Tim still didn't get much sleep, waking frequently through it and it had reached almost 11:30am when he woke. It felt weird to him to wake up in his own house and for a moment, he had forgot that Marcella was actually upstairs, he thought he had just given in and come home. He sat up on the settee and took a moment to wake himself up a little. It was too late for breakfast, but that wasn't going to stop him from making a full English for them both. After putting his duvet away, he tried to tidy up some of the mountains of glass bottles that scatter around the room placing them all in two bin bags to take to a bottle bank later.
Once he got to the kitchen, he put on the radio and started cooking. He took out a couple of sausages and placed them in a frying pan with small amount of oil and let them cook while he got the rest of the food ready.
His stairs creaked as Marcella made her way down them, "Hey." he greeted with a smile, "Did you sleep okay?"
"Yeah, I guess." she replied as Tim quickly prepared some more salt water to clean her wound again. Turning the hob down on low, he was able to leave the sausages to cook while he quickly tended to her, cleaning, creaming and dressing the gash across her cheek. When he was done, he grinned at her and she smiled back, to show her appreciation for his help.
Putting the first aid equipment away, he returned to cooking the full English he was preparing and a song started on the radio, "I got this feelin' inside my bones. It goes electric, wavy when I turn it on." the song played over the radio and Tim couldn't help but sing along quietly to himself, much to the amusement of Marcella. He stopped singing while he kept an eye on the bacon under the grill and started to make two cups of tea. "And under the lights when everything goes. Nowhere to hide when I'm gettin' you close." he started again when the bridge of the song began. "When we move, well, you already know. So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine." As he started plating up the food, he was dancing so hard that he was going to find himself in A&E if he wasn't careful, "Nothin' I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance. Feel a good, good creepin' up on you. So just dance, dance, dance, come on." Tim sung along as loudly as he could without annoying his neighbours and Marcella would've been laughing her head off it wasn't so painful for her, but she was smiling more than she had in months. He walked towards her still dancing with two plates in his hand, "All those things I shouldn't do. But you dance, dance, dance. And ain't nobody leavin' soon, so keep dancin'" Tim sat down and moved his face closer to Marcella's, "I can't stop the feelin'." he sung the last line and a huge grin grew on his face.
She laughed again and started to eat her food. "It's been far too long since I've had a breakfast like this. It's been years."
"Excuse me? I made you one in bed a few months ago. For your birthday."
"Oh, yeah." she replied, after a brief moment to remember it. "But this is miles better. But maybe that's because I've barely eaten in three weeks."
They continued to eat their food and drink their tea and when they finished eating, Tim took the plates over to the kitchen and placed them inside the dishwasher and Marcella followed, "You can put the TV on if you want."
"Morning TV? No, thanks. I'd rather be living back on the streets than that." Marcella joked. Tim didn't like her making jokes about being back out there, as all he wanted to do now was just keep her close and safe; and being out there was far from that. When Tim looked away, Marcella lowered her own head, "Sorry." she murmured, apologising for speaking about something she knew he would hate now.
Looking back up, Tim smiled and handed her a bin bag, "Make yourself useful." he requested. "Hold that open while I pick up the rest of my rubbish." Marcella's eyes rolled and she laughed to herself as they made their way over to the living room. Most of his beer bottles were in a bin bag and now it was just mountains of takeaway and pizza boxes that he did manage to eat during the time she was gone, there wasn't many, but there was enough general rubbish that required a bin bag to clean it.
Tim tied up the bag and put it near the front door ready to take out shortly. He moved things back to their rightful positions in the room and sprayed what seemed like half a can of air freshener around.
The room started to look like it did just a month ago and it reminded Tim of the situation he found himself in; it reminded him how much one woman meant to him, and how her supposed death made him contemplate things he never thought he would. He'd be lying if he said he didn't at least once consider the unthinkable, there were times he was struggling to be without her, and it wasn't just because they weren't together anymore but it was the fact that he thought she was dead. Tim started to come to terms with the break-up, despite it being the last thing he wanted. He wished he had been honest, he knows he should've been, but like he said to Marcella; everything that's happened before this moment is his past, and as much as he wish he could, he can't change that.
"I'm taking these down the road to the bottle bank if you fancy a little walk?" Tim asked as he grabbed the two bin bags and unlocked the front door. Marcella nodded and put on her shoes and a jumper, and they both made their way out of the flat and took a 10 minute walk to it.
Being apart for so long, they thought they'd have more to talk about, but things were still a little awkward between them. Neither of them were sure if they wanted to discuss what had happened before all of this, but Marcella at least thought that if she was going to trust him in that way again, she needed to know the truth. They reached their destination and started the task at hand. It took her a few minutes to get up the courage to even bring it up what she knew she needed to, "What really happened with Maya, Tim?" she asked, much to her relief to hopefully get the conversation going. Tim stopped what he was doing and looked at her, "I have to know."
Tim continued putting the bottles into the bank, hoping it would help the words just flow out, but to begin with he was stuck for an explanation. So much had happened since his promotion and the Whitman case, that he briefly forgot what it was even about. He took a deep breath before speaking, "When I was promoted, the Chief Super presented me with a case, against the Whitmans. It was mainly a case against Maya, but they wanted me to keep an eye on Vince too. The police had been sent an anonymous tip that The Whitman Foundation had been embezzling money into an offshore account – which ultimately came back to bite me on the arse. Anyway, as I started looking into it and getting closer, I found out that some of the money was being used to fund prostitution and drugs on some yacht abroad about ten years ago. And I was worried there was more that the police didn't know about."
Marcella frowned, she knew about that case, Becky was one of the woman, "Maya was involved?" she wondered, though it was more a question of shock than wonder.
"Yeah. How do you know about it?"
She knew she had to tell the truth, "I, erm, I got Mark to dig up some dirt on her. He found that." she admitted as she handed him some of the bottles from the second bag. "So Maya funded all of that?"
Tim didn't want to push it, he technically wasn't her boss at the moment, and he certainly wasn't going to complain about what she did. "I mean, I think so." he replied. After another brief pause, he turned his attention to her, "Look." he started before lowering his head and licking his lips again, "I never slept with her. I got close, I flirted, we kissed a few times, mainly only in front of you. But I promise you, I swear on your life, I never had sex with her." Marcella knew that Tim wouldn't swear on her life unless he meant it. She has known for a long time just what she meant to him.
She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. "This is all my fault, isn't it?" she wept, and she brushed away the tears that fell down her cheek from her eyes.
"No, it's not, don't be silly. It's mine." he replied. He walked closer to her, and pulled her in for a hug and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Actually, let's blame both of us. I won't take the whole blame." he said, eliciting a laugh from Marcella.
When the broke off the hug, they kept hold of each other for a few moments and their eyes locked. They both began to feel what they did before everything, the feelings were coming back; though for Tim they never left, but Marcella spent so long trying to forget they were there, but since being back close to him, she realised she wanted him back.
They finished putting the bottles in the bank before making their way back to the flat.
·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·
Back inside, it was still early and Marcella already felt bored. She was always used to working a case, having something to occupy her mind and it was strange to her not to have that. There wasn't much in Tim's flat to keep her mind working long enough; all of his Whitman case files had been given back to the officers in charge of the embezzlement case and he doesn't have the copies, so she couldn't even work on that to help him.
She barely watched TV at home and the choice of shows at this time of the day made her feel like gouging her eyes out. Looking at Tim's bookshelf, it wasn't much of a surprise the type of books on his shelf. There were a few classic novels, some other books she's never heard of and a bunch of law and police guides. She took one of the police guides off the shelf and started flicking through it, and even that was making her miss the job.
Tim could see it was upsetting her, so he walked over to her and took it out of her hand and placed it back where it was. Their eyes locked again when his head turned back towards hers and they shared a look that neither of them have with each other in so long. As she looked at him and studied his face and despite the mass of facial hair that covered it, she saw the old Tim under there; the way his head cocked slightly to the left whenever he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated fully enough that only some of the blue of his irises remained but they were still as bright as ever.
Her hand slowly made it's way towards his face and her fingers started to lightly glide across his beard. Tim closed his eyes and smiled, he wanted to just lose himself in the moment – a moment he's not had for a long time – but he knew he should break it off, before it got more than it should. He didn't want to rush anything not when he only just got her back but he'd be lying if he didn't want to respond to her actions. He lightly grabbed hold of her hand, holding it for a beat before slowly moving it away, much to her disappointment which Tim could sense.
"Look, I have an idea." he said after a minute, "How about we have a date?" he suggested met with a smile from Marcella, "Don't worry, we don't even have to leave the house. I can cook, or we can order and we get to know each other again."
"What? We already know each other, Tim." she sighed.
"No, not the way we used to."
"Okay, so how do you suggest we do this?"
"We dress like a first date, we treat it like a first date, we pretend as if we barely know each other and we forget everything that's happened over the last month or so. And we do all of it here, save us from feeling too exposed." he advised. Marcella liked the idea, but it still felt a little daunting.