A/N: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter for your reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. I'm going to aim for weekly updates (give or take a couple of days for work deadlines or my generally inability to manage my life!). Hope you enjoy the next chapter.
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It was funny how five minutes could so easily become five hours. Harry and Nikki weren't sure which of them had fallen asleep first but their conversation had become increasingly sparse until it was non-existent.
And then it was almost midnight.
Harry had woken Nikki, wincing with her as she moved her neck after several hours asleep in the chair. She didn't even fight him on his offer of his spare room for the night. Exhaustion won and she collapsed onto the pull out bed without any protest.
Now it was morning and she was in Harry's kitchen. And in pain.
"Harry, it's not funny," she whined as he held the bag of frozen peas just out of her reach.
He grinned as he got his revenge for the previous day's teasing. Moving to a bed had done nothing for the crick in her neck and she was currently finding it near impossible to turn to the left.
"But it was funny when I was stuck in the foetal position on my sofa?" he smiled, continuing the taunting.
"Harry," she pleaded, gasping as he moved to her left hand side and she made the mistake of trying to follow.
"Okay, okay," he caved, at the first sign of real distress on her face. "Let me have a look."
He crouched beside her, gently running his fingers down each side of her neck and along her shoulders.
"Well, I'd say that is well and truly buggered," he proclaimed, eliciting a reluctant chuckle from her mouth.
He wrapped a tea towel around the peas and pressed them gently against the area which seemed to be causing her the most pain.
"Hold this," he instructed, positioning her hand where his had been. "I'll get you some ibuprofen."
"How are you feeling today?" she asked, suddenly feeling guilty that Harry's ailments had been forgotten in her mild panic at her restricted mobility.
"Better than your neck," he responded, kissing her head affectionately, before muttering something about her body showing its age as he left the room.
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Leo looked from one colleague to the other and sighed. Harry, unsteady on his feet from a day with no food, was sipping a mug of tea as he sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on an assortment of almost complete reports. Nikki was walking around in a cloud of Deep Heat and desperately searching for a comfortable position in which she could get on with some work.
"I have an appointment at two o'clock but I'm going to be in the cutting room until then," he told them. "Can one of you make sure the student who's coming to see me gets a coffee if I'm running late?"
"Of course," Nikki replied. She was feeling terrible that Leo was juggling so much of the day's work load on his own.
"Is it one of the final years?" Harry asked.
Leo nodded.
"Can't I trust you with my class for one day?" Harry taunted Nikki with a grin.
She glared at him in response, before turning, awkwardly, back to the papers on her desk.
Leo shook his head. At least Harry was showing signs of recovery.
"Just offer her a cup of coffee and be nice," Leo instructed. "There must be something wrong if she's made an urgent appointment to see me."
Nikki looked up again, frowning slightly.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"Imogen Taylor," Leo replied, glancing at the record in his hand to confirm her full name.
It was Harry's turn to look concerned.
"Do you know what it's about?" he enquired. "Nikki thought she was acting oddly yesterday."
Leo shrugged, disliking the growing sense that this wasn't going to be a straightforward matter to deal with.
"I have no idea. I just know that it had to be today."
Nikki tried to turn her attention back to her work. She was in the middle of researching the metabolism of synthetic opiates, which wouldn't have been the most engaging task at the best of times, but she was finding it especially difficult to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the previous day's class. She knew there was something going on with that girl.
"I was only winding you up."
Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry's voice, as he puzzled over her distant expression. Leo had already disappeared through to his office.
"What?"
She hadn't heard a word of what he had said.
"I was only joking," he explained. "About Imogen."
"Oh," she responded, her thoughts drifting slowly back to the room. "I know."
She gave him a half smile, before returning to the same paragraph of the journal article that she had already read three times. Why couldn't she just concentrate on the page in front of her?
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"Dr Cunningham? Dr Alexander?"
Zak stood in the middle of the office looking slightly sheepish when both doctors met his gaze.
"A call came in around about an hour ago. I didn't realise neither of you had been notified and Professor Dalton's busy…" he trailed off.
"What can we do?" Harry asked, patiently.
"A body's been found in the river. The police want a pathologist at the scene before the tide comes in. Sounds like it's been in the water a few days," he grimaced.
Harry felt his uneasy stomach somersault.
"Nikki…" he began.
He didn't need to continue – the sight of his grey pallor was all it took for her to get the message.
"Your excuse has a limited number of hours remaining," she told him, good humouredly. "Make the most of my sympathy."
"I promise you can pass the next one to me. No matter what it is and no matter what time," he offered, truly grateful that he could postpone encountering the sights and smells of a waterlogged body for the time being.
Nikki smiled, wondering if he would be so sincere about showing his gratitude if she called in the favour at 5am when it was pouring with rain.
"Zak, when the time comes, I will be calling you as a witness to Harry's promise," she smirked, grabbing her bag and coat, before turning her attention to Harry. "Your debts are really racking up!"
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The stony shore of the Thames, which was steadily shrinking under the advance of the equally dull water, was damp and drizzly. The hastily erected tent – doing very little to keep out the elements – and the white overalls of those examining the scene seemed to be the only specks of light in an otherwise grey landscape. Nikki pulled her own hood further down across her forehead and pushed back the strands of hair which were making a break for freedom in the wind.
"Dr Alexander!" called the nearest blob of white as she showed her ID to the officer manning the cordon.
The white suit scampered up the shore, out of breath by the time he reached the pathologist.
"Dr Alexander, I'm D.I. Easton – Mathew," he gasped, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.
"Nikki," she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."
The D.I. offered her his hand to help her over the steepest part of the embankment. She accepted, not wishing to slip and end up wetter than she already was.
"I can't see any obvious signs of trauma on the body," he explained. "It might just be a straightforward drowning, but I'll leave it to you to draw any conclusions there. They called us in because we dealt with a shooting down this way last week, but it looks to me like this one just washed up. For the time being at least," he added, quickly.
Nikki nodded intermittently at his assessment. It always made her day a little easier when she was working with a detective who didn't charge all over the scene ordering everyone around.
They continued in the direction of the tent, stepping over a cluster of algae covered rocks. As her footing faltered, the sudden jolt through her body caused her hand to shoot towards the same spot where Harry had held the frozen peas earlier that day. Thankfully, the sharp sensation faded quickly under the pressure of her fingertips.
"Are you okay?" D.I. Easton asked, his arm ready to steady her should it be needed.
"Fine," she assured him. "I slept awkwardly last night," she added, in explanation.
He smiled understandingly.
"I know the feeling. I have a little girl who doesn't seem to understand that if she spreads out in the centre of our bed then my wife and I will be forced to become contortionists to get any sleep."
"How old?" Nikki asked, continuing to massage her neck as they moved closer to the tent at the water's edge.
"Four," he replied, grinning in the way that only a besotted father could. "Do you have kids?"
She shook her head, hoping to avoid the pitying look which normally accompanied her response to that question. For the most part she was content with how her life had turned out, but it always seemed to be other people who held silent opinions on her lack of a family.
Luckily, the detective was too caught up in thoughts of his own daughter to pass any judgement on Nikki's situation.
"Ellie's had us wrapped round her little finger since the day she was born. I've already been warned not to be late for dinner tonight!"
Nikki smiled, despite their cold and miserable location. There was something contagious about his positive demeanour.
"We'd better crack on then," she replied.