Ok, I'm not going to lie, there's a fairly obvious plot twist coming. In the meantime, I've got a little lost so here be some hang-over drizzle! Enjoy! Jessie xx

Hung-over

"Ugh," Sandra drawled dramatically, running a hand across her forehead which felt as though some ancient tribe had set up camp atop and were performing some sort of satanic ritual. She blinked at the brightness of the ceiling. Rolling over with some effort she found the button on the alarm to turn it off before returning to stare at the ceiling. The problem with which she found was that the ceiling had no longer any intention of being a solid structure. The swirls of completely smooth plaster began to dance before her bleary eyes. With a Herculean shove against the softness of her pillows she reluctantly left the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, momentarily sparing a thought for how easy it was to find her way around the house she no longer lived in. Heaving over the toilet, she tried to focus her thoughts on how well appointed her house was that she could negotiate it half-drunk and now half-hungover.

"Jes…" she muttered falling back to find the sink as support, reaching up and depressing the flush on the toilet. One hand pulled her left foot round to her side while the other curled around her right knee. Her forehead lowered she stayed statuesque for several minutes while her breathing levelled out. "Jes… I am out of practice," she laughed humourlessly at her admittance.

Twenty minutes later, gravity had resumed to a normal and manageable level and ceased its torment on her world. Grabbing tight hold of the sink bowl, she pulled herself to stand. Strangely, being sick hadn't helped. She took a few steady steps across the small room and leant on the towel rail staring at her strangled reflection. "Ugh," she grunted. Running a hand over her forehead where the satanic ritual had finished but the embers of the fire were now burning into her skull as the imaginary ancient tribe abandoned their dance, she noted the sticky and dry condition of her hair. "Shower," she sighed. The shower helped a bit. It made her feel clean again at least. "Shit," she stared at the contents of her wardrobe. She pulled out a pair of black jeans and a plain t-shirt to wear. She realised with a dull thud that she had moved into Rob's more than she'd previously thought. Even the clothes she'd taken to Wales were now on the airing rack in the corner of the living area in his flat. How long had it been since she'd been in her own house for more than an hour in the last month? She couldn't remember. She pulled a face in the mirror as she dragged a brush through her hair and threw what random make-up she could find in her cupboard drawer onto her face. Breakfast was not something she was prepared for yet, she decided as she opened various cupboards in her kitchen. She put the kettle on and threw out the three-week old milk.

The coffee helped. Though it probably hadn't sobered her up enough to drive. Shit. The car was at work. Great. Stumbling back upstairs to find her mobile she discovered that it had ran out of battery and was currently exercising a part as a useless black piece of plastic and microchips. Throwing the essentials back into her handbag from where they had become strewn across her bedroom floor she glanced around her room. The bed was a mess. She was a mess. "And it's only Tuesday," she said blandly to the empty room. Deciding that she would pop back after work to deal with the state of her house, she reached the front door with a vague thought of catching a bus when the doorbell rang. Confused cognition wondered what parcel she hadn't ordered as she opened the door.

"Hi, you look terrible."

"Thanks," she muttered glaring at Rob as he stood on her doorstep surrounded by a halo of far-too-bright sunshine.

"Thought you might appreciate a lift," he tried unsuccessfully to suppress his amusement as she fumbled in her handbag, almost dropping its entire contents, to find her house keys. Taking a step over the threshold of her house, a place he had only seldom been a guest, he deftly picked up her keys from the shelf next to the door and handed them to her.

"Do you ever get bored of being perfect?" she grumbled as she kissed him on the cheek in thanks and stepped onto the doorstep, turning to lock the door behind her.

"Good night, then?" he asked still barely hiding his smirk as he joined her sulking in his car. He'd missed her last night. It had surprised him how much. They'd spent a few nights apart since they'd started seeing each other, and they were used to only seeing each other briefly during the day. He'd eaten dinner with Mia and Bella, their lively exchanges warming his heart as he watched his daughter growing into her role as a mother. Despite Bella's eager looks for him to join her side of the argument, he did have to agree with his daughter that the milk would be better drank than thrown at the dinner table. Even if it was hilarious to see Mia's disgruntled face every time her baby pushed the bottle away. But after Bella was in her cot and it was just him and Mia in the living room; her working on some piece of coursework, he still trying to complete the crossword he'd started at the weekend; he found himself looking around the flat, noting the absence of his, was she his girlfriend?

"Mmm," she ran a hand over her forehead, which was still hot. "Brilliant. How was yours?"

"Quiet," he admitted.

"Ugh," she grunted as the sunlight fell through the window onto her. "I feel…just…ugh!"

Rob gave up hiding his laughter as he drove them to work. "I'll see you later," he smiled as she grimaced at the sight of their workplace.

"Yeah," she sighed as she picked up her handbag. "Thanks," she added, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

He rested a hand on hers for a brief moment before they got out of the car and went their separate ways. She made her way down to the UCOS offices where she found Steve filling Brian in on what had happened after he'd left them. Sandra greeted them as she went past to hang up her coat. She did not want to be reminded about what had happened after Brian had left the restaurant. There had been some shots of an undisclosed nature. Battery acid possibly, judging by the state of her hang-over.

"Right," she instigated the day. "Where are we?"

As Brian explained that he'd sourced the quotations on the map and was going to start cross-referencing them with the case details; Steve rubbished the pathology report based on what he'd found out from the pathologist's former assistant; and Gerry pointed to what he'd written on the board regarding the other deaths; Sandra wished that the queasy feeling in her stomach would go away. Instead, it followed her around for the rest of the day as the shadow of her hang-over grew longer and eventually dissipated into the surrounding events.