(A/N): So, it turns out Silent Witness just will not leave me alone, and yes, I'm aware that the fanfiction side isn't very active, but sometimes I just get the writing bug and I have to write it out. I hope you enjoy this and as always, I own absolutely nothing. This is set at the end of series 19, episode 10, River's Edge part 2, after Nikki's phone call to Thomas telling them she was alright.
All The Difference
She lingered in the doorway of the Lyell, fingers playing with her keycard to enter the lab, watching the darkened office with weary eyes. She'd just gotten back from her latest brush with danger, from Amy Coulter and Simon Forsyth. Phantom hands still wrapped round her throat, cutting off her oxygen supply and making her choke, even though she knew full well there was nothing touching her neck any longer.
Taking a couple of faltering steps into the office, she was abruptly reminded of the last time someone had tried to kill her by strangling her, years earlier. Tears pricked her eyes as she focused on the differences, selfish as it made her feel. Back then, even when she'd been on the phone to explain she was fine, there had been an insistence on her going to the hospital, getting herself checked out, an order to go home and take it easy. Not like this time, with a blind acceptance she was as fine as she'd said she was, no questioning of the hoarse voice and underlying cough.
Even now, she mused in her melancholic state, glancing round the darkened lab. No one was there, waiting to make sure she really was alright, making sure she had actually got herself checked out. Not like last time, where she'd been assaulted by questions and concern the moment she'd appeared, having to reassure them she was alright and had got herself checked out.
"I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"A doctor had a look at me."
"Lucky doctor."
A tiny laugh bubbled up at the remembered conversation, the ghost of a tight hug enough to bring a wistful smile to her lips. Things had changed, sometimes she forgot that. Slowly, she sank down into her desk chair and opened up her bottom drawer, something she rarely did. For she'd dumped everything from the former owner of the opposite desk in there, not able to get rid of it at the time and never getting round to removing anything once she'd felt ready to.
Another smile graced her lips as she pulled out a hockey ball, twisting it round in her fingers. A memory of times long gone, of laughter reverberating round the cutting room and cheering when the target was hit. Shared camaraderie despite barely being acquainted. She let the ball drop to her desk, watching as it rolled to rest against her monitor. Her still lit monitor.
It was a bad idea, she knew. She really did know it. But that wasn't enough to stop her bringing up her video calling software, nor prevent her hitting the call button and watching the connection screen, half hoping the call would be picked up, half hoping it wouldn't.
The connection screen faded, replaced by stark, off-white walls and a generic notice board sporadically littered with documents. Hardly inspiring, but she was more focused on the person sat in the remarkably bland room, who was watching her with undisguised concern. Her best friend, or her former best friend anyway. Still there when one needed the other, despite the thousands of miles between them.
"Nikki?" She managed a weak smile at the sound of her name, not enough to fool him but then she never could. "I thought I felt something was wrong. What's happened?"
She shook her head, knowing the darkness in the office was the only reason he couldn't see the already reddening marks on her neck. He'd hovered incessantly for over a week last time she'd been strangled. "Harry. Sorry for bothering you."
"It's been what, eleven years or so? I'm pretty sure I'm used to being bothered by you. It's expected even. Don't think I haven't noticed your avoidance of my question." Harry's face hadn't faltered from concern for her and just the expression alone brought tears to her eyes. It was selfish, she knew, still calling him years after he'd left, but there were times that she just couldn't stop herself. Harry never minded, and there was more than one occasion that he'd called her for one reason or another, but she still hated herself for that weakness.
"Hang on a second." She moved away from the screen, fumbling around until she found the light switch for the office area, turning it on and moving back to her seat. She knew the moment he saw, his face descending into shock and a hiss escaping his lips.
"Jesus Nikki!"
"I wasn't entirely sure what words to use." She shrugged.
"Tell me you've gone to hospital Niks." He let out an aggravated sigh at her carefully blank expression, still able to read her. "Alright, fine. Did you at least get yourself checked out? And I mean by a medical person that doesn't specialise in dead people."
"I'm fine, a doctor had a look at me." She nearly laughed at her repeated words so many years later. Harry adopted the same teasing smile he had back then as well.
"Lucky doctor."
"Harry… I really didn't mean to…" She trailed off, motioning to her neck. He nodded, his eyes filled with concern and gentle worry.
"I know, Nikki, I know. Okay, same rules as last time. Gallons of hot drinks, preferably tea not coffee, arnica cream for your neck, and no scrimping on the painkillers."
"God, it's depressing we have a protocol in place for me getting strangled." She sighed, resting her elbows on the desk and covering her face with her hands. "Even more depressing that we had one for every time I ended up in hospital too."
"Hey, those protocols got me out of a lot of report writing." Harry's lighthearted tone gained an unexpected giggle from her, closely followed by a bout of coughing as the laugh irritated her sore throat. "Oy, no dying on me, prune features. Go, get some rest. Follow the usual protocol and I'll call you tomorrow, about the same time."
"I'm not a child Harry; I don't need checking up on."
"Says the woman who discharged herself from hospital against medical advice and refused to go to hospital whenever possible." Harry shook his head. "Anyway, if I call you tomorrow, you'll get to hear all about my latest war with the neighbours." His face softened. "Nikki, seriously, you're not fine. Go home, get some rest."
"I'll speak to you tomorrow Harry… thank you."
"Always, Niks. Speak soon."
"Speak soon." They'd never truly been able to say goodbye to each other, always signing off a call with something much less final. She sighed, leaning back into her chair as the call ended and she was left alone once more. She really should follow the protocol and make herself a hot drink before going home, but she doubted she had the energy.
"Someone's strangled you before?!"
She spun round at the incredulous tone just as Jack stepped out from the hallway, his features dropping into a mixture of shock and horror as he took in the state of her neck. "Jack, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Sorry," Jack muttered, not sounding all that sincere. "Seriously though, this isn't the first time some nutjob's tried strangling you?"
Slowly, so as not to aggravate her neck more than necessary, Nikki shook her head. "No, it's not. Leo threatened more than once to chain me to my desk so I couldn't get into any more trouble."
"He probably should have done." Jack slowly lowered himself into his own chair opposite her.
Nikki managed a tiny smile. "He couldn't. Harry pointed out that I manage to get into trouble in the lab as well, so all tying me up would achieve would be my inability to escape trouble."
"Trouble in the lab?"
"Held hostage at gun point for a few hours." Nikki shrugged again. "He didn't mean it."
"Didn't mean it?!" Jack repeated incredulously. "How the hell could you be held hostage and still think the guy didn't mean to do it?!"
Nikki opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the chime of an incoming video call on her computer. Shooting an apologetic glance at Jack, she quickly accepted the call and offered a worried looking Harry a smile. "Still here, still breathing." She rattled off hoarsely, knowing the usual drill by heart. Both she and Harry had had to say it to each other too many times to count over the years. "Still hot," she added, just to get a laugh from him.
It worked; Harry chuckled, shaking his head at her. "You'll be the death of me, Nikki, I swear. I just called you back to let you know I called my mum."
"Oh, you didn't." Nikki coughed as her complaint caught her sore throat. Harry's mum had a tendency to hover, as was proven post Budapest when she hadn't let Harry so much as move without permission for over a week until he'd managed to call Nikki surreptitiously to organise his escape. And if Harry had called her to tell her what had happened that evening, it meant Anne Cunningham would most likely be showing up on her doorstep before morning. "She'll be on my doorstep when I get home, won't she?" Harry's guilty expression told her everything she needed to know.
"Hey, I can't be there and I know my hovering winds you up something awful, so my mum's the next best thing." Harry didn't look nearly sorry enough, she decided bitterly. "And she promised to buy all of the throat soothing stuff we found worked last time on her way."
"Bloody last time." Jack grumbled. "Shouldn't have been an any time."
"Jack." Nikki coughed, having said the name louder than she probably should have done. "I'm fine."
"Nikki, shut up." Harry's face on the screen didn't change even as she levelled her best glare at him. "And don't bother with the glare; I'm immune remember? Jack, is it?"
Jack reluctantly stood up and moved to stand behind her, crouching so his long frame could fit into the webcam's view. "Hi, yeah. I'm Jack."
"I'm Harry. Listen, Nikki is stubborn and will probably say she's fine until she's blue in the face, but just ignore her. My mum will probably harass her enough into taking care of herself, but she's going to need it at work too."
Jack nodded. "Sure. Hot drinks, no unnecessary talking, arnica cream." He didn't seem impressed by Nikki's glare either, she noted sulkily. "Nikki, you've patched me up enough times that it's probably about time I returned the favour. Harry seems to have organised most of it anyway." He paused for a moment. "Wait. Harry? As in the Harry whose desk I took over from?"
Nikki rolled her eyes. "Yes, that Harry. The prat still knows when I'm in trouble, apparently."
"Tart." Harry's voice was full of amusement at her calling him a prat. "Nikki, go home, get some sleep. Jack, look after her. She's terrible at it herself. I have to go, but I will call you tomorrow Niks."
"Thanks Harry." Nikki waved as Harry closed the connection again before turning in her chair to face Jack. "I don't need looking after."
"Sure you don't." Jack agreed easily. "But just to be on the safe side, I'll drive you home and pick you up in the morning."
"You don't have to."
"Yes I do. I need a good excuse for bailing on Clarissa and she's less likely to kill me if I'm helping you." Jack smirked, rattling his car keys at her. "Come on, let's go."
"Fine, but just tonight." Nikki eyed him warningly as she waved a finger in his direction.
Jack just nodded as he began to lead her from the lab, making sure to turn the light out behind them. "So, how is it Harry can call you a tart and it's like a term of endearment or something?"
Nikki just smiled, motioning to her throat as an excuse not to answer the question. Sure, everything was different, but some things, some people, were still the same, still cared. And that made all the difference in the world.
