Takes place post-'Sins of the Father', pre 'Death Minister'. Slade takes father, recently released from prison, for a drink after work, and talk turns to the women in their lives.

Crime Traveller: Jack goes digging

Slade set the drinks down on the table where his father was waiting, and slid into the booth opposite him. The Coach and Footman was a short walk from the station and, Slade felt, probably more his father's scene than the wine bar he frequented with Holly.

"What's this?" Jack Slade asked, gesturing to the bottle on the table resting next to his own pint glass.

"It's beer, Dad," Slade replied, taking a swig.

"Doesn't look like beer," Jack replied, arching his eyebrows.

He sipped from his own drink.

"Now that's a beer."

It had been three days since Jack Slade was released from prison, and two nights since the three of them had eaten dinner together at Holly's flat. It was going to take time for Slade to get used to having his father in his life again, but this time around he was determined to make the most of it – hence his suggestion that they meet for a drink after his shift.

"This is nice," Jack Slade said, appraising his surroundings. "It's a long time since we did this."

"Dad," Slade said, giving his father a sideways look. "I don't think we ever did this."

Jack smiled.

"Well, we need to change that."

Slade nodded in agreement, taking another sip of beer.

"So where's Holly this evening?" Jack asked.

"She's giving a guest lecture to some students at the university," Slade replied, knowing full well that this would not be the end of his father's line of questioning.

Jack nodded, the expression on his face conveying that he was impressed. Slade had to admit that, although sometimes intimidated by Holly's astounding intelligence, he always felt a slight swell of pride at the work she was asked to carry out.

"Are you seeing her tonight?" Jack asked.

"I'm out with you tonight."

"I mean later, afterwards."

"No plans to," Slade told him, truthfully.

A few seconds went by when neither of them spoke, the only noise coming from their fellow drinkers and the traffic going past outside.

"She's a lovely girl," Jack said finally.

Slade looked up, warily. There was a leading statement if ever he heard one.

"I'll pass on your regards," he replied.

"What the daughter of a scientific genius wants with my gumshoe son, I don't know, but I hope you realise how lucky you are."

Lucky was exactly how Slade felt, but he needed to set his father straight on the current situation before things got out of hand.

"Dad, Holly and I are just friends."

Jack set down his pint.

"Son, I know I've been locked up for five years, but I haven't completely lost my detection skills."

Slade laughed softly.

"So what is it that you're detecting, Dad?"

"When I was around the other night, I detected a very cosy atmosphere," Jack said. "And I saw the way you two look at each other."

Slade thought about denying this, but entering into a debate with his father was only going to aggravate the situation.

"Honestly, Dad, it isn't what you think."

Jack sat back in his chair.

"What happened after I left the other night?" he said. "Did you go home?"

Slade sighed.

"No, I stayed over."

Jack raised an eyebrow at his son.

"I slept on the couch," Slade added defiantly.

"Oh, paint fumes help you sleep, do they?"

Slade then remembered the story Holly had hastily concocted to keep his father away from her living room. It hadn't escaped his notice that she'd said they, plural, were painting the room, and he had been wondering about that a little ever since.

"She's on to the wallpaper," he said, hoping the retort didn't sound as hurriedly conceived as it actually was. "The paint's all dry now."

Jack sighed, shaking his head.

"You're going to have to help me here, Jeff. This girl's got brains, she's beautiful, she's kind, and she clearly thinks the world of you – what are you waiting for?"

"It's more complicated than you think, Dad."

"Is she married?"

Slade frowned at his father's question.

"'Course she's not."

"Well, she will be if you wait too long. Women like Holly Turner don't hang around forever."

Slade rolled his eyes.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I thought we were coming here to have a nice, quiet drink, maybe talk about old times, but apparently you want to brush up on your interrogation techniques instead."

"I'm just taking an interest in my son's life. Your happiness is important to me."

"Thanks, Dad."

Slade drained the remaining beer from his bottle.

"So...does Holly make you happy?"

"God! Dad!"

"Well, does she?"

Slade felt himself overcome by a sudden inarticulacy, when he least needed it.

"I...I..enjoy her company, yes. I like spending time with her."

Jack nodded, thoughtfully.

"Is it Jessica? Because I would understand if it felt difficult to move on."

Slade felt his heart jolt at the mention of his wife's name. Her death and his father's incarceration had taken place within eighteen months of each other, a double blow that had plunged him into the darkest period of his life. He couldn't honestly be certain how much bearing Jessica continued to have on his actions and on his relationship with Holly. The fact that he had not yet told Holly about Jessica, he knew, spoke volumes.

"No...I don't know...Dad, can we please change the subject?"

"It's been nearly seven years, Jeff. You're entitled to move on, you know, to be happy again."

Slade nodded, focusing his gaze on the empty bottle clasped tautly between his fingers.

"Are you worried you're out of practice?"

"What?"

"If it's been a while since you've...been close with a woman..."

Slade was horrified. Was his dad really saying what he thought he was saying?

"Dad!"

"What? It would be natural to feel nervous; it's a big step to take."

There was no way that Slade wanted to discuss the intricacies of his love-life with his father; there was just something fundamentally wrong about that.

"That's it, we're definitely changing the subject!" he told him. "In fact, I've been meaning to ask whether you've been to see Mum yet?"

"I've spoken to her. Last night, we talked on the phone for over an hour."

His father sounded cagey.

"Why haven't you been to see her?" Slade pushed.

"I don't know. I didn't want to bother her, I suppose."

Slade gave a short, exasperated laugh.

"Bother her? Dad, she's been waiting for five years for you to get out of prison. I don't think you would be bothering her. You have to go and see her."

"It's not as easy as just picking up where we left off. A lot has happened since then."

"What? Like you refusing to let her visit you in prison, or even telling her when you'd been moved to Force 9? You constantly tried to push her away, Dad, but she kept the faith for five years; she never doubted you, not once. I think that's worth a visit."

Jack Slade glanced up at his son, and then back down at the table.

"I'll go. I just need to...find the right time."

"Why not now?" Slade said, pushing his chair back from the table. "We can go together."

Jack held out his hand.

"No, no, tonight's your mum's book group night."

"How do you know that?"

"She mentioned it in her letters."

"Okay, fine. Tomorrow, then."

Slade could almost see the cogs in his father's mind turning, but couldn't guess what he might say next.

"Course, it might be easier if I was able to give her some good news..."

Slade furrowed his brow.

"What, you think you being out of prison and cleared of all convictions isn't going to be good news enough?"

"I'm talking about you and Holly."

Slade rolled his eyes to the heavens again; his father was like a terrier with a hambone.

"Oh, we're back to that, are we?"

"Your mum would be so happy to see you settled, Jeff. And she hasn't yet given up on the idea of having grandchildren one day..."

He was unbelievable.

"Oh right, Holly and I will get right on that," Slade replied, making sure his sarcasm was unmistakable. He still had no idea when, how or even if he would act on his growing feelings for Holly, but mentioning children to her would be a sure-fire way of frightening her off. Wouldn't it?

"Fine, I will leave you alone," Jack said, holding up his hands in surrender. He picked up his empty pint glass. "Are you buying?"

"I got the last round."

"My compensation hasn't come through yet."

With a resigned smile, Slade took his father's glass from him, but before he could head for the bar, Jack caught his son's arm.

"Jeff, I've never been very good at this...but don't mess things up like I did. Don't go thinking you can do it all alone, that you don't need anyone."

Slade smiled; this was his father's best effort to talk about those tricky things called feelings. On this point, his father was right, and it was something he had felt increasingly over the months he had spent getting to know Holly better.

"And Jeff?"

"What?"

"Don't break her heart. If you do, you'll have your dad to answer to."

Slade swallowed. His father obviously hadn't thought about the delicacy of his heart, too. Jack was looking expectantly at him.

"Am I going to get another drink at some point this year?" he smiled, and Slade suddenly realised he'd momentarily been in a sort of thought-limbo.

As he pushed his way through the crowds at the bar, Slade made a decision: he would stop by Holly's flat on his way home after all.

THE END