--
"You didn't bring coffee," Alex complained when she saw him.
Tony stopped two feet into the office. "I brought it yesterday. And good morning." Sitting down, he unbuttoned his jacket and asked, "Any word from the Cape Town cops?"
His inflection purposely made it sound like 'Keystone Cops' and Alex sighed. "Johannesburg. They already called and will be in before lunch."
"Really? They're certainly eager."
"Yes, well…" she trailed off. "I need to speak to you about something before they arrive."
"Don't worry," he assured her. "I'll refrain from further analyzing your feelings about having your authority usurped."
"Thank you," she drolly replied, "but it's not that." She paused and looked down at her desk top. "Tony, I don't even know where to begin…"
He shifted in his seat, wary of her hesitance. "At risk of sounding clichéd, I'd say the beginning's always the best place to start."
She nodded at his advice but remained silent. After what appeared to be an internal debate, she said, "Chief Constable Eden doesn't want you here when the South African police show up. He doesn't think it would be in the department's best interest to appear as if we can't handle our own cases."
Something in her tone made Tony doubt this was the heart of whatever it was she wanted to share with him, but there was just enough possibility in the comment that he couldn't outright dismiss it. Despite the continued success of his partnership with the police, those in higher positions had yet to let go of archaic beliefs and embrace the concept of psychological profiling. An officer's world was starkly black and white and Tony brought, for some, too much grey to the situation. Whatever Alex's original thought had been, she was clever enough to substitute it with something that had more than a slight chance of being true.
"Doesn't want to look new-agey, does he?" he remarked.
"No. You know how some people feel about you working with the police."
He showed her a small smile. "If I recall, you were one of those people."
Bowing her head in contrition, she admitted, "True. But I soon saw the error of my ways."
The lightness in her voice didn't escape him and he tilted his chin upward. "I suppose that's acceptable." When the gentle ribbing of the mood dissipated between them, he looked around and slapped his hands on his knees. "I'll be on my way, then, unless you need me for something else."
"Well," she replied, feeling guilty for being the architect of his quick exit, "why don't we go over the case, just so I've got everything set in my head before they get here?"
--
It didn't take long for the two of them to re-visit the information that had been collected since the discovery of the body five days ago. While she would have to hand over the files, Alex also made point-form notes as a way to summarize the information for the South African representative, and to keep everything organized in her own mind. They had just finished when Kevin knocked on the door.
"Sorry, guv," he said, and greeted Tony with a nod of his head. "Eden's downstairs. Wants to have a word."
"Couldn't come up and tell me himself?" Alex rhetorically asked.
"Probably wants to make sure I'm gone," Tony said.
"Probably woke up from his dream of being Deputy Commissioner and realized DI Fielding really did ask for an extra 40 officers to knock on doors," Kevin corrected.
Alex rolled her eyes and stood up. "It's too bloody early for a bollocking." When Tony stood up as well, she came round her desk and touched his arm. "No, you stay here. We've still got a good hour and I want to go over alternate theories. We've pinned our flag to this muti theory, but let's make sure we've explored all other avenues before closing them."
"Okay."
"Don't go anywhere," she told him. "I'll be right back. And don't sit in my chair."
--
Tony was at the police station so much, Kevin once joked that he should share an office with Alex. That teasing had become a running joke between them on the rare occasion he was left alone in her office. Naturally, the minute she had left the room with Kevin, Tony made his way round the desk and sat in the large leather seat. He would claim it made it easier to read the case file and her notes, he thought with a smile.
Not that it would have been entirely untrue. In the chair, he perused over her notes and reached out for a pen to make additions in the margin. With the few that needed to be done complete, he looked around the office and absently whistled a tune. His first instinct, as usual, was to analyze the contents of the room- of any room- but remembering Alex's scowl, he decided a safer pursuit would be to practice Friday's lecture in his head. Sitting back, he closed his eyes and began visualizing the class.
--
It was like this that she found him, as she stood in the open doorway with her hand poised for a customary knock. The gasp of surprise caught in her throat and she pushed away the impulse to bolt. She was here on professional business, she thought to herself. Best to act professional. And in a heartbeat, seeing him had casually destroyed her carefully constructed return.
How long has it been, she wondered. A year? She purposely attempted a vague reference of time, stifling her inner calendar before it could recite the absence down to the minute. Things change in a year, don't they? She asked herself. Yet looking at him now it seemed more likely things had stayed the same. A few more lines around the mouth and eyes, a touch of grey at his temples, but there was an overall sense of sameness to him that she found surprisingly comforting. Still has that ghastly sense of fashion, she noted, and it brought a smile to her face. Remembering his smile, hers faded.
Who is making him smile now? He appeared to be close enough with the current DI that he would doze comfortably in her seat. Maybe it was this Fielding woman. No, she tried to tell herself, it was because he was more inclined to find comfort in work and ritual. The fact that he was still working with the police didn't surprise her. It grounded him and gave him an excuse to lift his head up from his books, but still kept him well within his comfort zone. At least, that's what her head was saying. Her heart had no answers, only questions. Did he simply take her out of the equation and put DI Fielding in her place? Was this only a professional replacement?
--
A familiar scent wafted through the air, and he roused himself from what he thought must have been a dream. He opened his eye and lazily blinked a few times before realizing he wasn't alone. The presence in the doorway made him sit up, the chair returning to its upright position with a thud loud enough that it would have jolted anyone awake. Yet his demeanour was one of a man who thought- hoped- he was still sleeping. Had it been any other situation, he might have laughed at the sight he must have been. Rubbing his eyes, hoping to erase the image from them, he then looked around the office- the same office he had stopped short of examining… a minute ago? An hour ago? A lifetime ago? He wished he had taken the time to catalogue all the little details. It was always the details that tipped you off to a dream, he thought. Was the picture frame on the wall really blue, or was it his subconscious filling in the gap with his favourite colour? He didn't recall the carpet being grey and he cursed himself for not paying closer attention. But he was certain it was a dream. He didn't want to contemplate what it would mean otherwise.
"Carol," he finally croaked out, hoping the sound of a simple name would shock him awake.
"Hello, Tony," she replied softly.
It wasn't a dream. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat constricted so tightly that he could feel the pulsing of the blood as it rushed to his head. What he didn't notice was his right hand coming up to press against his chest, though even if he had been aware, he wouldn't have known if it was to feel the comfort of the rise and fall of his lungs, or to protect his heart.
--