Heartbeat – All That I Have
Disclaimer: Heartbeat is not my creation and doesn't belong to me. I merely wish to play around with a few marvellous characters for a while.
Characters: Mainly Nick/Jo/(Kate)
Then of course there's Greengrass, Maggie/Neil, Mike, Gina and the rest
Genre: Hurt/comfort, romance, angst, crime, drama, tragedy
Time/Spoilers: Set in late season seven.
Summary: While Nick is wondering if life is going to be the same for years to come he and Jo begin to plan for a trip abroad, to start all over again. Life as a sergeant isn't what Nick expected it to be. While trying to sort out a series of antique thefts Nick and Mike get into trouble than they can handle and suddenly Jo finds herself torn between hope and despair. She gets more insight in Nick and Kate's relationship than she ever bargained for as it turns out Kate's grip around Nick is stronger than Jo ever imagined.
Beta: NuGirl – thanks ;)
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Chapter One – A Series of Thefts
Sergeant Nick Rowan sighed heavily and closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his tired eyes. He was sitting in the living room, next to the fire, filing police reports. He looked up as Jo sat down next to him with a plausible smile on her lips.
"Well, you look awfully cheerful," she teased softly, sarcastically, and leaned in for a kiss.
Nick gave her a tired smile and gave in to her tender lips as they met his. They broke the kiss and he leaned back to look at her; her whole being was radiant and sparkling, her curly hair falling down softly around her shoulders. Her beautiful features became enlightened in the flames of the fire in front of them.
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"I'm just looking at my beautiful wife," he returned cunningly.
Jo chuckled. "Is that your way of saying sorry for being engrossed in work the whole afternoon, evening and…" she glanced at her watch, "is it going to be night as well?"
Nick hung his head slightly. "I'm sorry, Jo. It's just that there's a lot of paperwork that needs to be done," he apologized.
"And you're afraid this is what it's going to be like for the rest of your life?" she asked. "That's what you said the other day," she offered by way of explanation for her question.
Nick made a face and leaned back in the sofa, staring into the warm fire in front of them. "Sometimes I wish everything was like before," he said exasperated and turned to look at her ruefully. "When I was just an ordinary constable."
"You're loathing, Nick Rowan," Jo exclaimed and broke into an astonished grin.
"I'm not," he protested meekly.
She raised one eyebrow skeptically.
"All right," Nick admitted. "Maybe a little, but," he leaned closer to her in the sofa and placed his arm around her small frame; "can't we just go away for a while and think."
"We were away on a honeymoon for two weeks a couple of months ago," she reminded him cheekily and let her head come to rest on his chest. "But then again, I'm not that hard to persuade. The woman you're going to convince is my head master. According to her I've no more vacation saved for the rest of this year," Jo added.
OOOOOO
"Morning," Mike Bradley said hastily as he swept through the door and into the duty room just a minute before the shift was starting.
"Oh, no," Phil returned by way of greeting as he stared at the newspaper in front of him, on his desk.
"What?" Alf asked curiously.
"It's that antique gang again," Phil complained. "Nick's going to have us out the whole day searching for any sort of clues."
Mike leaned in over his shoulder and pursed his lips. "It says here that the police are standing crest fallen about the clever gang that now seem to operate from Ashfordly," he read aloud.
"That they dare," Alf muttered darkly. "We do have clues."
"I'm afraid that isn't enough, Alf," Nick filled in as he walked up from behind the old copper, coming out from his office. "I've just had a call from divisional HQ and they want results. CID is ready to take over for us as well if we can't find something substantial soon."
"I take it DI Shiner wasn't too impressed with how I handled the dead guy in custody either, a couple of months back," Mike said sullenly.
"All that has been settled and you've been cleared. The man died because of malaria, not by your negligence as the journalists wrote," Nick answered. "Let it go, Mike."
"I suppose you're right, Sarge," he said as he took his seat behind Nick's old desk.
Nick smiled amusedly and turned to Ventress as the copper reached into the top drawer of his desk and retrieved a cookie. "Alf?" he began. "Have you had a chance to go through the addresses of unoccupied buildings that we got from the municipal office yesterday?" he asked.
"Well, not yet, not all of them," the old copper replied.
"You believe they're storing things somewhere local," Mike stated as he straightened in his chair, his interest peaking.
Nick nodded. "When we find that we'll find the people behind it, preferably without the masks on," he offered.
"It would be so nice to nail them," Phil let on longingly. "All those lonely nights on patrol, the hospital visits to take statements from people who says; I don't know, they had masks on, I couldn't identify them," he finished sarcastically.
OOOOOO
Doctor Neil Bolton looked up from the chart he was studying as he saw Sr. Maggie Bolton walk briskly into the adjoining corridor. He hastily took one last glance at the chart and scribbled something down before handing it over to the ward sister.
"That would be all Sister Watkins,"" he said curtly, but in a polite manner, as he headed out of the room and hurried after the woman he'd once shared his life with. "Maggie!" he hollered.
She whirled around with a frown at the sound of someone calling her name and sighed, looking almost annoyed, as she realized it was her estranged husband. "Hello, Neil," she acknowledged.
He walked up to her looking almost apologetic and glanced around in case anyone else was lingering. "Maggie, we need to talk," he said seriously.
"No, Neil, you need to talk, I have nothing to say to you," she replied bitterly and turned around to walk off.
"Maggie, please, wait," he begged softly. "Can't we just talk about it?"
The nurse turned toward him again. "What good would it do, Neil? As I told you before, you walked out on me when I needed you the most," she let on, unintentionally raising her voice.
"I'm sorry but I couldn't handle your way of dealing with it," he said with a sigh and ran a hand over his forehead. "So clinical, so detached, it was like nothing could move you."
"It was the only way I could deal with it," Maggie replied trying to keep casual.
"Can't we at least be friends?" the young doctor asked hopefully.
She pursed her lips, the look on her face far from jovial.
"Civil?" he added.
Maggie broke into faint smile and Neil felt the corners of his mouth twist upwards. It had been a long time since he had seen that smile. It suited her somehow.
"Civil it is," she answered.
"A night cap at a café?" he asked carefully.
"A late drink at Aidensfield Arms," she decided and turned to leave for the second time, this time her smile reached her eyes.
OOOOOO
Claude Greengrass clasped his hands together in front of him and chuckled as he stared at the twelve goats he'd gotten delivered from the auction. "My beauties," he said happily. "You'll supply me with milk, exclusive milk for the restaurants, and cheese, locally produced and fresh."
The goats suddenly scrambled as a motorbike came down the road. The driver stopped at his gate, killed the engine and got off with a half-smirk on his face.
However, the old crook's lips bent downward as the young constable walked up to him. "Before you go on accusing me for anything that I haven't done…" he began.
PC Mike Bradley raised a hand in order to stave the protest or complaint that was forming. "I'm not here because I suspect foul play, Claude," he reasoned. "I'm here to see if you could help me with inquiries."
Claude visibly relaxed and took a step closer to Bradley. "What's in it for me?" he tried. "I mean an informant must make something out of it."
Mike nodded. "Yeah, normally they get a reduced sentence," he replied deadpan.
Claude sighed. "I thought you were different," he added exasperated. "Not that I mind Rowan that much, thank heavens Blaketon was relieved. It's enough trying to buy a stamp from him."
Mike smiled cunningly. "So, Claude, do you know anything about any antiques that's gone missing?" he asked.
"I heard that snobby woman up at Caramide Cottage lost a large garden statue," he said and blinked in rapid succession. "A good thing too, it must have been the ugliest thing ever made," he added amusedly.
"You haven't seen or heard anything else?" Mike wondered aloud and eyed him suspiciously. "Perhaps a rumor that circulates?" he suggested.
Greengrass appeared to be thoughtful for a moment. "There was one funny thing the other day," he admitted, recalling the event. "I had been out…" he trailed off remembering he was talking to the police and corrected himself, "…I was on my way home when I saw that the lights were on at Hillsdale Farm. I remember thinking it was odd since no one is supposed to live there anymore."
Mike frowned. "Did you see anything other than that the lights were on?" he asked curiously.
"An old car," Claude mused. "At first I thought it was Rowan's but what would he do up there, alone, close to midnight?"
"Sergeant Rowan owns an old MG-TA, doesn't he?" Bradley asked. "Must have cost a fortune."
Greengrass snorted. "His acquirement of it was shady at best," he let on sourly.
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To be continued
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