A/N: How do I know when my level of obsession has reached its peak? When I start writing FF; the last time that happened was 7 years ago; so, I'm very excited to share this story about something that makes me happy: Slow Horses, especially about Lamb and Standish.

In this process, I want to send a hug to lucyyh and Flora98 who read this first, shared ideas, and encouraged me to publish it (:

1. Lamb. A shitty monster

Ho wasn't an expert in relationships; in fact, he was a complete sociopath, but even he could sense that something was off. "Must be old age", was his initial explanation; he had just witnessed a heated argument between Lamb and Standish, something related to Partner and betrayal. "Catherine must be affected by menopause and Lamb by the lack of alcohol" he thought to himself; he had noticed that Lamb hadn't drunk anything all day.

Now, Ho was driving back to Slough House with Lamb as his passenger, while Standish wandered the outskirts of London; he thought Catherine should be a bit more grateful, considering they had gone to rescue her. She should especially be grateful to him, who had bravely faced that tense hostage situation and, with his ingenious bus plan, had put the finishing touch on the operation.

Still, Ho held Catherine in high regard. She was one of the few people he actually liked. She could see talent in him, and occasionally she let him know, not to gain favor or be indulgent, but simply because she was a kind person. So, he worried that a woman her age would have to walk nearly 30 miles home; that could be quite counterproductive.

—Then, Catherine… -he began suddenly-.

—Shut the fuck up, Ho. -Lamb interrupted with a growl that seemed to come from the depths of his stomach. It was as if he could read Ho's thoughts and was waiting for him to come up with the brilliant idea of speaking to further irritate him-. I don't want to know you exist, so just drive or you'll keep Standish company on the fucking road.

Ho wasn't an expert in human behavior, but even he could deduce that Lamb was having a very bad night.

When they arrived at Slough House, Ho intended to drop off Lamb and continue his way home; however, Lamb ordered him to come inside.

—Track Standish's phone -he said as he lit a cigarette- you're not leaving until you confirm she's at her house -he instructed without looking at him as he trudged up the second flight of stairs heavily.

In the dimness of his office, Lamb poured himself a drink, then another, and another. He drank them as if there were not tomorrow. When he poured the fourth glass, he sat on the sofa, or rather collapsed onto it, as if he had been carrying a heavy burden all day and suddenly couldn't bear it anymore. But there it was, that hurtful weight that wouldn't leave him, crushing his heart.

He had been an asshole; he knew it the moment his words left his mouth.

"Your hero, Charles Partner, was a fucking traitor" … "And do you know why he kept you on? He kept you on precisely because you're a drunk".

He knew it when he looked at Standish and saw how his cruel words drained the life from her eyes.

He emptied the whiskey down his throat, hoping it would help loosen the knot that had formed. He threw the cigarette butt away, not even bothering to see where it landed, then lit another one immediately; his mouth felt very dry.

"He wasn't saving you. He was fucking using you" ... "You're lying".

The tremor in her voice still echoed in his mind clearly; suddenly he felt a bitter tingling in his nose, so he took a deep drag on the cigarette.

"Fuck you" she had said, her voice choked; an insult he now knew was a defense mechanism because he had broken her heart; he felt like the most miserable man, deserving of all the shit and misery of a fucking lifetime.

"Fuck you, Jackson Lamb. Fuck the lot of you. I quit".

Why didn't he stop her?

He should have stopped her, he should have gone after her and begged for forgiveness, but he was a damn arrogant bastard. "Please yourself", he had said, and he stood frozen watching her disappear into the darkness of the night.

The tingling reached his eyes, and the knot in his throat wouldn't loosen; it took longer to pour himself another drink than to drink it.

Standish grabbed her bag, slammed the car door shut with force, looked at him for a second to make her hatred clear, and then ran away, as if she had seen a monster; that was him, a shitty monster who had hurt the only person he could genuinely say was good.

And so she walked away from him, with her fists clenched and her heels echoing against the asphalt.

Motionless and without taking his eyes off her, Lamb held his breath for a moment, while his hands sweated in his pockets. "Look at me", he thought unconsciously; he knew she wouldn't, she was furious and determined; still: "Look at me", the desperate thought took on a life of its own in his mind.

Why didn't he stop her?

He tortured himself with the question again.

What Jackson didn't know was that's how a broken heart feels, a destroyed heart that leaves you unable to react; and now he didn't know what to do with that.

—Standish just turned on her phone; she's home now -He was so absorbed in his self-deprecation that he didn't feel Ho's presence-.

Knowing that she had arrived home relieved some of the pressure in his chest; in the shadows and amidst the smoke, Lamb simply waved his hand, and then lay down on the sofa.

Ho was a complete sociopath, but for some reason, he knew that the wisest thing to do at that moment was to shut up and simply walk away.

—Catherine just replied, she says she won't be coming back -River told Louisa, frowning at his phone-.

—What do you mean she won't be coming back? -She responded with her arms crossed over her chest. They were in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil-.

—I don't know, that's all it says!

It had been 48 hours since Catherine's rescue; as expected, Lamb had ordered them back to work the day after the events at the archive warehouse. "This isn't a damn vacation, this is spy work, you idiots", he had said when they hinted at taking at least a day off.

No one said anything when Catherine didn't show up for work that first day; they thought it was fair for her to rest after what she had been through. But when her office remained empty the next morning, they started to worry, especially River.

—Do you think she might have some sort of post-traumatic stress? -He asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

—Of course not, Standish's natural state is stress… -Louisa replied without hesitation- …in fact, what she couldn't bear is the idea of intentionally missing work.

—Yeah, it's strange. I spoke to her, she said 'see you tomorrow' -Shirley interrupted, suddenly entering the kitchen, passing between Louisa and River, grabbing the kettle, and starting to pour water into a cup-.

River and Louisa exchanged looks.

—When was this? What exactly did she say? -River questioned-.

—The night of the rescue. I called Lamb to report on how the operation ended -Shirley explained, cramming two cookies into her mouth- Standish answered, she sounded normal. I explained what had happened, and she said, 'see you tomorrow'.

Silence fell for a moment.

—That's all -Shirley added, then headed out of the kitchen-.

—Wait -River said as he followed her; the three of them stopped in his and Louisa's office-. You say Lamb was driving, but Lamb took Ho when he went to get Catherine. Maybe he knows something.

—Sure -Louisa added- if we want to get anything out of him, he'll likely demand payment, the bastard.

—So, Lamb and Standish argued and then she left without explanation. What terrible thing could Lamb have said to her that she wouldn't want to come back? -River mused with a distant look in his eyes-.

River supposed something serious must have happened; it wasn't like Catherine to make decisions lightly.

—Do you believe Ho, then? -Louisa asked, sitting in her chair behind the desk-.

—Why the hell would Ho make something like that up?

—I don't know, because he's an idiot; he's upset with Standish because she didn't thank him for rescuing her -she commented, shaking her head-.

—Lamb must have done something terrible to her; he's a complete bastard when he wants to be -he said more to himself, then fell silent for a moment-.

—I must know what happened! -River impulsively stood up from his seat and grabbed his sweater-.

—Where are you going? -Louisa asked when she saw him about to leave the office-.

—I'll call her, just... I just need to step out for a moment.

—You'd better not interfere! -She warned, but River was already rushing down the stairs like a runaway horse-.

The raindrops fell incessantly on the small black Toyota parked in front of the apartment complex in St John's Wood; it was a stolen car, the owner wouldn't notice, because Jackson would return the vehicle before they could realize it was missing, it was just a loan; just like he had done the three times before with other vehicles.

It had been three weeks since he had that argument with Catherine.

During the first week, he sporadically went to Slough House hoping to find her in her office; he had ordered Ho to set up hospital alarms with Standish's data, "why the hell are you asking, because I said so, damn it", he had shouted when Ho wanted to know why he had to do that; Jackson was worried she might fall back into drinking.

By the second week, Jackson practically stopped going to Slough House; that place made no sense without her to organize his life and spare him the trouble of seeing the faces of the bunch of losers under his command; especially River's accusing face, who knew Standish had left because of him.

Under the pretext of taking care of Standish, Jackson began following her from that second week onwards; truth be told, he missed her, and he had nothing better to do with his life.

That night, in the Toyota, parked outside her apartment, he had a half-finished cigarette in one hand and the damn form he had to sign to complete Standish's discharge procedure in the other; when he first saw the document, it felt like a stab to the heart, he held onto the hope that sooner or later, Standish would get tired and come back home to them, but it was evident that was not her intention.

When Jackson started following her, he discovered that Standish, apparently, could have a peaceful life without them, a life without him, as if those 20 years had meant nothing. He had worried about finding her lying under a park bench, drunk, naked, nearly dead. He thought that sooner or later she would return to her past adventures, jumping from bar to bar, and fucking any man who would let her.

He had spent years protecting her from Charles's ghost, believing that she would crumble if she knew the truth, as her sobriety had been founded on the figure of the damned traitor; but no, she was stronger than he thought; why was he surprised, Catherine was full of surprises.

It was 11 o'clock at night, he held the damn form, denying the reality that he had lost her; in that moment, his mind took him back, once again, three weeks ago, to the gas station.

"Look, I want to say thank you for saving my life today", she had said with her sweet, soft voice, while he was too busy being a selfish bastard.

"Are you pissed off because you had to come and rescue me?", yes, he was boiling with anger but for other reasons.

"Stop pretending you don't care about us", of course he cared, she mattered to him. She had been kidnapped, and he was desperate, he wanted to find her, to know she was okay, to know she hadn't been hurt.

So, when they were together again, she only had words for the bastard who had ruined their lives for over 20 years...

"Charles would never authorize an action like that"... "I can live with what I did because I know Charles would have approved"... "he was an honorable man"... "he respected me, he showed me friendship. He believed in me".

—Partner, you son of a bitch! -He said with hatred between his teeth, as he crumpled the form and tucked it into his coat-.

The fury consumed him, the same fury that made him lose control that night, that spewed venom like the vile animal he was, hurting Catherine as he did, that fury that ultimately had him there, in the pit, sitting in a Toyota in the middle of the night, hoping to see her if only for a moment; he was pathetic.

He was about to start the car and leave when he saw her bedroom window gleaming; his heart skipped a beat when he saw Catherine had drawn the curtain to look out. She wore a white robe, her hair loose, and her gaze lost, first to the sky and then to a point seemingly in the void, amidst what was now a gentle drizzle.

She had her arms crossed over her chest, leaning her head against the window; he wasn't close enough to see the details of her face, but he knew her so well that he knew she wore a look of sadness, and he could only feel guilty.

He rested his arms and chin on the steering wheel, wishing to stop time, to stretch that moment so he could admire her a little longer; he's just a pathetic man, he thought again.

Suddenly, Standish closed the curtain. It was just a moment, but it was enough to quicken his heart. God, he missed her so much.

The Toyota was back in its place, the only thing the owner would miss would probably be the small openings in the front door windows; that, and assuming he forgot to close them, or the strong smell of cigarettes; he figured the first option was better.

Eight weeks had passed since that fateful day. It was 8:15 in the morning, and he was facing one of the buildings in the City, London's financial district; suddenly he saw his own reflection in the glass wall, when did his beard grow so much? It didn't matter, at that moment the only important thing was that Catherine was entering one of the buildings across the street; "damn, she's wearing pants," he thought as if that were a sin; she also wore a thin sweater, a shirt with blue flowers, boots, her crossbody bag hanging from her shoulder, and her hair perfectly arranged. It was strange to see her like this; however, in all her forms, she looked beautiful.

It was her first day of work, of course Lamb had continued to investigate her, not as obsessively as the first days, but he was aware of the most important movements.

Standish maintained a certain routine, she went to the supermarket, to the market, some days she ate with one friend or another, on Wednesdays she accompanied her neighbor to the doctor, of course her AA meetings. And now, she was going to work, from Monday to Friday from 8:30 to 5:30, in pants; without missing a day and with the impeccable punctuality that characterized her.

During the following two weeks, Lamb had gone to Slough House a couple of times, intending to make the horses unhappy; letting them know that just because they didn't see him, didn't mean he didn't know everything.

"If you're going to get high, do it outside the office, useless troll, you're going cross-eyed!" He told Shirley, while she was feigning dementia; "and you, don't think I don't know you missed 6 hours this week, you're coming in on Saturday!" He yelled at River, who explained that he was dealing with a medical emergency with his grandfather, "I don't give a shit, when you see him again, tell him I hate him", he said before going up to his office.

—I miss Standish! -Shirley said, lost in thought- He's been unbearable since she's been gone.

—The only good thing is that he practically doesn't show up here anymore" -Louisa pointed out-.

—Yeah, but when he does, he makes our lives hell -Marcus added-, with Catherine here, we basically didn't see his face, because he spent most of his time up in his office.

Then they heard banging on the floor, "move your ass, losers, I don't pay you to come gossip in the office"; they rolled their eyes, but everyone rushed back to their places.

Twelve weeks had passed since that damn day. That morning Jackson had received, for the second time, the form to formalize Standish's discharge; so with the paper in hand, he had made up an excuse to go see her; he would tell her he had no idea what to do with that document (actually, he just had to sign it), that he didn't understand the instructions; then he would change the subject two or three times, until she got desperate, and finally, he would broach the subject of her return.

He was on a corner, two blocks away from her building, he knew she had to pass by there to get home from work; sometimes she stopped at the corner café, other times at the store to buy milk or other basic supplies.

That afternoon was different. Catherine walked arm in arm with Will, and Jackson felt a knot in his stomach twisting with every intrusive thought. His jaw clenched tightly, almost painfully. Will was an old friend of Catherine's, that guy who returned to her life every now and then. It had been more than four years since they last saw each other. Will wasn't just any friend; Jackson knew he was that eternal suitor; for her part, Catherine valued him, she valued him a lot, truth be told. For some strange reason, Will and Catherine seemed not to be on the same page to take their relationship to another level; however, he couldn't ignore how Catherine's happiness seemed to increase every time Will was around, and that gnawed at his life a little.

Jackson knew all that because he had investigated Will, the first time he entered his radar, years ago.

While Will and Catherine entered the corner café, Jackson watched from a distance; consumed in his thoughts, he remembered the damn argument they had, the words full of truth but hurtful that had come out of his mouth, and how much they had hurt her; he was a man of selfish nature, but he was beginning to glimpse the possibility that, perhaps, it was time to let her go, he had no right to enter her life again and drag her into his shit; so he folded the form and tucked it into his pants, and with a bitter sigh he walked away from the place, feeling miserable and damned.

A/N: Thank you for stopping by and reading, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.