Disclaimer: All characters belong to the BBC.

A/N: This is just a missing scene that could so easily have been included in episode 3.

After leaving Rachel Crawchek, John was at a loss where to go. He couldn't go back to the digs, to sit alone in his empty flat, because he knew he would go mad if he did. He knew he shouldn't have slept with Vivian Hurst, but why did that have to mean that nobody would talk to him, not JO, not Rachel, so who else was there? He felt so cut adrift, so unsettled by Jo's threatening to leave him for good, that he knew he wasn't being entirely rational. It was late, and he gripped the wheel in a moment of blind fury, to realise that Jo would probably be tucked up with Michael's father by now. How could she? After everything she'd said to him, how could she go and sleep with someone else? Besides, now that she knew about his sleeping with Vivian Hurst, she wouldn't talk to him anyway. When the only remaining possibility finally occurred to him, he almost laughed. Him seek George's counsel and advice? It was almost unthinkable. Well, it would have been, but she'd altogether softened up recently. Yes, she would no doubt castigate him for sleeping with a claimant, but she might listen to him. Praying that Haughton wasn't at home, John drove the old familiar route to George's house.

It was after ten in the evening, and George was lying in the bath when the doorbell rang, and thinking that it might be Neil, having come home unexpectedly, she regretfully dragged herself out of the warm, scented water. She'd thought he would be away tonight, and as she caught sight of the couple of bruises on her lower ribs in the mirror, she prayed that he would at least be too tired to do more than sleep. Wrapping herself in a large, fluffy towel, she went downstairs to let him in. When she opened the door, she was greeted to the sight of John looking far more depressed than she'd seen him for years. "Do you always open your front door dressed like that?" He asked her with a lopsided smile. "Well, if you will insist on calling round when I'm in the bath, what do you expect," She replied, holding the door open to let him in. "Is lover boy at home?" John asked, though assuming he wasn't. "No, thank god, he's staying in London tonight. Just let me go and put some clothes on, and then you can tell me why you're here, looking like the foundations have just dropped out of your entire world." "Don't bother on my account," He said flirtatiously, using this tone of voice to mask his reaction to how accurate her assessment had been. He put out a hand to touch her bare shoulder, but she moved away from him. "Sorry, John, but no," She said, moving back towards the stairs, thinking of the bruises that were marring her once beautiful skin. "If you want to make yourself useful," She said, going up the stairs. "There's some wine in the fridge." Seeing that he wasn't going to get any further just yet, John followed her instructions and poured them both a glass of wine, going into the lounge and sitting at one end of the sofa.

When she reappeared, he could see that she'd compromised. Foregoing a full covering of clothes, she'd settled on a nightie and dressing-gown, making it clear that she had been thinking of doing nothing more exciting than going to bed. "You look tired," He said, as she sat down at the other end of the sofa from him and reached for her glass of wine. "Yes, I am, but you didn't come hear to talk about my need for sleep. What's happened?" "I've done something incredibly stupid, even by my reckless standards," He began, unconsciously adopting the description Rachel had accorded him. "And whilst I know that you'll only add to all the recriminations I've already had, I thought you might actually listen to me." "John, you might irritate me to distraction sometimes, but that doesn't mean I can't see how extremely unhappy you are." He was incredibly touched by this, because she could so easily have sent him away with a flea in his ear. "The claimant in the case you've just finished defending, I slept with her." "Why am I not surprised?" George said resignedly, having wondered if it was something like this. "Was it after you'd ruled against her, or before?" "Before," He told her, knowing exactly what her response would be. "Oh, John!" George groaned in dismay. "They could have you removed for this, or at the very least transferred somewhere else." "I know, I know," He said bitterly. "Nobody would have known, but Vera, extremely weird tastes Everard, saw her leaving the digs, and grassed me up to Ian Rochester." "Vicious bitch!" George said in outrage, making John smile. "Yes, I thought something similar myself." "John, why did you do it?" George asked seriously, seeing that there was far more to this than a random impulse to sleep with someone. John began to look very uncomfortable. "I think, Jo is in love, with Michael Hulsey's father," John said slowly. "That was quick," George said dryly. "When did he turn up?" "About a week ago. I'm certain she's slept with him. She's had a look in her eye, that I haven't seen for many a year, probably not since I first met her." "This isn't just a simple case of jealousy," George said matter-of-factly. "And what gives you the evidence for such an assertion?" "Because I know you far better than Jo does," George said mildly. "Jealousy makes you angry and reckless, it doesn't make you depressed, not like this anyway." "Michael's father, has asked her to go back to South Africa with him, and Jo is seriously considering it. I can't lose her, George, she means everything to me. My life would hold very little importance to me if I didn't at least have Jo somewhere nearby." There was a slight break in his voice, and as she watched, George could see the tears shining in his eyes. Putting out a hand, George took one of his, holding it gently, and running her forefinger over the knuckles. "Is that why you slept with Vivian Hurst?" She asked quietly. "Just for one night, I wanted to feel good about myself," He said vehemently, trying to justify his actions. "I know it was stupid, I know I shouldn't have done it, but I think I just wanted, something I could feel secure about." Moving closer to him, she put her arms round him, feeling the sheer tension in his shoulders. He was desperately trying not to give in completely to his feelings, but it was becoming a losing battle. She tenderly rubbed his shoulders, trying to persuade him to let go entirely. "John, your ability to make a woman writhe in ecstasy, isn't the only thing you need to feel good about," She said, feeling the slight tremble in his body as he strove to gain control of his feelings. "Every time you're in court, you ensure that so many people have access to justice. I might regularly disagree with the rulings you give, but the decisions you make are always for the most transparent of reasons." "But what does any of that really matter?" He asked bitterly, trying to ignore the fact that the tears were now running steadily down his cheeks, and onto the shoulder of her dressing-gown. "Because if you ever abandoned so much as one principle," George said fondly. "You would no longer be the John Deed I know and love. You have a drive for justice that I will never find. Not long after I started seeing Neil, you asked me why I'd taken up the law. You said that the desire for justice, is one of the finest of human aspirations. You meant every word you said to me that night, and I've never forgotten it." He held her close for a time, just taking comfort from her warmth, thinking about what she'd said. He could vaguely remember the occasion she'd spoken of, as it had been the night just before the end of the Tracy Spink trial. It was only a matter of a couple of years, but that seemed so long ago.

"I'm sorry," He said, eventually raising his face from her shoulder and digging in his pocket for a handkerchief. "You've no need to be," She said, thinking of the numerous occasions that he'd done the same for her. "I feel so, frightened that I won't ever see her again." "John, why is Jo so determined to keep the boy?" George asked, wanting to satisfy her curiosity on this point. John looked extremely pensive. "I think I know why," He said carefully. "But I know for certain that she wouldn't want you to know." "And why does she have to know that you've told me?" Taking a swig of his wine, John thought for a moment. "If I do tell you," He said eventually. "You mustn't, under any circumstances use it against her." "I won't," George assured him, knowing that on past form, he was absolutely justified in making this request. "I mean it, George, because if she isn't speaking to me now, she certainly wouldn't ever do so again if she thought you knew about this." "I won't, I promise," Said George, now thoroughly intrigued. "Not long after you and me split up, Jo found out that she was pregnant. At the time, she had not only two very young children of her own, but a terminally ill husband to look after. I'd moved out with Charlie, and was getting used to looking after her pretty much single-handed. Jo decided to have a termination, and I probably didn't try hard enough to stop her, if I even tried at all. Quite understandably, Jo has never entirely recovered from doing that, and I think she subconsciously sees the raising of Michael Hulsey, as her way of trying to put that right." George was quiet for a while, taking in all that John had said. It made sense on so many levels, made so many pieces finally fit together. "That does answer quite a few significant questions," She said eventually. "The first being why Jo has so strongly resented the fact that I was the one to have your child, and not her. It's just one of the things that Jo has always and probably will always hold against me, and now I know why. During Diana Hulsey's pretrial hearing, Jo wanted to know how I could marry you, bear your child, and still know so little about you. It's funny, because that's one of the things I've always been highly aware of, the fact that Jo managed to single-handedly raise two children, and I couldn't even partly raise one. Ever since I've been aware of Jo's existence, it's been forcefully hammered into me, that Jo has been, or at least certainly could have been, everything I wasn't, and now I've got so much more evidence to support that." John listened to every word, not having heard most of this before. He'd never known that the feud between Jo and George ran quite so deep. "I had no idea that you felt like that," He said softly, feeling a certain amount of regret for the pain she must have gone through on this point. "There was no reason why you would," She said matter-of-factly. Then, after another moment's thought, she said, "That was why you were so adamant about Charlie not doing the same, wasn't it." "Yes." "John, you can stop her leaving," George told him gently. "You just need to tell her what you've told me. No one has ever got under your skin quite like Jo, and even though she's angry with you, she will be aware of that." "Apart from you," John said, fixing his eyes on her. "No," George said philosophically. "You would never have persevered with me if I'd held out this long, you know you wouldn't. As for your attempt at judicial suicide, I'll talk to daddy, see what he can do." "I don't want you to do that, George," John said firmly, having always loathed those who relied on the manipulation of the system. "John," George replied, feeling the distinct urge to shake some sense into him. "If there was ever a time when you needed someone to pull a few strings for you, believe me it's now. I am not going to let Neil's cronies get the better of you, just because Legover's wife doesn't know the meaning of the word discretion." "And no doubt Lover boy will be delighted with your course of action," John said dryly. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough, to let him think I had anything to do with it?" She said bitterly. "Why do you stay with him, George?" He asked yet again, not having found a satisfactory reason to date. "Because just at the moment, it's the quickest way to a quiet life," She said resignedly, though knowing this wasn't really true. "What aren't you telling me?" John asked, his penetrating gaze seeming to creep through the contents of her mind. George flinched under his watchful stare, knowing that tonight really wasn't the night for telling him this. "Nothing," She said, struggling to meet his eyes. "Are you scared of him?" John asked suspiciously, seeing that she was doing her damnedest to hide something enormous from him. "John, please just drop it," George pleaded quietly. "I don't want to talk about Neil, or anything to do with him." But as John left a while later, driving home to his empty bed, and leaving George in hers, he had the distinct feeling that he should have insisted she return with him.