"So…you and Nikki. You never…?"

Jack winced. Simone was an absolute sweetheart, but she could be less than subtle.

"What?"

"Two gorgeous people like you..." She shook her head in disbelief as she went into the kitchen to replace the apparently unsatisfactory cup of tea that he'd made for her.

"No, she's with Matt, has been for ages, all very happy," he muttered automatically. How many years had he been trotting out that line? How true was it these days? Damn Nikki! Why couldn't she be open for once? Why did she always have to keep him guessing?

He thought they'd finally got somewhere during the karaoke evening. Simone had seemed unsure, but Jack knew Nikki was singing to him - and not to Harry… And yet, the rest of the evening she'd kept her distance. They'd gone onto another bar and made a night of it – the four of them. She'd seemed perfectly relaxed, standing them a couple of rounds, teasing Simone for not being brave enough to sing. Not once had she given Jack any kind of indication that there had been a hidden message in that song.

Harry had seemed subdued for a while, but he had soon cheered up as Nikki teased him in her usual manner. At the end of the evening, they'd shared a taxi, which had dropped off first Simone and then Jack. He'd watched as Nikki and Harry drove away…and then walked into his dark house, his mood soured.

Since that night, Harry's behaviour had transformed. Before, he'd been merely friendly with Nikki, apart from the occasional furtive glance that suggested more than platonic affection. Now he was far more flirtatious, seeming to take any opportunity to touch her – slinging his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into little hugs, tweaking her nose, resting his chin on her shoulder. Nikki seemed to laugh off his gestures…but she didn't avoid them either. Jack felt sure he was getting an insight into the way they used to be, back before Harry left for New York; he was reminded of the blatant affection he'd first noticed in those photos in Harry's old desk. Nikki looked younger, livelier. And Harry was always visiting the Lyell. God knew how he managed to get through his busy schedule - practically every time Jack turned around, there he was.

Simone was one of those people who seemed to be an instant friend to everyone she met – much to Jack's horror, it didn't take her long at all to make good on her threat to set him up with a date. Liz looked nice enough, but he cringed inwardly as Simone presented her phone to Nikki for approval.

Nikki smiled blandly, her eyes veiled, as she looked at the screen. "Perfect. What does she do?"

Jack closed his eyes briefly and felt his innards die even more as the two teased him before Simone disappeared to organize the 'date'. He felt Nikki's eyes burning into him as he looked away and tried to focus on his work.

"When was the last proper relationship that you had?"

Oh God, Nikki, please don't go there… "Define relationship." His voice came out cold, and much steadier than he had expected.

"Someone you see more than once, and you know their second name? Why not? Take a risk."

Why did she have to sound so calm? Why couldn't she look even a little disconcerted at the thought of him seeing someone else? All those looks, all those awkward pauses, that song… did they really mean nothing to her? Had he been misinterpreting her all along? Maybe she really did only love him as some kind of needy little brother… the very idea stuck in his throat and made his voice croaky as he replied, desperately seeking some kind of excuse.

"Yeah, it's just Dad – he's, umm… He's all over the place at the moment."

Her head shot up at that, and he could see the concern. She'd always been fond of Conor. "He's got worse?"

"There's no getting better. And after what happened with Ryan…" His voice cracked as he got up, walking away quickly before his emotions got the better of him.

"No, Harry, I'm not going to your little party!"

Jack paused on his way to the office, hearing Nikki's exasperated voice. Judging by the throaty laugh that followed it, she wasn't really annoyed.

"C'mon, Niks. Rescue me!"

The voices were coming from the changing rooms. The door was open, so it wasn't difficult for him to see that they were both in scrubs, Nikki brushing out her gleaming hair as Harry washed his hands.

"Why should I? They're your students – they invited you to judge their competition, not me! Anyway, what are they doing here?"

"You don't mind, do you? It's that donated body with the fentanyl patch. They wanted to see how the full PM played out, and I thought it could be a useful teaching opportunity."

"Oh yes." Nikki's voice turned professional as she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. "Bit of an unusual finding. That's why the coroner wanted me to scrub in with you."

"Sure…" He wiped his hands, then spun around and grabbed her around the waist with lightning speed, pulling her against him.

"Harry! You'll have to wash again…"

"Don't care." His voice was low, intimate. "If you don't agree to come with me, I'll…"

"You'll what?" Was it his imagination, or did Nikki's voice sound shaky? She was staring into Harry's eyes, their faces very close together. For an awful moment, he thought Harry would kiss her.

"I'll…" Harry seemed to swallow nervously before a grin suddenly appeared on his face. "I'll tickle you until you say yes."

She squealed and batted his hands away, dancing across the changing room. "Alright! Alright, I'll come. Just don't expect me to dance with them – especially Ollie. I do not want to encourage him."

"Will you dance with me?" Harry leaned against the sink, arms crossed. His eyes were warm as he smiled at her - his personal feelings weren't even remotely hidden now. "It'll be like old times."

She laughed but seemed unsure. Her eyes darted away from Harry, and she caught sight of Jack through the doorway. As he continued walking towards the office, he fancied that she looked flushed and slightly embarrassed.

He kept his face calm, clenching his fists as soon as he was out of sight.

Screw it. He would go on that date...

"God, I am so sorry about Dad."

Liz lay back on the pillows and laughed. She had a throaty, sensual laugh that reminded him a little of Nikki's.

"No worries. Although I did feel a bit like a teenager again." She turned towards him, smiling. "He seems sweet, your dad."

She was warm and pretty, in his bed… ruffled blonde hair and sleepy blue eyes… more than a little alluring in the morning sunshine. He grinned at her, feeling a stirring of interest now that his embarrassment had faded. Yes, he could get used to this...

"I guess you think I'm pretty weird, living with my dad in my forties."

She shrugged. "It's not as unusual as you may think. It's actually kind of nice to see generations getting on for a change. But anyway…" her smile turned regretful. "It doesn't really matter what I think, does it? Since we're not going to be doing this again."

"Aren't we?" He didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Her smile was kind. "I don't think so, Jack."

He lay back on his pillow, his morning interest waning. "That bad, was it?"

"On the contrary… it was fun." She wriggled onto her back with a contented sigh. "You were great…it was just what I needed. I don't know what Simone told you, but I'm just out of a…situation that was a bit…intense. To be frank, I needed reminding that I'm a woman - and that my body still works that way, if you know what I mean. And you helped…more than you know. But…" she sighed. "Lovely though it was, I realized two things last night. I'm too old to do casual any more… and this is casual, isn't it?"

He met her gaze with honesty. "Yes… I'm sorry."

"Thought so." She didn't seem too put out. "Don't be sorry – you can't help the way you feel. And I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship anyway. I need to get over a few things first."

They were silent for a few moments, but it was a comfortable, relaxed silence. Jack was surprised to realize that he didn't feel the need to jump out of bed immediately, as he usually did with one-night stands.

"You said you realized two things," he commented after a while.

"I did." She gave him a lascivious grin that made him tingle a little. "And the second was that… well, how can I put this? You were very attentive. You knew how to make me feel good and you spent a lot of time making me feel good. I felt, um, well looked after, but… somehow I had the feeling that you may have actually been visualizing someone else while you, um… you know."

He ran his hand over his forehead, feeling a deep blush creeping over his face. "I'm sorry. That wasn't very nice of me."

She giggled. "Don't worry about it. I'm guessing I look a bit like her – right?"

He didn't like to answer that, but she seemed to know anyway. She turned towards him again, rubbing his arm in a teasing manner. "It's OK - honestly. You got to live out a fantasy, and I had a really nice time, so we both got something out of it."

He turned his head to take her in. "But you don't deserve to be treated like that." He brought up a hand to smooth her hair away from her face. "You should have someone who appreciates just how beautiful you are…"

"And I will. Someday." She leaned in to give him a light kiss, lingering with just the promise of something more if he was willing. He was right – she really was beautiful, and not just in the obvious way. It would be very easy just to reach out and… He sighed and moved his face away.

"Hmm. I thought so." Her smile was rueful.

"I meant it." He shook his head. "You are lovely, and you don't deserve to be used."

She giggled. "Not a bad way to be 'used'. I have no regrets… I take it you're in love with her?"

He nodded.

"And have been for years, I bet. And haven't got around to telling her, for…reasons, probably bloody stupid ones. I feel like I know you, Jack. I've met men like you before. You admire from a distance, and you never get around to doing something about it. I've been there…" Her voice was momentarily darker, and he wondered about the 'situation' she mentioned having recently left. "My advice? Do something about it. If she feels the same…" She smiled at him, a glint in her eye. "Well, put it this way… based on my experience last night, she won't regret it."

He laughed, his heart lightening. "Thanks for the compliment."

"You're very welcome." Abruptly, she turned practical. "Actually, I need to go… Jack? Will you promise me something?"

"Sure."

She paused, her eyes running over his features, a little frown of concern on her face. "Don't do this again – I mean, last night. For your own sake. You're a lovely guy – gorgeous, sexy, caring… but I get the feeling you're past the casual stage too." She sighed regretfully and moved to get out of bed. "I just hope she deserves you."

There was something about Beattie Elleston that fascinated Jack from the moment he met her. She had an ageless serenity - a natural, easy air that could only have come from a lifetime of fulfillment, both professionally and personally. He could honestly say that if he had even half of her confidence by the time he reached her age, he'd feel that he hadn't wasted his life. Even the oxygen tank that she had to carry around with her to manage her emphysema couldn't diminish her dignity or her humour. Clearly, this woman was going die as she had always lived – with zero regrets. It wasn't even a massive surprise when he learnt that she still smoked despite her COPD.

He also couldn't help speculating what it might have been like to have met her forty or fifty years ago. Despite her advanced age and infirmity, she had a classic beauty about her, a sparkle in her eye, a humorous twitch in those carefully painted lips… He could easily imagine her first as a pretty young woman, then maturing into a wise beauty in middle age. He couldn't say precisely why he felt so drawn to her, except that she perhaps reminded him just a little of Nikki with her self-confidence and poise. He only knew that if he'd met her as a young woman, he would have followed her just helplessly and unquestioningly as he did now.

It wasn't just because he felt a strange affinity with her. He knew, with an instinct borne of many years' experience, that Beattie held the answers to this latest mystery…and yet, he didn't know why. It was the same instinct that made him climb the stairs to the unused upper section, where she sat, coolly smoking in defiance of the dangers of the oxygen tank.

And it was that same instinct that compelled him to drive back to the care home that night after Simone received the mystery text from a potential murderer, even as the storm raged overhead and the flood waters rose. Common sense dictated they should turn back and wait for the police. As he and Simone looked at one another and contemplated the rushing water, and then Simone received the second warning text, he knew he couldn't turn back, despite the risks. He needed to be there – at the care home tonight. And he knew, in some obscure way, that Beattie needed him too. He feared for her…for a reason that he couldn't ascertain.

He gritted his teeth as the vehicle slipped and slithered its way through the water flowing across the unmade road before regaining the relative safety of the care home driveway. Simone was silent throughout but let out a sigh of relief as they drew to a halt. "Well, there's no going back now. And do you reckon Steve will get through that? It's probably even worse by now."

He grimaced and swore under his breath as he looked through the windscreen. There were no police vehicles in the driveway – clearly theirs was the first, and possibly only, car that was going to arrive this evening. Which meant that the two of them would almost certainly be stuck in a building overnight during a life-threatening storm with several vulnerable older people, the nursing staff, and someone who had murdered once and had threatened to do so again.

He glanced at Simone, guiltily. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have brought you here."

The young ecologist grinned up at him, unfazed. "Don't be silly. Beats curry night anyway."

"Yeah, well, be careful. We don't know what we're getting into." He got out of the car, hunching into his jacket as the full force of the rain hit him.

They were parked in front of the main building, but her eyes were on the smaller lodge, further down the hill. "I think the first challenge is going to be clearing that building. What do you reckon?"

He followed her gaze, doubtfully. The lodge was on much lower ground, and already dangerously close to the overflow of water from the river. It seemed hardly possible that the water could reach that level… on the other hand, if there was a flood surge further up the river…

"What on earth are you doing here again?" Mary Thorpe emerged from the main building, looking flustered and distracted. She waved a hand impatiently. "Never mind – you might as well help us while you're here. We've got staff unable to get in, we're already understaffed without all…this."

"Don't you think we should move the residents from the lodge? That flood water…"

She nodded impatiently. "If you can manage it. There's eight of them there at the moment. I'll send some staff down." She turned back to the main building. "We'll have to find space somehow…"

Jack rolled his eyes at Simone as they headed towards the lodge. He could sympathize to some degree with Mary Thorpe, who seemed overwhelmed by her responsibilities, but she clearly wasn't competent enough to be managing a nursing home of this size. He certainly wouldn't be considering it as a location for Conor.

Talking of which… he pulled out his mobile, allowing Simone to go ahead of him as he dialed his father's number. It took a while for Conor to reply; when he did, he sounded out of breath and irritable.

"I'm fine, Jack – don't fuss! I'm going to have a bath in a bit and get an early night… Yes, everything's fine here. I was worried about that drain outside, but the water seems to be soaking into the grass. Yes, I'll be careful – get on with you! You look after yourself and stop worrying about me all the time."

He wished his father a good night and disconnected. After a moment's hesitation, he pressed the familiar button on his quick dial.

Nikki's phone rang plaintively for a while before going to voicemail. Frowning, he disconnected and then tried again, before giving up and heading towards the lodge.

It was almost inevitable that he would help Beattie. The nursing assistants had left her to her own devices anyway, almost as if they expected her to be able to shift for herself. In fact, and for the first time, she showed her vulnerability – he could see her fear, her physical weakness. It only made him care about her more.

He felt flayed by his emotions. Internally he was every bit as vulnerable as Beattie as he escorted her towards the main building. He felt an odd fear for Nikki as well as for Beattie, and he couldn't say why. There was no reason to be concerned. As far as he knew, she wouldn't be heading for a potentially hazardous scene of crime or anything like that. She was officially off duty tonight, and he remembered the conversation with Harry about some student party. Even so, his fears gnawed at him, and he fought to put them to one side and focus on getting the residents to safety.

Having to euthanize a suffering dog with morphine was only the start of a bizarre and frightening night. He'd never carried out such an act and his whole soul revolted against it; if Nikki had been there, she'd have probably taken on the task herself, with her usual calmness and compassion. As the trembling warm body stiffened and then went limp in death, he was almost overwhelmed by nausea.

But Beattie needed him. First to carry her up the stairs and see her comfortably positioned, then to venture out into the storm again to find the medication and batteries they desperately needed. So, he had to keep going – for her sake. Diving into freezing water to try to locate the items. Gasping and vomiting in the stagnant river water as he stumbled back to the main house. Shivering with cold and bending over Beattie, working to ease her suffering with the manual oxygen pump. Trying to comfort Derek in his confusion and terrible pain, while all the time feeling numb with desperation.

He needed Nikki more than he ever had before. He needed to hear her, touch her, feel her presence, to know she was thinking of him, worrying about him, just as he worried about her. It was more than mere love; the emotion was visceral, base - his body, his mind craved her… At times during that night, he felt as if he would die if he couldn't hear her voice.

Late one night, long after the event and over one too many glasses of wine, she'd opened up to him about those hours buried in the box in Mexico. Told him quietly about the recordings she'd made on the mobile phone – her 'note' to Thomas, Clarissa, and himself just in case she was dead by the time he found her. The mobile had never been retrieved, and she didn't tell him all that she'd said in her message – possibly she didn't or couldn't remember – but she had confessed that, at the worst moments, it'd only been the sound of his voice that had kept her sane. Beyond being gratified to know that he'd been of some use during those terrible hours, he had thought that he understood the importance of a familiar voice, of knowing that someone cared during your worst moments. However, he hadn't realized until tonight just how important the sound of a certain voice could be.

His face stayed calm, his voice steady, but his heart was beating frighteningly fast. Everything kept going wrong, no matter what he tried to do – Derek kept slipping out of the room, the nurse Amrita was in a state of hysteria. He couldn't tell whether it was sheer bad luck or whether his emotions were stopping him making the logical choices that would keep the residents safe from both the storm and the murderer among them. He sensed that his desperate longing for Nikki was at least partially because he needed her steadying influence. Simone was an encouraging presence, but she wasn't who he absolutely needed right now. Nikki would know how to help Derek, how to calm Amrita – she might even be able to work out who Robbo's murderer could be and how to keep Beattie safe.

He pressed the speed dial on his phone, over and over. The dialing tone and the repeated voice message taunted him cruelly. She wasn't picking up. She always picked up – OK, almost always, but on the rare occasions that she didn't, he always knew where she would be. Tonight, he didn't know, and it terrified him. Whether she was at a party or not, Nikki would have answered. She knew when he needed her. She always knew… If she didn't, it meant that something was very wrong…and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Against all common sense, he ventured out into the storm once more, searching for the missing nurse Amrita. The rain and winds battered at him as he staggered through the darkness…almost as strongly as the storm raging inside him.