Lucien made his way to the hotel without much purpose. He'd called Lawson at the police station and was told that they were working on finding Carr and there was nothing for Lucien to do for the time being. He did not have any patients that day, and being home alone with Jean while she was busy with the laundry did not strike his fancy. And so he headed to the hotel. Ruth had become a dear friend to him, and he was learning to like Harry again after all these years. Perhaps he could spend the day with them.

He found Harry in the bar once again. Though this time he was drinking tea instead of scotch and he was alone, reading a newspaper.

"Mind if I join you?" Lucien asked in greeting.

Harry stood up and shook his hand, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Good morning, Lucien. What brings you here?"

"I thought I'd see if you and Ruth are free. I'll admit I had a nice time at dinner with you both last night, and since I'm at a bit of a loss for the day, I decided to just pop by," Lucien said.

"I'm glad you did," Harry replied, folding his newspaper and putting it aside.

Harry leaned back in a manner that reminded Lucien of the old days, when this man had been his superior officer and even possibly his friend. This man exuded power and gravitas and a kind of dependability and understanding that Lucien had gravitated towards. Harry Pearce did not bark orders and leave his officers to figure it out. Harry was a part of everything that was done, he understood what was going on and he understood the people for whom he was responsible. And he did not take that responsibility lightly. Which was why Lucien had been so incredibly hurt when he was summarily dismissed from the Service.

"When you first saw me here, you had quite a few things to say," Harry said. "And now that we're a bit friendlier, I think it deserves talking about."

"Does it?" This surprised Lucien, as he did not recall Harry being the sort of person who talks through things. For all his devotion to his job and his people, Harry Pearce was still and Englishman through and through and emotions were swept under the rug and emphatically ignored.

"Well I think it says a lot that you went from cursing my name and accusing me of murder to doing everything you could to prove my innocence and get me out of jail," Harry pointed out.

Lucien nodded. "That is true."

"So while Ruth is otherwise detained and it's just us, I wanted to ask you why you bothered? I might have thought it was for her that you helped me, but I know now that it's not for Ruth."

"How do you mean?"

Harry gave him a knowing look. "I've had half a mind to be jealous of you when it comes to her, but I've seen that I don't have to be."

"Ruth is wonderful. Lovely. But I…"

"No," Harry said, interrupting. "You've got Jean."

Lucien was rather certain he was doing a good job imitating a goldfish, gaping at Harry after those words. And Harry just smirked. What the bloody hell was that for?! Lucien had feelings for Jean, of course. In quiet moments, he might even admit to himself that he was in love with her. But he was her employer and she was his housekeeper, and if others could see the true depth of his feeling for Jean, that could be very dangerous indeed. Lucien had learned, over the years, that his actions often put her in a precarious position; the things Lucien did reflected on her, and if he was in any way seen to be less than upstanding, it would be Jean who would suffer the consequences for his bad reputation.

Thankfully, Harry breezed past that comment without waiting for a response. "So if Ruth's not the reason you wanted to help me, what is?"

"You, actually."

"I find that hard to believe, what with the things you said to me right there at that very bar," Harry reminded him.

"Well I think it's fair to say you and I didn't leave things on the best terms."

Harry hummed in agreement.

Lucien continued, "And what I had in my mind when I saw you again after all those years was a ruthless spy who would do whatever it took to get ahead of the enemy. And I knew that if Great Britain had an enemy in this hotel, you'd stop at nothing to eliminate him."

"Is that so?"

"Yes it is."

"So I ask again, Lucien, what changed your mind?"

Lucien gave a small smile. "When I sat across from you in interview with Lawson, the way you were calm and quiet answering all his questions, I noticed something different."

"Different?"

"I saw the years. The years since we knew each other. I told Ruth the same thing I'll tell you now. You're softer than you were. I've no doubt you're still capable of being ruthless like you were before, but the years have made something gentle in you, Harry. And that's how I knew you were telling the truth, that you didn't kill Nesbit."

"And that's what made you change your mind?"

"Yes."

Harry regarded Lucien carefully. Perhaps he was losing his touch if Lucien Blake saw the chink in his armour. But then again, he had not been in a proper interrogation. He had nothing to prove, no agenda to accomplish. He told the truth and that was all. Perhaps it was alright that he'd been seen as a bit softer than he once was. Now, given the progress with Ruth, he felt softer. He wanted to live in a softer world, a softer life.

"You know," Lucien offered, "I'm not sorry I saved your life. Even when I hated you for how you reacted, I never wished I hadn't done what I did."

Such words were curious to Harry. They spoke to Lucien's character, the character of a doctor devoted to preserving life, and the character of a good man who did not wish destruction even on his enemies. Perhaps that was how Lucien had survived the prison camp when so many other men had perished. But Harry wanted to hear it from Lucien himself. "And why is that?"

"Yours is a life worth saving," Lucien told him. "I'm a doctor, and it's my duty to provide aid wherever I can, but I think in life we meet people whose lives add value to our own. And for a time, that was you for me."

"It may be a decade late, but thank you," Harry said quietly. "It has been a relatively recent development for me to feel as though my life has any value beyond the role I play in the Service and the work I do. But today, perhaps more than any other day, I am grateful that I'm still here. And we both know that's thanks to you."

Lucien nodded. He did not respond, and Harry did not expect him to. Neither of them were accustomed to such bald displays of emotion. But the earnestness of the conversation was a comfort to Harry in that moment.

"And, for what it's worth, I'm not sorry I fired you."

His brows shot up his forehead and Lucien's expression went hard.

Harry cut off any protest and explained, "I told both Ruth and Jean this, and now I'll tell you. Back then, you were reckless. In saving me, as good of you as it was to do, you proved it. You didn't have the discipline to follow anyone's orders, not even mine. And perhaps I flatter myself to say that you respected my authority more than most other people's."

"Yes, that's true," Lucien said.

"And while I was recovering, I knew I wasn't able to protect you. Other commanding officers wouldn't have known what to do with you, to make sure you did the job and didn't go too far. I might not have dragged your bleeding body out of a hailstorm of bullets, but I have never doubted for one second that my firing you saved your life," Harry said.

Lucien stared at him, clearly stunned by that revelation. "You never said…"

"I don't think you'd have listened if I'd tried."

"I suppose not. So you…" Lucien trailed off again, his mind turning this new information over in his mind. He shook his head and said with a small chuckle, "Ruth's right about you."

"Oh?"

"You're a grumpy old sod, but you're a good man."

Harry grinned. "Yes, that sounds like something Ruth would say."

And speaking of Ruth, the woman herself appeared as if summoned by magic. "Hello Lucien," she greeted pleasantly. "I'm glad you were here to keep Harry company." She turned to Harry and told him, "I spoke with the base, they're not available tomorrow due to training exercises, but they can host us on Thursday."

Which meant two full days of nothing to do in Ballarat but fixate on this bloody murder investigation. Ruth, surely, was thrilled. But then again, without the distraction of work, Harry could spend some uninterrupted time with her, exploring their budding romance. He could spend that free time holding her in his arms. Kissing her lips. Seeing what other parts of her he could kiss. Ruth's neck, actually, had always been something of a distraction to him whenever she wore her hair back. He wondered what it might taste like. What color might it turn if he perhaps sucked on it…

"Harry, you're not listening."

Her sharp tone brought him out of his fantasies. "I'm sorry, what was that, Ruth?"

"I said that the police haven't done a full search of Carr's salon because they haven't gotten a warrant so I was asking we should all take a look ourselves," she repeated.

Harry looked to Lucien for his response first.

"I'd like to bring Jean with us. She usually has important insight into things. But I think it's a good idea," Lucien said.

And so it was settled. Harry was off to help Ruth and Lucien play detective, it seemed.