Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter! Hope you enjoy this one x

Serena stepped carefully out of the shower, wrapping a large white towel around her and thinking that tomorrow she would have to try out the whirlpool bath. She had left the door into the bedroom open to let some of the steam escape, and now she could hear Hanssen talking softly on his mobile. Having just intended to take a quick shower to freshen up – airports and flights always made her feel slightly grimy – she had stayed under the powerful stream of hot water for far longer than was probably necessary. She had wanted to give him some space to make that call. Of course it helped that the bathroom was, by her standards, pretty luxurious, and by the time she had finished fully sampling the complimentary toiletries she realised that she had probably been in there an hour.

In fact, she was very impressed with the hotel altogether; Hanssen had been quite right when he had assured her that it was nice. Small and tucked away in Gamla Stan, the old part of town, it had an intimate, cosy feel to it despite having fairly minimalist decor. Her first reaction had been one of pleasant surprise, simply because she had not thought it would be a place he would have chosen, but he had obviously stayed there before and had been sweetly pleased when she said how lovely it was.

Pulling a soft white hotel robe around her, she walked quietly back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, pulling her laptop out of her bag. She didn't really need to check email – she was supposed to be taking a break, after all – but she didn't want to disturb Hanssen. He was standing by the window, his back to her, and had not heard her leave the shower as he listened intently to the person on the other end of the line. Serena assumed it was Maja. Occasionally he spoke, and once again, she experienced a quick flash of disorientation as she heard the Swedish words flow so easily, as if he had never been away. She wondered what they were talking about, what arrangements they were making, and was grateful the hotel had wifi. At least it would be a distraction. And there was no point trying to listen in on a one-sided conversation that she couldn't understand anyway.

'You're supposed to be on holiday'.

Hanssen had hung up, and had turned from the window to gaze at Serena sitting cross-legged on the bed.

'Says the man who doesn't know the meaning of the word'.

'Yes, I was hoping you would do something about that, but I see you're just as bad'.

Hanssen sat on the bed beside her, and Serena flicked her laptop shut with a sigh.

'No one is as bad as you'. She smiled over at him, seeing that he looked slightly nervous and unsure again.

'But we can work on that another time. Was that Maja?'

He nodded.

'So...?'

'His graduation ceremony is tomorrow'.

Serena noticed that he didn't call his son by his name.

'In the morning. They are going out for a celebratory meal in the evening, so apparently he has suggested tomorrow afternoon'.

Serena nodded slowly.

'A big day for him tomorrow, then'.

Hanssen looked slightly surprised, and then nodded.

'Yes, I suppose so'.

'Where are you meeting him?'

'Maja suggested their apartment. It's probably best somewhere private'.

Hanssen stood up and began unpacking the few things that he had brought with him. Serena watched as he hung shirts on the rail in the small wardrobe, and placed socks and underwear in perfectly neat lines on the shelf. She knew that when she next went into the bathroom, she would find his toothbrush upright in the holder, his razor placed at right angles to the wall and the soap that she had left on the side of the bath placed back in the container by the sink. When he became stressed, his natural penchant for order and tidiness became almost obsessive, and she could only imagine how uncomfortable the idea of meeting his son was making him feel.

'So we've got the rest of today and tonight for you to show me the sights, then?'

It was a blatant attempt to lighten the mood, to try and distract them both from the real reason they were there and, to her relief, he nodded. Lovely as their room was, she didn't want to sit in it all evening worrying about tomorrow and she suspected he didn't either.

'Are you hungry?'

Serena nodded, realising that yes, she was. The cinnamon roll at the airport seemed a very long time ago, and it was now past six. She thought that Hanssen must be hungry by now as well. She hadn't seen him eat all day.

'There's a nice restaurant over the bridge in Blasieholmen. We could take the scenic route - if you want to see some of the town tonight, that is'.

'I would love to'.

She stood up and fetched her open suitcase, tipping most of the contents out onto the bed as she tried to decide what to wear. Hanssen watched her for a few minutes, his expression a mix of amazement and amusement, before he gave a little shake of his head and headed into the bathroom.

She heard him speak quietly before he shut the door.

'It doesn't matter what you wear, Serena. You look beautiful'.

Sipping her wine with a sigh of contentment, Serena became aware of Hanssen watching her from his seat opposite. A small candle flickered in between them, the light of its flame stronger now against the dusky light outside. They had arrived at the restaurant just in time to get the last window table overlooking the water and the Old Town on the other side of the bridge, and the view was beautiful. Serena realised that she had been gazing at it for most of the ten minutes that they had been sat down, and hadn't even looked at the menu yet. She smiled a little sheepishly over at Hanssen, and put her glass down.

'Sorry. It's lovely to sit and look at the view'.

He nodded, but didn't take his eyes from her as he smiled and passed her a menu.

'No need to apologise'.

Serena took it from him and opened it, her eyes scanning the page before she looked back at Hanssen. He looked as if he were concentrating on which main course to order, but she could see the twinkle in his eyes.

'You're going to have to help me out here'.

'Oh, I don't know. You managed to order yourself a drink'.

'If you hadn't been with me I'd be sitting here drinking gin, not wine. It seems my accent leaves something to be desired'.

She could see him smirking behind his menu, and gave him a gentle kick under the table.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?'

Hanssen nodded, smiling now as he looked over at her.

'I taught you some of this, anyway. You should see what you can remember'.

She gave him a wry look.

'You mean that hour in bed the other night constituted a language lesson?'

'It was the only time I could get you to concentrate'.

'I actually remember concentrating on what your hand was doing, not on the Swedish'.

Serena almost laughed as she saw Hanssen blush slightly. He was much more open and confident with her now in that respect than she would ever have imagined he could be, but at times he was still endearingly self-conscious. He lowered his eyes to his menu again.

'I was taught a very effective technique for examinations that involved picturing the room in which a particular lecture took place. When it came to answering a question on that topic, visualising the room was supposed to help the memory'.

Serena's eyes widened, and she attempted to swallow the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape along with the mouthful of wine she had just taken.

'Are you suggesting what I think you are?' She finally managed to swallow the wine without hiccupping, but the laughter was still there.

Hanssen looked up at her innocently.

'It always worked for me'.

He broke into a smile as he saw the look on her face, and seemed to relent somewhat in his teasing.

'But since we are in a restaurant it's maybe not such a good idea. And it's probably safest if I order anyway. What kind of thing would you like?'

'Not sure. What are you getting?'

'This one'. He pointed. 'Strömmingsflundra. Fried Baltic herring filled with dill and butter'.

Actually, Serena had to admit it sounded good. She shut her menu with a decisive snap.

'OK, I'll try that'.

'Are you sure? They have meat dishes if you don't want fish. Reindeer, if you're feeling particularly adventurous'.

'I'm not'.

He returned her smile as the waiter came over to take their order.

'Maybe you'll feel differently when it comes to dessert'.

'That', Serena announced, zipping up her jacket as they left the warmth of the restaurant, 'was amazing. We need to go back for more before we leave'.

Hanssen laughed, and took her hand. They had both enjoyed the fish, and he had managed to talk her into trying a traditional curd cake for dessert. Despite her initial reservations, Serena had decided it was one of the best things she had ever eaten.

'Oh, they serve it in most places. I'm sure you'll be able to get it again'.

They began walking slowly along the street back towards the bridge. It was almost dark now, but there was still a blue tinge to the sky and Serena suspected that it wouldn't really get much blacker. It was only a month until midsummer, and the chill in the air reminded her that they were a lot further north. She shivered slightly, and Hanssen slipped his arm around her shoulders.

'Cold?'

'A bit. It's nice to walk and have the fresh air though'.

It was true – especially after what seemed like days tied to her desk with paperwork and then the stuffiness of the airport and the plane.

'Well, if you're sure– and if you're not too tired – we could go back to the hotel a slightly different way, and I'll show you the apartment. If you'd like to see it'.

Serena looked up at him. He had added the last sentence very casually, but she could tell he was torn. He wanted to share this with her, but sharing didn't come naturally to him, even now, and he didn't want to pressure her.

'I'd love to'. She smiled and squeezed his hand that was resting on her shoulder.

They continued walking slowly, Hanssen gently guiding her in the right direction when they came to a junction or corner. There were quite a few people out and about, heading to and from work, home and the various bars and restaurants that made up this part of town. Serena lost all sense of direction, even though distance-wise they actually hadn't gone very far, and it was only when they crossed a bridge that she realised they were back at the top of the Old Town. Not far past the end of the bridge, Hanssen stopped and reached into his pocket to pull out a set of keys.

'There's not a lot to see, really'.

He sounded apologetic as he gazed up at the three storey townhouse. It was smart, with fresh paint and a modern intercom and entry system by the front door, and lights were on in the first and third floor windows. The second floor looked to be in darkness, and Serena guessed that the apartment there was Hanssen's.

He opened the front door with one of the keys and held it open for her as he switched on the stairway light. She followed him up the stairs, and waited as he paused outside the apartment door on the second floor.

'Is it okay to go in?'

Hanssen nodded, and fitted the other key into the lock.

'Of course. It's empty, we won't disturb anyone'.

The apartment had high ceilings, wooden floors, and the bare minimum of furniture. It was surprisingly warm, and Serena guessed that the heat from the apartments above and below helped to keep the chill off. It was also very clean, and she wondered if Hanssen had someone looking after the place while it stood empty.

'Your father lived here?'

They were standing in the living room, the sofa and chairs covered with dustsheets and the bookcases empty of books and ornaments. Serena wandered over to the tall window that looked out over the cobbled street below, and fingered the faded material of the curtains that still hung there. Heavy silk with a light floral pattern. Definitely a woman's touch.

She looked up as Hanssen came to stand beside her, and he nodded in answer to her question.

'What about your mother?'

Serena wasn't sure she wanted to ask the question, but she sensed Hanssen wanted to tell her something. He just didn't know what to say.

'A long time ago'. Hanssen paused and looked at Serena's hand on the curtains. 'Those were her choice. My father hated them'.

'But he kept them'.

'Yes, it seems so'.

Serena dropped the curtains and perched on the low, wide windowsill while Hanssen gazed past her, out of the window.

'What happened?'

He was silent for a moment before he sighed softly and looked down at her.

'He left. Disappeared, for a while. And she committed suicide'.

Serena's eyes widened and she took a sharp, almost reflexive intake of breath, as if she had been hit in the gut. She felt as if she had been.

'Jesus, Henrik'. Her voice came out as a whisper.

Hanssen carried on speaking, his voice betraying little emotion, but Serena knew him well enough by now to know what that was costing him.

'I blamed him, naturally. His work was….difficult. He made some choices he shouldn't have made. I thought that was the reason for her walking into a lake and drowning herself, but now….well. It seems that she couldn't cope without him. Pure and simple'.

He paused.

'The choices he made were the reason I did not want him associated with the hospital'.

For a brief moment Serena was lost. She didn't understand what Holby had to do with Hanssen's father, and he must have seen the look of confusion on her face.

'The pharmaceutical company that wanted to invest in Holby, that I blocked. Biotek. That was my father's'.

Serena gripped the windowsill. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more, but it seemed Hanssen wanted to tell her.

'He used Nazi research. With my mother's encouragement. She apparently did not want to feel that she and her brother had suffered in vain. When I found out, after she died…..' He shook his head. 'I was packed off to public school in England. I couldn't stand to be around him'.

'But you were here last year, when he….?'

She didn't need to finish the question, which was just as well since her voice didn't seem to be working properly.

'Yes, I was here when he died'.

He fell silent. Serena had no idea what to say. She didn't think there was anything she could say. She knew he had built those walls around himself for a reason. But she had never imagined that they would come crashing down to reveal something like this.

He stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders, keeping her sat down but pulling her closer to him. Her head rested on his flat stomach, and she wrapped her arms around his waist as he ran his fingers through her hair and cuddled her close. Whether it was for her comfort or his she couldn't tell, because even as she felt him shaking slightly, she knew that tears were rolling down her own cheeks.

At that moment she felt closer to him than she had ever felt to anyone before and, despite the pain that had brought them to this point, that was a feeling that she never wanted to end.