A/N: This chapter is set at the beginning of 7.02, the morning after Adam was killed and Harry shared a drink (or several) with Ros. Reviews are always very much appreciated. Cheers, S.C.


12 November 2007 – Jane

She wakes to the feel of a warm, naked body beside her own and she can't help smiling in bliss – it's such a rare occurrence these days. Maybe this morning we'll be more successful, she thinks, quickly pushing aside the disappointment of their failed attempt last night and rolling over to face him. He's still sleeping, so she begins to touch him, caress his skin, pepper kisses over his chest until he begins to stir. Then she ducks under the covers, continuing her journey south as he moans in pleasure, making her smile. Maybe he'd just drunk too much last night after all, she tells herself as her hand closes around him, stroking, feeling him thicken as she licks her lips and then the tip of him, overjoyed by the feeling of power and revenge that surges through her, the feeling that she's finally getting even.

Her joy, however, doesn't last long as she feels him begin to deflate in her hand and none of her best, time-tested moves can reverse the situation. What the hell is wrong with him, he silently fumes as his hands reach down to stop her and he moves his body away from hers.

"I'm sorry, Jane," he murmurs as she emerges from under the covers, his eyes looking pained, his cheeks stained with embarrassment – the fact that this must be just as uncomfortable and unpleasant for him making her feel a little better.

"It's fine, Harry," she says and gets up, walking across her bedroom naked and into the en-suite, determined not to let him see how this is affecting her. For all he knows, she's had a hundred lovers since they broke up and she's not about to admit that his sudden impotence affects her in any way, even if it is making her doubt herself in this moment.

She turns on the shower and brushes her teeth while she waits for the water to warm up, then she steps under it and tries to relax, starting first with each muscle, then identifying each emotion and letting it go. Only then does she allow herself to consider what just happened, attempting to be as objective as possible. He had been enjoying her caresses and his body had been responding – unlike last night – but there had been something that had stopped him and she's pretty certain now that it has nothing to do with her skills in the bedroom. She always used to be able to please Harry in bed and he'd never had any complaints, so it must be something else, a mental or emotional block of some kind that didn't used to be there, maybe his guilt over breaking up their marriage, or the loss of his officer or Ruth.

All he'd said last night, when he'd appeared at her door, looking lost and slightly drunk, and asking to come in, is that he'd lost another one of his officers and, when she'd asked if it was Ruth, he'd said, "No. She left a while ago now." He'd looked so sad as he'd said it, that she'd felt her heart go out to him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she'd replied, reaching over to squeeze his hand, and next thing she'd known, he was kissing her, tentatively at first, as if asking for permission, and then more passionately when she'd responded. He'd seemed equally into their kisses, equally ready for more, equally eager to move to the bedroom, but their best efforts hadn't been enough to arouse him and, in the end, they'd given up, with him apologising and telling her it's never happened before, and her reassuring him as best she could by suggesting it might be due to grief and too much whisky.

He'd attempted to leave then, but she'd stopped him. It had been close to one in the morning at that point, they'd both been naked in her bed already, and she'd been content with just sharing a cuddle and going to sleep. She'd told him as much, and while he'd hesitated, thinking about it, she'd just switched off the light and cuddled up to him, feeling him tense a little initially and then relax in her arms. She doesn't know how soon he'd fallen asleep, but she'd been out like a light pretty quickly and had slept like a baby.

This morning though, now, he'd been responding to her touch and kisses until he'd come fully awake and presumably realised where he was and with whom. Maybe it is her after all, she thinks sadly as she turns off the shower and gets out, towelling herself dry quickly and slipping into her robe. Maybe it's the divorce, maybe it's messed with his head and he can't have sex with her any more. She sighs, then squares her shoulders, deciding that it doesn't matter. Clearly sleeping with Harry had been a bad idea to begin with, and he's probably done her a favour by showing her that, reminding her that one can never go back, that she must keep moving forward. Maybe now she can finally let him go completely and move on, and maybe next time Derek asks her for a drink after dancing, she'll say yes – even if he is rather a lot younger than her. You never know – he might surprise her. After all, what is age but a number? And with that optimistic thought, she opens the door and steps back into her bedroom to find the bed made, Harry gone, and a text message on her phone from him. "Thank you for being there," it says. "Forgive me."

She stares at it for a few seconds, thinking how much more painful this situation must be for him. It's not the kind of thing any man would find easy to deal with – it must be such a blow to his ego, especially since she knows he's always prided himself on his prowess in the bedroom. Poor Harry, she thinks, her heart filling with compassion as she quickly types a reply to his text.

"There's nothing to forgive. I enjoyed the nap and cuddle. x"