Sorry its been a while since my last update! Thanks, as always, to the lovely Jess!

Andrea woke early the next morning, very early, the light was just beginning to crack through the curtains. She sighed, knowing trying to go back to sleep was no good. Despite what she'd said to Smithy, she was nervous about seeing Sam's friend. It was true that she'd spoken about Kit much more recently than she ever had in the last decade, even to Kirsty, but that was with people she knew and trusted. A complete stranger would be an entirely different matter. In her mind, she conjured up an image of someone much like Sam; suited, straight-laced and dare she say it…at little intimidating. She got out of bed slowly, Smithy's arm sliding off her. He turned and slept on. As light a sleeper as he usually was, he was back at work after quite a lengthy absence. He was bound to be exhausted. She went to shower and as she washed shampoo from her hair, focused on what she and Smithy had been talking about last night. Maybe that was what she'd do after her session, go to a few estate agents and look at some properties. They wouldn't need anything big, it would, after all, just be the two of them. Smithy had indicated that he was open to children, but she hoped he'd be willing to wait – or maybe settle for cats, lots of cats. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready for children.

She got out of the shower and sat on the sofa, towelling her hair, then spreading it across her shoulders to dry naturally. She should cut it really, it was too long, too heavy. Too old her. Maybe she'd do that as well, get a haircut. Do something to make herself feel a little less…stuck in the past. When Smithy emerged from the bedroom, covering his mouth as he yawned, she'd dressed and straightened her hair, letting it hang down her back. He ran his fingers through it and dropped a kiss onto her head.

"Morning," he said, sitting down to wrap his arms around her. He nearly asked if she was okay, but didn't. He could see she wasn't. "I know it might not seem like it now, but maybe it'll make you feel better. Talking to someone neutral."

"I hope so," she said. "I hate feeling so…"

She trailed off, not really knowing how to describe it. How could you describe feeling so many feelings, it was impossible to name them all? He seemed to understand that and held her close, lips pressed to her head.

"I know," he said. "And if I could take it all away from you, I would."

Her reply was to burrow her head into his chest, her legs draped over his lap. He held her as she needed, rubbing her back.

"How about breakfast out?" he said. "I'm on the lates for a bit, so I don't have to be in until later. We could go to the place on the high street. They do good pancakes, remember?"

She did and nodded, sliding her legs off his lap so he could go and get ready. Andrea looked at the clock; it was just after eight and her appointment wasn't until eleven. It was going to be a long morning.

Andrea and Smithy enjoyed pancakes and lattes, sitting outside the café in the weak spring sunshine. They made small talk; the weather, the food, even his job. Andrea didn't know if it was her imagination, but he talked to her a lot about the job, almost as if he wanted to prove he trusted her with sensitive information. Or maybe she was the one being sensitive. She thought again about Bantree's call. Even though he'd said it would be a week and it hadn't even been two days, the anticipation was killing her, but what if it was a dead end? Even if the picture did prove a link between Gabriel's brother David and the sniper, it didn't prove one with Gabriel himself. That would be an entirely different matter, but as they were all in the Navy and Special Boat Service at the same time, it would be a harder connection for him to explain away, though knowing him, he probably would. He was Gabriel. He always talked his way out of everything. She started when Smithy's fingers laced through hers.

"Sorry," he said and gave her hand a light squeeze. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Sorry," she said and pushed her empty plate away. "I was miles away."

"I was asking if you fancied a trip down to the south coast weekend after next. We could spend a few days by the sea. Go to visit Olly in Peacehaven."

The thought of a weekend with the sea, breeze and general beauty of the south coast made her smile, as did the thought of seeing Olly.

"Yeah," she said. "That would be nice."

"I haven't been down there since I was a kid," he said. "Mum used to take me and my brother there, mainly to get away from my old man, even if it was for a few hours."

He' been reasonably open with her about his abusive alcoholic father, but she still felt as if she was prying whenever she asked anything about him. Instead she said; "do you still talk to him? Your brother?"

"Not much," he said, indifferently. "He's five years younger, so we never had much in common. He lives in Birmingham, works for the council. Thinks all coppers are tossers."

"Oh," she said awkwardly and he gave her a smile as if reading her mind.

"We're okay when we do talk. If that's the worst of his traits, and they are, I think he's done alright. We both have, given who we had as an example."

"I think you've done more than alright," she said. "You'd never hurt anyone like that."

"Never would, no, doesn't mean I haven't wanted to."

"We're all guilty of that," she said softly. "I defy anyone to look me in the eye and tell me they've never had a violent thought."

"I might struggle if I ever get my hands on Kit."

"Well, if you ever do, just remember I wouldn't want you to. He hurt you badly once…"

"Actually, he watched."

"Same thing. Did they ever find them?"

He shrugged and said, "I don't think so. Chances are Kit doesn't even know them, aren't they? It was on the Cole Lane after all, you wouldn't find people short of wanting to attack a copper if the price was right."

"True," she murmured.

"I don't care if they find them or not," he said. "We've got the ringleader, and he'll be going away for a long time. It's just a shame he's getting to walk again, even with all the physio. I was hoping for paralysis."

She laughed a little. It was a justified, if vindictive, thing to say. She couldn't blame him for feeling like that. She looked at her watch and her shoulders dropped. It was forty minutes until her appointment. It wasn't far away, but she liked to be early. He saw her look and gave the hand she was holding a squeeze.

"I'll walk you," he offered. "Let me do that, at least."

Getting there early hadn't done her any good. Richard was running late. The receptionist had told her so, very apologetically, and offered her water whilst she waited which Andrea had accepted. Andrea jiggled her foot and looked at her watch again, allowing herself a small, impatient sigh. He was nearly forty-five minutes late. The receptionist said he'd had an emergency, so she knew it couldn't be helped, but it didn't do anything to help her already taut nerves. She picked up the magazine she'd already flicked through several times, then put it back down. Reading usually helped her relax, but not today. She couldn't concentrate.

Ten minutes passed, with the receptionist shooting her apologetic smiles every few minutes, and Andrea's nerves close to snapping. She couldn't wait any longer and was about to get up and tell her she'd waited long enough when the door crashed open and a man in biker's leathers and a helmet under his arm rushed into the room and to the desk. Andrea sat back, sighing. He needn't rush. If he also had an appointment with Richard, he was going to be disappointed to know he'd need to wait an hour. He leant on the desk, speaking to the receptionist. He asked her something and she shook her head, nodding in Andrea's direction. Confused, Andrea's brow knitted as the man turned and came towards her, his hand outstretched.

"Andrea. I'm so, so sorry to have kept you waiting."

She stared at him, her mouth open. This was Richard? All her perceptions about seeing a male version of Sam Nixon had been off, way off. She shook herself, remembering her manners, and took his hand, feeling the strength as she shook it. Strength and comfort.

"Please, come through," he said, gesturing with his other arm. "Can I get you a hot drink, or some water?"

"No thanks," Andrea said, following him through double doors and down a long corridor towards a room, with a metal plate reading Dr Richard Summers on the door.

"Forgive my attire," he said, opening the door. "I usually would have dressed a little more professionally, but I had an emergency with another patient this morning. I had to wait for emergency services."

"That's okay," she said, standing in a room, reminding her a little of her previous therapist's room; a desk with a comfortable chair, two squashy looking armchairs, a small sofa and walls covered with artwork, mostly by Van Gogh.

"Do you like it?" he asked, seeing her looking at them.

She nodded and said; "Did you do them yourself?"

"I did. Along with therapy, I do art therapy too. Sometimes, things make more sense when you have a brush and some paint. Do you paint?"

"No. I used to draw a bit, but…I haven't in a while."

"We have a lot to talk through," he said. "Sam has given me a lot of information, but I would quite like to get to know you a bit first."

He nodded towards his chairs and she realised he was waiting for her to pick a seat first. She chose one of the armchairs, and he had an expression as if he had been expecting that; for her not to choose the sofa, leaving it open for him to sit with her. He took off his leather coat, slinging it on the back of the other armchair and sat in it. He had a notebook and pen balanced on his knees and surveyed her.

"Can you tell me a bit about yourself?

"Um…I was born in Scotland. Small village called Glendarroch, a little bit outside Glasgow. Maybe 200 people."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"No. Just me."

"How long did you live there?"

"Until I left for university, so until I was about nineteen. Unless you count the months I spent travelling."

"We'll get to that," Richard said calmly. "Plenty of time yet. Tell me about your childhood."

"Happy," she said. "I had two parents who loved me, gave me everything I wanted. I did well at school. Made lots of friends. When I liked boys, they liked me back. I seemed to sail through life. Until I was eighteen."

"But is it fair to say that living in a small village like that was fairly isolating?"

Everyone seemed to love that word about her hometown.

"I guess," she said. "Though it's not like I never stepped foot out of there until I went travelling. My parents and I would take a holiday every year. Lots of daytrips too. Most of the time, my best friend would join us."

"That would be Kirsty, would it?"

Andrea nodded, drawing her finger along the polka dot pattern on the fabric of the chair.

"Can you tell me a bit about her?"

"She came from a bigger family. One of five kids. They moved to Glendarroch from Aberdeen when she was…I think three or so."

"How did you meet?"

"First day of school. She was on a trampoline and a bunch of boys kept dragging her off. I went over and stopped them. I can't remember what I said. Probably that I'd get the teacher or something. Isn't that what all five year olds do?"

Richard nodded and surveyed her. "Did you have other friends?"

"Of course. There was a group of us, but Kirsty and I were practically next door neighbours. We were inseparable. And we stayed that way. Until we weren't."

"What changed?"

"I caught her in bed with my then-fiancé. They went on to have a child together."

"That must have been very betraying for you."

In other circumstances, she might find his words condescending, but his tone was neutral

"I was furious," she said. "I don't think I've ever been that angry, before or since. He – my ex – tried for a while to tell me it wasn't what it looked like, it was all her, blah, blah, blah. But I wouldn't speak to either of them, and I don't know if it was real love for him – I think it was for her – or he realised I wouldn't take him back, but…they stayed together for a while.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Angry, for a while. Then I just stopped caring. I figured that if either of them had ever cared for me, they never would have done it. Kirsty and I had been through so much together, and I think I knew her loyalties were always a little…murky, but I never thought she'd do that to me. Especially after what happened in Venezuela."

"Is it alright if we talk a little about your travelling?"

She nearly said no, felt the urge to run away and never come back, but it was why she was there, so she nodded.

"Tell me where you started."

"Europe. Paris."

"Did you have fun?"

"Mostly. Sometimes we clashed. Usually when she wanted to do reckless things, like go on a boat trip with a sleazy looking guy on a questionable looking boat. Or stay in the hostel with two guys we didn't know."

"So, would it be fair to say that she was the impulsive type?"

Andrea let herself smile a little and said; "I think that's more than fair. To be honest...it was like that until we went home. I had no idea, none, about what she'd done until recently. I mean, I had my suspicions that she was doing drugs. But I think I thought, she wasn't doing any real harm to anyone else…but it turned out she was."

"And this was in South America, is that right?"

"Yes. Though she could have been doing drugs well before that. But apparently Kit made it spiral."

It could have been her imagination, but Andrea thought she saw Richard's posture stiffen at the mention of Kit.

"Sam told you about Kit."

"Yes, she did," he said. "As I'm sure you know, that was why she first asked me to speak to you. See if I could help recover any…repressed memories."

"Is that what you think happened? I've repressed memories?"

"She said you started to recall more incidents of his violence towards you as her investigation progressed, is that accurate?"

She nodded and said; "I still am. Not just about him. About a lot of things from around that time.

"Is there any you feel ready to share with me?"

She hesitantly shared the memory of her dream with him, the one she'd told Smithy about; hearing the crying and seeing a cot or a pram, but when she ran up to it and peered inside, nothing was there, but the crying continued.

"…I know it's irrational," she finished. "But for a long time, I thought it was my baby haunting my dreams. As some sort of…revenge. For having an abortion. Not letting him or her live."

"And how do you feel about it now?"

"Well like I said, I know it is an irrational thought. And I don't have the dream as much anymore. But sometimes I still think it."

"Do you wish you'd kept your baby?"

"No," she said honestly. "I know it was the right thing for me to do. I was eighteen and a mess; I thought I'd just witnessed the death of my baby's father, and I know he was a violent, aggressive drug dealer but he was still my baby's father. I couldn't imagine bringing a child into the world, raising them, and having them ask; 'where's daddy? Didn't daddy want me?' My baby would have been nearly ten now. I couldn't imagine even trying to lie. And there would have been my parents too."

"Do you think they would have taken it badly?"

"No," she said. "I did then, not now. I didn't want them to think I just screwed some random guy and if I didn't tell them about Kit, that's what I'd have to let them think and I couldn't face the idea of either. So I…had an abortion in secret."

"You describe a very close family. How could you do that without them knowing?"

"They both worked long hours, sometimes nights, and by then, I was old enough to stay home by myself. So I was alone a lot. It was around the time I was looking at universities, and I had a weekend when I was looking at some in Edinburgh. That was where I did it. Private clinic, lovely staff, overnight stay; boom. Problem dealt with."

Richard reached out, holding a box of tissues. Andrea blinked, registering the wetness on her face. She hadn't realised she was crying and took some, muttering thanks.

"That's a very heavy burden to carry by yourself."

"After some time, I buried it," she said. "After a few years, I pretended it happened to someone else. I told myself I could forget it. Then Kit came back and it was all dug up."

"And how did he react?"

"He asked if I'd kept the baby. I told him the truth. He barely seemed to react, really, I don't think he was bothered in the sense that I hadn't had the baby that he cared about the child, but it was something he couldn't have over me."

"To control you?"

"Yes," she said. "That's the impression I got anyway."

"He sounds like the kind of man who thrived from control."

"You could say that."

"We've made a good start," said Richard. "I know this is very difficult for you, but if you consent to come back, perhaps next time, we could talk a little more about when you met Kit."

Next time? Andrea blinked and looked at her watch, then at the clock on the wall as if she didn't quite believe it. They'd been there for nearly an hour. Richard smiled gently.

"Some people think their sessions go on forever. Some people, it flies by."

"I guess I'm in that group," Andrea said and got to her feet.

"Speak to Kelly on reception about making another appointment."

"And about fees?"

"Don't worry about that," he said. "Sam is a good friend and she doesn't ask for favours like this often. You can talk to me for as long as you need."

The kindness of strangers never ceased to amaze her sometimes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

"You said you usually dressed differently when you see clients."

"Yes, I'm not sure how they'd like the biker look."

"I like the biker look," she said. "I like it better when I see the real someone. Maybe try it more often. I think others might like it too."

"I'll bear that in mind," he said, smiling and walked her to the door.

Outside, she took her phone out of her pocket. It had been on silent and she had messages from Sam and Smithy, first wishing her luck, then Smithy's becoming more worried as she didn't answer his message asking how it went. She hadn't told him about the delay and he hadn't texted during the window of her appointment, probably not wanting to interrupt. She called as she walked down the road and he answered before the first ring even finished.

"Hello?" he said, worry evident in his voice, even over the ruckus in the background. It sounded like he was in the canteen.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry. The therapist ran late. I've only just gotten out."

"Oh," he said, breathing a sigh of relief, then conversed with someone his side. "…yeah, it's her. Honey says hi."

"Hi back," Andrea said, glancing both ways as she crossed the road. "It went okay. It was just a general session, getting to know you sort of thing. We touched on the Kit stuff. We'll go more into it next time."

"Next time, so you're going to go back?"

"I think I need to," she said. "We didn't talk about it loads, but I feel like something has lifted, you know?"

"Yeah," he said. "As long as it helps. Whatever you need. What're you going to do now?"

"I thought I'd go to the high street," she said. "Get things moving a little, look at some properties in estate agents."

"Sounds great," he said warmly. "We'll look through them later. I'm back to the full shifts now so, I'll be back late."

"That's okay," she said. "I thought I might check in with my friend, Jen. From the news office. I had lots of messages from her on my old phone, I know she's been worried."

"It'll be great for you to catch up," he said. "Take your time, but let me know where you'll be?"

"I will," she said. "Be safe. I love you."

"You too," he said and she needed the call, saying goodbye. She crossed the road and turned into the high street before looking down at her phone again, scrolling down to Jennifer's number. It had been such a long time, maybe she'd given up trying to contact her? She had to try though; at least so she'd know she was okay after the trauma of finding Bruce like that. She pressed the call button and put the phone to her ear, waiting until Jennifer picked up with a tentative greeting.

"Jen?" Andrea heard the sharp intake of breath as Jennifer recognised her voice instantly. "I'm sorry. I should have been in touch sooner."

"God, Andrea are you okay? What a stupid question, of course you're not…"

"I'm getting there," Andrea said, staring at her reflection in the glass of a shop window. "Are you free for lunch?"

Jennifer met her for lunch in an Indian restaurant and they talked and cried; mostly cried but when that was done, they talked, at first about Bruce and Kit, Andrea carefully telling her what she could without it compromising the upcoming trial. Jennifer told her all about the news office, how Logan had surprised them all by being an amazing boss.

"…we were all surprised," Jennifer said, wiping her naan bread in the curry sauce. "I mean, he looked up to Bruce so much, we all expected him to follow his lead."

"Well, seeing him with his head caved in might change one's perspective, even Logan's," Andrea said. "Not that Bruce's methods as an editor meant much to Kit when he had that iron bar in his hands."

"Well either way, it's a lot more relaxed now," Jennifer said. "But in a weird way, we do miss Bruce. He might not have been the easiest person, but…he wasn't bad."

"I keep trying to say that," she said. "I'm not sure how much everyone believes me."

"You mean the police?"

Andrea nodded; Jennifer took a drink from her glass of wine, surveying Andrea over the top of it.

"He was the one you mentioned, wasn't he? The one I saw you with at the funeral?"

Andrea nodded; she had told Jennifer about Smithy; that they were good friends and he'd wanted more, but she'd been resisting.

"Is it serious?"

"We're talking about moving in together, so yeah. I'd say so."'

"Good," Jennifer said. "I'm glad. You deserve a bit of happiness after all you've been through, though it's probably why you won't come back to the news office…"

"Logan never asked me to, Jen."

"I think because he knew you'd say no. and as much as I'd love to work with you again, you deserve to be happy. I hope you both are."

"Thank you."

"What will you do for work? If you don't go back to journalism? I can see how that can create a bit of…conflict if you did."

"Friend of a friend kind of offered me a job," she said and swirled her own drink in her glass. "Private investigation."

"And you accepted?"

"I haven't yet," Andrea said. "But I'm leaning towards it. I loved working with the police Jen, and I know I'll never get to again. But this can be the next best thing, can't it?"

Jennifer nodded. "I'm sorry Bruce ruined any career in the police for you. If I'd known what he'd been planning, I'd have told you, I swear."

"I know," Andrea said, sighing heavily. "Let's be honest, I was kidding myself to think I could just carry on at Sun Hill, even if he had let me go without an expose. I hated it at the time, but its probably better that it happened sooner rather than later. I can't imagine trying to carry on living a lie like that, especially now everything else is open to."

"We're good friends, Andrea."

Andrea fixed her eyes on the plate, knowing what Jennifer was really asking; why did you never tell me?

"I hadn't told anyone, Jen. Not even my own parents. I couldn't bring myself to talk about it, any of it. To relive it."

"And now?"

"It's different. He came back. Everything came out because he came back. It was forced out into the open. Much like my expose. I had to tell, I didn't have a choice when he started hurting other people."

"Including you."

"Yeah, well," Andrea said and shrugged. "That was nothing new. He was violent and abusive before."

"Andrea, that's…"

"I know, I know, it's not okay, but somehow it seemed worse when he turned on other people. I'm having therapy. I had my first session just before I called you." She laughed, putting a hand to her mouth as she thought again at her first sight of Richard. "God, Jen, you should have been there. The last thing I expected was a therapist with leathers and a motorbike."

"I don't think that's something we imagine when we picture therapists," Jennifer said with a laugh, then looked at her watch. "I'd better be getting back. Logan might have surprised us by being a good boss, but he's no pushover."

"Part of being a good boss," she said as Jennifer flagged down a waiter, asking for the bill.

"Put that away," Jennifer ordered as Andrea took her purse from her pocket. "This one's on me."

"Jen…"

"Put. It. Away," Jennifer said, fixing her with the motherly look that always made her want to squirm. "You can get the next one. Presumably there will be a next one?"

There was a questioning look in Jennifer's eyes. Andrea gave her a warm smile

"Of course."