Robbie pressed the doorbell again. He knew she was in, the light in the study was on and he'd seen the faint outline of her sitting in the semi-dark. Two more minutes, he thought, if she doesn't want to see me, I'll go. He stepped back from the door, looked up at the first floor shrouded in black. This cottage had become a place of refuge for him in recent years. It was warm and welcoming, endless cups of tea on offer whenever he'd asked, and often when he hadn't, the ever patient listening ear that always accompanied them, the sage advice on any manner of things from dealing with his worrisome Sergeant to how to grandparent from afar, cases that had him stuck fast that he didn't think he'd ever get them resolved. And it wasn't the bricks and mortar that did all that, it was her. She'd quietly snuck up on him, into his deepest thoughts to the extent that he felt she'd never leave them. She hadn't contrived it to happen, it just had. And now? Now he felt as if it was make or break.

He stepped forward again, arm outstretched for a final push of the bell, but before he could he detected movement, her slight figure appearing misshaped behind the thin slither of frosted glass in the door, the click of the lock as it turned and then finally opened. He sighed in relief and couldn't help but let a half grin spread across his face as she stood there, her head resting against the back of her hand as it held the door in place, not yet open enough for him to step over the threshold.

"Can I come in?" he said, wishing he had something grander to say, an eloquent declaration or a well-thought out apology, but he didn't.

She didn't respond, her blue eyes just looking back at him, her expression impossible to read. She could do steely better than most, he thought, but perhaps he detected something there.

"Please, Laura," he added, trying to keep the pleading tone at bay.

"What for?" she asked with no hint of anger or recrimination in her voice, just a weariness that he shared.

But he couldn't answer. There was too much to say and yet no words came to mind.

"Oh, fine," she sighed eventually, letting the door go and retreating inside, letting him follow behind.

She headed into the lounge, switching on a couple of the lamps as she passed the sideboard and coffee table that butted up against the sofa. He watched as she moved to the window, drew the curtains and then retreated to the armchair nearest the fireplace. He saw her eyes flick to the throw she kept folded nearby and hesitant briefly before she reached over and dragged it over herself, a physical barrier between them in the distance had been clear enough.

"It's late," she said, "And it's been a long day, Robbie. Whatever you came here to say..." she tailed off.

"I don't have a speech prepared, Laura," he offered, daring to sit on the edge of the sofa, cautious to assume he was welcome to make himself comfortable.

"Then what?" she asked, a hint of anger stirring up in her voice. "Why are you here?"

The silence he gave in response spoke volumes and after a minute or two, she spoke, more softly, resigned even. "Like I said, it's late, Robbie. I'm on call tomorrow and I need to sleep. You're welcome to stay, the spare room's made up and you know where everything is."

Pushing the blanket aside, she stood and made to move as if she was about to depart but seemed to change her mind, and made her way to him instead, her hand drifting across his cheek as she bent down to press a single kiss to his temple.

"Don't stay up too late," she murmured before she continued on, her footsteps light on the wooden stairs as she went up.

He heard the quiet swoosh of the door against the landing carpet and then nothing more. Her behaviour didn't surprise him but he did find himself at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Sitting alone with his thoughts for a few minutes he resolved that bed really was the only course of action. He potted about the downstairs, switching off the lounge lights, checking the front and back door locks, closing the small window in the kitchen that had been left open a crack, but not before fetching himself a glass of water. Standing at the kitchen sink, he thought to all the times he'd wanted to be here, free to roam her house as if it was his own. He'd forgotten that relationships came with pain, and not just those from loss, but from hurting one another without meaning to. Losing Val pushed those memories far away as he'd longed for one more fight with her, one more blazing row badly disguised by their whispered voices of fury as they'd tried not to upset the children in the next room. Setting the glass down, he reached for his phone and turned it over in his hand and, looking around but not finding what he needed, tried the study.

The Anglepoise lamp illuminated the desk and the report she'd been reviewing, glancing at it but fighting the instinct to read it more fully to ponder its implications, he focused on finding a phone charger. Spotting one plugged under the desk he crouched down to retrieve it, pulling it from its socket. As he stood, a scrap of paper caught his eye. He picked it up and smiled sadly at it before putting it back. That was not for now. Switching off the lamp he pulled the door closed behind him and headed upstairs.


Her book felt heavy in her hands and she felt it slipping as her concentration was directed elsewhere. It hadn't been an excuse, being on call, and she really did need to sleep but the thought of him somewhere downstairs was distracting. She could just make out his evening ritual of checking doors and windows. He'd done it every night he'd stayed. The first time she'd briefly thought about a wry comment on how unnecessary it was but had decided it didn't matter. It wasn't motivated by anything other than habit, she'd concluded, at worst protectiveness and kind consideration which were hardly something to take offence at.

Giving up on the book entirely, she put it to one side, switched off the bedside lamp and slid under the covers, but found herself not quite ready to sleep. She thought she could tell where he was in the house just by the creak of a floorboard or click of a light. She held her breath as he ascended the stairs, imagining him pausing outside her bedroom door, daring to enter. But he wouldn't, not when she'd been so clear. Part of her desperately wanted him there, his comforting embrace around her. But the other part was still hurt and confused and having him so close wouldn't help, she knew that. The bathroom off the landing had a noisy extractor fan and she was startled as she heard it, laughing lightly to herself. Of course he'd want to wash before bed. Another ritual she'd noticed. Hands and face at the very least meaning there was always the smell of soap when he touched her cheek. God, I'm getting sentimental, she chastised herself, but continued to strain her ears as to what he would do next. But apart from a few clicks and the sound of the mattress being depressed, there was nothing.

She closed her eyes, wishing sleep to come. Everything would be better in the morning, surely. Or maybe not, her stomach lurching at the thought of an awkward breakfast with neither of them having the courage to speak. Strained conversation over coffee and toast. Or perhaps something else. It would be easy to pretend everything was ok, to slip back into friendship mode. She forced her mind to turn to other things, the ones that always helped to calm her in the small hours. Memories of pleasant times gone by, fantasies of days to come and then she heard him, his voice drifting across the landing. She frowned, who was he talking to? Not her obviously, it was too faint. The stop/start told her he was on the phone, she concluded. James probably. She tried to ignore it but as the odd word reached her, her curiosity grew until she couldn't take it anymore and slipped from the bed, guilty listening at the door.

"I thought that might be the case, love," she heard him say. "Chanced my arm," and then a pause before he chuckled, "Well, that's kids for you. You want me to remind you again of how much you deprived me and your mam of?"

Lyn. She moved to sit at the top of the stairs, hugging her knees tightly to her chest as she eavesdropped on his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm fine. Just a lot going on. Cold case, you know how it is."

"Ah, well that's true enough. Did Tim have to testify in the end, that fraud case?"

"That's something, I suppose. No one's immune to the risk of it. Especially you in your line of work, pet. I worry about you, you know."

He chuckled again, "But you'll always be my little girl, whatever you might like to think. Let me worry even from a distance. Ken gets the same treatment."

Laura sighed to herself. She shouldn't be listening to this, it was just Robbie and his daughter catching up. She had no business to be sitting here but as she convinced herself to move, she heard the conversation shift.

"Laura? She's fine. Why?"

"Haven't I? I didn't realise I did. We're friends, I suppose. Isn't it usual to talk about your friends?"

She froze. Friends? Well, yes they were. Of course they were. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath held in anticipation, or perhaps fear was a better word, of what denial might be next.

"Look, Lyn, actually I need to talk to you about that. Laura and me. It's kind of why I rang. Well, you see, we... well, we're friends, you know that, but recently... what I mean is, we're a bit more than that. A lot more. And well, it's just happened and I've been wanting to tell you."

Laura smiled at his stumbling words, a wave of relief crashing over her. Deep down she'd known this had been bothering her, hadn't she confessed as much to Jean, his confession planting a seed of doubt that she'd let grow, let others feed with their gossip and innuendo, and suddenly she couldn't sit still any longer. She was vaguely aware that he was still talking, explaining how things had changed, awkwardly as it happened as he tried to leave out as many of the specifics as Lyn would let him get away with. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, her smile growing at the sight of him propped up on the pillows, bare chested, the covers pulled up to his waist. No pyjamas, she realised. He looked up at the movement and seemed surprised to see her there, but returned her smile weakly, almost apologetically.

"I'm glad you're ok with it, pet," he said, not letting his gaze leave hers. "Anyway, I know it's late but I couldn't have you not know any longer. Didn't feel right."

He let out a small guffaw at his daughter's response and began to wind down the call, promising to ring again soon. He hung up and let the phone slip to the floor, continued to look at Laura, words half formed on his lips but not brave enough to give them a voice.

The overhead light seemed harsh, having entered from the dark of the landing and, reaching a decision, Laura flicked the switch, plunging the room into darkness, the faintest hint of moonlight mingling with the street lamps through the poorly drawn curtains. She moved to the bed and, pulling back the covers, climbed in. Settling herself alongside his warm body, her hands stroking his chest, she felt his hesitancy before he slipped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close, the relief of holding one another again palpable between them.

"Time to sleep," she whispered, nestling her head against his chest, smiling as she felt a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"Yes, time to sleep," he replied, grateful that she couldn't see the broad grin across his face as he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.


Right, four chapters to go…five if you count a cheeky M chapter that will be posted separately and will be absolutely just for fun and not critical to the story whatsoever…I'm resolved to post everything at once as I desperately want to complete this one. It's been swirling around in my mind for too long! Bless you all for your patience.