They arrived in Harry's old bedroom. She stopped on the threshold taking in every detail. She sighed, entering further. The difficulties at being back here had worn off a bit.

"Nothing changed. Everything's just the way it was on our last visit." She remarked, running a finger on the commode.

"Why should it be different?"

She shook her head but didn't say anything. She sat on the bed. "So? What is it all about?"

"You know."

"No I don't."

Dempsey clicked his tongue impatiently. She wouldn't make it easy. "Is this how it's gonna be now?"

She frowned questioningly "Either you explain or I..."

"Between us." He said quickly before he lost the courage to go any further. "Is this how it's gonna between us now?"

"I don't know what you mean." She kept avoiding his gaze.

"You're putting distance between us." He was kneeling in front of her now, trying to do eye contact, their eyes met for a second before she turned her head to the right. He put his hand on the one that was resting on her knees. "You keep avoiding my eyes... my touch." He finished as she withdrew her hand.

"At least I wasn't the one avoiding the truth." She snapped.

"Why? You think I'm turning a blind eye on the situation."

"Don't be obtuse, you know what I mean."

"Are we talking about the gun?"

"The gun? The fact's that you knew there might be something going on with Coltrane but you didn't tell me. The fact's that I asked you why you came back earlier from New York but you lied me. The fact's that..." her voice was getting louder as the anger and frustration mounted in her "You taught my boy how to shoot without even telling me about it, you hid me the truth and yes, yes we are talking about this damned gun! You brought it here and obviously you had no intention to tell me anything about it. I had to discover the truth just like with Coltrane."

James was glad she was letting it all out now. It was never good when she kept everything inside, boiling on the surface. If there was to be an explosion, it had to happen now, before they went on the street.

"Give me one, half a decent reason why I should trust you again." She demanded.

Her question hurt him slightly, but he knew, or at least hoped, that most of it was the result of the stress of the last days. "Try concern... Come on Harry!" he tried to explain "When I came back from New York you were all affected by Maggie's kidnapping and this picture was 20 years old, there was no reason for me to bother you with it."

She thought about it a moment, pretending to observe the pattern on the bed cover to avoid meeting his eyes. "Maybe." She conceded eventually, then she looked up. "But what about the gun? There was no reason to tell me about it either?"

"Ok, maybe I should have told you, but..." He shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't like the idea and I understand. But I need to know that if I leave my kids they'll be able to protect themselves while I'm away. I'm not leaving them unprotected."

"They're not unprotected. There are men all around the property and Watson's here."

"I know, but I feel better this way." I looked at her straight in the eyes and saw that she understood what he meant even she didn't approve of it. "As for the shooting range... Like I said, Tom wanted to learn and I appreciated the time we spent there. Between men. It was great to teach him something, it was... our thing. Maybe I was a bit selfish but I never meant to lie or hide it from you."

"The result was still the same."

"What d'you want me to do about it? It's done." He said, flinging his arms up in exasperation. "So now, either you accept it or you don't."

"You disappointed me James, it's going to take time for me to..." She stopped. Was she going to say it would take time to trust him again? Could this unfailing trust that had taken them through all ordeals for 25 years, vanish in the air like that? It was hard for her to explain what she was feeling, because she didn't even know for sure what she felt. He hid things from her, but he never meant any harm. However in those troubled times she would have wanted this trust to be a rock onto which she could have hold on without the flick of a doubt. It proved she couldn't. Or could she? Everything was confused in her head. She looked at her husband, he was waiting with baited breath. She sighed. "It's going to take time."

She rose and went to the door. As she was turning the doorknob he murmured: "I miss you."

"I miss us." She answered and left.