hello! hope you are all enjoying this so far and am so grateful for your comments and patience with me as I work on these more complex original chapters while also completing my final degree year! I am a little conscious of the way these chapters are coming across, as I understand the emotions and thoughts of the characters at this point are so tumultuous and contradictory. I want the recovery to be as authentic as possible, so it will take time for them to heal and grow from it, but I am excited to take you all on the ride! as always, thank you for reading and any feedback is very much appreciated! I am blown away by every response I get on this and it always makes my day, something needed in such a dreary time across the globe right now!
They walk to the riverside, coming to a stop by the railing. Liz wraps her coat around her a little tighter, arms coming across to hug herself, as the harsh, cool air whips against her cheeks. Steve leans forward, arms crossed on the rail, looking out to the water, somehow surprisingly tranquil despite the violent wind blowing around it. He finds some assurity in that, that they too can find some calm in all the chaos.
Neither of them had spoken since breakfast, both still lost in their own heads.
Steve glances at the woman beside him. She had put her hair down before they left, thinking it would protect her neck from the cold. But it floats around her now, red strands rippling in the wind. She brushes some of them away from her face, him eagerly following the movement.
"So it was Dot," he hears himself say before he can stop himself.
She swallows, turning her head away from him and winding her arms around herself more.
He almost regrets bringing it up. But they need to talk. This can't hang over their heads any longer. If they have any hope of moving on and working this all out, it needs to start now.
"He's The Caddy," Steve laments, urging her to respond and not sure what tense to speak of the man in.
"Seems that way," Liz whispers, her voice cracking.
She knew it would not take long for him to bring it all up. He had to. Lizzie was grateful last night that the man had just let them rest, saving this conversation for another time. But they have to face it. She has to face it.
And if she has to face it with anyone, she wants it to be Steve.
"Ready to make a formal statement? Just to clarify some things," he almost regrets having to ask, but the sooner they got this done, the sooner they could work to move on from it.
Part of him was also desperate to hear it from her, what happened and how she feels.
She nods.
Steve pulls his phone from his pocket, considering her for another moment before pressing record.
"Statement interview with witness, Wellbeing Officer to Central Police; Miss Elizabeth Thornton overseen by DS Steve Arnott."
Liz shudders, feeling his eyes on her. She has never been on this side of the questioning, at least, not without the request of the person actually under questioning, like Lindsay Denton had done. Sure, she had made a few statements before, as a character witness, but they were usually in writing and not so… personal.
It is only a statement, but guilt is eating Liz up, leading her intrusively self-deprecating thoughts to convince she is under fire. She is unsure what exactly she is feeling so guilty about, not having had the time to quite process it yet.
But she wants to help, she owes them that. Rather get it done and out of the way so they can move on - if there was even a chance of that.
"Miss Thornton," Steve sighs, hating having to sound so formal for the recording when all he wants to do is comfort his friend, "thank you for this. We understand you may have wanted time to process it all first, and appreciate your assistance so soon."
The young woman can only nod again. Steve's soul aches at the sight of her so timid. He thought his heart was going to give out when Kate told him that man had grabbed her, dragging her into the confrontation. But he was glad and grateful she was willing to speak. She looks tired, devastated - but she is safe.
"We just want to clarify some things, get more details that may be of help to us in our investigation into former-DI Matthew Cottan, now deceased," he watches as Liz bites her lower lip at that, looking to the floor, "What was your relationship to Matthew Cottan?"
Liz sucks in a shuddery breath through her nose. She has to stop herself from sounding bitter, reminding herself he was asking out of professionalism and necessity. Not because of the way he had glared at the pair every time they interacted, acting like a jealous arsehole whenever they did. She is experiencing such a flood of different emotions, none of which she can process quite right. It is bringing up so many things she had tried to suppress, not even relevant to what has happened - at least she thinks.
She doesn't know. Her head is a mess. It all is.
She clears her throat, "We first met back in 2009. Dot - Matthew - was a client. I was assigned to his branch and squad, TO-20, and so he came under my care. He was going through a divorce and rehabilitation for a gambling and drinking addiction. He had been served a warning, being picked up by DI Tony Gates before he was able to be suspended from his previous branch. We had two appointments, then he never arranged to meet again. We would see each other briefly whenever I would visit TO-20, but that was as far as our acquaintanceship went until two years ago, when he was sequestered to this branch, AC-12, to assist with the Denton case and conspired killing of Tommy Hunter."
"And then? How would you describe your relationship from that time?"
Liz flicks her gaze up to Steve, who looks at her sadly, almost regretting having to ask. What hurts her the most is that he also looks somewhat expectant, as if he has wanted clarification on this for some time. She tries not to be bitter about it as she reluctantly answers, pushing down any rising anger.
"We talked more, and would see each other around the office. Went for coffee a few times and would talk about work. He started to invite me to assist in research and analysing of evidence in the Denton case, saying he believed I, as Lindsay's counsellor, could offer valuable insight into the investigation," Liz finds herself looking rather pointedly at Steve then, remembering how he had seemed to doubt her, though snaps her gaze back to the river when she realises herself, "We became friends as time passed. I visited his apartment once, we had dinner. He came to mine on at least four occasions, mostly to discuss the cases, yours, DS Arnott, in particular."
Steve nods, staying quiet as he waits for her to continue.
She pauses, unable to meet his eye. Liz has to swallow the anxiety rising in her throat to get out her next few words.
"We kissed."
Her gaze falls once again to her feet as tears blur her vision. It feels like a guilty confession, especially standing on this side of the questioning with the investigator looking at her, though she is unsure why. She fears the reaction on Steve's face. She can imagine it to be the same look of betrayal he had sent her after his interrogation, or worse - pity.
If Liz did look over, she would see the man without either of those. He almost chokes on the rage rising in his throat, though it is extinguished by the more urgent realisation of how devastated Lizzie must actually be. Steve had always assumed something was going on between them - feared it even. He was never sure why, assuming it was general protectiveness over his friend. Turns out he was right to be concerned.
But he could never have imagined it to be because of the reality. Even he was not arrogant enough to try and claim that.
Liz hears Steve sigh again as he leans closer to her, still holding the phone to record in his hand. His fingers grip tighter around it, but he swallows down the feeling, it being the last thing she needs now - his jealousy, "Did Cottan ever say something, anything, that alluded to him being the criminal organiser and colluder known as The Caddy?"
Liz bites her lip, harder, though careful not to draw blood. It still did not sound right.
"No, just, uh," she frowns, trying to think, "We mostly talked about work."
This is all my fault.
Liz shakes her head as his voice replays in her mind.
It shouldn't be like this, he had said.
Her eyes squeeze shut.
There's so much I want to tell you. But I can't. I just can't.
It was all falling into place. He had meant… Oh God. How did she not know?
Had the man wanted and tried to say something to her? Did he consider it? Was he ever going to tell her?
"Anything at all?" Steve prompts, not wanting to push but needing the information. It could help. And, as she usually did, Liz knew the man best, "Any insight you have will be valuable."
Her heart clenches at that. All those turbulent emotions storming inside her - ones that were not necessary. Like how Steve had never seemed to appreciate her insight before. So what has changed?
Dot had. He made a point of making her feel welcome, a valuable and capable member of the team.
You can see things, about situations and about people, that others don't.
That's what he had told her. When she questioned him about it. That night. Before they…
She shudders at the memory.
Liz sighs, "He never said anything explicit. Seemed stressed on a few occasions. I calmed him down. He would keep apologising for things. I never knew what. Guess I do now."
I'm sorry. For all of it.
"You would say he trusted you?" Steve asks, intrigued.
"I thought so," Liz laments, "I trusted him."
You can talk to me. You can trust me, she had said.
I know, he had replied.
Liz squeezes her eyes closed, willing herself to drown him out - his voice, his face.
"You said he seemed stressed? On which occasions?"
"The first time I noticed it, he knocked on my door," she recalls, "It was 17th July, around 2pm, I think. He seemed quite frantic. I comforted him. He never said what it was."
"July 17th is the date Lindsay Denton was killed around midday," Steve states, thinking it through, "He must have come to see you after hiding the evidence he used to frame me for her murder."
Liz feels bile rise in her throat.
Of course. It fit.
Dot killed Lindsay.
Dot.
It sounds cruel.
The nickname seems too... familiar. She doesn't really know him at all. She never did.
"The other notable time was after your suspect interview," she explains, wanting to move on, struggling to breathe, "He drove me back to mine. He was visibly shaken about something. Apologised to me several times, for everything that was happening. I had assumed he meant… about convicting you."
She looks to Steve guiltily, not quite meeting his eyes, before continuing, "About having to side against you. I brushed it off, telling him he was just doing his job. That he didn't have a choice but to look into it, and we just had to wait to see how it panned out. I said, if it weren't for him, who knew what more The Caddy could be getting away with."
Steve swallows hearing that. He wants to ask more, about what she truly thought about his arrest and the evidence stacked against him. But now, especially on this formal recording, is not the time.
"He obviously meant the apology for more than that, if he even meant it at all," Liz shrugs, trying to seem indifferent, though it tears her apart.
"You think he seemed genuinely apologetic?"
Liz sighs, holding back a growl. She doesn't know. She doesn't want to.
"Yes," she finds herself saying, not even thinking, "I do."
Did she mean it? She has to. It aches too much otherwise.
Steve bites his tongue, not sure how to respond.
"And, uh," he clears his throat, trying not to sound too eager, "Could you recount the events of that day, July 24th?"
Liz shakes her head, closing her eyes again. She tries to speak as quickly and briefly as possible, not wanting to linger on the recent memory, "He came running out the building. He grabbed me, pulled me along. An armed officer and Kate - DC Fleming - seemed to also be in pursuit. I thought we were chasing a suspect. When I asked, he ignored me, just continued to drag me with him."
Her other hand comes to enclose around her wrist, where his hand had been. There is a bruise there now. It is sore. Stinging more when she thinks of it.
"Matthew, uh, pulled me into an alley," she continues, wincing at the recollection, "It was only then, when DC Fleming aimed the gun and the armed officer was shot down in defence after he pulled his weapon on her, I realised what the situation was. That she was chasing him. I tried pulling away, but he was stronger than me.
We reached the underpass, he seemed to panic that his arranged pickup was not yet there. I tried to get away again and he tried to hold me again. That's when Kate reappeared, and he got the upper-hand, holding me to him with his gun raised to my head."
Steve feels his hand tighten aggressively around his phone, teeth almost baring at the image.
Liz lets out a breath, "DC Fleming started to say things to him, about Fairbank and the abuse charges. How he could help with all that information he must have. It seemed to be working, it was getting to him. So I tried too. Said we could help him, work something out if he just came back with us and confessed. He appeared to know things would be bad for him, either way. Had to have been aware of what they would do to him, whoever they are. So he still resisted. But I know he was listening. I mean, he dropped his gun."
"But then the vehicle entered the scene?" Steve asks.
Liz nods, timidly, "Yeah. It knocked Kate over. Cottan immediately jumped back into action, pushing me into the back of it. I tried to climb over the seat out the other side but was pulled back in before it drove away."
"Who else was in the vehicle besides yourself and DI Cottan?"
"The two of us and two other men. Kate shot them both by the time it was all over. There wasn't anyone else."
"And did they say anything? Do anything of interest?"
"One of them asked what they were going to do with me," Liz chews her bottom lip between her words, "Suggested 'putting me with the others' or 'shipping me off'. I don't know what that meant."
Steve nods, thoughtfully, but watches as Lizzie's eyes begin to cloud over again.
"Cottan, he, uh..." she sniffs, "He said he wasn't going to let anything happen to me. Ordered them not to touch me."
Steve's heart is pounding as she blinks back another tear.
"They didn't say anything else before the driver was shot and the car crashed. I used that as my chance to escape, running to DC Fleming. DI Cottan got out, pointed his gun at us. I tried talking to him again, said he could trust me. That I would be there for him."
"Did you mean it?" Steve asks before he can stop himself, his bitterness at her ordeal and what that man has put her through overtaking him and coming out in the worst way. She was not to blame for this. None of them were. She was not the only one to have fallen for it. They all had. He had no right o be questioning her like that.
"I don't know," she responds before he can apologise. Steve's shoulders relax, relieved she does not seem to be affronted by his question, more pondering it. It is as if she has been asking herself that question since, not yet coming to an answer.
Steve clears his throat, looking to his phone before back up at the woman who still looks out to the water in front of them, "And then?"
"He lowered his gun. He took my hand," she pauses, swallowing. Her face seems to steel itself before she continues, "Then I was pushed to the ground. There were three gunshots, followed by another from DC Fleming who killed the shooter. I turn around to see DI Cottan..."
She chokes.
Steve jumps, taking an alerted step forward towards her, an arm instinctively coming to rest on her shoulder.
She coughs, a shaky hand coming to press against her now pursed lips, as if willing herself not to be sick.
She can see it all again.
Feel it all again.
The blood.
She rips her hand away form her mouth, looking at it disgusted before shoving it back into her coat pocket out of sight.
She is shaking, though her convulsions begin to ease with every stroke of Steve's hand on her upper back. She instinctively leans into the warm touch.
Steve waits for her to say something, anything more. But she continues to glare at the river, eyes glossed by the memories.
He has what he needs. He knew the rest from Kate.
"Thank you, Miss Thornton," Steve says, quietly, ending the recording on his phone and returning it to his pocket.
The woman beside him is still quiet. Looking out over the railing to the water. The sun reflecting from it into her glistening eyes. Her hair still whips around her face, slapping her cheeks red.
"Lizzie," Steve says, though is unsure what to say next. He is trying to wrap his head around it himself, hardly able to imagine what it is like for her.
"I really am sorry," he decides on, hearing her scoff, though does not take it bitterly, knowing she has a lot on her mind, "I knew both of you were close."
"I thought we were," she quietly admits, now not so sure, "He was just using me."
"How do you mean?" Steve urges, glad she seems to be opening up.
"He knew we were friends, good friends," Liz frowns, thinking it through as she speaks. She feels more free now, off the record and feeling as though the barriers have been broken down, "Wanted to turn me against you. Suppose he knew if he could convince me you were guilty, he could convince anyone."
Steve's heart aches. Cotton would be right about that.
Liz breathes in, shakily, still contemplating it.
Even from the beginning with the Denton case, when he was sequestered to AC-12, he had known how bothered she was by Steve pushing her out and not appreciating her insight. Then he made a point of her being involved, at his side to help him. He told her the other night it was because he thought she could offer a point of view no one else saw. Had that been a lie?
When he followed on from that saying he grew to need her there, to help him, was that a lie too?
He made her feel good. He made her feel appreciated. She had fallen for it like a fool. Desperate for validation. Desperate for someone to care.
The man knew she was insecure. He knew her anxieties. And he used that against her for his own advantage.
Wasn't her whole career based on knowing people? Reading them?
And yet he was right there, the whole time. Doing what he did.
How could she have been so stupid?
"I should have known," she mutters, tears beginning to brim again, "It is my job to know."
"None of this is your fault," Steve sighs, turning his body to face her.
"Isn't it?" she almost shouts, her red eyes snapping to his.
Steve stays quiet, allowing her to explain herself, knowing she needs to let it out.
"I said I was going to help you, Steve," Liz cries, his heart shattering, "But I let him in. And he used that against me. Against you."
Steve thinks back to how difficult it had been for her to open up to him back at the beginning. He knows how much that must have meant to her, to have someone who would listen, as she did for everyone else. And how much it must hurt to believe that was all a deception.
"I really thought he cared about me," she chuckles, darkly.
"You don't know he didn't," Steve offers, kindly.
Liz fights back rolling her eyes.
But he has a point.
Would he have jumped in front of that bullet for her if he didn't? Would he have promised to keep her safe? Listened the way he did? Opened up to her? Kissed her?
She shudders again, Steve moving his hand on her back tighter around her shoulder, pulling her into him more. Liz doesn't resist.
"He was manipulating me," she states, though still unsure, trying to stop herself from thinking about it and move on. It hurt too much, "He was manipulating all of us."
He was. Just as he used Steve, Kate, Ted, Maneet, Danny Waldron, Hari Baines, Rod Kennedy, Mark Dryden, Lindsay Denton - all of them.
Steve just shakes his head.
"So what now?" Liz asks, wanting to turn the conversation away from her and that man. She could feel something bubbling, rising to the surface. And she is scared what will happen when it overpowers her.
Steve nods now, dropping his arm from around her, a little disappointed Liz was deflecting from herself, "On the phone this morning, Kate filled me in a bit more. Gave an update on Fairbank."
Patrick Fairbank, Liz remembers, is the ex-Chief Superintendent. The one Steve had asked Hastings to interview when she was in his office that time, about his links to known, identified abusers at Sands View Boys' Home.
"He wasn't just covering up the abuser," Steve sighs, "Joe Nash made a positive ID. He was taking part."
Liz groans in disgust, shaking her head.
"Claims he has dementia, unfit for trial," Steve growls through grit teeth, "He's getting away with it. They all are."
"What is the next move?" she asks, curious, unnerved by but understanding Steve's frustration.
"Not sure," he shrugs, "This is bigger than we know. Joe said the boys reported this all to the police and authorities, but they went out of their way to cover it up. Who knows what else happened, is happening, or who else is involved. Kate says her and Hastings are working on it."
Liz nods, thinking it all over.
"I think Danny was leading us to them, creating a trail," Steve announces, "Ronan Murphy, Linus, Dale Roach, Fairbank too. And they no doubt have links to Tommy Hunter, what with his associations with grooming children like Carly Kirk. Cotton's dying declaration gave us crucial evidence against Fairbank, as well as some other names. So that's a start. We have to find whoever had Dot working for them."
Liz stays quiet, her mind running with thoughts.
She settles on one, the idea making her gut twist, "It is sad when you think about it."
Steve turns to her, a brow raised.
Liz continues, "Danny, I mean. He never had a chance. They ruined him. Groomed him from a young age, twisted his mind. No wonder he was capable of what he was. And it makes the reasons he struggled with relationships clear. How do you overcome that kind of trauma? How can you trust anyone? No one was there for him."
Steve hums, agreeing. He looks at her again, seeing the way she grips her lip between her teeth, her hands clenching by her sides as she thinks over something.
"Do you-" she hesitates, eyes closing for a moment as she steadies herself for whatever she wants to say, "Do you think he was involved?"
He frowns, knowing she is referring to Cottan by the way her voice shakes, "We know he was."
"No, I mean..." Liz swallows again, shifting her feet, "Do you think he was a victim?"
Steve pauses, considering it.
"He was scared," Liz recollects, sadly, feeling guilty for not working it out before. It was too late now, "Scared of what they, whoever 'they' are, would do to him. If he didn't comply."
"You seem sure it wasn't his choice?" Steve questions.
"Not everyone has a choice," she says, insistent, "What if he was groomed? From a boy, turned into a pawn. Got wrapped up in it all somehow, never found a way out."
"He still had a choice."
"He wanted to get out," Liz insists, her heart beating fast as she defends the man, somehow, "He thought it could be over. It never would be."
"Danny said he was under no illusions of a happy ending," Steve explains, finding himself somewhat agreeing, "Knew he would suffer for his actions."
"I think he did too," Liz contemplates, sadly, "But he saw an opportunity. He was desperate. So he took it."
"You mean me? I was his opportunity," Steve bites back a stubborn huff.
Liz just sends him an apologetic but pointed look. The man had played into his hands.
Cottan had been kind to her, making her feel appreciated, a long while before Steve started to… well, act like an idiot, making so many mistakes that helped the framing. It was not until Steve gave him the chance that he took it and things started to develop - too quickly.
Surely that counted for something? That he had meant it. That it was genuine.
Steve sighs, seeing her point but not understanding how she could be making excuses for that man. She clearly cared for him. Still does.
And he gets it now. After everything that happened between them. The way Dot had confided in her somewhat, and she him. He really had listened, and wanted her to listen to him. He knows, more than anyone, how significant that is. How that makes a person feel.
But Dot had played them, right from the beginning. Watched as they ran around like fools, looking for evidence, victims, witnesses, criminals - and all that time, he knew. He was in on it.
Liz knows this. It is tearing her apart. But, she also knows some of it was true. It had to be.
It all makes sense, when she thinks about it; him being The Caddy. The multiple phones, the discrepancies in the investigations, the framing of Steve. She should have seen it. Should have known he was lying.
But what didn't make sense, and the thing she will cling to now she realises it, is why he would have allowed her to get so close? Where would that have fit into his plan?
To manipulate her? Sure, to begin with. An attempt to turn her against Steve when he became a suitable candidate to frame. But over time he became much more vulnerable, admitting things to her she doubts he meant to. Why would he tell her he was scared, risk spilling more, if he was trying to deceive her? If he didn't care?
Or was it all a game? Had Dot really deceived her all that time without her knowing?
"It was all a lie," she cries, voice squeaking, unable to stop herself. It still didn't sound right. It didn't make sense. But it is as if that explanation will make it easier to process, to move on - more so than the complicated, conflicted truth.
Steve scoffs. Liz turns to him, sharply, watching as he looks away from her, shaking his head.
He turns back, hands flying into his pockets, "Is it really so hard to believe?"
Liz raises a questioning brow, wiping away a tear with her hand.
Steve continues, prompted by her silence, "That someone could care about you? Love you?"
Lizzie chokes, taken back, "He didn't love me-"
"You listen, you care, and you don't ask for anything out of it!" Steve insists, rather aggressively, not quite looking at her with his brow furrowed.
He's tired of her lack of self-worth. It angers him. Especially now, after all she has done for him. He needs her to know.
Liz stares at him, bewildered. What?
"If he was, as you said, manipulated and groomed and had no other choice, can you not see how much that would have meant to him?" he continues to assert, "When he has no one else to turn to, but you're there. Listening. Caring. Not expecting anything back."
Steve blanches as he finishes, taking a small step back and catching his breath. He is unsure where that came from, also unsure if he was even still talking about Cottan rather than himself.
Lizzie just looks at him, eyes wide. She is breathing heavily, fists clenched at her sides, "Then why would he put me in danger like he did?"
"He wasn't thinking," Steve suggests, softening his tone, "He just wanted you there, on his side. And you are, you're always there. Even when no one else is."
"It is my job," she dismisses, to his dismay.
"We both know, in this line of work, that means nothing."
Liz struggles to argue with that.
"You do it because that's who you are. A good person. You have a good heart," he presses, encouraged by her silence, "I know, if everything was beating me down like that, I would want you there. In fact, I have been in that position and... I do."
Liz swallows, unsure what to say. She struggles to focus on anything but the way he is looking at her, that sincere glint in his eyes. Her stomach twists, uneasily, but it does not hurt so much this time.
"I shouldn't have turned against you like that," she mumbles, regrettably, "I shouldn't have fallen for it."
"You didn't," he huffs, "I wouldn't be here if not for you. Kate told me what you did. And it means more to me than I can explain."
He can't find the words. He tries, almost desperate.
'Thank you' won't cut it. Nothing will.
Only a silent promise to be better. And he will be. He has to be. If not for himself, then for Liz.
He just needs to process it all first. Get back in the game. Things will be good again, just how they were. Better than that, things will be different.
"I want to help," Liz asserts, her chin lifting to almost challenge him to argue as she expects he will, "I need to."
Steve nods, not expecting anything otherwise, though hopes she does not push herself too hard. The woman needs time to recover, to process it all. Though, knowing her as well as he does, she will try to push it down. Not thinking of herself.
He will help her through it. He will be there when she needs him.
"Lizzie," the woman turns to him as he says her name, "I really am sorry."
She cringes, visibly wincing as she shakes her head with her eyes shut, "Please, Steve. Don't. Let's just move on from this. Get to the bottom of it. You promised Joe Nash. We owe it to him, and Danny, and all the other victims of whatever this is."
And Matthew Cottan, she thinks, though stops herself from voicing it. Maybe her heart wasn't entirely convinced he was nothing but bad. Maybe it was listening to Steve.
She had grown to care for that man, and she wants to believe he cared for her.
She has to. Or it will drive her mad.
He tried to ruin their lives, Steve in particular. But he also saved hers.
She can't hate him. Not after that, even if she wants to. Things would be easier that way.
"How's your head?" Steve asks, his eyes creasing as he looks to the stitches there.
"Should probably stop getting my head cut open in car crashes, huh?" she tries to joke, but it comes out bitter. Steve watches her, unamused, once again feeling a pang of guilt.
"Let's get back," Steve suggests before that guilt can eat at him, holding out an arm to indicate her to move beside him.
It hovers by her lower back. Liz quickly moves into it, stepping closer to him to rest her head against the front of his shoulder. Steve responds immediately, wrapping his arms fully around her, resting on her back. Her hands slip around his waist, tucked under his arms.
"I missed you. I'm sorry," she mumbles into his coat.
"I missed you, too," Steve sighs, knowing it is more than that as well as ignoring her apology.
"Will you forgive me?"
His chest aches at her broken whimper, "There is nothing to forgive."
Liz sinks further into his hold, gripping the back of his jacket tighter. He can feel tears seeping through his thin jacket, the only one Kate was able to grab from his flat. He moves his head down to rest his cheek against the top of her hair.
"I am glad to have you back," she whispers.
He smiles.