The dinner had not gone well. Lucien should have expected that. He did expect that, actually, which was why he asked Danny to wait a bit before coming. Everyone's emotions were high and patience was thin and he and Charlie together was never going to be peaceful. Charlie seemed to feel Jean needed protecting at all costs from everyone, including Lucien and Danny felt some familial loyalty to Christopher it seemed. Mattie would have been able to set things right. She'd have kicked them both out, most likely. And on any other day Jean could have called for peace with just a look. But Jean wasn't herself either. She just kept smiling at Christopher. Jean didn't typically smile that much so it worried Lucien. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe she just didn't smile at him that way. Maybe she just really loved her husband.

Which is probably what Lucien was thinking when he decided to grill Christopher on just where he had been all these years and that's truly when things devolved. Should he have known better, yes? Would he have done things any differently? Probably not. The evening ended with Charlie driving Christopher to a hotel and Jean leaving them to clean up while she took herself to bed, early.

Christopher had given a plausible explanation. He'd been taken captive by German forces after the siege at Tobruk. He'd been presumed dead, but remained in a POW camp until the camps were evacuated and marched to Eastbourne where he should have been repatriated to Australia. But the marches were difficult, and he fell behind. He was scared, alone, sick, and trying to survive where he didn't speak the language. Jean and Charlie and Danny had all nodded sympathetically. But Lucien had been overseas, he'd been ill, he'd been a prisoner. All those things might account for an absence of two or three years, but how many had Christopher been gone? No, it wasn't quite right.

Lucien gazed at the empty stairwell, listening to Jean's heels click along the wooden steps as she shut herself in her room. He'd intended to follow her all the way up, imagined the conversation when he told her he loved her so much, that no resurrection of any sort would diminish that. He'd tell her he'd retreat if that's what she wanted but not out of apathy, only out of sacrifice. He'd tell her everything. But he stood there long after he knew he'd never follow, long after her the scent of her faded from the air and his feet became feet of clay.

"Think she's okay?" It was Charlie's grave face that turned to Lucien, also at the foot of the stairs but for how long, Lucien didn't know. He hadn't even heard the door. He shook himself from the reverie with a shrug.

"Mattie would know," Lucien said. He realized in that moment how much he missed Mattie's interventions. Charlie just nodded. What they both wouldn't give for Mattie right now to step in where they were collectively afraid to. Because that was the truth, wasn't it? He did know how Jean felt. He was just terrified to do anything about it.

"Mattie would know what?" Danny's lanky frame approached from the kitchen, his sleeves were rolled up and he dried his hands on a tea towel.

Charlie didn't answer, just nodded toward the empty stairwell.

"She'd be better if the two of you weren't hammering for details. What was that about?" Danny asked.

"Someone needs to look after her," Charlie insisted.

"She's plenty looked after," Danny retorted. "She needs a little space."

Lucien shushed them both. There'd been enough bickering for one night and he knew sound carried up those stairs.

Charlie pursed his lips and looked between the two of them. "I'm just saying something's not right."

"Look, I know it's strange that he's come back after all this time, but it is Uncle Christopher. I know him."

Lucien found his ability to move as he ushered them all away from the stairwell. "I'm sure it is," Lucien said. "I don't doubt his identity."

"Just his motives," Charlie muttered as they Lucien led them toward his surgery.

"What could his motives be? He's just home and wants his wife. It's been a long time."

"Yes, it's been a very long time with no word at all," Charlie insisted.

Danny opened his mouth to answer but Lucien stopped him.

"Danny, if you want to help Jean you won't do it by taking on Charlie. I need you to help me find Jack. Can you do that?"

"Jack Beazley?" Danny said.

Charlie just looked at him like he was actually the stupidest person he knew but swallowed whatever he'd meant to say with a look from Lucien.

"Sure, I mean. It won't be easy if he doesn't want to be found but…"

"If it's too hard, I can do it," Charlie jumped in.

Lucien held up a hand. "I have another job for you. And it isn't too hard, is it, Danny?"

"Of course not," Danny said. "I'll start in the morning. I'll make some calls to Melbourne."

"Right," Lucien said, "but I don't want anyone knowing about this that could get in touch with Jean. She has enough to worry about."

Danny nodded as though he understood but it was Charlie, Lucien was sure, who took the deeper truth. If Charlie were distrustful of Christopher on a hunch, his animosity for Jack was born of experience though tempered by love for Jean. It was love, wasn't it, that caused him to fight for her so hard. If he were ten years older Lucien might worry that he were a rival. As it stood, well, he had more immediate concerns.

"And what's next?" Danny asked, looking at Charlie.

"Next is we get you a room to sleep in. I'll gather my things from Mattie's room and you can have that while you're with us. Now that mine's free."

Danny's visage visibly changed and Lucien wondered if it was the reference to Christopher having removed himself or something else. At any rate, it was enough to get Danny moving out of the surgery and toward the room. Charlie made to follow, but Lucien kept a hand on his arm to hold him back.

"She had the baby, that girl Ivy."

"Jean's a grandmother?"

"She may be."

"Isn't it curious this girl turned back up at the same time as Christopher, and we can't find Jack?"

Lucien inclined his head as though to say, of course it is. He did like having an ally.

"But Jean,"

"Jean can't know any of it."

He felt badly. She did love helping solve his cases and ordinarily she'd be his biggest help. But he felt the one thing he could do for her now was to find her family. It might be the last gift he could give her. And though something pulled at his heart and told him to protect her from this man who'd come back from the dead to claim her, if Lucien could prove him worthy and good, it would be exactly what Jean would want, a restored, family.

Jean closed her eyes on her bed, thankful the long night was over. Voices drifted up the stairs, intense voices from men she loved, from her family, fighting over what was right. She longed to be disinterested enough to join them. If this were anyone else's life she'd have such a strong opinion. As it were, she just lay there, fully clothed, and begged sleep to pull her conscious mind away. As it did, as she gave up her hold on her thoughts she felt herself wrapped up by strong arms, with large, warm hands that held her tight.