Hiya, it's official, work interferes with writing. Massive thanks to everyone for reading and to Sarah and Eden for their lovely reviews which always make me smile! And, here is the next chapter! Enjoy! Jessie xx

Anthony Kaye

"What is up with you, are you going through The Change?" Gerry asked as Sandra rejoined them in the office.

"What?" she asked, eyeing the wrappings from their Monday morning bacon sandwiches lying on the table with suspicion. The Met canteen's bread was off. Or something was.

"All this moodiness and going to the bathroom, is it too hot in here for you?" Gerry ineffectually explained.

"What?" she repeated. Luckily for him, she hadn't actually caught what he was asking. "Moodiness?"

"Ignore him," Brian said sympathetically. It hadn't gone unnoticed to the quiet observer that Sandra had clearly been feeling unwell variously throughout the last few weeks, or that she was particularly distracted that morning. "He's just sore because Gerry Junior's team lost at the weekend."

"Am not," Gerry grumbled. "It was a bloody shambles, the ref wasn't even watching the game."

"He was in the middle of it," Steve grinned as he moved the remains of breakfast to the bin, much to the delight of Sandra's wounded senses.

"Brian, can I have a word in my office?" she decided to ignore Gerry and whatever it was that was causing him to gripe.

"Aye," the retired detective raised his eyebrows at his colleagues who shrugged in response as he followed their boss to the back of their lair.

"Close the door," she swallowed as she turned to face him. Throwing up hadn't dispelled the taste of slightly off bacon. Or whatever it had been. "Right, I wanted to talk to you about this before we take it on."

He frowned. "Take on what?"

She picked up the file from her desk and handed it to him. "Anthony Kaye."

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Anthony Kaye's death had haunted him for nearly twenty years. The young black man who'd died in custody; his custody. The case that had ended his career. They'd been looking for an excuse to get rid of him; he'd been set up. For so many years he'd known that he'd been set up. The lad had hanged himself and he'd been hung out to dry. Literally. He'd been an alcoholic and an obsessive. But that didn't mean he hadn't been set up. For years after he'd kept the cuttings from the papers; during the first year of UCOS he'd embarrassed himself by assaulting a Samaritans office to find the custody sergeant who'd been on duty that night. He'd felt the weight of the file in his hands once before; in the first weeks of UCOS; he hadn't opened it though and Sandra really didn't need to know about it.

"Gerry and me have been looking and we think there's grounds to re-open the case," she began carefully.

"And Strickland has sanctioned this?" he looked up. However much sway she might have over her superior officer at home, he knew both of them well enough to know that it didn't translate into work. Well, no more than it ever had before. "Never."

"He agreed to let us look at the file," she said simply. "I haven't asked for it to be officially re-opened yet, but we can have that argument when we get to it."

"Why? I mean, well, why?" His own burning need, it wasn't curiosity, it had been necessity; to know the truth of what had happened that night had been so personal, so centric, so intrinsic to his survival that to involve anyone else in his lost cause had never been his intention. And it certainly wasn't in the public interest, as the politicians would say.

She shrugged. "Why do we re-examine any case? New evidence comes to light or someone who cares about the people involved in it makes enough of a fuss. Anthony Kaye's family were never given a proper answer to why their son died. And the officer who was dismissed from duty, whose life was turned on its head, was used as a scapegoat so that the Met didn't have to instigate a full investigation," she held up a hand and said quite seriously. "I'm not saying there was a conspiracy, or that they were out to get you. But whatever happened that night, it was never explained. There weren't the answers there should have been."

"Esther won't be happy," Brian tried to hand her back the file. If he was completely honest, he didn't know how he felt about it. A beam of hope had entered the now rarely trodden paths of his memory where his enforced retirement lay; yet it illuminated the warning signs and hazard tape that others had put there to try and stop him thinking about it. He took his glasses off and held them in his hand, unconsciously turning them from side to side, feeling the edges of the arms digging into his fingers.

"I've spoken to Esther," she told him. She'd spent a few hours with Brian's wife on Saturday while their partners had been fishing. The conversation had been both lengthy and emotional, though neither woman had allowed the full extent of their feelings to come to the surface. "She's ok for us to go ahead with this if it's what you want." She didn't add that she'd practically had to promise her soul to his wife that she wouldn't let Brian get hurt in the process.

"What will you say to Strickland?" he tightened his grip slightly so that his glasses were as still as his sight, fixed firmly on the woman in front of him.

"The family of the man who lost his job don't feel that a proper job was done at the time. They've spent a lot of time thinking about it and they believe that he was unfairly accused and dismissed."

"The man was an alcoholic. Drunk on duty. A liability," Brian recounted the highlights of his former boss' 'dear john' speech. Objectifying it didn't make it any less personal though. It never would.

"He was also good at his job," she reminded him sternly. "And a good man."

He smiled involuntarily at her qualification of his old self.

"It won't be easy," she smiled sadly at her friend. "But whichever case we start today…"

"Will be my last case," he finished kindly for her. He swallowed and put his glasses back on, pushing them up his nose with his thumb. "We'll do it properly, no secrets."

She nodded. It hadn't escaped her notice that he had made up whatever differences he had had with Steve in the last few days and it gladdened her to know that he was happy to be open with the current new boy.

"I want to do this for you Brian, properly," she felt a lump forming in her throat that had nothing to do with dodgy sandwiches. She was going to miss him.

"Ok," he straightened his stance. He was touched. Of all those who'd kept their faith in him over the years; given him a chance; and generally not exiled him from their lives, few were still around. There was Esther, of course, there was, had always been and would always be Esther. There had been Jack. There was Gerry still. And there was Sandra, she was his boss but she was also one of the truest friends he had ever had. This had the hallmarks of disaster written all over it; no other copper would touch it with a barge pole. They'd locked it away in a cabinet far from the light of the sun. Like they'd tried to lock him, out of work, out of his mind, out of the sun. But that was before UCOS. "Let's find some answers."

She smiled. "Go put it on the board then. Let's get to work."

She was about to follow him out when the desk on her phone rang, "I'll be out in a moment," she called. "DS Pullman, UCOS?"

"DAC Strickland, office."

Oh great, he was in a flirty mood.

"How's it going?"

Oh wait, it was work. "Just about to put it on the board."

"And Brian?"

"He's the one putting it up."

"I'll be down in an hour."

"I'll look forward to it."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Aw guv, I never knew you cared."

She looked up to see Gerry in her doorway as she put the phone down. She scowled. "What do you want Gerry?"

"Just wanted to check you're alright," he shuffled into her office and closed the door. "Look," he held up his hands. "I know we take the piss, but we do care about you. And well, these last few weeks, you've got to admit, you've been acting a bit, odd."

"Odd?" she queried.

"Yeah, look are you sure Brian's alright with this case? That Esther is?"

"No, don't change the subject, odd?"

He shuffled uncomfortably, checked behind him that the door was closed and took a step towards her. Suddenly she didn't want to know his opinion anymore. "I'm fine," she lied. "Look Gerry, can we just get on?"

He paused for a moment, considering his next move. She'd just castled and if he moved his piece, it was going to be taken by her queen in a short, sharp, battle-ending defence. He knew something was wrong. And he knew Sandra. In the old days, though they were only a few months ago, she'd have bottled it up (whatever it was) and if that didn't work she'd eventually come clean and tell them what it was that was bothering her. Perhaps he'd have more luck at the pub later. "Sure," he compromised. "As long as you know…"

"I know," she smiled. The lump was getting worse. She knew her boys cared about her. She cared about them, and she knew that they knew that too. That's why she didn't want Brian to leave; that's why she didn't want Gerry to worry about her; and that was why she couldn't say anything, yet.