When Duty Isn't Enough

Author: Firebird

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Neither Hot Fuzz nor its characters, settings etc. are mine. Original characters are, as the name would imply, original and belong to me.

**

They were driving through the village several hours later when Nick spotted Lily emerging from the hardware store, her arms filled with a number of burdens. Unthinkingly, he shifted in his seat to watch her. Alerted by the sudden movement, Danny slowed the patrol car and followed his partner's gaze. Seeing only a pretty girl and no apparent crime in progress, he leapt to a hasty conclusion.

"'Ere, is that your girlfriend?"

"Yes, that's Lily, but there's no need to-" Danny was already pulling over. "Danny, we're on duty. It isn't appropriate for us to-"

"Oh, give over. I want to meet her, don't I?"

Realising that he had little option, Nicholas followed his partner from the car. Lily had stopped when she noticed it pulling over, a confused expression on her face. It cleared when she saw Nick, and she began to walk towards them.

"Hey!" she called cheerfully.

"Hey, Lily," he replied, in a more subdued tone.

She frowned slightly, then appeared to read the situation and nodded once to herself, coming to a stop at an appropriate conversational distance.

"You've, ah, been shopping," he observed.

"Yeah. The cottage needs a lot of work, so I thought I'd better get onto it. That's the only reason I could afford it really. Well, that and the location." She glanced around meaningfully. Tourism in Sandford might be up, but housing prices in the area had plummeted. "But, given the way housing prices are going these days, this could be my best chance to get onto the property ladder, so I thought I'd better take it. Not that you need to know all this, of course."

He smiled slightly at that. He had already noticed that variations on the phrase 'not that you needed to know all this' appeared to be one of her favourite expressions: unsurprising, given her self-confessed habit of over-sharing.

"Just as well I'm handy with a hammer, eh?"

At this point, Danny gave his partner a not-so-subtle nudge.

"Just as well," he repeated. "Lily, I'd like you to meet my partner, Sergeant Danny Butterman. Danny, this is Lily Birch."

Danny grinned. "Nice to meet ya."

"You too." She juggled her packages, shifting their weight onto her left arm so she could extend her right hand to Danny.

"Nick's told us heaps about you," he informed her, as he accepted the proffered hand.

"Oh? None of it's true. Well, except the good stuff. There was good stuff, right?"

Danny nodded. "Oh yeah."

She blushed slightly as she belatedly realised the implied double meaning of her question. "Well, I'd better get on." She turned her attention back to Nick. "Stop by this evening for a cuppa, if you like."

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He could hardly show open affection for her while he was on duty – it would have been completely unprofessional – but he was well aware that his coolness could have been misinterpreted. "Thanks, I'd like that."

"See you later then." And she was gone, headed down the street towards her car.

"Oh. My. God." Danny turned to stare at his partner in disbelief. "I can't believe you didn't even give her a peck on the cheek."

"Sergeant, official police guidelines state that-"

"Oh, sod the guidelines. She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Nick clenched his jaw in exasperation. It was at times like this that he realised just how much of a gulf still existed between him and his Sandford colleagues. "No, not 'sod the guidelines'. Those guidelines exist for a reason, Danny. You can't just ignore them at will and expect it all to work out in the end. It doesn't work that way."

"Alright, I was just sayin'."

Nick drew a deep breath. This was Danny, he reminded himself. His best friend, as well as his partner. "So, what did you think?" he asked.

As always, Danny accepted the olive branch with good grace, reminding Nick of just exactly how they had remained friends for so long. "Well, she's pretty," he allowed. "Bit impractical, them long skirts and all, but I guess that's just her style. She really plannin' on doing that cottage up by herself?" That last seemed to impress him.

"Apparently." Nick hadn't known that but he wasn't surprised, given what he had noticed of the state of the place while he was helping her unpack. For the first time, he had realised exactly why it had taken the better part of six months to get his own cottage habitable.

**

It was after eight that evening when he knocked on her door. He hadn't been sure of what to say when he saw her, but found it didn't matter as he simply caught her hands, drew her close and kissed her.

"I wanted to do that earlier," he admitted as they parted. "But, you know, I was on duty and-"

"It wasn't appropriate," she finished for him. "Yeah, I figured that. Come on in."

"You don't mind, then?" he asked as he followed her back towards the kitchen.

"Why would I? I wouldn't go kissing you when I was working, so 'sauce for the goose' and all. Beside," she glanced over her shoulder at him with a grin, "it was worth waiting for."

He relaxed, relieved he hadn't offended her.

"Your partner seems nice," she observed, as she reached into the cupboard for mugs.

"Danny? Yeah, he's great. Been my best friend practically since I arrived in Sandford."

"That must be awkward at times, you being his commanding officer and all. Tea or coffee?"

"I don't really like to have caffeine this late at night..."

"Chamomile then? I think I saw some when I was unpacking."

"That'd be great, thanks. Yes, it can get awkward at times, but he's a good mate. And a good officer."

"If you say so. I still don't understand how all that could have gone on, right under everyone's noses."

"Frank Butterman played a big part in that. He didn't exactly look for the cream of the crop when he was recruiting, and he made sure to stamp out any trace of initiative or curiosity in his officers."

"Butterman? So he was Danny's...?"

"Dad. It hasn't been easy for him."

"I'll bet." She held out a mug of chamomile tea towards him, and gestured towards the living-room.

"And what about you?" she asked as they seated themselves on the sofa. She leaned against one arm, folding her leg under herself and angling her body so that she was facing him. "How are you finding life as the Chief of the Sandford Police Service?"

"Honestly?"

She nodded encouragingly.

"I hate it."

She looked surprised at the stark confession, and part of him was at least as surprised that he had simply come out with it like that. A rather larger part of him realised that it had been inevitable that sooner or later he would have shared his feelings with some sympathetic ear, and it was probably just as well that it wasn't one of his colleagues.

"Don't tell anyone I said that, okay? Not even Danny."

"Take it to the grave. Got it."

"I love Sandford, "he clarified. "I love the people here; I love how peaceful it is compared with London. I've made friends here that I never want to lose. But," he shook his head, "I never wanted a desk job. Never even wanted to be a sergeant, but they didn't give me a choice. Then, when everything happened here, they needed an acting Inspector in a hurry, and I was it. Literally. They couldn't promote anyone else from within Sandford – Frank had seen to that – and no-one here was going to trust an outsider. And eventually they needed to appoint someone to the role permanently."

"And no-one else wanted the job?"

"Oh, plenty of people wanted it. Unfortunately, the Powers That Be decided to give it to the one person who didn't want it. So here I am, two ranks above where I wanted to be, one above where I legitimately should be, and wondering just how I got myself into this mess."

"You could always quit?" she suggested.

He shook his head. "I'm a police officer to the bone. Even with all of this, that hasn't changed. The problem is, there really isn't anyone else for the job. Sandford's sort of a special case. And, like I said, I love the people here; I wouldn't want to let them down. So I'm stuck with it." He leaned his head back against her sofa and closed his eyes in an attitude of resignation.

She nodded. "I think I understand. You've got so much here, but it comes at a price. It's a conundrum."

Setting her mug of tea on the coffee table she reached out and took his hand in both of hers, rubbing the palm with her thumbs. She kept that up for a few moments, then began using her finger and thumb to rub down each of his fingers in turn.

"What are you doing?" he asked, opening one eye.

"Hand massage. You don't mind, do you? You look like you need to relax."

"No," he closed his eyes again, enjoying the attention. "I don't mind." A pause. "Where did you learn to do this anyway?"

"A friend of mine's a massage therapist. She taught me."

"Oh."

He was aware of her continuing to work over his hand and wrist for a moment, then felt her rise and move around him. His own mug was taken gently from his hand, and he heard the dull thunk as she set it aside before she turned her attention to his other hand. He reflected that he probably should open his eyes and talk to her, that it was rude to ignore his host, but he just couldn't be bothered. He wondered briefly whether she had drugged his tea, but rejected the idea. He had been feeling more and more frayed lately, and the relief of having finally talked to someone coupled with a comfortable seat and the thoroughly relaxing hand massage was sending him off to sleep as surely as any illicit chemical.

He awoke with a start, uncertain exactly how long he'd been out. Long enough that the muscles in his neck protested when he raised his head, and his eyes felt gritty as he opened them.

"Lily?" he asked, glancing towards where she had last been seated. She was still curled up at the end of the sofa, a book in her hands and a small black and white cat on her lap. She met his eye and smiled. "I'm so sorry," he told her. "I hope I wasn't out too long."

She glanced at the clock and shrugged. "Maybe twenty minutes. You look like you needed it."

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If you don't mind, I think I'd better head home."

"Not in the least." She stood, setting her book aside and moving the cat, which mewled in protest. "I'll see you out."

He kissed her goodbye on the doorstep, then wrapped his arms around her, still not fully awake. After a moment she gently pushed him away.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"There's affectionate, and then there's using me for a prop while you fall asleep on your feet." She laid a last light kiss on his cheek. "Get to bed," she suggested kindly.

His own house was as cold and dark as ever, but for once it didn't bother him.