Following their conversation, Jack felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Firstly, it was a relief to know that he hadn't ruined his friendship with Nikki. He'd still be able to pop in for a drink and a chat when he wanted to; he'd be as welcome as he had been before Mexico.

Secondly, it was good to finally get the full facts about Harry. It was no big surprise to learn that Nikki had been in love with her former colleague, but (from a purely selfish point of view) something of a relief to realize that she had moved on or was at least determined to.

He was naturally a little embarrassed about his misunderstanding, although it had been kind of Nikki to make so little of it. In addition to being embarrassed, he was also annoyed with himself. He'd spent years assuming that she'd never be interested in him. Ok, so he'd flirted from time to time, just lightly testing the waters, so to speak, but she'd never taken him up on it. However, from what she'd hinted about Mexico, it seemed as if she might have been attracted to him after all. He could only wish he'd had the confidence to ask her on a proper date years ago. If he had, well – who knew where they might be by now?

But one thing was clear. Even if he wasn't with Naomi, now would not the right time. Nikki was still working through her Mexico trauma, and the last thing she needed was to be distracted by a love affair.

He was still sufficiently curious about Harry to look the man up. He could have done so before, of course, but he hadn't wanted to feel the comparison with himself too sharply. It appeared that Professor Cunningham was a private man, but Jack's carefully honed Internet searching skills came to the fore, and he soon found a handful of facts and a couple of recent photographs.

One of the photographs was a professional headshot of Harry in his role of faculty head of forensic pathology, taken from a lecture series he had done about a year ago. The other was taken from the Instagram page of a friend of his wife. It showed Harry at a barbeque, grinning at the camera with his arm around his wife's shoulders. Jack looked at these with interest. It must have been at least 5 years since the photograph with Nikki and Leo had been taken. At first glance, Harry didn't look that different. However, a closer inspection showed some grey in his hair. He looked happy and relaxed. His wife was quite a few years his junior, and some further digging revealed that she was a PhD student-turned lecturer from his university, albeit in a completely different faculty. He fancied there was a slight resemblance to Nikki, but the woman – Jennifer – had darker hair.

In an odd way, he felt it was a shame that Nikki had lost touch with Harry. It wasn't that he wanted to encourage the old attraction, but as Harry was an apparently happily married man, that wouldn't be likely to happen. It would be nice for Nikki to reconnect with an old friend. Also, he could tell that she was still hurt about how quickly Harry had moved on, and he hated to see Nikki hurt by anything. Still, there wasn't much he could do about it…apart from assume that Harry must be the biggest imbecile in the world, despite his many qualifications.

Months had passed since their reconciliation, and Nikki was definitely recovering from her ordeal in Mexico. There was fresh spring in her step as she moved about the Lyell these days. She'd regained some much-needed weight and had taken up running again.

Passing through the offices one day, Jack smiled to hear her high-pitched laughter ring out. He glanced towards Thomas' office; Nikki was perched on the edge of his desk and the two pathologists had their heads over something that had clearly amused them. Thomas was looking more relaxed himself these days – his relationships with his daughter and ex-wife were less strained. Things seemed to be going well for the Lyell too, for a change.

He paused by Clarissa's desk. "Tea?"

"What, yours?"

"Hey, it's not that bad!"

Clarissa smiled and nodded at a flask on her desk. "You go on telling yourself that. I'm OK – Max has supplied coffee. I think it was after the last you made him a drink and he realized the jeopardy I was in."

He grunted and made his own before walking back to his desk. They worked for a few moments in silence.

"I was sorry to hear about Naomi leaving." Her tone was unusually tentative, as if she was trying to assess his reaction.

He shrugged. "It's a good move for her. Heading up serious crime in Manchester. She knew it'd take too long to get promotion if she stayed at the Met. I bet she'll be back down here again someday."

"You weren't tempted to go too?"

He stared at her. "What - leave the Lyell? God, no. Anyway, there's Dad to think about. No way could I leave him."

She was silent for a moment. "You'll miss her."

He smiled. "Yeah… It's been fun, but it was kind-of winding down anyway." In fact, they'd spent less time together for some weeks before she announced her move, and only partly because Naomi was so busy. He'd always have fond memories of her, but they were breaking up by mutual consent. "Anyway, if you don't mind, I need to get this report finished."

"So…" Clarissa's voice was low and teasing. "Jack is available again."

He grimaced at her arched eyebrow and tried to get back to his work. "That's not even subtle. Even by your standards."

"Well…" Her eyes flickered towards Thomas' office. "She's looking a lot better these days. Much happier. I think her therapy has done some good."

"Hmm." He refocused on the report, frowning in concentration. "Did you get those results back?"

"Now don't deflect. You know what I mean."

Clearly, it was going to be one of those mornings. He saved what he'd written so far and leaned back his chair, observing her. "I thought it was only a few months ago that you were telling me to be careful. You told me to back off because I was getting too close."

"Yes, because I thought what you had at that time was unhealthy."

He smiled. "Ironically, I think Nikki agreed with you in a way. But what's changed? What makes you think it'd be OK for me to ask her out now?"

"Well, it's obvious! You're in a much better place – both of you." She paused, frowning in thought. "At first, I thought you'd go back to the way you were before Mexico, but you're different. The atmosphere here is calmer. I don't feel like I need therapy myself. Thomas is more relaxed too. We don't feel like we need to lock the two of you in a room to sort it out anymore."

"Excuse me, but when did you talk to Thomas about us?"

She smirked. "We've been known to have the occasional drink without the two of you. It's remarkably calming to be with adults for a change." She sobered. "Seriously, though, it has worried him. It's not been easy to keep the Lyell going, so it hasn't helped to have two key employees alternately ignoring each other or making cow's eyes across the room."

"We've never done that!"

She rolled her eyes. "Anyway – it's been a concern for Thomas at least. He doesn't want to lose either of you."

He frowned at his screen, his good mood evaporating. It wasn't as if he hadn't given that some thought. What if he did start dating Nikki? Would they still be able to work together?

Clarissa went on, as if she was reading his thoughts. "I'm not as worried as Thomas. I don't see any reason why you couldn't both carry on here. It's not as if she's your boss."

He cleared his throat. "Doesn't it occur to you that the reason why the atmosphere has improved might just be because we've moved on? Maybe we're just not attracted to each other anymore?"

She snorted her derision at that, but the conversation was cut short when the object of their thoughts walked into the office.

Matt Garcia was a great guy. That was what was so annoying - Jack couldn't think of a single thing to hate about him. He was polite, warm-natured, good-humoured, intelligent, and entirely lacking the stereotypical arrogance of a US official.

It was a cliché to suggest that Jack had been just about to make his move on Nikki – but, in fact, he had. He'd rather nervously planned to ask her out for dinner the very afternoon she disappeared to attend the US Embassy event - and then, of course, they'd been caught up the following day with Helen Vine's murder. He hadn't had much time to speak to Nikki and had decided to leave it for another day. He had noticed that she seemed a little taken with the head of the US Embassy, but he hadn't worried about that – Nikki often received admiration from other men, but it was unusual for her to respond to them beyond a few pleasantries.

So, the following morning's call came as a genuine shock. He put Thomas on speakerphone to get the full facts while he dressed as quickly as possible.

"Matt Garcia kidnapped? Poor guy. And nothing to go on apart from an unconscious guard and that one witness?"

"Not much. Of course, with the Americans, we don't know what they're not saying. I'll text you the address."

"Sure." He pulled on his jacket. "Have you called Nikki yet? I could pick her up on the way."

"Um, Jack…" Thomas' voice was tentative. "Nikki is the witness who called it in. She's already there."

He paused in the act of picking up his keys. "Nikki?"

When he saw Nikki in the borrowed blue bathrobe and realized the extent to which she had been 'there', his heart sank to his boots. A glance at her stark white face, tousled hair and tense body language was enough to tell him what he feared…but he also immediately understood that this was not about him. Right here and now, Nikki was suffering. What she needed was a good friend.

That was why he sat down next to her, a respectful distance away but close enough to offer physical comfort if she needed it. It was clear that she saw the parallel with Helen Vine's disappearance and believed Matt to be already dead. It hurt him to see the pain in her expression, to see the tears threatening to emerge…and at the same time, he felt he could empathize. He knew firsthand the terrible fear and sense of helplessness when a loved one disappeared. Whatever Matt was to Nikki, that wasn't the point right now.

He managed to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, even if he wasn't quite up to offering any reassuring words, but entering Matt's bedroom and seeing the untidy bed was a severe challenge. He knew he'd find Nikki's DNA on the sheets – knew he had to eliminate it from his findings - but it took every ounce of professionalism to walk over. As he bent over the bed, he even knew which side she'd been sleeping on. Even after a couple of hours, he could still smell her shampoo on the pillow. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to focus his mind. He wouldn't be any help to Nikki – or Matt – if he wasn't concentrating fully.

It wasn't a massive surprise when she showed up for work the following day either, her face strained and exhausted. He hadn't slept particularly well himself. He was as worried about Matt as he would be about any missing person, but seeing how much the disappearance was affecting Nikki added to his anxiety. He dreaded to hear that the American had been found dead – dreaded the effect on Nikki. Just when she seemed to be finally getting over Mexico…

So, it was a relief when Matt was found alive, albeit rather beaten up and shocked, and not just because Jack was a decent human being. It was evident that he made Nikki happy. Jack carefully kept his distance and tried to avoid being alone with Clarissa, whose sympathy would be just as painful.

It was probably just as well. He had no reason to assume that Nikki would have been happy with him in the long term. They were very different as people, and she hated his boxing - refusing to watch his matches or even attend a match with him. As a single man with a mortgage on a flat in central London, Jack had little spare cash to spend on expensive treats, which hadn't mattered so much for Naomi, but did for Nikki – or at least he felt it did. It wasn't that she was overtly materialistic herself, but he'd always wanted to be able to buy special things for her. Well, Matt could do that – he could afford the expensive restaurants, the parties, the exotic holidays. They probably had more interests in common too.

The harsh reality was that Jack had always been punching above his weight. It was better to find that out now, before things had gone too far…because he knew that if they had got together, even briefly, it would have been impossible to let her go again. It would have ended up destroying them both and he'd have had to leave the Lyell – preferably to move to Australia.

Rather to his surprise, she rang him on the morning that Matt moved back to the States, asking him to meet her at a pub for lunch – her treat.

He had hesitated before agreeing. He could cope reasonably well with a newly loved-up Nikki at work; seeing her outside work felt a little too much like rubbing salt into the wounds. His final decision was motivated as much by curiosity than anything.

The venue was a countrified pub/restaurant right on the river near Chiswick. They'd never been there before, so he assumed it was a place that Matt had introduced her to. It did a decent beer and steak though, and the location was beautiful. It could have been artificial in that achingly awful way of London restaurants masquerading as country pubs, but in fact was friendly, low-key and not as pricy as it might have been. In fact, it was the kind of place that he might have brought her if this had been a date.

She sighed in pleasure as she sipped her wine and gazed through the window. "This is nice. I haven't been for years."

"Oh?" So, not a 'Matt' place then.

"We – Leo, Harry and I – used to meet here for Sunday lunch. Leo always loved this place. I think Sam Ryan introduced him to it. I don't know why I haven't suggested it before."

That explained why he liked it so much. He could imagine Leo and Nikki coming here.

He glanced at her under his lashes; she seemed surprisingly relaxed for someone who'd just waved off her partner to another continent with no prospect of a reunion any time soon. "Matt get off OK?"

She sighed. "Yes, he was fine. It felt a bit odd, knowing I wasn't going to see him later."

"I'm sorry." And he really was sorry for them both. He didn't have to pretend. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to be Matt right now, having to say goodbye to Nikki.

She paused, looking down at her hands. "Did I tell you that he was going to resign and apply for British residency?"

"Really? I didn't know that."

She smiled, a sad little grimace. "I must be some kind of masochist, because I told him not to. It wouldn't have been right for him." She looked up at Jack, her eyes a little bright with unshed tears but very intent. "He really wants to make a difference, to be an influence where it really matters. I believe he can. But to do that, he really needs to be in Washington. I would have hated to see him…reduced to some kind of meaningless job in London when it's not what he really wants."

He'd be with you though.

It would have been cruel to tell her what she already knew, so he sipped his beer and tried to change the subject.

"Much as I'm enjoying this lunch, I'm kind-of wondering why? I mean, I guess it's better than you moping at home all day, and I'm certainly not complaining…but was there a reason you wanted to meet? Is there something you want to talk about in particular?"

She smiled at him, a proper grin this time. "There is, actually. Although I hope we will do this again sometime… It was something that I discussed with Matt not long after his kidnapping. You know that therapy's been going well for me – well enough that I've decided to give up my sessions. I really don't need them anymore."

He reached across the table to squeeze her arm. "That's great news!"

She nodded. "But…what happened to Matt made me think. It gave me some insight into what – what it was like for you in Mexico."

He watched her carefully, taking another sip.

"I mean, I already knew it wasn't great. I knew you'd had problems sleeping – maybe you should have had some therapy too. I remember saying something about it once – that it was almost easier for me in a way, because I had a diagnosis, whereas you didn't have a label to give to what you were feeling… So, I did know already, but until Matt went missing, I didn't feel what – what you must have felt."

She suddenly reached across the table to take his hand. "I've got to be brutally honest here. When you were talking to me about how you'd gone out there to 'get me back' and you'd 'failed' – my first instinct was to think 'how typical'! It felt like such a stereotype – the man goes out to rescue the 'little woman' and gets angry because she managed to rescue herself."

He bristled and pulled his hand away, hurt by the very notion. "It wasn't like that! What do you think I am – some kind of sexist neanderthal?"

She sighed. "No, I know you're not like that! It's just what it seemed like in the moment. That's why I said you had nothing to prove. I'm not putting this very well."

"You're right, you're not." He drained his glass. "If I've ever given you that impression in all the time we've known each other…"

"Damnit, Jack – you know you haven't!" She grabbed his arm to stop him getting up. "You know I've never thought that of you. That's why I was confused – I genuinely couldn't understand why you were so upset. I didn't know what it was like to feel so helpless… Don't you see? Suddenly, I could see that I would have felt exactly the same if it had been you stuck in that box and I wasn't able to do anything… It had – it has – nothing to do with gender, and everything to do with -."

She stopped, flushing slightly.

"What were you going to say? Everything to do with what?"

She looked away, suddenly a little distant. "It doesn't matter. I just wanted you to know that – that I get it now. And I'm sorry for not understanding properly before."

He looked at her, trying to meet her eyes, but she stared out of the window. Her cheeks were still a bit pink, and he felt he could guess exactly what she'd been about to say.

He suppressed a sigh. There was no point in trying to push her into any kind of confession. Even if she was more-or-less admitting that she loved him, there was no point in distressing her. She was with Matt now, and that was that.

"Well…" He looked down at his empty glass. "I guess we've got a serious decision to make now, haven't we?"

She shot a look at him, slightly apprehensive. "What decision?"

He grinned, waving the glass at her. "We can either get the other half of this…or we could just go for a walk. It's a nice afternoon."

He held out his other hand to her, and she laughed, a little shakily, as she took it. "What would I do without you?"

He shrugged, trying to be casual. "Oh, I don't know. Find another tame forensic scientist."

"Replace you? Impossible," she murmured as they left the pub.

They strolled along the river path in silence, still hand-in-hand. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she thought Matt would have made of their body language if he'd suddenly showed up, but he managed to quell the impulse.

She broke the silence eventually. "I haven't seen Naomi for a while?"

"Oh – you didn't know? She's moved to Manchester. Promotion."

Her steps faltered slightly. "I didn't realize. So…you -?"

Her voice faded away, but he knew what she had been about to ask. "No, I wasn't ever going to go with her. We've split up."

"When did that happen?"

"Oh, a while ago. Before the US Embassy thing."

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

Her voice was very quiet. He wasn't sure exactly what she was sorry about – whether it was merely the conventional 'sorry' about the end of a relationship or whether she was sorry about something else.

"Don't be sorry. It's fine." He sensed that she was trying to withdraw her hand, but he gently retained it, entwining his fingers with hers, and after a moment, she relaxed. "It's all fine."