I have to say I'm not entirely happy with the flow here but I wanted to return to Spikings who was the man in the lift (it's interesting some of you thought it might be Dempsey, I either write them very similar or they have more in common! A bit of both maybe!) Enjoy and have lovely weekends. A few other small bits on the go that I'll post at some point.

His former Lieutenant doesn't see him in the lift and he's slightly uncertain of his next actions. A feeling that seems to linger in his life these days. The door clanged shut. Spikings feels his stomach pitch a fraction as the machine travels down to the ground floor.

He's seen them a few times. When they were both brought in after Owen's demise to check Dempsey was alright, they sat beside the bed before they left. He'd watched them, unable to make much conversation in those days after his operation to stop the bleeding on his brain. The inability to say much had brought about more observations and he sensed change between them. A levity that wasn't there before, as if they'd made a vow.

The lift doors slid open with a whine, and brought him back to his surroundings. Spikings looked around at the busy concourse, it feels too busy and not what he'd expected. He wonders if he's missing something. They can take away his job but his instincts remained sharp. He hits the button for floor seven.

His sergeant had popped in, by herself, a few days later. He understood that his suspicions that Harry care 'cared' were indeed true and perhaps he wasn't such a bad judge of character after all.

When it became clear that his retirement was going to be forced on him, Dempsey came by and sat with this feet propped on the ledge of the bed. They shared grapes and chewed over the past and the present. Spikings was astonished about the future and offered his congratulations as Dempsey proudly showed the sonograph. When he left, Spikings sat contently and realised he was experiencing hope.

He dictated a letter to June, requesting promotion for Dempsey, Harry and Chas. If he was to go, he wanted his well oiled machine in capable hands and was more surprised than anyone to include the American in his missive. His wife was open mouthed with glee.

The lift spat him out at the seventh floor. He hurried as best he could to the reception, unable to see Dempsey in the flickering yellow light of the hallway that was inexplicably decorated with prints of teddy bears.

"I'm looking for James Dempsey." He puffed at the receptionist when he finally got her attention. He realised as he waited that he could hear the distance cry of babies and that he was in maternity. He thought to leave, uncertain of his place here. Too late, she turned to him to ask who he was.

"Spikings," He said and wished he had his badge; "I'm a friend, I saw Dempsey… James Dempsey…in the corridor."

"There's a Mrs Dempsey. I can find Mr Dempsey if you like." She looked through a file and then back at him, studying him for moment as if to check his credentials. This elderly man, for that's how he thought of himself, with a stick and slightly stooped gait.

"Are you Mr Spikings?" A nurse paused on her way past and observed him with warm eyes, "He and his wife mentioned calling you earlier. He's dying to share the news with you."

She guided him to a door. He thinks of when Dempsey first set eyes on Makepeace, and the changes that had been inflicted on all three of them. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Go on." The nurse encouraged as Spikings stood uncertainly in the doorway to the small room. He gazed in awe at the sight of his two best detectives; Dempsey squashed as close as he could to his wife holding a small baby in his arm, a look of exhausted peace on his face and Harry unable to take her eyes of them both.

"Boss… boy are we glad to see you." Dempsey was first to see him and welcomed him with a broad grin. "You're our first visitor. Come and sit down."

Spikings smiled and sat, hopeful, at last for the future.