Right, sorry it's taken me so long to update this. I've been running around in real life and lacking inspiration for fic-ing. But, Bleed for Me, the new S&B book is out next week and series 3 will be starting soon so hopefully there will be more. This chapter is based on a scene in the first book - Dead to Me but there are no real spoilers for plot.

Thank you everyone who has been reading this! It's one of my favourite things to discover that people from all around the world have read bits of it so thank you. And if you're still reading, thank you for your patience!

'You ok to get home? Where's your car?'

'I'll get a taxi,' Rachel answered. She didn't want to think about her car, parked outside Rosie's block of flats, about driving over there full of purpose when Rosie was still... about Rosie lying there all... All the images came crowding back in. She shook her head. As if that would help.

'Do you want me to drop you?' Janet was being uncommonly nice to her. Rachel wasn't sure it was helping. She also wasn't sure what to make of it. Rachel knew she had been a pig to the other detective so far, looked down on her mostly. But then, she was the one who had called Janet. Rachel was confused. Too tired to think straight. She shook her head again.

'No, no, don't bother.' There she went, pushing people away again. Life was simpler.

Janet opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. Her sharp eyes took note of the way Rachel was holding herself together, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, still shivering. Kid was probably only just keeping it all in. She obviously didn't want to break down in front of anyone. Janet didn't want to kill her with kindness, or get a smack in the teeth. So she just shrugged and let Rachel pull out her phone, call a taxi, then watched as she lit up a cigarette.

After her first long drag, Rachel realised that Janet was still standing there.

'Be ten minutes, he said.' She snatched another drag. 'You can go, y'know.'

'I'll wait.'

Rachel only shrugged, too tired to argue. Nothing made sense right now so why shouldn't Janet Scott start being nice to her? She stood and shivered and smoked her fag hard.

For her own part, Janet wasn't quite sure why she was waiting with the girl. Protective mother instinct maybe. Seeing that Rachel could be vulnerable, could actually care about something, someone, had touched Janet slightly. Rachel was more like a human being tonight than she had been since she joined MIT. And Janet respected her efforts at holding it together, her attempts at putting up a front; she recognised them. Maybe not the most sensible way of dealing with a traumatic event in the long run but it could get you through the worst till you had the time and space and capacity to deal with all the shit.

Rachel ground out her cigarette and looked at the packet. She wanted another but that would make her look like a real addict. She glanced sidelong at the older detective who was standing with her hands in her pockets, gazing up the street. Fuck it. What did she care what Janet thought? She didn't notice Janet watching out of the corner of her eye as Rachel tugged out another cigarette and lit up again.

'Have you...?' Janet started, then she let the question die in the cold air between them. Have you got someone to go home to? She suddenly knew that the answer would be no. And making Rachel give it would make it all the worse for her. She could offer to take Rachel home again, try to call her later, push her to talk, but Janet could tell it would be useless. Kid didn't trust her and why would she? After all, did she trust Rachel? About as far as I could throw her. Janet recognised a shade of affection in the thought though, that certainly wouldn't have been there two days ago. Or two hours ago. Just went to show, anything could happen.

'Have I what?' Rachel demanded, shuffling her feet. She felt put on the spot, even though she didn't know what Janet was asking.

Janet shook her head. 'Nothing.' She smiled that disarming little smile that Rachel thought she probably used on suspects to put them at their ease. It made her feel defensive. What's she looking at anyway? The woman hardly even looked cold; she looked relaxed, like she could wait all night. She was watching Rachel, as if she was waiting for an answer – but she hadn't actually asked a face was impassive, patient. Rachel realised that she was staring and hurriedly looked down at her feet. She concentrated on smoking, not noticing that Janet's focus had shifted.

'Is that your cab?'

Rachel spun round. Thank God. She stamped out the end of her fag, turned towards the taxi as it drew up, then stopped and turned back again. She should say something, she knew. Thanks, or something like that. Something nice. Polite. Rachel just stared.

My God she really doesn't know what to do with herself, Janet thought. She stepped forward. Put the poor kid out of her misery.

'Go on get a bloody move on.'

Janet almost laughed at the look of relief that washed over Rachel's face. She turned stiffly back towards the taxi again. With her hand on the handle, staring blankly across the top of the vehicle she managed to jerk out 'Thank you. Janet.' And she swallowed hard.

On a whim, Janet reached out and pressed her gloved hand to Rachel's arm.

'Try and get some sleep,' she said gently. 'See you tomorrow.'

She walked off quickly, deliberately not looking at the wetness glinting on Rachel's cheeks. Rachel threw herself into the back of the taxi. She choked out 'Chadderton' then huddled back into a corner, cradling the arm that Janet had grasped.

A hollow of loneliness was expanding under her ribcage. She had a ridiculous longing to run to someone and bury her head against them, have warm arms wrapped round her, someone tell her that everything was going to be ok. Ridiculous. She had never had anyone like that. She had never done that. I bet Janet would be good at that. Ridiculous. Rachel hit her head against the back of the seat. Why did nothing, nothing, make any sense?