Hank was still feeling the youthful sense of excitement when he parked his car at the building where Kalinda was currently living, in her friend's apartment. It was a building that had some office spaces on the lower floors, with apartments above. Not the kind of place he would want to live, but then he already knew Kalinda was looking to get herself a place of her own as soon as she could. This wouldn't be her home for long. She had sent him a text to say she would meet him in the lobby.

Getting out of the car, Hank took a quick look down at himself to check his appearance. He had put on a leather jacket over the smart grey shirt, and he thought it made him look quite good. Hopefully good enough that Kalinda might like what she saw. He already knew he would like what he saw, no matter how she had chosen to dress.

When he entered the building, he was not disappointed. He found Kalinda waiting near the building's reception desk. Like him, she had chosen to wear a leather jacket, open, with a smart black pinstriped dress underneath. Her look was completed with leather boots, as always seemed to be the case. Hank liked her penchant for leather. There was no doubt that it made her look great. Her hair was worn up, which also seemed to be a mainstay, to his disappointment.

"Hello, Hank. Looking very dapper," she said in that delightful accent, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Thank you. You look incredible."

"Ah, thanks," Kalinda said. She was happy to be going on a date, if that's what this was, for the first time since who the hell knew when. But at the same time, it was a date with the boss she had worked only two shifts for. That was an almost insane thing to do. But something had clicked between them, there was no way to deny it. However, while she had been getting dressed and quickly doing her makeup, the thought had been in her head that she might be getting on the fast track to blowing her career in Intelligence, which was definitely not something she wanted to do. For that reason, she wanted to speak frankly to him before things went any further.

"Hank, before I go out with you, I want some reassurance that if this doesn't work out between us it's not going to affect my position with Intelligence. This is a job I want to keep. The last thing I want to do is throw it away by getting into some awkward situation where we can't work together because of something that was tried and failed outside of work."

Hank nodded slowly, considering how to reply. "Those are valid concerns, Kalinda. All I can do is give you my word that won't happen. If things don't go well for us, I'll continue to treat you with respect and professionalism at work, just like the rest of my people. I will not hold anything against you."

"That's good enough," she decided. After all, he was right, his word was all he could offer. She had to either accept that or back out of going to dinner with him. That decision had been made. "So, where are we going?"

"Do you like Italian food?"

"Sure do."

"Then you're going to love this place. It's been around forever. Used to go there with Camille. The same guy still owns it, Vito, and the food is out of this world. Probably not a good idea to mention my former wife when we're going out on a…" he stopped short of saying date, suddenly wondering if that was even the way she was looking at it.

Kalinda reassured him with a smile. He was clearly out of practice with this kind of thing, which was understandable. She felt the same way herself. "It's okay, you can call it a date. And don't worry about mentioning Camille. She was someone very special you who you lost and still miss, not some lunatic ex who is going to prove to be baggage between us. I don't mind you mentioning her at all. Let's go, shall we? I could eat a scabby horse."

Hank laughed. Usually, that didn't come easily to him at all. But Kalinda's British humour and accent seemed to draw it out of him. Or perhaps it was just her company that did it. "I don't think they have scabby horses on the menu. I could ask for you?"

Kalinda laughed now. "Not sure that would be a good idea."

Both feeling happy and looking forward to the night ahead, they made their way out of the building.

Half an hour later, Hank and Kalinda were settled at a table for two at the restaurant. The lighting was dim, and the tables had candles on them to give the dining experience a more intimate feel. Kalinda already liked the place before she got to eat anything. Their orders had been placed, and there was a bottle of red wine on the table. She was going to have to get through most of it herself, with Hank limited to one glass because he was driving.

It was now time for the tricky part of the date – moving past the small talk and actually starting to get to know each other better. They had made a start on that the previous night, talking about some of the suffering they had gone through in their lives. But now it was time to be more positive.

"So, what do you like to do, Hank? What interests do you have?"

Hank grunted and looked down at the table for a second. That was the question he had been dreading because the answer was going to embarrass him. "Work, to be honest. I work, and when I'm not working I sit at home and think about work. That sounds like such a miserable way to live when I say it to someone else, but that's just the life I've ended up with."

"You don't watch TV? Sports? Go hiking? Collect baseball cards? Play video games?"

Hank laughed at the thought of himself playing video games. "I wouldn't even know where to start with one of those video game machines. No, I don't do much of anything. Sometimes I'll have a baseball game on, or soccer. As much for background noise as enjoyment though."

"Well there's something we kind of have in common, almost. Football - I can't get on with you Americans calling soccer - is something I've always enjoyed."

"Oh, really?" Hank asked with genuine interest and some surprise. "What team are you a fan of?"

Kalinda giggled, which Hank found very endearing. "Let's not talk about that."

"Ah, so they suck," Hank deduced, smiling in amusement.

She took a drink from her wine glass, savouring the taste. "This season? Suck doesn't begin to cover it. My team is Chelsea. They're having a nightmare this season. At least I can't fall into the trap of going to see them play when I live five thousand miles away. Hey, I've been wanting to ask you since I first met you, how did your voice get like that? I'd have guessed you smoked about a million cigarettes, but it seems you don't smoke, thankfully. Disgusting habit."

"It is a disgusting habit. No, what happened was I was in a car wreck. I had a bad head injury, which luckily ended up having no long terms effects. But at the time they had to put me into a coma for a couple of days. When I woke up, apparently I freaked out and tore the tube out, and that wrecked my vocal chords. I can't even remember doing it. The vocal chord damage ended up being worse than the car wreck. I practically had to learn to talk again."

Kalinda had sipped her wine while listening intently to his story. When he was done, she grimaced. "That's horrific. I'm so glad you recovered."

"Thank you." There was a moment of silence. Hank felt awkward. He knew it was his chance to start some interesting topic of conversation, but he had nothing. He wasn't going to talk about work on a date. "Sorry, Kalinda. You're not going to get much interesting conversation out of me. Nothing happens in my life that I can talk about. That sounded more pathetic than I wanted it to."

"It's not pathetic," she assured him. "If anything, it's relatable. And don't feel like you need to impress me. Neither of us are teenagers, or anything close, unfortunately. The police life is what it is. Let's face it, I'm fifty, single, and I currently live in a box room in my friend's apartment. This is the first date I've been on in over a year. My life is nothing to shout about."

"What happened on the last one?"

"Two minutes after we sat down, the guy shit himself."

Hank had been about to drink some of his wine. Instead, he roared with laughter. "He didn't!"

"He bloody did! Honest to Christ. So you've got some work ahead of you if you want to be my worst ever date."

Now Hank took a drink. "How do you know he shit himself? Surely he didn't tell you?"

"No. But he made some comment about having a bad stomach, then walked towards the toilets like a penguin."

Hank laughed loudly again. "That level of embarrassment is something I cannot imagine."

Kalinda was laughing now too, enjoying seeing Hank light up. At work, and even outside it, he always seemed deadly serious, but yes, there was a sense of humour in there somewhere. "What was your worst date?"

He didn't need time to think about that. "I took a girl out one night when I was maybe eighteen, so you know how long ago I'm talking about. Back then you could get drunk and drive home without thinking twice about it. That's what I did that night, and this girl was riding with me. Both of us were drunk. My car at the time had a busted passenger door. Sometimes it didn't close properly. I was driving along talking to her, she hadn't said anything for a few minutes, so I looked over at her and she was gone!"

"Oh no!" Kalinda cried, laughing. "She fell out the door?"

"Must have," Hank said, also laughing.

She laughed harder. "You didn't go back and look for her?"

"No," Hank admitted, and they both laughed again.

"I'll make a note not to fall out of your car on the way home," Kalinda said as they smiled at each other over the table.

Hank looked at her gleaming eyes and her gorgeous smile. Damn, she was so good looking. Feelings were stirring inside him that he had thought he had seen the last of in his life. For now, he decided to try not to think about that and enjoy the meal, which he saw being brought across the room towards their table.

A/N: Hank and Kalinda are coming out of their shells around each other. How will the night end for them?