When Duty Isn't Enough
Author: Firebird
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Neither Hot Fuzz nor its characters, settings etc. are mine. Original characters are, as the name would imply, original and belong to me.
Author's Note: In the last few chapters I've been trying to set up the idea that Nick wants a relationship. It's not a question of a woman coming along who can 'break through' his defences and 'convince' him to let her in: he's already letting his defences down, and is willing to let someone in without the need to be convinced. In other words, the main difference between this relationship and his past relationship with Janine is that this time he wants a relationship that works, and he's willing to make changes in his working life to achieve that. If it wasn't Lily it'd be someone else.
**
Danny had stayed for a beer, but he had another date with Sarah that night and was keen to get home and get ready. With a cheery "see ya, mate" he had left Nick to finish his gardening.
The sound of a car slowing and then stopping brought his head up. Sandford was a small place, and it wouldn't be the first time reporters, or just random tourists drawn by a ghoulish desire to visit the scenes of the infamous murders, had found their way to his house. It hadn't taken long for his address to be leaked, even without the 'helpful' locals who were more than willing to offer directions to anyone who asked. But the vehicle – red Fiat, older model, registration PMO 36X, Nick noted automatically – was stopped outside the cottage adjoining his. The driver opened the door and emerged, walking around the car to the passenger's side and reaching in to remove something from the footwell. From the shape and the insistent mewling coming from it Nick surmised that it was a cat carrier. It appeared that his new neighbour had arrived.
He was still crouched beside the flowerbed and, preoccupied with the cat basket and finding her keys, it appeared that she was oblivious to his presence. Nick felt an instinctive stab of concern. He could be anyone, sitting here watching her, and she hadn't even noticed him. Stalker, rapist, serial killer... okay, so it was unlikely on a bright summer's afternoon, but she still ought to be more aware of her surroundings, especially given where she was moving to.
By the time he had finished his musing she was lost from sight inside the house – car door and front door both left open, he noted sourly. He rose, dusting off his hands and walking towards the vehicle. He could close that one for her, at least.
"Excuse me!" a voice snapped from the doorway. He turned guiltily. Not so oblivious after all, he thought. Just his luck.
"That's my car," the woman informed him. "Mind telling me what you're doing?"
"I was just closing the door for you," he replied irritably. "It's not safe to leave them open, you know. Encourages thieves."
She gave him a look which clearly implied that she had serious doubts about the veracity of his statement, and started down the path towards him. 'Female, late twenties, approximately 5'5", medium build, fair complexion, brown shoulder-length hair tied back from face, brown eyes, jeans, white t-shirt' his mind catalogued automatically. Followed by 'she's pretty,' and 'no wedding ring.'
"I was just coming back to unload it," she told him, but her tone and expression had softened. She stopped, and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards in amusement. "You're standing in my way."
"Huh? Oh, sorry," he moved aside, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was dirty, sweaty, and dressed in a baggy grey t-shirt that had been none too fresh when he put it on. "Um, can I give you a hand?"
She was bent over, head and shoulders already reaching over to the back seat of the Fiat, and he tried to resist the urge to stare at her arse.
"Pardon? I didn't catch that." She re-emerged and turned to face him as he gazed guiltily at the sky before refocusing on her face. "I'm Lily, by the way. Tigerlily Birch." She looked at him as though expecting something, but he had heard far stranger names in his time.
"Nicholas. Nick," he replied instead, offering her his hand. "I live here. Next door," he jerked his head in the direction of his house. "Sorry about my hands; I've been in the garden."
"And it shows," she responded, then winced slightly. "I mean, your garden looks great. Roses?"
"Yes, they're good for deterring intruders. Lots of thorns."
She blinked. "And do you get a lot of intruders here, Nick? I thought all the murdering psychopaths were gone." At the look on his face she bit her lip. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. People are always telling me that I have an inappropriate sense of humour... I guess I need to work on it."
He shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm a police officer so I tend to think of these things."
"Police..." recognition dawned in her eyes. "I thought you looked familiar. You're him, aren't you? Inspector Nicholas Angel, the man who took down the Sandford Conspiracy?"
He nodded, not sure whether he was pleased or disappointed by her recognition.
"Well, I guess I can sleep easy then. This must be the safest neighbourhood in Sandford." The rumble of a large engine distracted her, and she glanced back down the road. "That'll be the removal van," she informed him. "Well, it was nice talking to you, but I'd better get on with it." She turned and moved past him, waving her arm to attract the attention of the van's driver.
"I can give you a hand if you like?" he called after her, regretting his over-eager tone as soon as the words crossed his lips.
She turned, smiling and walking backwards to look at him. "That'd be great, thanks."
**
He joined the two removal men in unloading the van, ignoring their knowing winks, nudges and comments about 'not wasting any time'. Lily was kept busy directing the three men to deliver their burdens to the correct rooms, wincing and uttering the occasional 'careful with that' in the process. Nick, at least, was being careful, but he wasn't sure he could say the same for the two 'professionals'. At one point he caught one of them miming a drop-kick of a small box clearly marked 'fragile' while his companion grinned. Nick's ferocious scowl sent them both on their way, and he retrieved the box from the tail of the van and delivered it himself.
"Bedroom," Lily directed briefly after glancing at the box, and he obliged, setting it down on top of the dressing table. Everyone else was downstairs, and in the momentary quiet he had time to reflect on what, exactly, he was doing there. 'She's pretty,' he acknowledged. 'And she seems nice enough. She's got a sense of humour, even if it isn't the most sensitive. She doesn't seem to set much store by the whole 'hero of Sandford' thing. And something about her is making my heart race.' He drew a deep breath. "I'm attracted to her," he muttered softly to himself. He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing, or not.
"Nick?" His new neighbour's voice calling from downstairs broke into his train of thought. "You find a place for that box?" There was an edge of suspicion in her voice, and he realised she probably thought he was snooping.
"Yeah, just taking a breather," he called back, and started back down the stairs.
**
Finally the van rumbled away, and Nick and Lily turned to look at each other. There was a moment of silence which stretched out uncomfortably between them. 'Don't leave yet!' a small voice in Nick's brain screamed at him. 'Find an excuse to stay. Offer to help her unpack.'
"Uh, could you use a hand with the unpacking?" he heard himself ask.
"Oh, would you mind?" She seemed genuinely relieved at his offer. "It's such a huge job, and I always like to get the bulk of it done on the first day."
He nodded. "It's no problem." He nodded towards her downstairs toilet. "I'll just go wash my hands." At her slightly surprised look, he clarified. "My place is the mirror image of this, so I figure the toilet's down here."
She was in the kitchen when he emerged a moment later, unpacking a box of crockery into a cupboard.
"So, what can I do to be of help?"
"Um, would you mind setting up the TV and VCR?" she asked, nodding towards the living-room. "I always find it so tedious getting them tuned in."
"Not a problem," he assured her, although he would rather have been in the kitchen, where he could talk to her. 'Although,' he thought wryly, 'that might not be the best idea, given how tongue-tied I've suddenly become. And I wish those damn butterflies would settle down.'
Still, he reflected, at least his palms weren't sweaty, so he shouldn't have too much difficulty with the buttons on the TV remote.