Monday 23rd March 2020.
They had wrapped up the paperwork on a minor case earlier in the day. There was no real need to still be at work…and yet, here they were. Not just Nikki and Jack, but the laboratory assistants, their administrator, some of the security staff… They clustered together around the TV screen in Thomas' old office, now meeting room, as if they didn't want to receive the inevitable news on their own. As if there were safety in numbers.
Jack perched on the edge of the meeting table; arms folded. Nikki hovered by the door; as he glanced towards her, he saw Harry's dark head just behind her. The pathologist had very quickly gained free access to the Lyell, even though he wasn't working there.
"From this evening, I must give the British people a very simple instruction – you must stay at home…"
There was a general sigh from the small group, as the Prime Minister went on outlining the restrictions. He wasn't saying anything that they hadn't predicted – it was almost a relief to have it acknowledged at last.
In one sense, the restrictions wouldn't apply to them – pathology laboratories must, of necessity, continue to run - but of course there would be complications ahead. Parents would have children at home to consider; there'd be the difficulty of food shopping with restricted access and, potentially, shortages. There'd be the need to keep the vulnerable safe – some staff had family members with immunocompromised systems. Jack could almost feel the eyes on him – sympathetic, curious. Everyone there knew what he'd been through only a year ago and what it might mean for his chances if he caught the virus.
He picked up the remote and turned off the TV as the announcement came to an end. The team stirred and began to murmur to one another. Some left immediately, already reaching for their mobiles to contact loved ones; others hovered to have a word with Nikki. Jack saw her push her hair back as she attempted to reassure them – an agitated motion that had become a habit in recent weeks. She'd been to the emergency meetings, had made the necessary preparations for the laboratory. There were stacked boxes in the offices and locker rooms containing the cumbersome PPE that they now needed to don for every autopsy – COVID-related or not. There were checklists and warning notices on every wall, and plastic sheeting covered the entrances to the autopsy areas. The latter reminded him of being in that hospital isolation bed last year, shielded from everyone he loved, and he felt a surge of empathy for those currently hospitalized with this virus.
Jack turned away and stared through the window at the dark sky beyond. He felt a movement as Harry slipped around the table and perched next to him.
"Oh, well…" was all the pathologist said, rather pointlessly.
Jack's mouth twitched. "Get many logging in today?"
"Quite a few, surprisingly." Harry rubbed his jaw and grimaced. "Probably for the novelty of getting to see the Professor's bedroom wall in the background."
"You still in the guest room?"
"For now. It's kind-of tricky finding somewhere else to go, to be honest. I mean, you'd think there'd be an opportunity – foreign travel halted, short-term apartments going empty…" He stood up, restlessly. "Thing is, I need to move somewhere bigger. I'll go crazy trying to run lectures from that pokey little room…"
"You can't use a teaching room? If no one's there…"
Harry shrugged. "I probably will, eventually. No one seems to know what the rules are. For now, no students or lecturers are allowed on campus."
Nikki had finished talking to the last of the staff and walked back into the office. Arms folded, she walked over to the window and looked down into the street. "It's already getting quiet out there." She turned to Jack, giving him a very direct look. "Did you catch Professor Lewin earlier?"
Jack nodded, a little reluctantly.
She read the answer in his eyes. "Well, you must do as he says. You mustn't catch this – not under any circumstances. I suppose Lewin would want to monitor you at their own facility if you did…but, anyway, let's at least try to avoid it."
He held her gaze. "You need me here."
Her eyes were equally uncompromising. "I need you alive."
"But you have no one else here for the forensics -."
"We'll get a temp." She stepped towards him, her hand out as if in consolation. "Come on, Jack. You know what you have to do."
He did know. He swallowed, looking down at his hands. He'd already been wearing a facemask in public for weeks, stoically enduring the expressions of astonishment, amusement and even contempt from the public and SOCOs alike. At home, he'd strip just inside the door and bundle his clothes into bin liners, dip his boots in disinfectant. Everything he wore was laundered twice in the washing machine. He'd always been a neat and orderly person at home, but he now donned gloves and wiped furniture and objects on a daily basis. He felt like someone with OCD.
Her hand hovered for an instant before squeezing his arm. He noticed the hesitation and hated it. Only five minutes into a national lockdown, and they were already weighing the odds – do I already have it? Could I pass it on? Do I dare touch you?
"We don't know how long this'll last. It might only be for a few weeks," she added, obviously trying to be comforting.
Harry snorted. "Don't be naïve."
Her head shot in his direction. "Well, we don't. You don't know any more than any of us – don't pretend you do."
"I'm no epidemiologist, but I know enough history to realize that this is almost certainly just the first wave – and I would hope you do too." Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm still licensed, by the way. You might need help here. I promise not to try to take over." There was a sting in his last comment, but it seemed to pass her by.
"Thanks…" She moved away from Jack, frowning in concentration. "Oh – Jack, did you hear from Clarissa and Max?"
He nodded. "They've made it back. At home, safe and sound." And, judging by her voice when they spoke earlier, she was more resigned to being stuck at home than he ever would be. In many ways, Clarissa had far more patience than Jack.
She heaved a sigh of relief. "That's something, anyway."
The trio were silent for a few minutes. Jack felt reluctant to move. He knew that when he left the Lyell today, it might be weeks or even months before he walked back in. He looked over his shoulder towards his desk; thought of the years he'd spent sitting there. Memories assailed him - of sharing quips with Clarissa at the opposite desk, of seeing Thomas and Nikki laughing together, of meeting Leo for the first time and stammering like a fanboy…
He sensed that Nikki felt equally reluctant. She had sunk into one of the meeting chairs and was leaning back, her hands on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. "Feels like the calm before the storm, doesn't it?"
He couldn't say that he felt much pity for her at that moment. "At least you'll be able to keep busy. I'll be stuck at home with – what was it? – one hour a day for exercise."
"Look on the bright side," Harry pointed out cheerfully. "You get to spend hours watching crappy TV and learning how to bake."
He glared at the pathologist. "Very funny."
"Well, at least you're not going to be stuck in a tiny guest room, logging into your laptop to deliver online lectures to bored students…" Harry had flung himself into the seat next to Nikki's and now swiveled towards her, pulling an expression that Jack could only describe as 'puppy dog'. "I need more space, Nikki…"
She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, but there was just a hint of a smile on her lips. "Oh, for crying out loud! Alright, you can move in. But I do not want my house turned upside down, OK?"
"Scout's honour." Harry put a hand over his chest. "I promise to be the perfect guest. I won't even moan about your cooking. In fact, I'll take over the cooking, if you like…"
She slapped his arm. "I'm not that bad! And I'm not appearing in the background of one of your lectures either. You can work in the study. Do not take the students on a tour of my house."
"Actually, that could cause some excitement." Harry grinned and raised an eyebrow. "You know you've made quite the impression on at least one of them… I'm not sure how he'll react when he realizes I'm staying with you."
She laughed, rubbing her face. It was a kind of carefree, slightly hysterical giggle that Jack hadn't heard often – not in recent years, anyway. She suddenly looked years younger. "Oh, God, Ollie. You're right. He's a bit…keen."
"The last thing he needs is to get a glimpse of your knickers hanging up, so I hope you're less of a slob these days."
"Me - a slob? Coming from you…?"
Jack slipped quietly from the office, unnoticed by either, as Harry and Nikki continued bickering.
The next few months were the most surreal of Jack's life.
At first, there were things to organize. He didn't want his father to go out more than necessary – in truth, he was more afraid of Connor getting Covid than himself. First, he stocked up on the essentials, carrying shopping bags full of tins, pasta, and tea bags up to his father's floor and leaving them outside the door. Next, he managed to secure a valuable booking slot for weekly supermarket deliveries of fresh food. For himself, he made do with a large monthly shop supplemented by occasional forays to the nearest corner shop. He was a reasonably good cook, from the necessity of looking after himself for nearly twenty years. He'd always eaten healthily, apart from the occasional pizza, and he didn't find it difficult to cope with the shortages of certain foods.
He was concerned that his father might not be eating well. Connor tended to eat properly only when he had guests, otherwise it was "too much bother". Jack arranged, at some expense, for his father to receive a home-delivered hot meal once a day; beyond that, there was little he could do. He couldn't visit, of course, Connor being in the high-risk category. He rang each day, but his father often had little to say over the phone. Connor's main fear, frequently reiterated, was for Ryan's safety if the disease spread through the prison system – to that, Jack had no useful response.
The person he rang or texted most frequently was, inevitably, Nikki. She rang most evenings, just to check in, and sent random quick texts throughout the day. The Lyell was predictably busy; it received its fair share of COVID fatalities and Nikki's autopsies grew depressingly repetitive. In the meantime, crime rates seemed to drop, presumably because of the lockdown, although there was a rise in domestic violence. Nikki had brought in Thomas' old friend Helen Ferguson to replace Jack, and he found that he didn't mind that too much. Harry had scheduled his teaching commitments around shifts in the Lyell -Nikki was clearly grateful for his assistance. Knowing that she was overworked didn't do much to reconcile Jack to his enforced isolation.
His days dragged by. Not being able to visit the gym was a severe blow - Jack was used to popping in most days, either before or after work, and his home equipment didn't make up for the loss. He made the most of his allotted exercise time, running in the early morning, but after that, he fretted to be outside, especially as the warm spring days morphed into early summer. He was still in his flat with no prospect of a moving date – the sale had been stalled for the moment by problems higher up in the chain – so he didn't even have a garden to sit in.
But the very worst of it was the lack of human connection. He could appreciate the difficulties that people might be enduring with home-schooled children or over-crowded houses with too many people needing access to laptops and so on…but at least they were together. Jack would never have considered himself a massively tactile person – or at least not until he met Nikki – but he had severely underestimated the psychological impact of having no human contact at all. On walks and at the shops, people shied away from one another, their eyes meeting briefly, nervously, over their masks. Any one person – friend or stranger – could be the one that transmitted a disease that might be mild and asymptomatic…but might also land you in intensive care on a ventilator. It was that not knowing that kept people apart, that stopped Jack from visiting his father or Clarissa.
But, God, how he missed touch… Not just Nikki's, although chiefly hers. Even just a momentary warm brush of arms, a hand on his shoulder, the softness of her hair swishing against his cheek as they studied some evidence together. He couldn't be there to hug her if things got too much…and it killed him. And he couldn't even run off his worries, or not sufficiently within the boundaries set by the government.
It occurred to him after a couple of weeks that the 'one hour' limit could hardly be policed all that effectively, so he started breaking up the afternoon or evening with a second run or a walk in the local park.
After a while, Nikki began to join him on his walks; in fact, he would vary the time as necessary to suit her schedule. They would stroll the familiar paths in the early summer evenings, side by side, the required distance between them carefully maintained. In some ways, not being able to touch her didn't help matters, but still, seeing her in the flesh and being able to talk was better than nothing.
They often walked in complete silence, easy in one another's company. Nikki evidently wanted to avoid discussing work too often, for Jack's sake. In any case, theirs had always been a relatively quiet relationship – in that sense, it was very different to her relationship with Harry.
In the few weeks that he'd seen them in company before the lockdown, Jack had received the distinct impression that the two did nothing but talk. To sit with Nikki and Harry was to hear an almost constant barrage of good-humoured jibes passing between them, punctured by the occasional more serious disagreement that was always abandoned after a few minutes with a laugh and a friendly shove. It was as if the eight years had never happened; after the tension of that first encounter, the pair seemed to have slipped back into their old friendship… Friendship with just a hint of something more.
Nikki had changed during those weeks too, and not just due to the stress of the pandemic preparations. No doubt she was tired and worried, as they all were, but she seemed to be coping surprisingly well. There was a freshness to her movement – she seemed younger, livelier, freer than she had for years. Jack had already learnt that Harry energized her in some way. He'd noticed that in the few weeks before the lockdown started - whenever the pathologist had made his way over to the Lyell (which was far too frequently), Jack had seen the flush in her cheeks, the sparkling eyes, the mouth twitching between amusement and irritation. It wasn't a particularly calming relationship, he could see that much, and he couldn't help speculating on her home life now that Harry had taken over one of her spare rooms. Nikki liked peace and order when she was off duty. Somehow, he doubted that Harry gave her either.
When Jack and Nikki did talk, the conversation inevitably turned to Harry sooner or later.
"He's honestly a nightmare," she complained, but in an indulgent tone that suggested she didn't really mind. "Leaves his books and notes strewn all over the place, even though he's got free use of my office, and both of the spare bedrooms."
"Both?"
"He sleeps in one and uses the other as his classroom. Says the light isn't right in the study, or something. But he uses that for his lecture preparation."
"Sounds as if he's taken over your house."
She shrugged, a secret smile on her lips that made him want to grit his teeth. "Oh, I don't mind really. It's not as if I'm there much these days – honestly, some days, I might as well be sleeping at the Lyell… He says the house isn't big enough! If you ask me, he's got just a little too American in his tastes. His own place is massive – I've seen the photos. Matt's embassy house has nothing on it."
"How is Matt?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Oh, he's OK." She spoke of her boyfriend with the same casual, uninterested tone that he'd noticed around Christmas. "Pretty busy, of course. Seems to think that it might be useful if Trump screws up the response to the pandemic. All politics, of course. Never mind the impact on the public."
On any other occasion, he might have rejoiced at the surprising level of bitterness in her tone. However, whatever else Matt might be, his existence was at least a useful barrier to Nikki getting too close to her house guest. He didn't think Nikki would actually cheat on an established partner. Over the past few years, he'd occasionally fantasized that the couple would split up and that Nikki would turn to him for comfort. Right now, he feared that very thing happening.
"But, anyway, Harry's become a major foodie since he moved over there. I mean, he always was pretty good, much better than me, but now…" She smiled. "Honestly, even if the restaurants were open, I don't think I'd bother. Only trouble is, it's not good for the waistline. He does this amazing thing with lamb – a sort-of Spanish casserole… It's a shame you can't come over and try it."
"Isn't it." He knew he sounded surly, but he couldn't help it. Naturally Professor Cunningham was the perfect cook. It wouldn't be enough for him to be attractive, highly intelligent, and charismatic, would it?
She was silent for a moment, and he knew she'd picked up on his mood. "Come on, Jack, don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"You know perfectly well. None of this is Harry's fault. I couldn't turn my back on an old friend."
"I never said it was his fault."
"What then? Why don't you like him? He likes you. Says you're a good influence on me."
He snorted his disbelief. "He didn't. No way would he think that."
"Honestly, he did. He knows how… how hard it's been." Her voice was quiet, her head turned slightly away from him. "Especially Leo. He said he was glad you'd been there to help me through it."
"Yeah…good old reliable Jack," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
She quickened her pace, as if she wanted to end the walk sooner. "It's just impossible to talk when you're in this mood."
"Well, I'm very sorry if I'm not in the best of moods! It may have escaped your notice, but I'm stuck at home with nothing to do, I'm bored stupid, I'm worried about my father and my brother, to say nothing of Clarissa, and I can't even -."
He stopped, but she picked him up on it. "Can't what? Fight? Because that's what you do whenever you can't cope with something – isn't it? You've just got to hit someone, haven't you?" Her voice was disdainful.
"That wasn't what I was going to say!" He felt unaccustomed tears sting his eyes and spun on his heel abruptly, striding back the way they had come. A woman who had been walking behind them wheeled off the path to keep a two-metre distance, giving him a dirty look as she did so.
He half-expected Nikki to storm off, but she ran after him.
"Jack, please – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed…it's just that you do tend to use fighting as an emotional outlet, and I thought…"
He bunched his hands in his pockets and stopped, looking down at his feet as he waited for the threatened tears to subside. "If you really want to know, I was just about to say that I can't even give you a hug. And I know that probably sounds ridiculous, but I haven't touched anyone for weeks, not even Dad. And you and me – whenever things are tough, we've always had that physical connection. It matters. When you live alone, it really does."
She sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand move towards him and hover for a moment before withdrawing. "Oh, Jack… I miss you – we all do. Helen is lovely, but she's not you. And, yes, I miss your hugs too. And your shoulder rubs at the end of a busy shift."
"But at least you've got human interaction at work – and you've got Harry at home. Although, the reality is that he shouldn't be here at all, and you know it. Whatever might be going on in their relationship, he does have a wife. She's heavily pregnant and alone during a pandemic – does he even care?"
She was silent for a moment as they stood side by side, staring out at the artificial lake. A couple came towards them on the path and stepped carefully past them, muttering in annoyance. Nikki shifted restlessly.
"I wish we could sit on a bench for a bit. Bloody regulations… Come on, let's keep walking before we get arrested by the pandemic police for loitering."
By mutual consent, they stepped off the path and walked slowly over the grass towards the trees. There was a small glade in this part of the park that provided greater privacy.
"He rings her sometimes. Not very often – or at least not when I'm around. He didn't at first. I think she kept ringing, but he'd just decline the calls. It…" She coughed, self-consciously. "Actually, it slightly reminded me of you – after Mexico."
"It's hardly in the same league," he pointed out, a little riled by the comparison. "She's his wife."
"Yeah, but…the point is, I think he's suffering too – like you were, at the time. And, like you, he doesn't get a nice little diagnostic label for it. I mean, how do we treat guys like Harry? He's attractive, clever, ridiculously successful, and rich. On the surface, he seems to have everything. You should see the way those pathology students fawn over him when they come to the lab. Every girl wants to be with him, every guy wants to be him. Ironically, I was worried that Ollie had a crush on me, but you should see him now, hanging off Harry's every word. The thing is, we automatically assume that someone like Harry can't be vulnerable – don't we?"
"By 'we', you mean me – right?"
She shrugged. "I mean anyone who doesn't really know him."
"And you do?"
She gave him a wry look. "I worked with him for eight years – as long as I've worked with you. And you know Harry and I have a…history, of sorts. Even without our personal relationship, when you work with someone that closely, you see them in all moods. You've probably only seen the 'positive' side of Harry – the cheerfulness, the jokes, the irreverence, the – the fun. You haven't seen him spiraling into depression over a difficult case – I have, and on far too many occasions. I've seen the risk. All you see is a man who had it all and – maybe – threw it all away. You see a flirt, someone who flits from woman to woman, who leaves broken hearts in his wake. I expect you sympathize with Jennifer – you probably think that it's Harry's fault that she slept with someone else and then lied to him about the baby; that maybe Harry slept around or was impossible to live with and drove her away."
He was stung. "I don't…" But he couldn't deny that he had, perhaps, made certain assumptions.
"I don't know what went wrong for them…but I do know that he's in a difficult place emotionally." Her voice was calm and quiet. "And if, right now, it helps him to cook lamb casseroles and mess up my kitchen in the process, and leave his books all over the place, and tease me about wanting to be the boss at the Lyell, and just generally goof around like we used to before life got complicated – well. That's fine with me. I don't ask for it to be fine with you…but I do want you to understand."
He eyed her, anxiously. He knew Nikki when she was on a mission. She tended to get a little too personally involved, particularly where children and vulnerable women were concerned, but also there was that DI who'd wanted his mother's murder conviction overturned only to discover that he had been his own father's murderer. He loved that she cared passionately for those who were suffering - it was so essentially Nikki to see beyond the public persona to the person within - but that didn't stop him worrying. Nikki-on-a-mission was usually bursting with nervous energy, but strangely, her face was serene, almost placid, in the early evening sunshine.
Jack swallowed. "I do understand – at least, I think I do. I'm sorry for him, but I just don't want you to – to get -." He was struggling to find the right words.
She stopped, so abruptly that he nearly bumped into her, and turned to stare up at him. "To get too deeply involved? It worries you – that I might…get a bit too close to him?"
Her dark eyes were a bit too knowing, far too penetrating… He withdrew his own gaze, turned away from her. They were standing by a large oak tree. He closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his palm into the bark, reveling in the sensory input. His heart was beating too fast; he felt suddenly dizzy, disorientated…
"I'm not there. If it all gets too much – I don't mean just Harry, but the work too - I can't be there. For you." His hand clenched into a fist and he felt the welcome sting of the rough bark against his fight-scarred knuckles.
There was a gentle susurration of breath right behind him, and then, quite suddenly, she was holding him tightly against her. Her arms came around him, as the length of her body pressed against his back, her face buried in the space between his shoulder blades.
After an initial startle, he tried to twist to face her, needing to return the embrace.
"No." She stopped him from turning, firmly using her weight and the muscular strength that had always surprised him to press him into the tree trunk.
He wasn't used to being held in this way; it wasn't natural to him. He was the one who always held her. For a moment, he wanted to exert his superior strength, but then he suddenly realized what she was trying to do. One warm hand covered his fist on the tree, while the other encircled his waist, stroking his stomach comfortingly. Her chest was flat against him; he could feel her breasts, the full curves of her body, but for once, the sensation didn't excite him. Instead, he found himself focusing on her slow warm breaths on his back, gently in and out. He closed his eyes again, his spare hand moving to cover hers on his stomach, as he schooled himself to match her breathing. He could feel his heartbeat slowing in response, the tension gradually seeping from his muscles.
His forehead dropped against the tree trunk. He was overwhelmed by the sweet scent of the wood, the gentle rustle of summer breeze through the leaves, the firmness of the soil beneath his feet, the warm hand stroking his stomach. He felt…protected, surrounded. Safe. Loved.
She moved her head very slightly. "You are there, Jack. You're always there. Doesn't matter whether you're at home or work." Her hand slid upwards to cover his heart. "For me…you're always right here…"
Her other hand, still covering his clenched fist, tangled with his fingers to straighten them out. Her thumb slid over his pulse point, checking his heart rate, and then she wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing it tight.
He let out a long, shuddering breath. "Thank you."
Her arms loosened their tight hold. Before stepping away, she stood on tiptoe and placed a small kiss on the nape of his neck. "You're always welcome."
When he turned to face her, she was the regulatory two metres away once more. Her face was slightly averted, her cheeks a little pink. They walked on in silence, as if nothing had happened, but this time, he felt certain that the secret little smile on her lips had nothing whatsoever to do with Harry Cunningham.
One Saturday morning in late June, Jack decided to vary his usual running route. He cut down by the canal, breathing easily, steadily as he pounded the towpath. He felt fresh, energized, and in excellent health.
Since the walk with Nikki, he'd decided that self-pity was a serious waste of his time and that he needed to make the best of a bad situation. With that in mind, he began to revisit his postgraduate forensic science degree, going through old lecture notes and updating his knowledge on the newer techniques. He started to meet Clarissa and Max regularly via Zoom, and they took him through the new technology that Max's company was developing; he compiled reports for future reference and shared a few useful insights with Helen and Nikki.
He bought some additional gym equipment and reorganized his flat to accommodate it. He created a new fitness programme that, in addition to his usual cardiovascular and toning routines, incorporated some mindfulness techniques. He couldn't forget the way he had felt when Nikki had pressed him bodily into that tree. Yes, it had partly been Nikki holding him, making him feel loved, but there had also been something almost spiritual in his response to the natural world. Now, when he walked in the summer evenings, he slowed right down and really looked at the passing trees, the grass, the flowers. For the first time, he was seeing more than just a series of forensic clues.
All of which meant that Jack was feeling at peace with himself and the world in general as he jogged along the canal. Halfway along, he saw a figure in the distance, crouched by the side of the water. His feet faltered a little, as he wondered if this was a potential suicide scenario.
As he got nearer, he recognized the figure and speeded up. It was Harry, dressed casually in jeans and a leather jacket. He was sitting on his haunches, gazing down at the limpid water, and the empty expression on his face gave Jack a jolt.
He glanced up at Jack, showing no particular surprise. "How're you doing?"
"OK, thanks." Jack stretched his muscles then crouched down on the path next to Harry. "You?"
For answer, Harry waved his mobile in Jack's direction. He took it and looked at the photograph on the screen.
"A boy. Born last night. Mother and baby doing well."
Jack handed the phone back, unsure what to say. Congratulations would have seemed too cruel.
Harry stared at the picture. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"
Jack smiled. "I think most babies tend to be. Survival instinct, isn't it?"
"Yes, but…" Harry sat down, crossing his legs, still peering intently at his phone. "He looks a lot like Jen. Not much of his father in him."
"Do you…" Jack hesitated. "Um – do you know the father?"
Harry nodded, his expression bleak. "Her PhD student."
"Ah. Bit awkward, that."
"She had to resign, of course. And it's part of the reason why I…well, why I'm here." He swallowed, painfully. "I know I have a certain reputation, but…whatever I may have done in the past, I have never stepped over that line. Not with a student. There's a duty of care, it doesn't matter how old they are. And he – we were friends, at least I thought we were. He stayed with us when he first arrived before he found accommodation." He shook his head, putting his phone in his pocket. "I think I'd have minded less if she'd hooked up with a complete stranger."
They sat in silence for a while. Jack didn't want to leave Harry alone – he sensed that he might be slipping into one of the dark moods that Nikki had alluded to.
"What will you do now?" he asked, eventually.
Harry stirred; he'd been staring morosely at the water for a while. "Do? I…just don't know. That's the truth."
"Is she OK? Being supported, I mean?"
"She's staying with her parents. The father doesn't want to know. I think he's probably still in shock. He's only twenty-three; he didn't sign up for this when he went to university."
"Old enough to be responsible, though."
"I don't think she wants him to be involved. She doesn't love him. I suppose that's something." Harry rubbed his stubbled cheek; he looked pale and weary.
Jack risked putting a hand on his shoulder. "You want to go get a coffee?"
The pathologist gave him a wry smile. "Giving up on the self-isolation?"
He smiled back as he rose to his feet. "To some degree. Come on." He lent his hand to pull Harry up. "Do you know of anywhere that's open?"
"We could go back to Nikki's and sit in the garden. It's a nice morning – and it's probably no riskier than getting a takeaway cup." Harry paused. "I think she'd like to see you – she was muttering something this morning about ringing you."
"Sure."
They walked in silence for a while.
"You know what I was thinking back there, by the canal?" Harry said, eventually. "I was thinking that, but for one minor incident, I'd be there right now. If I hadn't gone to that scan, if I hadn't figured it out. I'd be holding my new son. You know how many men out there have unknowingly brought up another man's child – how many of them probably never find out? It's only biology, after all."
"I think -," Jack ventured, cautiously. "I think it's possible to be a real father without the genetic link. Look at Leo and Nikki."
"If I hadn't known…" Harry's voice was quiet. "I'd be exhausted and overjoyed. I'd be making crazy plans, like all new fathers do. I'd be… I'd be a father. At last."
His voice choked on the last words. Silently, Jack put out his hand and squeezed Harry's arm.