Author's notes: I don't own any of the original characters nor the original Inspector Lynley Mysteries – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC.

I have borrowed the characters from the TV-Show and solely own the ideas of my stories and the developments I've let them go through.

Please let me know if I did something terribly wrong (rating, grammar, spelling...). Thanks!

This is born out of the Don't Talk / Talk challenge but it's different. And I found that I didn't want to write less than 300 words. Yes, it IS tragic and I've never written something alike.

Please read and review. Thank you.

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"Chop-chop, Tommy, love, we don't have much time!"

"I don't know why we're here anyway."

"I need to show you something. Hello Ansgar, still on duty, eh?"

"Barbara! Nice to see you! And that's... say... a handsome man at your side, Barb!"

"Oh, get away, you smoothie. Now, here are your forms, we won't stay long! C'mon, Tommy, this way."

...

"Hey, Havers, is that you?!"

"Hi, Smithers! Annie!"

"Havers?! Hi, you're looking great!"

"Ta!"

"Hello, hello, our fine Lady... Getting your ass in our halls once more, Havers?!"

"Oh, shut it, George, you snot! Sorry for that, Tommy!"

"Indeed, there's Havers in the hall. Hiya!"

"Hiya, everything fine?"

"No shit! Hey, Winston, creep out of your office! Havers is in town. She's on a mission, hahaha!"

"Oh, shut up, Nora, hahaha!"

"Barb?!"

"Winnie, good to see you! We'll be right back, give us a minute!"

"Oh, sure, all the time in the world..."

...

"You're Lynley now, why do they still call you Havers?"

"Because I am Havers. Should they call me Lady Asherton? That's out of place here. And DI Lynley would have been a bit impractical, don't you think? Alright, here we are. This is what I needed to show you. This is quite some big wall, isn't it? You can read this? Killed in the line of duty."

"Yes, I can read."

"Lest we forget. I won't. I can't. I've known some of these people, two times I nearly have become one of them, you know. Too many times I've looked into a gun from the wrong side, countless times I've put my life in danger for this job. I've got a bad scar on my belly, I miss parts of my ribs and my lung. I'm cruelly robbed of the major part of my heart and soul. That's why I've quit the Met and have started this other boring but safe job. I've already liked children anyway, you know that."

"Yes, I know, you don't need to-."

"And you know this man, don't you? Quite familiar, isn't he? You've already seen photographs and heard stories. Everytime I look at you I remember. He's barely seen you celebrating your first birthday, he's not seen you growin' up, he's had no chance to be proud of you seeing you want to follow in his footsteps. Oh, and that he would have been, I'm sure of that. He would have supported you and wiped away all my objections. But he's been stabbed to death 16 years ago."

"I know..."

"And that's why I don't go along. Everything you fancy, Tommy, do whatever you wish - become a teacher or a lawyer or a plumber or even do nothing and waste your time and money at Howenstow pampering the horses and chewing on daisies. Everything else that you wish to do - I support you. But I couldn't bear it a second time, Tommy. I couldn't. I couldn't watch you doing this. I couldn't sit in the lounge and only hope you come home unharmed at whatever nightly time they let you go home. I simply do not allow you to join the police forces, Tommy, I do not!"

"I'm sorry Mum. Please stop crying now. Sorry... need a tissue?"

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