Cold

"You sure you're ready to come back?" Gerry asked with concern as he stilled the engine of the Triumph and turned to see the grim set face of his friend's husband. Even though Sandra had already left for work, taking Mia and Bella to college and minders with her when he'd arrived to pick up Strickland; the old detective sensed a residual unhappiness around the flat. While he'd gathered a sense of the younger man's withdrawn behaviour from Sandra, the anger and frustration coursing out of the man's pores had taken him slightly off guard.

"Yes, thank you. Thanks for the lift," Rob opened the door and eased himself ungracefully from the car, cursing every movement internally.

Gerry pursed his lips and shook his head. They weren't friends, but the curtness of the reply poked his compassionate side. He leant across the handbrake before the car door could be slammed. "Look, I know I'm out this afternoon for Brian's birthday but if you fancy an early finish, Nick and Steve will be in the office, I'll look the other way if they knock off early," he winked.

Rob paused, the cold frame of Gerry's car door still under his palm, something caught in his throat; for a moment the cloud surrounding him lifted enough for his vision to unblur, for the constant overlay of gun barrel to give way to the reality of what was in front of him. Unable to quite form a coherent response from the curling smoke of fog in his mind he nodded and offered a small smile before collecting his composure. "Thank you, Gerry."

Letting out a breath as his car door was closed a lot more softly than he thought it might have been, Gerry pulled himself upright and fished in his pocket to check that he had all his things about him before getting out and locking the car. As he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, he watched Strickland limp through the entrance.

"Wotcha pal!"

Gerry flinched. "Jeez Steve, will you stop sneaking up on people!"

"Sorry pal, couldna resist. Should he be here?"

"Probably not," Gerry took another drag and affected an American accent. "Come on then, another day and dollar."

--

Rob grimaced as the knock at the door beat through his head. He'd barely made it to his desk and the blessed relief of his seat from which he planned not to move from for about a week having just seen the mountain of his intray. Turning to face the interruption, he found himself annoyed again by the man halfway through his door.

"Ned," he greeted no less cordially than he would have under better circumstances. "Good morning. "

"Thought you weren't back til next week, bloody good to see you," the man managed to express no emotion in his speech. "Got time for a catch up? "

Rob put all of his conscious effort into not pulling the face he really wanted to. "Actually, Ned, I've only just got here really. Could we maybe handover a little later?" Like after coffee and painkillers. Or when hell freezes over.

The gut held his hands in front of him in an approximation of a unconvincing surrender. Or a drama student shy to jazz hands. "Absolutely, just wanted to touch base. I've got a break between meetings at about ten if that... "

"That sounds perfect," Rob returned meaning the precise opposite, but at least he was left once again in painful peace. Even if he did have to limp back across the room to close the door.

Technically, he was not supposed to be back for another week. But another week of sitting like a lemon in the flat with daytime television and the crossword he couldn't finish while the girls flitted in and out with their daily routines was going to drive him to the drink he wasn't suppose to have with the pills that he knocked back with a swig of water from a bottle that had probably sat on his desk for far longer than sensible.

Holding his intention of sinking into the inviting chair behind his desk, he reached down to press the power button on his desktop tower and straightened slowly before making his way to his cupboard of dreams. Filing the kettle with the last of the suspicious water, he stood in relative silence while it boiled. Behind him he could hear the pinging of what sounded like a million emails loading. Maybe he should change having it open on start up, just to give him time to check that the volume wasn't at concert level.

Only once established in the welcoming chair, mouse pulled towards him and glasses on, when he went to take a sip of his drink did he realise that while he hadn't been there and to his knowledge, nobody knew about his cupboard of haven, fresh milk had appeared. Frowning he stared at the cup until he was once again disturbed by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called absently.

"Robert, hi,"

He looked up from the cup and really wished he hadn't come in.