Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews :)


Jake's feet stopped in their assault on his kitchen cabinets abruptly, and he tilted his head to one side as surprise and a hint of disappointment were quickly masked by curiosity and wariness.

"Does she know about me and … me being sick?" Jake asked nervously.

"Of course," Neil was relieved to be able to answer that so categorically. "We work together, so she knows all about you. And I've told her about the leukaemia so she knows about that too."

"Who will look after me when you see her?" Jake asked guardedly

"I'm only going to see her when you are with Mum. But even if you're with Mum, and for any reason you want to see me, you just give me a call like you did before. Nothing changes for us," Neil promised. "When it's you and me, I might talk to her on the phone after you go to sleep. But I'd like you to meet her eventually, when the time's right."

"What's she like?" came the next question, and Neil breathed an inward sigh of relief to see that much of the wariness had faded away, leaving only his son's intent curiosity. It was the best response he'd hoped for: he knew Jake would still be disappointed to know his Dad was dating. While Jake had long ago given up on trying to get his parents back together (after a painful three months Neil had spent on sabbatical in Spain which had ended in heart-break for the boy), Neil knew it was a another nail in the coffin of the dream all children of divorced marriages held. "And what's her name?"

"Her name's Grace. She's really smart," Neil said, listing the first thing he'd noticed about Grace Dasari. "And really kind, although she doesn't always show it immediately."

"Kind of like you and mum and Liam, then," Jake noted. "What does she look like? Is she pretty?"

"Very," Neil replied. "And, well, she's probably in one of the photos of the team in the lounge."

"Really?" Jake's curiosity got the better of him, and he hopped gingerly down from the counter. "Do you know which one?"

"I think she's in one of the ones on the right end," Neil said, lifting the sandwich toaster to see that the sandwiches had been browned to his satisfaction. Lifting them out onto two plates, he put them on the bench and waited for his son's return.

Jake came back in, handing the photograph of the 2009 Christmas party he'd removed from the bookshelf to his Dad.

"You should tell me who the rest of them are too, Dad," Jake told him. "I want to know what they all look like."

"Okay, well, you know Jack Meadows, my boss," Neil started with the familiar face, pointing to Jack who had been sitting on the far left of the bar, cradling a beer in one hand and holding onto a billiards cue with another. Mickey was next to him, leaning on Stevie for support as they both laughed at something the Super had said. Running through Terry, Smithy and a costumed Nate (it had been some sort of dare from Leon, he'd gathered, Nate had to come dressed as an elf) he arrived at himself, tucked on the right hand side of the bar between Grace and Jo.

"That's her," Neil pointed. Jake took the picture back from him, examining it closely.

"She has a nice smile," he concluded critically and a little dubiously.

Neil grinned, feeling his heart lighten as he slid a plate and sandwich in Jake's direction, preparing himself for the forthcoming barrage of questions.


"So how did the weekend with Jake go?" Grace asked as they sat back in the small Thai restaurant after ordering.

"Good," Neil replied. "He got a bit nervous about returning to St Hugh's towards the end. But we sorted out the custody arrangements. If all goes well, he'll be ready to start school in September, and I'll have full custody of him from mid-late August. Until then we're going to be flexible on week-day arrangements, and I'll have him all to myself on the weekends."

Grace reached easily for his hand. "Congratulations," she said sincerely, pinning his gaze with hers.

Neil opened his mouth, but was unable to find the words. Instead, he flipped his hand over, clasping hers gently as he lifted it to his lips. She got that he was still hurting, and would hurt for a while, and even though they were still so painfully new she was content to be his second priority.

He had enough priorities to have work come in at a distant third.

In that moment, he could feel himself falling a little more in love with her, and he staunchly squashed the instinctive panic that arose at that thought.

Grace forced herself to breathe as he removed his lips from her hand, allowing their joined hands fall back to the table, and reached with his spare hand for her other hand.

"What did you do this weekend?" Neil asked lightly, surprising himself with his ability to move on from the momentous realisation of a few moments ago.

"Well, I worked on Sunday," Grace told him. He frowned a little, recalling how he'd meant to ask why that was after reading the weekend reports.

"Didn't you work last Sunday too?" he asked.

"Banksy's nephew's christening," she explained.

"Well, given there was no real paperwork from the day I'll take it as a quiet day?" Neil said lightly.

"Thank goodness," Grace said with a smile. "Caught up on my paperwork for you, though, boss."

Neil squeezed her hands, eyes twinkling. "Yeah, thanks for that," he said sarcastically. "All landed on my desk now."

"That was the plan," Grace told him blithely. "And on Saturday I visited my sister."

"Anita?" Neil frowned, hoping he got it right, and was reassured by her nod and smile. "How was that?"

"It was good," Grace hesitated. "I told her about…us."

Us. It sent an entirely good chill down Neil's spine that that word now applied to himself and Grace, and he squeezed her hands supportively.

"Well, she's been my outlet for the past few weeks," Grace continued candidly. Neil's thumbs stilled in their gentle, unconscious movements across the back of her hands.

"Ah," he said. "So she didn't have the highest opinion of me." Grace was gratified that he didn't remove his hands from hers.

"Don't worry, I think I changed it," Grace told him shyly.

"That's good," Neil said, the people he'd told weighing on the back of his mind. "I told Pippa and Jake."

It was Grace's turn to freeze.

"How'd they take it?" she asked nervously.

"Pippa was indifferent," Neil said with a reassuring smile. "And after a hunt through my photographs of the Sun Hill officers, Jake tracked you down and came to the opinion that you've got a nice smile."

"Yeah?" Grace asked shyly, blush rising in her cheeks. Neil's eyes were soft as he nodded.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their food, and they reluctantly released each other's hands.


Neil was conspicuously quiet on the drive back to hers and the walk to her apartment.

"So Jake's not the only one worried about tomorrow," Grace prompted softly, squeezing his hand before dropping it to pull out her keys and unlock her door. "You okay?"

"Sorry," he sighed, nodding. Grace turned around, taking his hands in hers again.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "There's no need to be worried, it's all routine."

"It's okay to be worried, Neil," Grace told him. "Just because it's routine doesn't mean it's not worth worrying about, just so long as you don't let the worry dominate."

Neil smiled at her. "You're right," he acknowledged. "As always. Anyway, I'm going to try and have an early night, so, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," Grace said. He leant in and kissed her gently good night, lightly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.


Neil was tense the next day at work, but Grace was relieved to see it wasn't manifesting itself in a vitriolic attack at anyone. Instead, he was quiet and solemn (even for him) and he left as soon as the clock ticked over.

"The DI all right?" Stevie asked Banksy with a frown. "He's barely spoken all day, even when conducting the briefings!"

"The next part of Jake's treatment's started," Smithy said as he passed by, overhearing the question and seeing Banksy shrug.

"Thought the kid was in remission," Terry frowned.

Smithy shrugged. "He is…but it's more complicated than that and he didn't want to talk about it. I was surprised to get that much out of him."

Glad someone had stuck up for him – for her to do so would raise too many questions about their relationship she didn't want to address – Grace quietly packed up and went home, hoping he'd call her to talk.

He didn't.


The next morning she watched him walk in, ten minutes early, nodding to her briefly behind Banksy's back. CID was largely empty, but nevertheless she picked up a random file on her desk, and moved towards his office, oblivious to Banksy's speculative eyes on her as she closed the door. Neil turned around from where he'd been hanging his coat, moving to perch on his desk near her.

"Everything okay?" she asked him. He once again wore what Eddie had uncharitably termed his 'nobly-tortured' expression, tension apparent in every line of his body and in the bags under his eyes.

"It went as well as it could have," he said with a sigh.

"I know you'll want to go back and see him tonight," she said quietly as he nodded. "But come over afterward. We can have takeout, and you can talk, or watch rubbish TV or whatever."

Neil looked down. "I don't want to impose –"

"Neil," Grace glanced quickly out the glass of his office – fishbowl, more like – before stepping closer and taking his hand. "It's okay for you to need someone else every now and then."

He looked back up at her with that vulnerable look of his that had once made her want to slap him for being such a closed-up idiot and now made her want to hug him and kiss the stress away. She settled for squeezing his hand.

"Okay," he nodded. A knock on the door interrupted them, and Grace hastily dropped his hand, stepping back to a respectful distance before turning to open the door for Stevie.

"Cheers, guv," she threw over her shoulder, smiling to her DS in acknowledgement as she strode past.

"Guv, I wanted to ask you about that Fletcher case…" Stevie's voice floated out into CID.


"He went to bed early tonight," Neil Manson said by way of greeting as he stood at her door at 8pm, holding a wrapped paper packet. The appetising smell of fish and chips wafted from it as she stood back to let him in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he passed.

Settling down in her lounge to eat, Grace turned the volume down on the show she'd been watching, turning instead to the guy sprawled on the other side of the couch. While still tired, he seemed less stressed.

"You look better than this morning, Jake's doing okay then?" she surmised, beginning to cut her fish into neat, even pieces.

"Yeah," Neil smiled lazily. "Thank you for what you said this morning."

"It's what I'm here for," Grace told him sincerely.