A/N: I'm not even sure how long it's been since I wrote for this fandom. My writing skill's definitely improved since the first fic I wrote for New Tricks. XD I own nothing but my own creations. This is Sandra/Strickland - or Strickla, or Sandland. Pre-established relationship. I suppose it can be read stand alone but applies best to the series mentioned in the description. Enjoy.
Turn.
That was the word.
It applied to the past five years, to that thing that happened to her mum when her granddaughter swore for the first time, to what her husband did when he heard her laugh at the other side of the room and wanted to know what amused his girls.
Turn.
The little girl had fallen asleep on her on the garden swing - the kind that was almost bench-like. Sandra ran a hand gently through the brown locks of hair. Fine and delicate like hers, but the precise hair colour that ran on the paternal side of things. Blue eyes were closed and a messy smile hid the mouth that spilled word after word from the second its owner woke up to the second she closed her eyes and slipped off into her imagination.
Ro Strickland, for all the trials her parents had been through, was a lucky child.
A few dark strands fluttered against her breath. The corners of Sandra's lips tugged upwards. One high-heeled foot kept the swing rocking.
Rob's presence only reached her when his hand smoothed along the top of their daughter's hair. Their gazes met.
"How long's she been asleep?" he uttered, leaning against the wall of their home.
Sandra glanced back down at their child, then answered, "About five minutes. Couldn't stop talking about her first day at that new school."
He lowered himself down onto the swing next to her, brushing Ro's hair behind her ears. "At least that means she enjoyed herself."
She nodded, focus shifting to him for a fraction of a second to smile at him.
"I never thought..." He trailed off, so she looked up, blinked and gave a slow nod. "I never thought this would happen. Any of it. Sometimes I wonder if I'll wake up and the past five years'll end up being some cruel dream."
"It's not. I couldn't dream up what we have, haven't got the imagination for it. And I don't think even this one could dream herself up." Her lips curled into a fond smile.
After a few seconds, he tilted his head to watch them both. "I'll take your word for it."
A draught blew across from the neighbours' garden. And Sandra wasn't sure whether it was her or Ro who shivered first.
Rob stood up, his loose tie hanging from his neck in that casual fashion she could picture if she closed her eyes. But she didn't, because he was lifting Ro from her arms, tucking her into his and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
With a hand on the arm of swing, she stood up and kissed him square on the lips. It wasn't raw passion or emotion. It wasn't dramatic. It was them.
Ro shifted, burying her face in her father's crumpled shirt. One last smile and he carried her inside.
Sandra was after him, closing the door behind them, and she turned the key in the lock because it was still London and they were still police.
"I love you, you know that, don't you?" he muttered, words intended for their daughter.
Looking over her shoulder, shr caught Ro snuggling in closer.
Turn.