been like? Well, here's one idea. This is one for the angst-lovers!

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"Who is it, Lucien?" Jean's voice reached him in the hallway, puzzled but not yet concerned. She stepped a little closer.

"My wife," he said, in a tone that spoke of devastation, rather than the joy Mei Lin had hoped for.

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As Lucien ushered Mei Lin into the living room, Jean's hand automatically closed over the box containing his mother's ring. She was holding it so tightly her knuckles showed white, and she realised she was staring, in a manner she would normally think rude, at the current Mrs Blake.

Mei Lin glanced at Jean curiously, then turned her attention to Lucien. "Could you introduce us, please, Lucien?" So polite. This was noticed even by Jean, who was beginning to feel overwhelmed by a rush of emotion: shock, despair, an appalling pain in her chest. A voice in her head was shouting, no, no, just go back a bit, don't answer the door.

She shuffled back until her legs met the chair, and she sat heavily, still unable to take her eyes off this woman, a woman she had never expected to meet, and still couldn't quite believe was really there.

Lucien cleared his throat nervously. He dragged his eyes from his wife to the woman he loved, and caught sight of the pain on Jean's face.

"Jean, this is Mei Lin. Mei Lin, this is Jean Beazley. She's my...housekeeper...and..." Lucien faltered.

"Receptionist," Jean finished his sentence. Having finally found her voice, Jean continued. "I think I'll go to bed," she said, trying to muster some dignity. "I'm sure you have a lot to talk about."

With an effort of will, Jean pulled her gaze from Mei Lin and looked at Lucien. They both stared at each other for a moment, stricken. Neither hid their pain from the other and it was unbearable; they looked away rapidly. What could they possibly do now? Jean could feel a lump rising in her throat, and tears threatened. She had to leave now, before she made a fool of herself.

She stood up and walked away as fast as she could, almost running up the stairs.

Lucien and Mei Lin were left alone, but both of them were still thinking of Jean. "Is she your mistress?" Mei Lin asked, acidly.

"Of course not," Lucien retorted, " She's my..." For the second time in as many minutes he wanted to say fiancée, but couldn't bring himself to say the word. After all, he hadn't quite asked, and Jean certainly hadn't answered. For all his nervousness when he had tried to ask her, he knew now what her answer would have been. It had been written in the pain on her face.

Now he was left wondering what she was thinking, upstairs and alone.

"She's my best friend, and I..." Why was suddenly unable to finish even a simple sentence?

"Do you love her?" Mei Lin asked, an edge to her voice. Even at this moment, Lucien couldn't help thinking that just five minutes ago he had been the luckiest man alive.

He nodded. "Is it so obvious?"

For the first time they really looked at each other properly. Lucien glimpsed the woman who had once known him best.

"Yes, it is," Mei Lin said softly, and not unkindly.