AN: I've changed the date of this to be 2021 instead of 2020 because of timeline contradictions.

SCOTLAND YARD

The Lost Cosmonaut, London, February 2021

Clara Ravenwood was going over the books to calculate the week's total take, which was dwindling as ever. It was empty in the bar, empty in the kitchen, and empty in nearly all of the rooms. Nios was out seeing Dr Cohen that evening, so for all intents and purposes, Clara was alone.

There was an almighty crash in the kitchen that made her jump. She left the books on the counter to go see what was the matter, supposing it was only the cat making a racket. But it wasn't, it was Jenny, back hours early from work and throwing silverware around and kicking the sideboards.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?"

"I quit."

"Quit what?"

"My job." Clara didn't say anything. Jenny threw a mug at the far wall and it shattered.

"Alright, don't take it out on my crockery, please," Clara went to stand in front of her to stop her from breaking anything else. She stood there in a huff, soaking wet. "Where's your umbrella?"

"I left it there. I left everything there and took off."

"Jesus. Well, what happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm sick of it. They're all corrupt, the lot of them. There's an entire unit bumping up its statistics by doing stop and frisks, at least three times in the last year some kid has been beaten within an inch of his life. I've got the evidence, I take it to Turner, and she threatens to suspend me! Says I have to let it go, they're just doing their jobs. They don't help anyone, they never have. Why did I think I could use it as a way to do some good? That I could be good?"

"You are good, Jen. But the police have never really helped anybody, have they?" said Clara, taking both her hands. Jenny pulled away, though.

"You can shout at me for being irresponsible in the morning," she grumbled.

"I'm not going to shout at you at all," said Clara, "If you don't want to work there anymore, you don't want to work there anymore. That's fine by me." Jenny looked at her with genuine surprise. "You didn't really think I'd be angry, did you?"

"I – with the wedding, I thought – we already don't have much money for it. If I've got no job-"

"So, we'll delay it, save a little more. Or just do it on the cheap, I don't mind," said Clara softly.

"You don't mind delaying our wedding?"

"It's been seven years. We already live together. No, I don't mind. We could elope tomorrow, and I wouldn't mind."

"We're not eloping, that's what my father did," said Jenny firmly.

"Then we can… go to the registry office. Look, don't worry about that, sit down. I'll make you some tea, you look freezing. It's February out there, you know."

"I do know." But she did sit down at the dining table they kept in there while Clara busied herself with the kettle. "I've been walking around out there for two hours. I thought you'd be furious."

"Is this really it, though? You're not going to calm down and decide to go back? Because, I'll be honest, I'd… I think I'd rather you didn't. I support whatever you want to do, but – well. It's the filth, you know?"

"I knew you didn't like it."

"I've never hidden that. But I was glad that of all the police officers out there, people would get to deal with you instead of some pig."

"I won't go back. That's it. I threw my phone in the river."

"I think some of them have my number."

"You should throw it in the river too, then."

"I'm not going to do that. I'll just turn it off."

"They can't find this place, can they?" asked Jenny, though she already knew the answer.

"No, it's hidden. Only Elliott will be able to get here, which… well, if he shows up, do you want me to answer? Tell him to clear off?"

"No. I'll have to talk to him eventually." Kettle bubbling, Clara noticed Jenny was shivering.

"Take off your clothes, I'll go get you some dry pyjamas from upstairs."

"I'm fine, really."

"I'm gonna be your wife soon, so you'd better get used to me looking after you. Just take them off so I can hang them up. I'll be back in a moment." She left and Jenny, knowing she was right, slowly stripped off in the kitchen. She sat down at the dining table in her underwear feeling even colder than before.

She was not expecting to see anyone except Clara in there at that time, close to midnight, but of course it was that moment when Nios decided she was going to make her entrance. Jenny couldn't have looked (or felt) more awkward if she'd tried.

Cohen behind her in the back door, Nios stared at her for a moment, very perplexed.

"Hello," said Jenny uneasily.

"What's all this? What are you doing?" she asked, suspicious.

"I'm waiting for Clara to come back downstairs." Cohen stepped inside and also saw what was going on.

"You two don't diddle each other in the kitchen when I'm not here, do you?" asked Nios.

"No, I've just been out in the rain – she's getting me clean clothes."

"Aren't you meant to be at work?"

"I quit."

"Congratulations," said Cohen. "Ah hate the police."

"Yes, that seems to be the general consensus."

"And you're definitely not going to do anything in the kitchen?" Nios continued, "Because that's very unhygienic, and if you are I'd like to know so I can sterilise everything."

"We don't shag in the kitchen."

"You'd better not." Jenny rolled her eyes. "We'll be upstairs if you need anything."

"Sure."

"Have you been throwing things in here?"

"Maybe a little."

"…We'll be upstairs," she repeated, taking her leave.

"Great."

She heard them run into Clara on the stairs. The kettle clicked off the boil.

"Did they see you?" Clara asked when she returned with a bundle of clothes, amused.

"Yes, obviously they saw me – give me those."

"It's not so bad, they probably enjoyed it," Clara laughed, handing her the clothes. Jenny grimaced. "What? You're hot."

"Now she thinks we have sex in the kitchen."

"We can, if you like?" She had her back to Jenny, pouring two mugs of tea.

"No. This is a place of business." She was dressed and beginning to feel dry when Clara brought over the tea. "I'm sorry I broke things."

"It's alright," said Clara, "I think that mug was asking for it, anyway. Kept looking at me funny." Jenny smiled a little and Clara smiled right back, as warmly as she could.

"Would you really get married in the registry office?"

"Honestly, I always quite liked the idea of getting married in a church, but I don't have that option anymore. My parents got married in a church. But," she began, "If you're, um… if you're not… we might have more time to look around for venues. Because – I didn't want to say anything – but it has felt a little like I'm planning an entire wedding alone."

"That's not true, I looked at those swatches."

"But I had to pick them out," said Clara, "It would be nice to have more of your input, so I don't have to take Sally with me all the time."

"She's your maid of honour."

"So what? You're my bride. That's more important."

"Maybe you're right."

"About you being an important part of your own wedding?"

"No, about me taking the opportunity to help you more. I can help you with the Cosmonaut, too."

"Are you sure? Nios and I are a well-oiled machine now."

"I need something to do. I can't mope around. If I mope, I'll just want to go back, and… I don't want to go back."

"Well, it's mostly cleaning we need help with, to be honest. Nios hates cleaning bathrooms. You could look over the books too, though."

"And see how much money we're losing?"

"We don't lose that much. We don't pay any rent, the building doesn't exist to pay council tax, the water supply is part of Trap Street's infrastructure, and Esther gives us electricity for free," Clara shrugged, "The running costs are all food, booze and cleaning supplies. Enough about that, though. I'll make you some soup."

"Walk me through the steps of how you make soup, please," said Jenny.

"Well, you…" Clara began, "You take the soup tin, and you put it in the microwave-"

"Sit back down," Jenny ordered her. She did just that. "I'm not letting you break another microwave with an exploding can."

"It's not my fault they just happen to explode when-"

"You need to open the can first and put the soup in a bowl, how many times?" said Jenny. Clara shrugged.

"It's quicker to-"

"It's not quicker when it blows up and takes an appliance with it. We should get a takeaway."

"Because we're flush with so much cash," said Clara, "Do you get any severance?"

"No."

"Could you negotiate some?"

"How?"

"Threaten to tell the press what they've been up to with these risks, and all the racial profiling, if they don't give you a severance package," she said, scrolling through food apps on her phone.

"I don't want any more dirty money from them."

"You could steal something from the evidence room and we could sell it on. Coke? Weed? Skag, if they've got it?"

"You want me to nick heroin from a police station to fund our wedding?"

"Just an idea."

"Maybe I should steal something," said Jenny, stretching out across the table and thinking. "Some rich ponce in a penthouse got burgled last week, and we were there to take statements, and he's saying, 'thank god they didn't take my Rothko, it's priceless.' I could steal that Rothko and fence it."

"Fence it to the British Museum," said Clara.

"Do they take stolen goods?"

"Jenny, they only take stolen goods."

"What are you ordering?"

"Pizzas. Got you two of the meat feasts with extra olives and onion – the Jenny special."

"…I love you."

"I know you do," Clara smiled, "That's why we're getting married."

"We should serve pizza at the wedding."

"I thought we agreed to a roast?"

"Oh, yeah…"

"I might have lived in London a long time, but I can't betray the north by not having a roast at my own wedding. We can eat all the pizza you like on the honeymoon, though," said Clara, "Which I've had some ideas about, by the way – I was thinking Scandinavia. Norway, maybe. In the winter, when it's dark all day."

"Don't people usually go to warm places?" asked Jenny.

"People aren't usually marrying a vampire who needs to stay out of the sun. Why can't we break the mould a bit? We're already both women and in a sexy, interspecies entanglement. What do you think?"

"We could go to the future. Go to Pluto. It's always night there, and they've got these ski slopes. It's good."

"But do they do those waffles there? The cone ones? What are they called?"

"Krumkaker," said Jenny.

"Yes. That's what I really want – this is all just an excuse to get over there. We can go to Pluto some other time, can't we? I don't want to disappear to an alien planet or to the distant future."

"You say you want my input, but it looks like you've already made your mind up," said Jenny, joking, "You're gonna go all bridezilla on me."

"I need you to help me decide about the napkins, what wine to serve, and the flower arrangements." Jenny groaned.

"What is there to decide about napkins?"

"Texture, colour, shape," said Clara.

"Shape?"

"You can get them folded into things," she said. Jenny stared at her. "Like a swan, or-"

"Have you lost your mind? Swans? It's a napkin, Clara."

"You have to decide about the cake, too. I'm leaving that to you."

"I know what's happening with the cake, and it's a surprise," said Jenny, who'd made up her mind about what kind of cake she was making as soon as Clara had popped the question six months ago. "Maybe I could make it look like a swan, to match the napkins."

"It was only a suggestion." Clara put her phone down, "Food's due in half an hour."

"Can't wait."

"If you want me to go and fetch the wedding binder in the meantime-"

Jenny put her head in her hands, "Wedding binder?"

"I've told you about the binder, you just don't listen to me. It's got my dress mood board, the venue mood board, the lingerie mood board-"

"Lingerie?" Of course, that was what got Jenny's attention.

"Special, wedding night lingerie."

"You'll be far too drunk to make use of any lingerie." Clara scowled at her. "You know it's true, you'll be smashed. I'll be nursing you for days."

"Maybe I should put getting you a nurse costume on the wedding to-do list."

"We've already got one. I'll dig it out later."

"Promises, promises."

"Go on, then," Jenny sighed, "Bring me this binder, I'll have a look at it. Give you my coveted opinions."

"Do you really mean that?" asked Clara, getting excited.

"Yes. What better way to celebrate me quitting my job than sitting around, eating pizza, and planning my wedding to my favourite person in the world?" Clara kissed her cheek, beaming.

"You're gonna love it. I have so many ideas about what kind of a venue, and how we can decorate it – and the centrepieces, I thought we could make them together, it might be fun," she rambled as she left the kitchen, then turned around to come back, "Oh, and I was thinking about getting a custom beer brew, craft beer, and then the bottles would be souvenirs – and I wanted to ask you what you think about corsages, because, you know, some people would say they're tacky, and – and the rings, of course, that's-"

"Clara," Jenny interrupted her, laughing, "Go, go get it. I'll be right here waiting for you."

"Okay, okay!" Clara was flustered, couldn't stop smiling, and finally left Jenny to go all the way to the top floor and fetch her wedding notes from the attic.

And to think, Jenny had thought Clara wouldn't forgive her for quitting her job as a DI on a whim. But of course, the Ravenwoods would forgive each other for anything. Even for the outrageous suggestion that they should have origami, swan-shaped napkins at their wedding.