I thought this would be the last chapter, but then I decided to split up two very important conversations...

It had never occurred to Jack – not even for one minute – that he himself might be suspected of killing Derek.

That should have been enough of a clue, if nothing else was, that he was severely off his game. It had taken years for Jack to trust the police again, after Yorkshire – and even then, he had formed a habit of surreptitiously observing any newly assigned investigating officer before showing genuine friendliness, although he always tried to be professional and helpful right from the start. In his earlier days at the Lyell, he had been conscious that he had a poor reputation and had, on too many occasions, watched Leo, Nikki and even Thomas having to try to conciliate a detective whose feathers he had ruffled. Since Thomas' death, he'd made more of an effort, recognizing that Nikki didn't need the added stress.

He'd let his guard down on this occasion, partly because the investigating officer in this case was DS Steve Galloway, a familiar figure at the Lyell, generally friendly and laid-back - and very sympathetic after Adam's death… but mainly because of his confusion over Nikki. He needed to pull himself together very quickly – Steve's suspicion was a nonsense, of course, and would be quickly shot down by a more experienced colleague, but Jack didn't want the case taken away from him. He cared too much about the people involved.

Or maybe that was the real reason why he'd been so slow over this? Maybe it wasn't so much that his mind wasn't working at full capacity as that his feelings were making him hang back. Because a part of him at least had surely known right away who Derek's killer must have been…and he didn't want to know.

He needed proof for Steve, that was certain, and he found it easily enough once he discovered the hidden camera tape recordings that poor Amrita had taken from Robbo's bedroom. Had she seen them – had she known? And had she wanted to protect Beattie just as much as he now did. Ironically, in the act of hiding them, she'd prevented them from being harmed by the floodwater. He had all the proof he needed for Steve… assuming he was prepared to pass it on.

He would, of course – he knew it, even as he drove back to the care home, putting his foot down on the country roads. Beattie had killed twice; even if it was for the best of intentions, justice had to be seen to be done. Jack wouldn't have used that morphine driver, however much Derek had begged… and yet. Was that merely an age thing – was it only because Jack, fit, healthy, relatively young, couldn't yet understand what it was to feel old and powerless and in terrible pain?

He needed to understand. He needed to see Beattie, to talk to her before the police took over.

His phone rang and he glanced at it automatically. Nikki. He couldn't deal with that situation right now, so he ignored it. Almost as soon as it stopped, it rang again – this time, his dad, and he winced, even as he answered. It was obvious that Nikki must be with him, but Jack never ignored his dad's number.

"Dad?"

"Hi Jack. I'm with Nikki. She really wants to talk to you."

He said nothing, waited for the phone to be passed over.

"Jack?"

Her voice sounded very far away, greater than its actual distance from him at that moment. Her tone was tentative, and she paused for a second, evidently hoping for some acknowledgement from his side before going on.

"Jack, do you know what happened before Derek died?"

His hands clenched the wheel at that. From her careful words, he could tell that she knew – that Steve had already been on to her about removing him from the case. But Nikki would never believe it… would she? The Nikki who knew him – who loved him – would instinctively know in every bone in her body that he could never have killed Derek. There was uncertainty in her voice, but he suddenly realized that it wasn't because of that. Nikki was uncertain of them – she wasn't sure where she stood any more.

She went on, quietly. "Please talk to me, Jack. Please let me help you. We get through everything together. You know I'll always be there for you."

He heard the expectant pause and then the gentle sigh when she realized that she wasn't going to get a reply. He could almost hear her withdrawing from him. She'd tried - she'd put out a hand to him, and he'd always – always! - clasped it back, but this time he hadn't…and, suddenly, he couldn't bear it.

He didn't know where they would go from here. He didn't even know if they'd be able to go on working together. He'd finally admitted to being in love with her, but he didn't really know for certain if she felt the same way, and he had no idea what this thing was with Harry. But none of it had anything to do with them – the them that had always had each other's back, right from the moment they had met. Memories flashed before his eyes – Nikki saving him from being stabbed, him holding her back from the explosion that killed Leo in Afghanistan, her treating his many injuries over the years, him stepping in to protect her from violent criminals and hostile officers alike. And always touching one another for physical reassurance - hands, arms, shoulders – an endless reminder: whatever happens, I've got you, partner. That had nothing to do with what had happened today, it had nothing to do with declarations of love, with feelings or jealousy or anger… but everything to do with them. And she'd just reminded him of it.

He took a deep breath. "Nikki?"

There was a pause, during which he could hear his heart beating.

"… Jack."

That was all. Just his name, but so much conveyed in the way she said it – relief and happiness and confusion and pure love, all mixed together. He shut his eyes briefly, giving a shuddering sigh. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to turn around and drive straight home and put his arms around her and bury his face in her hair and never, ever let go...

She gave an echoing sigh. "Can you come home now?"

God, how he wanted to, but… "I know who killed Derek. And Robbo."

There was a brief silence at the other end. "I…think I know too… And you want to speak to her, don't you? Before Steve gets to her."

He smiled at the understanding in her voice. It was only what she would have wanted to do, in his shoes. She knew instinctively, with hardly any observation of their interactions, that Beattie meant far more to Jack than just the latest in a list of murderers.

"Jack…? I get it, but please… just be careful."

"She'd never hurt me." The idea was laughable – and not just because of Beattie's physical frailty.

"I know that, but I meant… Be careful anyway. Jack, I…" She took a deep breath – he sensed she was moving, possibly away from his father. "I want you to know that I…" Her voice faded away.

He heard the words she wasn't saying. "I know. I understand." He realized that it wasn't that Nikki couldn't say the words I love you; it was only that she wanted to say them to his face, and not over a telephone, with Conor listening in. He didn't mind. He could wait. There was all the time in the world now.

He was approaching the driveway. "I've got to go now. Don't ring Steve – I'll call him when we're ready. I - I don't know how long I'll be…"

"I'll be here when you get home."

"It could be hours yet. I don't want to leave her to cope on her own, and you know how long it takes, the arrest and wherever they take her. I could always ring you when -."

She cut across him, her voice stronger. "I'll be here."

He smiled. "Thank you."

Beattie was waiting for him, of course, in that room where they had met before. She must have known it wouldn't take Jack too long to make the connections.

Lightly, she echoed the words she had said on that occasion. "Come to arrest me? You've told the police?"

He fetched a box, perched on it, wanting to be as close to her as possible.

"The police think it was me."

He could tell by her shocked reaction that the risk had simply not occurred to her. "I never meant for that to happen!"

"What – them blaming me, or you killing Robbo and Derek?"

"Robbo was haunted. He pleaded with me to help him die. And Derek… we were lovers, does that shock you? I couldn't let him suffer any more."

"You played God." Even though it was not much of a surprise, he felt oddly disappointed. How many times had he heard that one over the years? It was a mercy killing, he would have wanted to die… He wanted Beattie's reasoning to be different in some, obscure way; he wanted her to stand out, otherwise she'd end up as just another of his 'triumphs', his unmasked killers, doomed to fade into memory.

She seemed to read the disappointment in his eyes; her face turned wry, she chuckled slightly. "Well, someone's got to play him, why not me!" Why try to make me different to all the others? was the unspoken question.

He made an effort to move onto the logistics. "Where did you get the fentanyl patches from?"

"When I first came here, I was in such pain. I kept a few back for a rainy day."

"And the text message Simone received – you sent that, didn't you? They couldn't trace the phone." He supposed they'd find it eventually, perhaps chucked in a bush somewhere in the garden.

"Derek worked out that it was me who killed Robbo…and he wanted me to do the same for him." Her eyes softened as she looked at him, her face close to his. "I don't regret what I did, Jack. I'm done with all that. If this place has taught me anything, it's to seize the day. If a thing feels right…do it."

Her head moved suddenly; before he could react, she had leaned closer and kissed him hard on the lips. He froze, shocked, as she lingered for a moment before sitting back.

She smiled broadly at the confusion on his face. After a moment's reflection, he found himself smiling back. After all, why not? She knew what she had done, what was going to happen to her, and she wanted to have no regrets. She was too old and far too clever to hesitate.

In her, he suddenly saw all of the beautiful, wise, witty, self-confident women that he'd been lucky enough to know and love throughout his life – at that moment, she epitomized not only Nikki, but Clarissa, Naomi, Sarah, Katie - even Chrissy in the happier days. Even his mother. His heart broke; he felt acutely the grief of knowing that she was slipping away from him, even as his lips were still warm from the imprint of her mouth.

He sobered at the thought; he knew his time was limited. He would have to ring Steve soon. "I found some footage, um… from a camera Michael had installed in Robbo's room. The police will want to see that."

"Will they charge me with murder?"

She suddenly sounded very young and insecure, and his heart broke still further. "Probably…. Why did you suffocate them?"

"I didn't mean to do that! I just – I couldn't bear to see their faces…" She was crying now, and he touched her arm, trying to comfort her. "You know who I blame? Bloody Peter Pan. To die would be an awfully big adventure. Death…?" She shrugged. "Maybe. Dying and getting old – not so much."

He stayed with her all the time. After stepping away to make the call to Steve, he went back to her and held her hand until the police car arrived…and then went on holding it while they arrested her and made the formal charges. Steve allowed him to walk her down the stair and over to the car, when a female officer helped her sit comfortably.

"Where will they take her?" he asked Steve as they watched the police car move away.

Steve hesitated. "Well… it's not in anyone's interest to keep her in a holding cell. She's hardly an abscond risk anyway. I'm probably going to push for admission to a long-term care unit. It's not even clear to me that she'll make it to a trial. I'll need a medical assessment before I interview her."

"Will you… will you let me know where she goes, please? In case I can visit her."

The DS looked at him for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Sure." He turned in the direction of the garden, where scene-of-crime officers were trying to locate the phone that Beattie had thrown away. "Look – we can take it from here. Why don't you get off home? Get some rest, Jack – you look all in."

Jack nodded. "I've bagged the tapes, with my notes on times and dates. I'll get them to you."

"Oh yeah, Jack?" Steve hesitated again, giving him a slightly sheepish smile. "Sorry about before, mate."

Jack nodded in acknowledgement and turned away. He bore no ill will towards the DS – Steve was a young officer, still working his way up. In a year or so, he'd be too experienced to make such a bad call.

He drove back towards London, through darkening roads; he was surprised until he realized that he'd been at the care home for almost two and a half hours. It had taken a while for the police to arrive; even when they had, Steve had taken lengthy statements from both Jack and Beattie separately, before reluctantly agreeing to arrest her. No officer enjoyed charging a clearly frail person, and he could understand why Steve didn't intend for Beattie to be taken to the station.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the full physical force of the past two days hit him. His eyes felt gritty and his body ached from exposure and lack of sleep; even the hot shower this morning hadn't warmed him sufficiently. He recalled, with a shock, that Nikki had said she'd be waiting for him at his house – at least, he assumed that she meant physically and not just in some kind-of abstract way. Even so, he had warned her that he'd probably be some hours. Anyway, for all he knew, she might have been called out to some new crime scene, as she was on call this evening.

He didn't think he'd be altogether sorry if she had been called out. It wasn't that he wasn't keen to see her…but he was also weary, shell-shocked over Beattie's confession, and desperately in need of a hot drink and a warm bed – hardly a romantic prospect.

And anyway, he didn't think he'd be able to say the things he wanted to; he was so tired that he'd probably mess up in some way. He was still confused, hurt and jealous about Harry; knowing for certain that Nikki loved him hadn't changed that. He didn't even know if he could move past the pain. He didn't want to go into a relationship with Nikki without sorting out his own feelings first – and working out exactly what was going on between Harry and Nikki. It wouldn't be fair on any of them.

He had been planning to go straight home, but on a sudden instinct, he headed towards the Lyell first. He knew he wouldn't be keen to go in first thing tomorrow – he'd probably need a lie-in anyway, and he didn't want to be sorting out the minutiae of the case. He had already bagged the evidence from the caravan, and he decided drop that off so that someone else could deal with it in the morning.

The offices were dim and quiet, the day staff having already departed for the day. He put the tapes on his desk, noting that Simone's jacket was over the back of her chair, although she didn't seem to be around. He hesitated…but after all, she could wait until tomorrow. Presumably Steve would fill her in on had really happened at the care home last night. He wasn't hurt that Simone had – presumably – suspected him. She hardly knew him, after all. In fact, he rather admired her hard-headedness. He liked Simone – he felt easy in her company, and knew he'd be able to work with her much more smoothly than he ever had with Adam. But all that could wait until tomorrow…

As he retraced his steps back across the carpark, he heard a familiar voice.

"Jack?"

He paused, his eyes closing briefly… He took a deep calming breath and squared his shoulders before turning around to face Harry.