Jack's phone buzzed. He sighed as he read the message from Clarissa.
Talked to her yet?
He texted a reply. Haven't found right time.
There was a longish pause, but he waited for the testy response he knew he would get. Sure enough…
I swear, when we get back, I WILL kill you. How hard can it be to take her to a restaurant and bloody well ASK her?!
He winced – the number of exclamation marks were excessive, even for Clarissa at her most irate. He was just glad that her current location in the West Indies meant that video calling wasn't an option – or at least not an option that Max was prepared to consider. "A complete break", he had said, and he was sticking by it, although even he knew he couldn't stop Jack and Clarissa texting almost as frequently as they'd done before.
The Mullery-Thorndykes were drifting at present – both literally and figuratively. Max had taken extended leave (in truth, he could probably afford to take early retirement) and Clarissa currently had no work commitments, so they might return to the UK after their cruise or might carry on travelling around the world if the mood took them. Jack was rather amused by this concept – he'd only ever known Clarissa when she was studying or working, and she'd always been completely dedicated to her chosen profession and had never shown any enthusiasm for prolonged leisure. She did, however, enjoy learning languages and he'd often wondered whether she'd secretly yearned to travel more than she had been able to so far. He was happy for her – for them both – but that didn't make him miss her less.
Meanwhile, the Lyell remained oddly empty. The laboratory staff was back to full capacity and they'd hosted a couple of students, but Nikki remained the only fully qualified pathologist. There was a major University funding review going on, which didn't help. Even if Nikki had wanted the professorship, she hadn't been offered it so far. In the meantime, they were instructed to carry on as best they could to generate as much income as possible. Jack had no plans to replace Clarissa – again, he didn't know if there was the money to do so.
It had been a difficult winter. They'd struggled on through the myriad of mundane cases that came their way – arson, suicides, car accidents - all of which generated a lot of tedious work without much professional interest. Nikki chose not to move into Thomas' office but instead turn it into a meeting room. He couldn't help but be grateful about that – they were rattling around like two small peas in a very large pod as it was, and it was a relief to have her sitting opposite him most of the time. Nikki at least had some company with the lab staff, but Jack was feeling very lonely and rather overworked. During the run-up to Christmas and beyond, he'd been busy with Clarissa's open cases, which had helped, but once he was no longer reading through her notes (and smiling at the occasional acerbic comment), he really began to feel her absence.
He had spoken the truth to Clarissa. He did want to speak to Nikki, but there really wasn't the time.
The reality was that Nikki was struggling. Neither of them had realised just how vital a job Thomas had been doing for the Lyell. The rot had started to set in after Harry left. With three full-time pathologists, Leo had been able to manage the caseload very well. Once he was down to two, it had become more difficult to balance the books. Leo had been very similar to Nikki in his approach – more interested in the clinical work and inclined to get irritated by administration. The harsh reality was that the Lyell had been reaching a crisis point even before Leo's death. Thomas had been brought in specially to sort it out, and he'd done a good job of steering them through various funding and political crises.
Nikki's problem now was that she'd been told to make sure the Lyell contributed to the University's income, but it was difficult to do that with only one full-time pathologist – she didn't want to have to turn work down. Thomas would have had the experience to know when to say "no", but Nikki did not – as a result, she was constantly having to come in early and leave late to get through the caseload, and often spent weekends catching up on paperwork.
Jack was having to work extra hours himself due to covering the work that Clarissa would normally do. He chafed against the tedious hours stuck in the office and was desperate for a more interesting case involving scene work, but very few opportunities came up before Christmas. Anyway, both he and Nikki were knackered most of the time and not really inclined to do anything after work, so he really hadn't found the right time to ask her out.
Over Christmas, by mutual (and exhausted) consent, they shut the Lyell down, and Nikki flew to Washington. Evidently Matt was still 'on' to some degree, although he fancied that Nikki didn't seem quite as enthusiastic as normal – although that may have been wishful thinking. Jack hosted his father on Christmas Day – they went for their usual Christmas dinner at the pub, since neither of them had ever learned to cook the traditional full-on feast with all the trimmings that Connor enjoyed so much. They'd spent the afternoon watching old movies at Jack's flat and then he'd driven his father home.
It had bothered him that he couldn't invite his father to stay, but his flat was a one-bed and Connor refused to let Jack to sleep on the sofa. In the New Year, Jack's thoughts turned to the future. He'd once been proud of his bachelor pad – it hadn't been easy to get on the housing ladder in such an expensive city and he'd rather enjoyed the life of a single thirty-something man with his own compact but well laid-out flat. As he grew older, however, the lack of space was beginning to irk him. He'd made a canny investment in an up-and-coming area and was confident that he'd now be able to stretch to a house in a slightly less central location. A three-bed would be good – he had some notion that he might be able to convince Connor to sell up and move in with him just if there was a spare room for Ryan. He didn't much relish the idea of Ryan moving in, but his brother's parole would be up soon, and he'd need somewhere to go…with any luck, not for too long.
He'd found a house sooner than he expected – a large old Edwardian detached near Blackhorse Road in northeast London. The decor was dated, the heating system dodgy and the windows draughty, but its generous size appealed to Jack. It was a house with potential, and Jack felt confident he could do it up himself – if he ever had the time. His flat sold very quickly, and he found any spare time he had during January and early February occupied with trying to sort out and pack his belongings.
"Fancy another one?"
Jack put his phone away and looked up at his dad. Connor was gesturing at his mug.
"Yeah, thanks. I'll put the kettle on -."
He made to get up, but his father was already on his feet and shooed him away. "Get on with you! I'm not dead yet."
Jack smiled at the familiar phrase and then looked over at the TV a little blankly. It was Sunday 23rd February 2020, and the early evening news was on, with the sound turned down. He frowned at the sight of an eerily deserted town square in northern Italy and reached over for the control to turn the volume up.
Connor came through from the kitchen holding two mugs of tea. "Thanks for helping me with the tidying. I don't think the place looks too bad now, does it? Looks alright for the photos."
Jack took his mug and took a sip of the scalding liquid. "It'll do. I've arranged for the estate agent to come in tomorrow morning, OK?"
"I won't forget – don't fuss," his father replied, almost automatically.
"OK but remember I can't be here. Busy week."
"They're all busy now. I can't remember when you last took a day off."
"Hey, I was off all of Christmas! Anyway, I'm saving my leave up for the move."
"Yes, well, I think you work too hard. And so does Dr. Alexander. The poor girl looks exhausted." It was one of his father's little eccentricities that, although he now knew Nikki well, he still wouldn't use her first name. "You should tell her to slow down a bit."
He laughed. "I can't tell her what to do!"
Connor pulled a wry face. "She your boss now?"
"Well – sort of. Acting, anyway." Officially, Nikki was Jack's manager until a new professor was appointed (whenever that might be), although the reality was somewhat different. Even without his personal reasons for not wanting her to become his boss, Jack would have found it very strange. In January, to meet the University's documentary requirements, they'd had to go through a very uncomfortable employee appraisal process. Nikki would probably have filled in Jack's form by herself, or they might perhaps have lightened the atmosphere by completing it over a lunchtime drink at the pub, but she'd had a university representative present, watching her every move. They'd got through the ordeal with flushed cheeks and averted eyes, both fearing that if they so much as glanced at one another, they'd burst out laughing.
Apart from that, and the occasional joke about her being able to order him around, they worked as equal partners, each of them respecting the expertise of the other. Jack had always organized his own work schedule anyway – both Leo and Thomas had given him that freedom, and Nikki certainly wasn't going to change matters.
Connor nodded towards the TV. "Getting a bit serious, isn't it? Do you think it'll come here?"
"I…can't see any reason why it wouldn't," he replied, cautiously. He and Nikki had been monitoring the news of the new coronavirus variant for some time now, and he knew she was getting increasingly worried. As far back as early January, she'd ordered extra personal protective equipment as a precaution. That had not gone down well with the University's auditors. Personally, Jack found it bizarre that officialdom and the public in the UK still seemed to think they wouldn't be affected, even though the virus had spread as far as Italy from China.
Connor nodded. "Thought so. Damn government keeps saying the risk to the UK is low. Bunch of bloody liars, they are."
Jack picked up a coffee for Nikki at the usual café the following morning, knowing she was going to be in early. She took it from him with a tired smile.
"How's the day looking?"
"Actually, not too bad for once. I don't have a backlog – I just need to double-check something on that heart attack case."
"Not a heart attack?"
"Oh yes, definitely – only the coroner's got a supplementary question about the steroids he was taking. It won't take too long."
He looked at her in concern. Connor was right – she did look tired.
"Please tell me you didn't come in yesterday."
She shook her head. "No, I worked at home… I just wanted to go over the paperwork for that meeting." She laughed, flatly. "And then something wouldn't balance. You know what I'm like with spreadsheets. Sorting it out went on a bit late into the night."
He paused, logging on to his computer. He'd been doing some research of his own overnight. He wasn't a 'restaurants' kind of person – and in fact he wasn't entirely sure Nikki was either – but he'd finally found the right sort of place…
"Um, Nikki…? I was just wondering whether you'd like to – um… maybe… if you're free tonight -."
"Go for a drink?"
It wasn't quite what he had in mind, but his mouth was suddenly dry.
Her mind was clearly focused on whatever was on her screen. She didn't even look in his direction as she sighed irritably.
"I really wish I could, but they've just rescheduled that damn meeting for seven tonight. Think they want to talk to me about Thomas' lectures. Sorry - some other time?"
"Sure." He busied himself with his e-mails, trying to hide his frustration.
At that moment, her phone rang. She answered, listened for a moment, and then raised her eyebrows at Jack.
"Potential murder scene, in a prison. Ready for something a bit more interesting?"
The Scott Weston case worried Jack. It wasn't, of course, the 'Scott Weston case' at all, except that it was in Nikki's mind, almost from the start.
Thomas would have taken her off the case immediately. Jack didn't have the authority, and it appeared that Nikki didn't have the necessary objectivity to exclude herself. It was typical of Nikki – always pushing herself to the limit. She would never listen to him! Thomas or Leo would have given her a stern talking-to. Even Clarissa, in her forthright way, might have had some influence over her. Naturally, Jack ended up floundering in her wake, trying to be supportive while all the time wondering at what point he should refuse to go down a path that he knew was leading them in the wrong direction.
He was conflicted – a little angry with her for being so 'Nikki-like' in her obsession to get justice, but also sympathetic. Since she'd told him about her brush with death during Scott's shooting spree at the university, he'd read up all he could on the case, including the testimonies she and Harry had given at the trial. He'd shuddered as he realised how close they – she – had come to being killed and had sent fervent thanks to a god that he didn't believe in that she'd come through unscathed. He could hardly imagine the terror of having to crouch in a classroom as the sound of gunfire came closer or the grief of comforting a teenager bleeding to death in a corridor. He wasn't so sure that he wouldn't have reacted in a similar way to Nikki if he'd had the same experience…but that didn't make it right for her to go after Weston without enough evidence.
He felt sorry for DI Mason, who seemed like one of the nice guys, and certainly more pleasant and reasonable than many detectives they'd worked with, but it would never have occurred to him to betray Nikki's trust by alerting the man to her conflict of interest…which made it all the more painful when she accused him of doing just that.
He'd already had a sense of impending doom when they attended the arson at Pamela Weston's house. Mason seemed a little distant as he greeted them and, as Nikki crouched over the burnt body, Jack saw the usually genial man give her a cold look. He turned away, trying to focus on the scene while wondering whether they were about to be dumped off this case.
It was almost impossible to focus on his work back at the office while half-hearing the angry conversation between Nikki and the DI. Pamela's body had been transferred to the Lyell after all, but he guessed Mason had had no choice in the matter. Certainly, his threat to report them didn't bode well.
As Nikki strode from the meeting room, her face was as angry as he'd ever seen it.
"Well, that went well." As soon as he said it, he could have kicked himself. He'd been aiming for levity, Clarissa-style, to try to lighten the atmosphere, but with his accent thicker than normal, it sounded hard – accusing even.
She stopped dead and spun to face him. "How dare you talk about me behind my back!"
His mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Excuse me? You're the one who didn't disclose your connection with the suspect."
"You had no right to tell him! I told you those things in confidence, Jack. I won't make the same mistake again."
Her eyes were hard, as cold as ice, like a bullet to the gut.
"All right…well, thank you for that," he spat out bitterly as she turned away. "Oh, by the way, I didn't tell him a damn thing. Maybe he – I don't know – read the case file. If you're in a mess, it's not because of me."
She'd stopped and looked towards him again. He turned away briefly, then looked at her again. Expecting…well, he didn't really know what. An apology, perhaps? A softening in her expression? Instead, she just stared at him for a moment before walking away. She couldn't even say sorry for doubting him.
He found it hard to speak to her for a while afterwards, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hide his anger. He was aware of her hovering a little anxiously around the office, clearly realising that she'd been out of order but not seeming to know how to put it right. He did the only thing he could do in the circumstances – he focused in on the case with all of his attention, wanting to get it solved and out of the way as quickly as possible. This obsession with Scott wasn't healthy for Nikki. She needed to find some way of moving on, of coming to terms with what he'd done all those years ago.
The anger faded to be replaced by a sense of dull depression. In all the years they'd worked together, all the things they'd been through…he couldn't believe that she had thought for a single moment that he would betray a confidence. If Clarissa had been around, she would have jollied him out of his black mood, but instead he could feel the tension building in his body. He wanted to fight – desired that sweet release more than he had done in years. He couldn't fight – he knew he couldn't, he was still feeling the after-effects of the tabun, and the doctors didn't advise full combat sports. It didn't help.
He'd kept his head down, trying to avoid Nikki's anxious gaze, but in the end, they were partners at work if nowhere else, and there was still a case to be solved. There was some solace to be found in working together. He could hide his feelings while they discussed the case, but he still felt sore with her and didn't know how to get over it. He felt sulky almost, like some mutinous kid. But why wouldn't she reach out to him – make the first move? He could feel her gradually withdrawing from him, aware of his anger. He feared that they would become no more than colleagues – polite and coolly professional, saying good morning on a Monday morning, wishing each other a good weekend. They'd never been just colleagues – right from the moment they'd met in that hotel room, there'd been a spark of…something more.
While Dionne Selwyn was identifying her son, Jack noticed the younger brother Henry pacing the corridor. His heart went out to the young man, and he stepped out to check he was OK. "It's a lot to take in. Give yourself some time."
Henry continued pacing. "Mum always made Jay take me everywhere with him. She was always working, and…she told him I needed someone to look after me. She tried to big him up, give him some responsibility, but…in truth, I reckon she thought I might keep him out of trouble... It didn't work."
Instantly, he was back there... Da's quiet voice. "Now, keep an eye on Ryan, son. You know what he's like when he's had a few…" Yeah, been there, done that.
"Were you with him – that night?"
"I – I was twelve. He'd just turned eighteen… I – I'd never seen anyone cut like that before…"
"Were you arrested, with the other boys?"
Henry shook his head. "I ran away as fast as I could – like a coward."
Jack shook his head. "Nah… you were just a kid… You should give yourself a break. I would've done the same." He looked very intently at Henry. "You're not your brother. You're your own man."
Why was it so much easier to tell someone else that than it was to hear it? Why was it so hard to move on?
He'd spent years trying to get past what he'd done to Ryan. Eight years at the Lyell alone. And what did he have to show for it? Had he really not grown up in all that time? Would he always be letting his emotions get the better of him?
She was struggling too. He could see that, and yet he'd turned his back on her over some stupid little spat…
She wasn't answering her phone, but he knew where she'd be.
Sure enough, she was in the park, running off her stress. She paused by his bench, her face a little blank. He couldn't judge her mood, but she seemed prepared to listen.
"Hi…thought I might find you here. You weren't picking up," he added, half in accusation. She always picked up these days. He always picked up too, since those awful days after Mexico.
She watched him carefully, still jogging on the spot - clearly not wanting to sit down. This was the Nikki he loved though – bursting with energy, unable to keep still for a single moment. Some things never changed…
His mouth twitched in amusement. "You wanna go?"
She paused for another moment and then…there it was. The spark in her eye, the cheeky grin. Oh, Nikki… "Keep up, Hodgson."
And she was off.
"Oh, God…" He darted after her. He was still a little out of shape these days. With his longer legs, she should have been easy game, but every time he seemed to be gaining on her, she'd put on an extra spurt.
After twice around the lake, he gave up. "Too good for me."
She laughed but was pretty out of breath herself.
"So…" he continued, while trying to get his breath back. "I managed to lift the DNA profile from the material you found under Pamela's fingernails… Ran it against the Weston victims' group."
"And…?"
He shook his head. "Didn't find a match."
She relaxed, clearly relieved. "I'm glad. We've been through enough."
He eyed her carefully. "I can't even imagine what that experience must have done to you."
She looked away, across the lake. "One of those boys died in my arms… and what did I do?" She looked back at him, and he saw the pain in her eyes. "I went into work and wrote up the report."
"That's what got those people justice, so you did a good thing," he pointed out, gently.
She subsided onto a bench and looked up at him after a moment's pause. "Do you think I'm becoming desensitized to death? Otherwise, how could I do the job? How could I ever comfort Jay's mother, knowing I've held her son's heart in my hands?"
He felt a rush of compassion for her. Leo or Thomas would have understood her perfectly; no doubt they'd often had similar feelings themselves. In his role, it was possible to be affected too, but maybe not in quite the same way.
She'd told him once, during a slightly drunken evening, that one of her ex-boyfriends had described her as cold. He hadn't said anything then, but he'd privately thought the man must be a fool. Nikki Alexander was anything but cold. If she had been, she'd never have let Scott Weston get under her skin again.
"I think…" he sat down next to her, keeping some distance between them. "I think you're deeply affected by every single person you take care of. That's what makes you a brilliant pathologist."
She shook her head, sadly. "I still can't answer the question of why, though. Why was it their loved one and not someone else's."
"Well, nobody can…" He looked at the ground, feeling the old familiar grief once more. "Sure, if it comes to that, why am I here and not Thomas?"
She stirred slightly. "Thomas…" The whisper floated across the water, a single word. Desolate.
He looked at her intently. "I don't know why it was him that day and not me… Or you…" He felt a shudder go through him at the thought, as he always did. If it had been her, where would he be by now?
He went on. "I don't know why you survived the shootings at the university… I just know that I'll always – always – be grateful that you did."
Her head turned fully towards him…and he found himself swimming in the depths of those beautiful dark eyes. Her face was fully open to him once more – honest and tender and…loving. He felt an urge to shift towards her…suddenly wanted more than anything to cup her face in his hands and draw those lips towards his… His muscles tensed to anticipation…but he kept his distance, giving her the space to speak.
She sighed. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that before."
He felt the tension leave his body as he touched her arm briefly, smiling in reassurance. "That's alright."
He cut eye contact and looked away, a little afraid of communicating his desire to her. It was a fragile moment, and he wasn't sure she would welcome his feelings, even if she shared them.
He was aware that she was still looking at him. "Um, Jack… You said something about getting a…a drink…some time."
His head shot towards her again; he hadn't been expecting that...
"I – uh…" He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Actually, I'd been thinking of…of dinner. My treat…"
"Oh!" She smiled, looking down at her hands. Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks a little pink? "Um, yes, I'd like that."
He couldn't prevent the little smile creeping onto his lips. "We could go back to that pub you like. Or…wherever you want. There's a new place on -."
"Jack," she put a hand on his wrist, her fingers stroking very lightly over his pulse point, and he felt his blood sing. Did she know what she was doing to him? Her eyes were sparkling as she grinned at him, her cheeks definitely a little pink. "It could be a pizza or Michelin stars, but I have a strange feeling that I'll enjoy it anyway."
He could have sat on that bench forever, but she moved her hand, leaving a warm sensation behind as she got up. "But, in the meantime, we've still got a case to solve."
He stood behind the police cordon at the entrance to the prison. He already knew she was safe, but his heart was beating uncomfortably fast. It was lucky, in a way, that he hadn't known the full situation until it was over – Mason having rather too much on his mind to think about ringing Jack immediately.
Scott Bloody Weston. Again.
He saw them coming out. Nikki, diminutive among the green-suited paramedics. He knew she hadn't been hurt – Mason had told him not to worry – but his eyes searched frantically, looking for signs of injury, even as she walked alongside the stretcher carrying that man to the ambulance.
He surged forward as they came through the gate, his fists clenching and unclenching, ready to shout. Don't you ever bloody learn, Nikki! Why do you always have to do this to me?! It took all his effort to stand back, to give the paramedics room.
One of them was trying to put a blanket around her shoulders; she shrugged it off impatiently, and he heard her voice, calm and authoritative as she handed over Scott's care, describing his stab wound and the steps she had taken to keep him alive. Professional as ever, although he heard the fatigue in her voice.
Scott Bloody Weston… Whom no one would have mourned, except that delusional girlfriend of his.
Her eyes went in his direction, and she gave him a grimace of mute apology even as she spoke. It was the anxiety in her expression that stayed his tongue. On this occasion, anyway.
As the ambulance drove away and she finished talking to Mason, she walked over to him, weary but still determined to stay calm.
"Don't say it."
"I won't."
"It really wasn't my fault this time," she added, quietly. "I know I walk into situations sometimes; I know I worry you…but we couldn't have predicted this."
"No, we couldn't," he agreed.
Unexpectedly, her forehead dropped forward to rest against his chest. He felt a tremor, a sob, run through her body as she leaned into him, the calm demeanour deserting her at last.
"Nikki…" Her name was just a shuddering breath, an exhale of relief, a prayer. The only prayer that would ever matter...
He ran his hands gently up her arms to grip her shoulders. It would be all too easy to wrap his arms tightly around her, to lift her up and carry her away to the warm safety of his car. To drive her home, to hold her, and comfort her, and kiss away all the terror... To tell her that he would never let her go again, that he would spend every minute of his life from now on keeping her safe.
From the tremble in her body, he knew she wouldn't resist him if he did. She leaned all her weight on him, as if all her strength had deserted her, as if only he could hold her up.
He dipped his head, exhaling the scent of her hair and letting his eyes close for a moment. Lifting his head again, he saw Mason approaching them. He saw the man's steps falter, saw the understanding in his face as he turned slightly away from them.
He sighed, tightening his grip on Nikki's shoulders. "Hate to say it, but I think Mason wants a word."
She gave a shuddering breath and put her hands on his chest, pushing back slightly to look up at him. "I couldn't do it, Jack. I couldn't let him die."
He shook his head and smiled at her, gently wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I know you couldn't. It wouldn't be in your nature to do that. And you think that you're desensitized?"
She laughed, shakily, and stood back, pushing her hair away from her face a little self-consciously. "I bet I look a mess."
"What, you? Never…" He stepped away, giving her the space she needed to pull herself together.
"I've got a damn lecture to give this afternoon too. Hope he doesn't keep us long – I really need to get home and change."
"Think you're up to it?" he asked, eyeing her cautiously.
She nodded. "I'll have to be… It's OK – once I've had a shower and a strong coffee, I'll feel better. It's the last one anyway." She smiled at his surprise. "Sorry – that's something I meant to tell you before. They've got someone to take over temporarily. Some visiting professor – apparently, he's happy to take over the next few lectures until they appoint a permanent replacement."
"How do you feel about that?" She'd been buzzing when she'd come back from the first lecture. He'd got the impression that she'd enjoyed it much more than she thought she would.
She shrugged, smiling ruefully. "It's OK. It's not as if I don't have enough to do… Only - as it's probably the last lecture I'll ever do - will you come?"
He squeezed her elbow gently as they turned to face Mason. "I'd be delighted to. Drive you there, if you like?"
She leaned in against him slightly, her shoulder brushing his arm, her fingers ghosting the inside of his wrist again. "And maybe afterwards… dinner?"
He had to bite back his smile as the DI approached.
"As we deal with the science of the human body, we're searching for evidence. For facts…to understand the last minutes of someone's life. The cause of their death. But we also deal with the living…"
He sat right at the back of the darkened lecture theatre, not wanting to distract her.
"The last time I was here, you – Ollie – asked me a question," she gave a quick smile to a student sitting in the second row. "And I answered that a good pathologist shouldn't be affected by death…and I thought about that a lot because…it's not actually true."
There was a slight movement at the periphery of Jack's vision. He glanced to his left and saw a figure moving quietly into a seat at the far side of the lecture theatre. He refocused on Nikki; she didn't seem to have noticed the newcomer as she continued her talk.
"It is hard sometimes when you see as much horror as we do, and sometimes we need help to process the things we see..."
Her eyes sought Jack, focusing on him for a moment before continuing. "And that's OK…so, I'm sorry. I made a mistake." She smiled. "But to err is human…"
"To forgive, divine." He murmured it, hardly aware of doing so until he saw her smile warmly at him. There was a stir at the sound of his voice – some students stared curiously in his direction. The young man she'd addressed – Ollie, was it? – turned to look up, and Jack saw a flash of hostility in his eyes.
When the lecture ended, he walked slowly down the steps, watching her interact with a couple of students who had gone to thank her and wish her well. It really was a shame that she wasn't carrying on; she seemed very natural in this environment.
As he approached the bottom of the steps, Ollie emerged from the row next to him. Jack stood back politely, sensing that he wanted to speak to Nikki, but the man – really just a boy – gave him another resentful look and walked up away up the steps.
Jack shrugged and continued down. There was still a small knot of people at the front of the lecture theatre, but Nikki walked over to him, grinning. "Enjoy it?"
"Took me right back to those uni days…" He touched her shoulder gently. "You were terrific."
She flushed, self-consciously pushing her hair back as she gazed up at him. "Thanks…"
He loved that look – loved that his open admiration had put that blush on her cheeks. Dinner couldn't come soon enough…
"She certainly was. Couldn't have put it better myself."
The new voice broke in on them. Jack turned his head towards the source. A tallish, dark-haired man strode towards them, smiling. He knew that face…
He felt Nikki's quick intake of breath - turned back towards her instantly to see the sudden pallor on her face. Without time to even think about it, he took a step forward, his hands going to her waist protectively as she slumped over…
"Harry?"