Seventeen.
Well, he'd finally done it. He'd finally managed a complete night's sleep. He felt elated, refreshed and ready to face the world, even if he did look a little worse for wear, with the painful looking cut just nestled in the edge of his hairline. Still, at least the bag's under his eyes had gone down, and the stitches gave him a have-a-go-hero look that certainly made the nurses bustle in and out of his room regularly enough. Not that he was complaining.
His stuff lay beside him in a bag, fetched by a worried-looking WPC from his flat after Barnaby had driven him, protesting all the way, to the hospital, where the doctor had insisted on a twenty-four hour watch period in case it was more than just a gash and mild concussion. Much like Mitch Cannaby, who was still a little-worse-for-wear and having the odd bout of amnesia. Scott smiled wryly as his mind flashed over what had happened the night before, thinking that forgetting about the whole thing might not have been such a bad idea.
Where was the DCI?
As if in answer the door to his room opened, and he grabbed his jacket from the chair with a sigh,
"At last Sir," he began as respectfully as possible, "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."
"Now how could anyone forget about you?" It wasn't Barnaby's voice, unless he'd had major surgery that was, it was lighter, more cheerful and a lot more welcome than that. He looked up and smiled,
"Cully. There's a surprise."
"A good one I hope."
"Of course."
She smiled back at him shyly, the sudden silence making the situation all the more awkward.
"Err…I know dad was coming to pick you up, but I suggested that he might like to put his feet up for the day…so…" she glanced up and caught sight of the wound, wincing as she did, "Does it hurt much?"
Scott blinked,
"The cut? Nah, not really, not anymore anyway."
Cully regarded him fondly,
"Being a brave boy about it are you?"
He shrugged,
"I try, of course it's not every day you get attacked by a crazed woman who thinks beating her ex-boyfriend to a pulp in front of your eyes is the latest crowd-pleaser."
Cully shook her head sadly,
"Poor woman, to be so obsessed by some man,"
Scott grinned cheekily,
"I know someone else a bit like that though."
Her cheeks flushed hot pink before she could stop herself and she frowned, whispering quietly as her heart sped up in embarrassment,
"Who?"
"Louise," she blinked at him blankly, and he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, "You know, Louise, my date from the other night. Roger's friend?"
"Oh," the relief was evident, but so to, he noted with some pleasure, was the disappointment, "Of course, Louise. Yes. You…you think she likes you then?" more disappointment.
"Not me. Roger, she's barmy about him."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Speaking of which, how is dear Rog?"
"Oh," Cully flapped an airy hand and smiled, "I wouldn't know. I don't think Roger and me are destined to be together."
Now it was Scott's turn to hide his feelings on the matter,
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes. He's very sweet, but a bit too…"
"Girly?" Scott put in helpfully. Cully ignored him with well-practised ease,
"…Feminine. I think I'd be better suited with someone a bit more, well, manly I suppose," she turned to him with a sigh, clearly eager to change the conversation to something less implicit, "Ready to go?"
Manly? Scott blinked, he could do manly all right. He strode across to the bed, hefting up the bag and throwing it over his shoulder casually,
"Yeah. All set."
"Good."
They turned to leave, Scott careful to hold open the door for her, throwing grateful nods to nurses who wished him well as they negotiated the long corridors.
Cully's car was not so much parked as abandoned in several spaces at once, testament to what a car without power-steering was able to do, and also a hint at her carefree attitude to most things in life. He smiled fondly, throwing the bag carelessly into the back seat.
"There is one thing about that poor woman that I can sympathise with though," Cully ventured at him suddenly from over the top of the car.
He looked up with a frown,
"Oh yeah."
"Yes. There is a certain something about policemen."
And with a wide smile she climbed into the car and shut the door, leaving Scott standing on the other side, grinning to himself.
Well look at that, maybe he was wrong after all.
She leant over from inside,
"Are you getting in?"
He chuckled quietly, climbing in and pulling the door to behind him.
Maybe, just maybe, things were easy in the country after all.
From inside his pocket, his mobile phone started ringing, and, still smiling, he pulled it out, unable to keep the cheer from his voice.
"D.S Scott."
"Scott? It's Barnaby, there's been a murder…"
He sighed.
Of course, maybe not.
END.
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Ta-da! There it is people! Done, dusted, sorted, finito, complete, at an end and all those sorts of things. I hope you liked it, and, since it's only taken a couple of years to write (on-off-on and off again) I have to say I'm very satisfied to write that last word. I'm pretty fond of this one now, so be nice (as you always are) and I hope you enjoyed it.
Many thanks for all the reviews, and happy reading in the future!