Here's part 4. This was going to be the final part, but I know some of you want their day out at the airshow to be written up too, so if enough of you let me know that you want that, then I'll write it :) Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this, I honestly couldn't have done this without you :) I'm not sure how well I have Harry and Nikki in character- it's hard to write Nikki as she was in A guilty mind, as it's so far from her usual behaviour, so I hope I've got it right. Please review and let me know!

Hope you like,

Love Flossie xxx

She paused for a moment, staring blankly at her knees before answering.

"Harry? When you left me this morning, what… what was I wearing?"

He thought for a moment. "Well, the same as yesterday, you'd been asleep on the sofa…" and suddenly, in a horrible, sickening moment, he realized what she had been trying to tell him all along, and his heart just about stopped in shock.

"Oh god," he breathed. How the hell could he have been so blind?

No words were spoken between the two of them for the next few minutes; they weren't needed. Nikki was crying properly now, clinging to Harry like her life depended upon it, her head resting on his chest as he stroked her hair while holding her close, gripping her as if in an attempt to stop her shaking by holding her still.

They stayed like that for a while, taking comfort in each other's mere presence, before Harry pulled away gently, holding her at arm's length and studying her face. He wasn't going to let her run away from this; she was going to have to talk about it, or else it was just going to get worse. It was going to eat her up inside, sending her further and further down into a depressive spiral, one which the psychologist seemed to think she had entered already. Harry wasn't going to let her go back to see Dr Banks if he could help it, not knowing how much she had hated it, but that meant she needed to talk to him about how she was feeling, how her encounter with Naomi had affected her. He needed her to talk.

But Nikki wasn't in any fit state to talk. It was as if all the emotions of the past couple of weeks had come gushing out of her all at once in a storm of tears, a storm which just didn't seem to have an end to it. He could see her beginning to hyperventilate and gripped the tops of her arms, trying to take control.

"Nikki, come on, you need to calm down," he told her firmly. "Come on, deep breaths, it's alright now. She can't hurt you now, you know she can't hurt you; I won't let her hurt you, OK? I promise."

She nodded slightly, her breathing evening out again as she began to relax. "I'm- sorry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Dr Alexander, when are you going to stop apologising unnecessarily? Now come on, you're still shaking."

"Just c-c-cold."

"Sure you are," Harry replied lightly, but the temperature of her hands told a different story, and he found his hand moving to her forehead.

"Jesus, you are cold!"

"Told you. Harry, I'm tired," she complained, leaning into his shoulder.

Harry now faced a dilemma. He could tell she was exhausted and part of him was tempted to just let her sleep. But at the same time, he knew that if he were to give in to her now, the two of them would have to start all over again the following morning, and he wasn't prepared to see her cry like that again; not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

"I know, but we need to talk about this; you need to talk about this. Look, how about I go and get you a blanket, you can warm up a bit and tell me what happened, and then you can sleep?"

"Harry, there's nothing to talk about!" Nikki protested angrily. "I don't even know what happened! I just woke up, stark naked, with her sat there staring at me like god only knows what, telling me quite casually that she'd… that she' d bloody stripped me!" Then she stopped, pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at the floor, seeming almost shocked and embarrassed at her outburst.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted."

"No, Nikki you really don't need to apologise, I think you're allowed to be angry at the moment," Harry assured her, before sighing sympathetically. "It must have been horrible, waking up like that. I just can't believe I didn't notice; I think I was just so worried about you that I didn't take in anything else." But Harry still couldn't forgive himself. He had sat down right next to her on the bed, he had been holding her, trying to calm her down, and he hadn't even noticed that she had been naked. What kind of best friend was he if he hadn't even noticed that?

But Harry still didn't know quite how to help her. It was clear that she was still very distressed by the whole episode, that she needed reassurance, yet he knew how independent and stubborn Nikki could be, and didn't want to overwhelm her. Why did she have to be so complicated? But then again, she wouldn't be Nikki if she wasn't. He supposed that was part of what he loved about her, a part of her personality that he wouldn't change for the world, even if it would make his life easier sometimes.

"Nikki," he said softly, squeezing her hand. "Nikki, you know she can't hurt you anymore, don't you? She's going to get locked up now, at the very least she's going to get sent to a psychiatric unit; you're never going to have to put up with that again, OK? I'm not going to let her hurt you again," he vowed, meaning every word.

"I know," she whispered. "I know, it's just… I feel so… I don't know… violated."

Violated. She felt violated. That word alone was enough to make Harry's blood boil. How could anyone want to make Nikki feel like that? Waking up naked in the presence of someone who had been practically stalking you for days would be unsettling enough at the best of times, without the case with the 8 year old girl Nikki had faced the week before.

"Nikki?" he asked cautiously, not knowing quite how to approach the subject. "Naomi didn't… she didn't do anything to you, did she?"

"What?" Nikki was suddenly alert, sitting up with a look of sheer panic on her face. "No, of course not! I mean, I was asleep, but… but I would have woken up, wouldn't I? God, no, she couldn't have!"

"No, of course she couldn't," Harry soothed her, cursing himself for having brought up that subject in the first place. "No, you're right; you couldn't have slept through that. I just wanted to be sure you were telling me everything."

She looked affronted now. "Harry, I tell you everything, you know I do!"

"I know you do, I'm sorry," Harry sighed, knowing he'd got it wrong again, but silently thankful she hadn't been hurt, physically at least. But she was still keeping something from him, he was sure of it.

They sat in silence for a little while longer before Nikki finally spoke, finally voiced the fears and emotions she'd been keeping hidden.

"Did you see the psychologist report?"

He was confused now. "Hmm? What psychologist report? On Jason Bodle?"

"No, on me." And suddenly he understood. She was worried that Dr Banks had told him what her diagnosis had been; she was worried that he knew what the doctor had said, what she had thought. God, she could be so stupid sometimes.

"Nikki, it was a private consultation! The whole point is that the only people who know what was said are you and the psychologist, not me, not Leo, not anyone else. Dr Banks sent Leo an overview earlier, but all she said was that you were displaying some symptoms of depression but you would almost certainly make a full recovery, and we knew that already Nikki, that's why we sent you to see her in the first place. If you want to talk about it, if you want to tell me what the outcome of that session, then you can, and I'll be here to listen, but you don't have to tell me anything, Nikki. Not if you don't want to."

"She wants to put me on antidepressants." There was something matter-of-fact about her tone, as if she'd already accepted her diagnosis. Yet at the same time, her voice sounded numb, like everything she was saying applied to someone else, not her. Like she didn't want to think about the medication, and its implications.

"I don't want to take them," she continued. "I don't need them. I'm fine, I just feel so tired. But I'm fine, really, I am."

"Nikki, Dr Banks wouldn't have proscribed you any medication she didn't think you needed," Harry tried to tell her. "She's only trying to make you feel better. And the antidepressants will help with the fatigue, that's part of their function." He looked down at her, seeing her try and fail to conceal a yawn, and realized it was time to let her sleep. She still wasn't fine, and he knew that only too well, but she had confessed to what was troubling her now, she had let him know what was wrong, and now he was in a position to help her. But for now, Nikki needed to sleep. She hadn't slept properly in weeks from what he could gather, and that couldn't be helping. She needed to sleep.

"Nikki, come on," Harry said softly, standing up and pulling her to her feet. "Come on, you need to get some sleep."

"Don't want to," she mumbled, leaning into his chest. "I can't sleep without thinking about her."

"The little girl? Nikki, this is exactly why Dr Banks proscribed you the medication! So you stop thinking about the bad things, so you can sleep without having nightmares. You say you're just tired, but you're tired because you aren't sleeping, because you can't turn off from work."

He was guiding her towards the bedroom now, pulling back the covers and pushing her down gently onto the bed.

"Sleep," he told her firmly, tucking her in for the second time that day, wrapping the duvet around her tightly in an attempt to warm her up. "And the minute anything about Naomi, anything about that little girl, anything about Jason Bodle enters your head, you block it out, OK? Think about all the fantastically exciting airplanes I'm going to take you to see tomorrow, and if you need anything, and I mean anything, Nikki, just call."

She nodded slightly, her eyes already closed.

"Thanks. I think I'll stick to butterflies, though. Airplanes all look the same."

He sighed sarcastically, reaching over to kiss her forehead. "What am I going to do with you, Dr Alexander? 7 years I've spent trying to re-educate you, 7 years of time wasted."

And in the darkness, Harry could have sworn that he saw her face relax into a smile. She was recovering. Slowly and surely, but she was recovering. And for that, he would be forever grateful.