A/N: This really wasn't supposed to become something with regular updates, but since I made a deal to get an update for an update I guess I have no choice but to comply (even if I'll have to start rationing ideas a little!)
Here's another missing scene, but set during 1x02 - In My Protection.
A/N 2: If you're reading, Guest who left me such lovely encouraging words - I hope you enjoy the rest of the show! Chapter 3 is set right after the finale, so if you're dissatisfied with their "break up" maybe you'll want to check that one out (as well as Nyte Quill's lovely fics of course).
He had come to thank her, the day after the attack on the orphanage; blue eyes clouded with worry and sadness as they wandered over the bruise that covered a good deal of her face. She had kept on a brave expression, a stoic smile that was too unchanging to be real. His hand had reached out, almost, as it seemed, on its own account, reached out to touch her injuries, but his fingers curled before they met her skin and returned to grip his bowler hat so much more tightly than necessary.
The apology he offered for the harm she and her orphanage had come to was sincere, even though his voice was cracking and his posture timid. Was it the shock, still sitting in his bones? she wondered (it was certainly still sitting in hers, but she was well practiced in keeping signs of insecurity hidden from sight). She, too, felt the urge to reach out and touch him (the cut above his eyebrow was still angry and red, but it was clear it had been taken care of) - comfort him as well as herself; but even though they had lived through so much together in such a small period of time, they were still strangers. The ordeal they had gone through was an experience she did not wish to see repeated; too much of it had reminded her of earlier days in her life and the brutality she had experienced in Russia. The children - they would recover quickly. Warm milk with honey had calmed their young minds and the excitement had tired most of them rather than woken them up. She herself had been all too glad not to be alone that night, and had fallen asleep curled up in one of the girls' cots. Holding the small body close, it had been easy to tell herself it was for the child in her arms and not her own nerves that she chose discomfort over her own, empty bed.
Had he slept in the arms of his wife? she asked herself, eyes wandering over the tall form of the Inspector. Even though she had no reason to doubt the happiness of his marriage, the tension in his shoulders and the sadness in his startlingly blue eyes spoke volumes to her.
"I owe you my life."
His words, spoken more clearly than any other part of the conversation they had been having, startled her. She had saved his life, he explained, and done so by putting her own at risk, coming to harm in the process. He would be in her debt forever. She laughed and waved him off, saying it was nothing - then doing her best not to wince as she felt pain stab through her from the bruise around her eye. Nothing, really, she told him yet again. She would have done it for anyone. Her words of assurance had barely passed her lips when she suddenly wondered if they were the truth.
Would she really have risked so much to save just any man?