Sincere apologies for this having taken so many months to update. Real life sure does suck sometimes. And in reference to that, I would like to dedicate this chapter to a dear friend of mine who has unfortunately fallen victim to the very disease this story deals with.
As always, I do not claim to own any characters from The Bill, that privilege belongs to Freemantle Media and Talkback Thames.
If you'd care to leave a review, I'd love to hear from you, no matter what you have to say about the writing, the content or the amount of time it's taken to update. (I will endeavour to update sooner this time, real life permitting.)
"Sam! Come in, come in, it's freezing out there." Lorna ushered Sam through to the lounge where she was once again greeted by a roaring fire that made the welcoming room seem all the more homely and comfortable.
"Thanks, I brought us a bottle of something to share over our reading matter for the evening." Sam produced a large bottle of Scotch whiskey with a flourish as she propped her carrier bag against the sofa.
"Wow, is it that bad?" Lorna joked with a rueful smile retrieving the aforementioned bottle from her guest. "Shall I crack this open now then or would you prefer to start with a glass of wine?"
"Whichever you'd like is fine with me. If you have wine open that would be wonderful but don't open one especially for me." Sam demurred. Lorna left the room with assurances that she would be back momentarily. Sam took the time to glance around once again at the comfortable décor and personal mementoes.
"Katie's at a friend's house tonight, they're having a sleepover so no doubt I'll get a cranky daughter back for my sins tomorrow when I pick her up!" Lorna mentioned as she returned carrying two crystal glasses filled with a wonderfully rich-coloured red wine. She handed Sam one of the drinks before placing her own on the coffee table and crossing to the music centre. Switching it on and lowering the volume to a comfortable background level, Lorna picked something suitably soothing, having a feeling that they might be in need of it once Sam produced whatever was in her carrier bag.
Sam surreptitiously watched the woman move around her space, noticing how confident she seemed outwardly but that there were small signs of nervousness also; in the tiny tremor of her hands as she replaced a surplus CD into its case; in the fidgeting until she found what she deemed to be the perfect volume.
"Let's just chat for a while, ok? We can face the horrors in there after we've eaten." The DI suggested.
"That sounds like a good plan to me." Lorna concurred. "Speaking of eating, let me just check the oven and then I should be all yours for a little while."
"Is there anything I can help with?" Sam enquired, keen to follow the woman into her kitchen but needing a viable excuse to do so.
"No, you're alright, really. Everything's ready really, just waiting for the casserole to finish cooking. I thought since it's so cold outside I'd stoke our inner furnaces with a chicken casserole. Hope that's ok with you? You're not vegetarian or anything are you?" The thought struck the CSE with sudden horror.
"It sounds absolutely wonderful but you really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble. I'd have been happy with a sandwich!" Sam reassured the now panicking woman.
"Nonsense, you've been slaving all day and if I know you at all, I'm guessing that you failed to find time to eat during your shift." The red-haired crime scene examiner chided her friend gently before leaving the room.
Jo sat on the couch, watching the music file synchronising with the tiny player, tears cascading over her cheeks as she gave into the fear that tonight could be the last time she was able to cuddle up to her lover. She knew that she should be in bed beside her at that very moment but found her mind too restless and in need of preparing a message to show Lucy how she felt. She had come across the song whilst surfing the internet and could not believe how well the words fitted with what she wanted her lover to know. And so a plan was hatched, to leave this with Lucy as Jo herself was being wheeled into theatre, allowing her to know in her heart she had done whatever she could to express her heartfelt love and conviction that their souls were destined to be together.
Lorna cleared away the dishes, ignoring Sam's protests that she should be the one to do it, announcing that the dishwasher would take care of it all. When she returned, she invited Sam to rejoin her on the sofa, holding up the bottle of whiskey Sam had brought over and a pair of tumblers. "Ready for the hard stuff?"
"Oh yeah, make it a generous one eh?" Sam muttered as she eyed the bag sitting untouched at her feet.
"So what's in there? Something I need to be worried about or are you just working up to telling me I'm overreacting?" The Scots woman asked as she reclined, draping one arm delicately along the back of the seat.
"This is a dossier that various different people have compiled on that website you found the address for with Heaton's photo. It makes for very disturbing reading. There are suggestions of people involved in there who could make life very difficult for us both. Apparently, many of the people who have contributed to investigating the website have met with 'accidents' before they can put together any concrete evidence tying any of the names to the site or to subscriptions." Sam continued to outline the contents of the folder Grace had acquired for her, watching Lorna's face lose more and more colour as she heard more details.
"So Dawid really doesn't stand much of a chance? I mean, we're talking an organised, connected network of paedophiles here, not just an amateur child snatch. He could already be dead or he could be half way around the world by now." Lorna responded, resignation in her tone.
"Or he could still be in London somewhere waiting for us to rescue him from his nightmare." Sam insisted, needing to believe that there was hope.
"How can we proceed with the case if we know any evidence we gather is likely to disappear? At least we have a sort of blue print of who we can trust now and who we definitely can't but that can't be exhaustive – there must be others who are turning a blind eye to the theft of evidence at the very least." Lorna reached for the whiskey, topping up both Sam's and her own glass with a generous measure before settling back against the sofa, fractionally closer than before Sam noticed.
"With extreme care and caution I would suggest. We keep our cards close to our chest and only discuss the bare basics of the case at Sun Hill. If you can put up with meeting me when we're off duty, I'd like to thrash out the rest of it with you? I'd understand if you don't want to though, if it's too risky, what with Katie and everything." Sam sipped her whiskey, feeling the glow of the alcohol burn its way down her throat as she swallowed.
"And leave you to face these bastards alone? I don't think so Sam, my conscience would never allow it. We'll be discrete and careful, both of us and you've given us an insurance policy of sorts with the photos you sent to your friend." The flame-haired woman beside Sam stated, her face a picture of determination. "If there's one thing above all others I cannot standby and allow to happen, it's children being used, abused and traumatised."
"I would say it must be the mother in us but I know Jo feels the same way." Sam commented abstractly. Her thoughts turned to her closest friend, wondering how she was coping and whether she should have accepted her invitation to dinner that evening, hoping that she would get another chance to share a meal with the brunette.
"How are you holding up with what's happening to Jo?" Her companion asked quietly, having noticed the sadness and concern which passed across the beautiful blonde's face as she thought of the detective.
"Ok I guess. Worried, feeling helpless and hoping like hell that I'm strong enough to help her get through it." Sam allowed herself to discuss her own fears for the first time, having been so caught up in the investigation and being there for Jo and Lucy that she had never found the time.
"You're an exceptionally strong woman Sam and you will be the tower of strength that Jo needs you to be for as long as she needs you, I'm sure. But don't neglect yourself in the meantime. Any time you want to talk or if it's getting too much for you, you have my number and I want you to know you can use it, day or night. You be there for Jo and I'll be there for you." Lorna reached along the back of the sofa and casually tucked a stray strand of blonde hair back behind Sam's ear away from her face, tenderly brushing her knuckles across Sam's alabaster cheek before withdrawing her hand again.
The blonde woman smiled shyly at her companion, her stomach rolling pleasantly at the affectionate display. "Thank you, that's sweet." Sam stifled a yawn, the exertions of the week catching up with her. "I should make a move and let you get to bed."
"I'd rather you stayed here tonight, Sam. With the wine and whiskey, plus the contents of that bag, I'd only worry about you if I let you go home alone." Lorna explained, stretching kinks out of her muscles which allowed Sam a tantalising glimpse of the creamy white flesh beneath her top.
"I couldn't impose on you like that…" Sam began.
"You wouldn't be. I really enjoy your company and I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you on your way home. Please? Put an old lady's mind at ease? You can take your pick; there's Katie's bed or mine – I really wouldn't recommend the couch, it's a bit on the short side, even for you!" Lorna grinned as she teased the vertically challenged detective inspector.
"Cheeky!" Sam retorted, nudging the giggling woman with her shoulder. "Katie's bed will be fine so long as you're sure she won't mind."
"Katie probably won't even notice – prepare yourself for an ascent into chaos!" Lorna laughed as she showed Sam towards the stairs. "I'll find you something to wear, I'm sure I can find a nightshirt you can borrow." The two women climbed the steps, Sam following behind Lorna and taking the opportunity to admire the curves of the other woman's body. After settling Sam into the room and showing her which was the bathroom, which toothbrush she could borrow and which towels to use, Lorna excused herself, descending to the ground floor once again in order to secure the house for the night, which included locking the folder Sam had arrived with into a secure cabinet. The women met on the landing as Sam exited the bathroom wearing the loaned nightshirt, which skimmed her mid-calf – a little longer than designed to be worn but giving Lorna an adorable impression of a child whose clothing had been bought to be grown into. On seeing that she had gained an audience, Sam stood with her arms out to her sides, and effected a twirl on the spot. The alcohol coursing through her veins had awakened her mischievous spirit.
"Like what you see?" Sam grinned as Lorna blushed.
"Erm… yeah… suits you," her host stammered approaching the blonde with every intention of entering the bathroom herself.
Sam caught hold of her as she made to pass her, pulling the startled woman into a loose embrace. "I want to thank you properly for helping me with the case and Jo and everything. You're a good friend Lorna." The slightly inebriated blonde placed a kiss against the cheek beside her own, inhaling the scent that was the very essence of Lorna and feeling it ignite fires throughout her body. "Good night." Sam murmured into the other woman's ear, knowing she needed to put some distance between them before she made a move she lived to regret.
"Good night Sam, sleep well." Lorna replied, placing a kiss of her own on Sam's smooth cheek.
"Morning sweetheart," Jo murmured as Lucy stirred beside her.
"Hmmm, morning." Lucy's eyes opened groggily, her heart clenching as she saw Jo's bloodshot orbs gazing back at her. "You don't look like you slept a wink, why didn't you wake me?"
Jo leaned down and kissed her lover tenderly. "Because I wanted you to sleep love. No point in us both being awake and besides, I'll need you refreshed for later after my surgery when I'll have you running around after me non-stop!" The brunette's attempts at levity fell between them, the spark of laughter not reaching her eyes nor coming from the heart.
"You're going to be ok Jo. Do you hear me? I'm not ready to let you go so there's no way you're not coming through this. And if it means I have to be your skivvy for a while, 'til you're back on your feet, then so be it. But be warned lady, my memory is long and don't think you won't be making it up to me as soon as your able!"
This time, Jo's smile appeared more genuine, though still tinged with more than a small amount of sadness. "I hope so baby, I really hope so."
"Shower with me?" Lucy enquired, wanting to keep Jo as close as possible before they were forced apart by scrubs and surgeons. Rising from the bed, the svelte brunette held out a hand, pulling Lucy to her feet also and leading her into the bathroom.
They took their time, washing, massaging and lavishing love upon one another. Jo reached her peak for a final time, tears cascading over her cheeks and mingling with the soapy water. She clung to Lucy desperately, the reality hitting her full force.
"I can't do this, I'm not strong enough, I can't…" Jo sobbed into the tiny shoulder, Lucy struggling to keep Jo's deadweight upright.
"Yes you are, you can do this. Jo, baby look at me." Lucy commanded as she pulled back from the embrace. "You're not alone Jo, I'm going to be with you right up until they take you into theatre and when you wake up, I'll be right by your side then too. We will beat this cancer together. When you feel your fight draining from you, draw on mine or Sam's or any of your friends, we're all going to get you through this. I'm not going to lose you, Jo. I'm not!"
"There's a letter for you in a drawer downstairs, one for Sam too. If something goes wrong today…" Jo began before being cut off by her lover.
"It won't."
"But just in case, please, promise me you'll read it if I don't come back? And pass on Sam's? Please?" Jo swallowed with difficulty, the lump in her throat feeling the size of a grapefruit.
"Ok Jo, I promise." Lucy conceded, knowing Jo needed the reassurance that her wishes would be followed, "but I'm not going to need to because you can tell me yourself what it says once your surgery is over."
Lucy watched as the gurney was whisked out of the tiny cubicle, her partner heading into the operating theatre for crucial and highly invasive surgery. Her mind turned back to Jo's last words to her ("please, listen to it, just in case") and diligently, she slipped the ear phones on and hit the play button as instructed. A chord filled her ears and then:
"Bravely you let go of my hand,
I can't speak yet you understand,
Where I go now I go alone,
This path I walk, these days of stone.
And the angels are calling…
I must go away
Wait for me here, silently stay
And don't ask me why
Only believe, this is not goodbye
All of my strength, all my desire
Still cannot melt this breath of fire
I go to meet some kind of test
Bury the truth that scars my chest
And the angels are calling and calling…
I must go away
Wait for me here, silently stay
And don't ask me why
Only believe, this is not goodbye
I gathered all my courage
I shaved off all my fear
With this banner on my shoulder
I hold your essence… near
And the angels are calling and calling and calling…
I must go away
Wait for me here, silently stay
And don't ask me why
Only believe, this is not goodbye
Only believe this is not goodbye.
(Lyrics by Melissa Etheridge, This Is Not Goodbye)
Lucy felt hot tears streak across her cheeks as she listened to the final refrain of the song Jo had chosen to leave her with. She realised that Jo had spent her restless hours tying up loose ends and making sure that those left behind if the unthinkable were to happen would know exactly what she wanted them to know. At a time when she could be forgiven for thinking only of herself, Jo had instead chosen to put the feelings of those she loved first. That realisation was enough to break Lucy's heart as her love for the brunette was consolidated more than she could ever have imagined. She sat in the unforgiving plastic chair, gazing out with unseeing eyes at the passing foot traffic, her mind and soul searching for the woman who completed her.