Characters copyright Glen Chandler


“If I should die this very moment, I wouldn’t fear,
For I’ve never known completeness like being here

Wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you
Why live life from dream to dream, and dread the day when dreaming ends?”

- from Moulin Rouge’s version of Lamb’s Gorecki

Fine Lines
by elfin

Robbie sat up in bed, the echo of a strangled scream dying in the darkness around him.  In his mind's eye, images of a water-logged corpse reaching for him from its shallow, sandy grave slowly faded.

Wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, Robbie took several deep breaths and blindly reached for the glass on the bedside table.

The last of the single-malt whiskey burnt a pleasurable path down his throat.

Dropping the glass to the mattress next to him, he briefly considered going back to sleep.  But the nightmares would only be waiting for him.

Swinging his legs from under the duvet, Robbie got up and grabbed his jeans and crumpled shirt from the bedroom floor.

*

The morning sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as he climbed the steep slope of the graveyard to where Michael had been buried, over-looking the city, eight days ago.  It felt longer than that, but when he considered how much sleep he hadn't had in that time, he wasn't overly surprised how long eight days seemed to have lasted.

What did surprise him was the figure crouched at the side of the flower-strewn grave.

As he got closer, he called her name softly.

"Jackie...."

Jackie looked up, and he saw the red of her eyes against the pale complexion of her face.  She was using one hand for balance, while holding a bottle of real ale in her other.

She looked up at him miserably.

"Couldn't sleep," she stated obviously, her words slurred just a little.

Robbie smiled for a single moment, and shook his head.  "Me neither."

Stepping around the low mound of newly-dug earth, Robbie crouched down next to her.

"I thought I'd come and have a drink with him," she continued quietly, eyes brimming over with tears once more.  He stayed silent, waiting, letting her say the words she needed to say.  Finally, she turned her face into his shoulder.  "Oh, God, Robbie....  I miss him so much....  Will it ever stop hurting?"

'No,' a small voice in his head taunted him.  'It'll always feel like this.  To never know his touch again....'  "It'll take time, Jackie," he murmured out loud, one arm going around her shoulders, gently holding her against him.  "I miss him too," he admitted, blinking away a rogue tear that slid down his face and dropped into Jackie's dark hair.

Jackie turned her head to look up at him, and the small movement unbalanced her.  Gracefully she fell back, her ass hitting the ground with a dull thump, spilling a little of the beer from the short neck of the bottle.

Not able to find it within himself to crack a smile, Robbie too sat back, reaching for her, pulling her into his arms.  She snuggled into him, her head against his chest.

"How much have you had to drink?" he berated her softly, knowing how much like Michael he sounded.

She raised the bottle.  "A couple of these."

Robbie thought he could smell more than a couple on her breath, but he let it go.  He hadn't seen her car anywhere in the car park or near the church, so he guessed that she'd probably walked from her city-centre flat.

For a time, they sat in silence, only Jackie's quiet sniffs breaking it now and again.

Robbie let his eyes drift over the cards that accompanied the wreaths laid on Michael's grave since the funeral.  Some of the writing was eligible now, washed away by the rain that had fallen almost constantly since Michael's burial.  But the cards that had been protected by plastic bags were still clear.

He and Jackie had sent one together, anonymously.  Their card simply read, ‘love you’.

He swallowed hard, the familiar feeling of his heart tearing slowly in two stabbing through him.  "He knows we loved him, Jackie," he murmured eventually, and was rocked by her sudden sob into his coat.  Regretting having said it, he held her tighter, rocked her gently.  "Sorry," he muttered, "I'm sorry."

But she shook her head against him.  "No," she choked out.  "Don't be.  I just... I hope he didn't know what was happening."

Robbie tried to stop his own tears from flowing.  This was something they hadn't spoken about yet. 

The autopsy had cleared Michael's name.  He'd been hit hard over the head, and pushed over into the river.  He had lost consciousness before drowning.  There was barely any alcohol in his blood stream and forensics had confirmed that most of the bottle of whiskey had indeed been tipped down the sink.

So they were almost certain that Michael hadn't suffered, that he'd never known what was happening to him.  But they wouldn’t ever be a hundred percent sure, and that was what bothered Jackie the most.

"Everything seems so... meaningless now," she told Robbie after a long time, "so empty."  She remembered her words at the funeral, 'the world seems that little bit darker'.  Darker was the wrong word, she'd realised belatedly.  He'd been dead just over two weeks and her life had seemed to collapse in on itself.

For almost four years, since Gerald McDonald’s murder, the three-way relationship between her, Michael and Robbie had blossomed. 

Robbie had imagined that once Michael and Jackie had established the fact that they were in love with one another, he would be pushed away.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.




Robbie opened the door and smiled at the unexpected guest.  “Mike!  Come in.  What’s up?”

“Nothing.”  He handed Robbie the bottle he’d bought.  Usually, he didn’t drink, but now and again he enjoyed an expensive bottle of wine.  “You hadn’t been round and I thought….”  He shrugged, suddenly nervous, standing in his DI’s hall.  “…after that night with Jackie….”

Robbie shook his head, cursing himself.  “I didn’t think you’d want me to… want us to continue what we’d had.”

It was Michael’s turn to realise the misunderstanding, and in the next moment, Robbie found himself caught in the other man’s arms, the bottle pressed between them, Michael’s tongue taking the most direct path to Robbie’s tonsils.

“Whoa!”  But Robbie was grinning as he gently pushed his lover away.

“I still want you.  Jackie wants you.  Don’t think you get away that easily.”

“You’re sure?”  But he knew the answer without Michael having to reply verbally.  His body was telling Robbie everything he needed to know.




“You’re thinking of him.”  There was a smile in Jackie’s voice, and it took a moment to work out why.  His body was starting to react to the brief memory of Michael’s touch.  Yet all it took was the heartbreaking thought that memory was all they had now, and his excitement evaporated.

“It was always the three of us,” Jackie murmured into Robbie’s coat.  “Even when it was just me and Michael, maybe even with just you and Michael….”  Robbie nodded.  Michael and Jackie had been seen, in public, as ‘the couple’.  But they’d known better.  It was a threesome.  No jealousies, no strings.

But it hadn’t been just sex.  They’d spent days, weekends together just… doing stuff.  Films, pubs, clubs, walks, barbecues, even a week’s holiday in France.

Some nights, after particularly difficult cases, or just Sunday evenings when there were precious few hours of the weekend left, they would just mooch around Michael’s terrace house, cooking, Jackie sipping her G&T, Robbie with his real ale and Michael nursing a mineral water.   They’d slouch together on the sofa in a big heap watching ‘The Simpsons’ on television.

One man had torn that from them.  Never again would they feel the warmth of Michael’s body entwined with theirs, the heat of his breath against their skin, the wonder of his skilled mouth…. 

Robbie dropped his forehead to Jackie’s hair and let a single sob break from him.

He felt Jackie’s arms reach around him, under his coat.  Not bothering to wonder what had happened to the beer bottle, he desperately clung to her, tightening his embrace, tears cascading over his cheeks.  He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt.

At that moment, neither of them knew if or how they were ever going to get over losing the missing part of them.

It took a long time for them to calm to a temporary peace.  And finally Jackie spoke.

"I want to tell Stuart."




"I want to tell Stuart, but it's dangerous enough the three of us being involved," Michael called back from the kitchen, over the noise of the extractor.

Jackie wandered in from the living room, glass in one hand, to lean against the doorframe.  The sight of two men in one kitchen scared her, and until now she'd simply being enjoying the myriad aromas wafting through the house from the comfort of Michael’s sofa.  "Stuart must know there's something going on."

Robbie took his eyes off the bubbling liquid on the stove for a moment to glance at her.  "I dunno.  We're good at work.  We're rarely ever all in the same place anyway, and Mike's a complete bastard to us when we are."  He winked at his boss standing close to him.

Michael pulled a face.  "I am not!"

Jackie could only back Robbie up.  "Yes, you are."

Michael glared at both his lovers for a moment before continuing.  "I know you feel we're leaving Stuart out."

"You told me I'm not his type anyway," Robbie put in, still stinging from that after over a year.

"You're not," Jackie confirmed as Michael laughed.  "Still, Stuart could probably be helpful, you know?  Give you two a few hints and tips."  She ducked back into the hall, never knowing exactly what hit the doorframe in her wake.




Robbie lifted his head, taking one hand from her back to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve.  "We can't, Jackie."

"It's what Michael wanted.  Deep down.  He always felt bad about Stuart being left out of it."  She lifted her head and let her tired eyes settle once more on the grave.  They needed to choose a headstone.  Apart from Iain, who was living abroad now and hadn't made it to the funeral, they were the only family Michael had. 

"Stuart's hurting too," she murmured, almost to herself.  "We've got each other.  Who's he got?"

*

Jackie sat staring at her computer monitor, not really seeing the emails awaiting her attention.  DCI Burke had suggested that she take some time off, but she'd refused.  Moping about her house would do her less good than moping about the office.  At least periodically there was something to coax her mind away from the edge of depression. 

She glanced behind her, at the closed door of the office that had been Michael's.  She'd gone in there, on the evening of the day they’d found his body, and taken the photograph of Jim Taggart from the windowsill.  It sat on her desk now, along with the photo of Michael that she'd carried around during the investigation into his death.

She hoped they were together again, somewhere.

The ringing of her phone finally pierced her thoughts, and she picked up the receiver, glancing up to catch Stuart watching her.  She managed a smile before speaking.

"DI Reid."

"Hi, this is Joesph McCloud, Michael Jardine's solicitor.  I need you and DI Ross to come down to my office when you can.  I've been going through Mike's will, and you're both named as beneficiaries."

Jackie frowned.  "He left something to... us?"

There was a pause.  "He left you two practically everything.  And if you ever feel like telling me why, I’d be fascinated."

*

Robbie stared into his untouched pint, tuning out the noise all around them.

"We should have gone to a quieter pub," Jackie murmured, sipping her G&T in front of him.

"Friday lunchtime in Glasgow?  There isn't a quieter pub."  At least this one wasn't full of coppers like their local would be.

"I can't believe it," she said finally.  "I mean... what about Iain?"

"McCloud said he was left Mike's savings, however much that was.  Probably quite a lot."  Michael had never been one for frivolousness, but neither had he ever skimped on anything when they’d been together.

Michael had left them the car, house and contents.  He’d left a letter too, addressed to both of them.  They hadn’t opened it yet.

They were both thinking the same things and they knew it.  When were they going to be ready to face the tirade of memories that would come from stepping back into the house?  What were they going to do with it?  What did the letter say?

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Robbie picked up his pint.  “About telling Stuart.”  Jackie watched him, waiting for his decision.  “And I think… I know you’re right.  We should tell him.”

“I want him to know he isn’t alone.  At the beginning… he had such a crush on Michael.”  She smiled to herself, glancing up at Robbie.  “You should have seem him, all gooey-eyed.”

Robbie winked at her with a grin.  “He wasn’t the only one.”

She might have blushed, had she not been so comfortable with her companion.  “I want Stuart to know that Michael was loved, that he wasn’t alone.  And that… he understood Stuart better than he thought.”

Robbie nodded.  “Irony at its best.  Three men work together and it’s the two straight guys who end up in bed together.”

Jackie glanced at him.  “I thought it was the sofa.”

“Bed, sofa, kitchen table….” 

She pulled a face.  “Urgh!  Whose?”

“His.  And mine.”




Robbie dropped his mouth to Michael’s neck, flicking the tip of his tongue over the sensitive skin, listening to every moan, every whimper.  Pulling back, feeling Michael’s fingers digging hard into his shoulders, Robbie raked his gaze over the ruffled blond hair, let himself drown in the sparkling blue eyes.

“Bed,” Robbie muttered roughly.

“Here,” Michael told him, dropping one hand to touch the table behind them.

Robbie’s eyes widened, as did his smile.  Reaching back, he cleared the wooden table top with one swipe of his arm.




She shook her head.  “Remind me never to eat at your place again.”

Finally, Robbie took a sip of his lager.  “So how do we tell Stuart?  Not really something we just spill at the office, is it?”

Jackie shook her head.  “I was thinking, we could invite him round to yours or mine, cook something?”

The sudden thought that Michael could make one of his amazing chocolate deserts caught in his mind and his words caught in his throat.  Jackie watched his expression change, watched the pain return.  She stood, leaving her drink and taking his hand.  “Let’s get out of here.”

Clinging to her hand, he went with her, out of the noisy pub to walk along the pavement to where they’d left the car.

Without a word, they got in and Jackie drove them out to a place they used to walk, just out of the city.  A place Taggart had shown Michael twenty years ago.

Leaning against the warm Audi, Jackie took the letter that McCloud had given them, and opened it with shaking hands.


Robbie, Jackie,

We all knew I wasn’t going to live forever.  You two have given me so much - love, dreams, happiness – I wanted to give you something back in return.

I love you both.  I know you’ll be mourning.  Remember what we had.
Sell the house.  I didn’t leave it to you to cause pain.

Split the money, buy a place together, cruise around the world.  Whatever you want.  Just please, be there for one another and be happy.

All I ask is that you say a prayer for me, and I'll rest in peace.  Unless someone did me in.  In that case, get the bastard, lock him up, then say a prayer and I'll rest in peace.

By the way, if we haven't already, tell Stuart.  I always wanted to and he won't say anything to anyone.  He might need you two now like I did.

Take care of yourselves.  Know how much I love you and how much you mean to me.  Don't mourn.  I'll be playing a game of chess with Jim Taggart while I watch over the both of you leading long, happy, active lives.

Always yours, no matter what.

Michael


Robbie took a deep breath, wiping the tears from his face with his jacket sleeve, shaking his head with a sad smile as they were simply replaced by more.

"How can we not mourn, Mike?" he asked the silence around them in a broken voice.  "How can we not miss everything you were to us?"

Jackie reached to take his hand, still holding the precious letter in shaking fingers.  "I don't know how to go on," she told him between breaking sobs, her voice finally failing her.  Everything she did now felt like an effort.  She got up, showered and drove to work in a daze.  At the time she was waking, after precious little sleep, there were hardly any other cars on the road.  Except Robbie's, who'd been arriving at the station at about the same time.  And Stuart's, whose Rover was usually parked out front before either of them arrived.

Robbie pressed his lips into her hair, barely thinking about the gesture.  Despite the intimacy they shared with Michael, the two of them had never been together without him.  Robbie knew she loved him - she'd said so only many occasions, post-coital and post-culinary.  But she was in love with Michael.  She always had been, from the day they'd met, and probably always would be.

For himself, he knew now that he’d been in love with his boss.  Words spoken in the warm haze of afterglow usually meant very little to Robbie.  But as he'd looked down at the dark coffin and dropped a single white rose to the wood, he'd realised just how deep his feelings ran.

"He knew, didn't he?  I mean... he knew how I felt about him?"

Jackie lifted her head to look at Robbie's worried, reddened eyes.  And she smiled.  "Of course he did.  He talked about you, when it was just the two of us.  Told me things the two of you had done.  Not everything, I could tell when... he was holding back, keeping a part of you for himself.  You... gave him something, showed him things I never could.  You let him see a part of himself he didn't even know was there.  He trusted you, loved you, so much.  And he knew without a doubt that you loved him back."

Robbie nodded, taking a shuddering breath.  "I think... I'd like to go to the house."  He saw Jackie's immediate reaction in her expression.  "I know.  But… I think it would be good for us.”

Jackie obviously wasn’t convinced, but wiping her eyes, folding the letter, she nodded.  “Okay.”

*

Robbie used his own key to open the door.  The three of them had swapped keys a year and a half ago.  Jackie had loved to surprise Michael.

One night Robbie had noticed the boss working late and had called her.  They’d gone over to the house, cooked a full three-course meal and when Michael had arrived back, Robbie and he had shared a long, luxurious bath before dinner.




Robbie settled back against the curve of the tub, pulling Michael to rest against him.

“Hard night?” he murmured, lowering his face to touch his lips to the long neck.

“Very,” Michael replied softly, closing his eyes as strong fingers pressed into the aching muscles in his shoulders.

“Jackie thought you could do with some tender loving care.”

“Is that all?”  The smooth voice sounded disappointed, and Robbie chuckled.

“You’re insatiable.”

Hooking his ankle over Michael’s, he shifted, pressing his erection against the other’s tailbone.  He kept up the skilled massage, eyes skimming what he could see of Michael’s body above the bubbles. 

Since this had all started, the older man had started going regularly to a gym.  Not long after, Robbie had also started going, coming to realise that there were very few better sights that those to be found in a multi-sex gym.

Moving his left hand around Michael’s neck, letting his fingers rest lightly against the skin around the base of the other man’s throat, he moved his right down over his lover’s chest, over the tight stomach to dip below the waterline.

Michael dropped his head back to Robbie’s shoulder, relaxing as Robbie’s fingers tightened just a fraction around the base of his throat.  What might have been a threatening embrace was to them one of trust and submission.

With his other hand, Robbie took a slippery yet firm hold of Michael’s cock and started a deliberately slow rhythm.

Jackie pushed the bathroom door open and stepped inside, leaning back against the doorframe.  Robbie looked across at her and smiled.

She raked her hungry gaze over them, her two lovers, one an intimate friend, the other the man who would always be the love of her life, even if they never made the slightest commitment to one another.

Michael’s eyes were closed, his lips parted.  His left hand was gripping the side of the large tub, his right she could only guess about. 

It was obvious where Robbie’s other hand was.

Turning his head, Robbie murmured something to the man he held, and Michael lazily opened his eyes to look at her.  He smiled at her, lifting his hand and beckoning her over with his fingers.

Without hesitation, she walked over to the tub and dropped to her knees next to it, taking Michael’s hand and holding it. 

She watched as Robbie’s slow, agonising rhythm finally coaxed Michael to orgasm.  She listened as Robbie murmured to his climaxing lover, easing him through the intensity, taking everything simply by asking Michael to give it all up to him.




Jackie rubbed her hand over Robbie’s shoulder.  “You okay?” she asked softly.

He shook himself, took the key from the door and stepped inside.  “Sorry,” he muttered, but he knew it wasn’t necessary.  They weren’t going to apologise to one another every time one of them became lost in a memory.

Closing the door behind them, Jackie hesitated in the hall while Robbie walked slowly through to the lounge.

A minute or two later, she heard soft music, and a woman’s voice singing words that touched her.

“If I should die this very moment
I wouldn’t fear
For I’ve never known completeness
Like Being Here

Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you
Still in my heart this moment”

Robbie looked up to see Jackie standing behind him. 

“He loved this song,” she murmured.  Reaching to the arm of the sofa, she picked up the remote for the stereo.  “Do you think he was listening to it… before he went out that night?”  Sighing softly, she dropped down into the wide, comfortable sofa.  “This is too painful, Rob.”

Turning the stereo off, Robbie bathed them in silence again.  The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.

In the corner by the window, the houseplant, that Robbie had given Michael when he’d moved in just under four years ago, had flourished.  The beanie babies that had been part of that same present were scattered around the house.  Michael’s favourite, the camel, usually lived on the bed, although every time they were around at Michael’s it invariably ended up on the floor.

“You know, the hardest part of him… not being here… I miss watching him.”

Jackie stopped looking around her like she’d never stepped foot inside the house before.  “Watching him?”

“Just… watching him, on duty, knowing what we share when no one else does.”  He smiled a private smile.  “I remember, one afternoon, he was interviewing someone… God knows who, in the lounge bar of the Grand.  Stuart and I were just waiting in reception and I could see Mike’s face, from the side, where he was sitting on the sofa.  He looked so… professional.  And I just kept thinking about him, the way he is… was… when he was aroused and excited.”  Sighing softly, Robbie shook his head.  “I can’t believe this has happened.”

Jackie nodded once.  “I thought he’d be with us forever,” she murmured, almost to herself.  “I miss him.”

Robbie knew it was an understatement.  He missed Stephen, missed him not being the first they saw at a crime scene.  The hole Mike had left in his life – in their lives – was immeasurable.

Moving to sit next to her, he took her hand and they sat for a while in silence, each lost in memories, some shared, some private.

It hadn’t been easy.  Over the last four years keeping their professional and personal lives separate had proved more difficult than they could ever have imagined it would be. 

Robbie’s suspension, for instance, had almost pulled them apart.  Until one night, when things were at their worst, both Michael and Jackie turned up at Robbie’s place of their own accord.




Robbie opened the door and stared at the man standing there.

“Mike….  What now?”  He sounded tired, fed up, and the glimmer of hope in his voice was just that.

Michael didn’t reply.  He stepped inside, pushing passed his inspector, and as soon as Robbie had closed the door behind them, he pounced.

Robbie hit the wall of the hall with an ‘umph’, a sound that was swallowed in Michael’s rough kiss.  A moment later, Michael pulled back, blue eyes drilling into Robbie’s green ones.

“Tell me you didn’t do anything they’re accusing you of.” He demanded, teeth gritted.

With a flare of anger, Robbie tried to push the other man away but he wouldn’t be moved.  “Mike….”

“Tell me!”

“I didn’t do it!”

A heartbeat later, he was being kissed again, Michael’s tongue reaching deep into his mouth. 

Robbie wound his arms around his lover, pulling him closer still.

They broke away again, Michael’s fingers working at the buttons of Robbie’s navy shirt, Robbie retaliating by wrenching at the knot in his boss’ tie.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Robbie breathed as Michael’s fingertips brushed over his nipples.  “What would Sherlock say if he ever found out about us?”

Michael rolled his eyes.  “We’re not going through all that again, are we?”

Robbie smiled, knowing this was what he loved about Michael; the way he knew exactly where the lines were, and then drew his own in a different colour, on a completely different plane.

The next kiss was gentler, more pent-up desire than desperate passion.  However, why ever they got involved with each other in the first place, Robbie didn’t think he would ever know.  But he would never regret that they did, and he knew neither of them would let the job ever get in the way of it.

Michael slid his hands around Robbie’s back, pulling his lover’s hips towards him.  Robbie dropped his head back and pushed his shoulders against the wall behind him, a low moan escaping his throat as Michael’s fingers dipped into the waistband of his jeans.

In turn, Robbie reached out between them, tracing his fingers down Michael’s thigh, then up again to caress the hard bulge in his suit trousers.

“I want this,” Robbie said roughly while Michael’s lips were busy on his throat. 

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna get it.”

Michael’s hand was on Robbie’s shoulder, turning him, when the sound of a key in the door froze them both in place.

It took Robbie only a moment.  “Jackie,” he mouthed to Michael, and they both looked over, almost managing not to look like two kids caught with their pants down in the Girls’ toilets.

Jackie grinned as she stepped into the hall and quickly closed and locked the door behind her.

“Thank God for that,” she muttered, as she moved to Robbie’s side and kissed him as desperately and as deeply as Michael had only minutes before.

Pulling her between them, Robbie turned her to face Michael, nibbling the back of her neck as she and the other man shared a calmer, but no less fierce kiss.

“Mike was about to fuck me through the wall,” Robbie whispered to her.

She pulled back, eyes flashing, caught between the two men.  “Good,” she told Robbie without taking her eyes from Michael’s heated gaze.  “I’ll give you something to do with your dick while he does.”




Robbie glanced at her.  “Were you thinking about that night, when I was suspended?” he asked curiously.

She stared back at him.  “How did you know that?”

He shrugged.  “Just that I was.”  He took a deep breath.  “It’s odd being here.  Like he could walk in at any moment, just step into the room.”

Jackie nodded.  “I feel… close to him here.  I don’t know how healthy that is.”

“I think anything that makes us feel better is good at the moment,” he told her softly.

“This place has seen a lot of love,” she mused quietly.  “Maybe some of that is still here.”

Robbie let himself sit back in the sofa, pulling Jackie carefully back with him so she was leaning against him.  “All those people at his funeral, none of them really knew him.”

“That’s because he was never out of our sights,” Jackie told him with a smile in her voice.  “We monopolised him, kept him away from the rest of the world.”  Her voice cracked a little, and she reached over to take up the stereo remote from the arm of the sofa.

The music flowed over the silence, and for a time they found some comfort in having the background noise.

“It’s the way he died,” Jackie said finally.  “I can’t….”

Robbie touched his fingers to her lips.  “Don’t.  If I start to think about it, I get so angry, it feels like I can’t breathe.”

“At least it’s not just me.”

“He was taken from us.  Not by some illness, not because it was his time, but because some bastard killed him.  If I thought it would make me feel better….”  But he shook his head.  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel right again.”

*

Stuart looked up as Jackie leaned on his desk.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked him quietly.

He shook his head.  “Nothing.  Why?”

“Come over?  I’ll cook.”

Stuart nodded, cracking a smile.  “Thanks, I’d love to.”

“Good.”

She straightened, looking up to see DCI Burke – their new boss – staring at her from the doorway of what was now his office.  The office he’d ousted Michael from even before he was dead.  She felt the now familiar anger flare.

‘One word,’ she thought to herself, ‘and I’ll resign here and now and never look back.’

But he simply stepped back and closed the door.

It was a couple of quiet hours later when he reappeared.  “DI Ross?”

Robbie glanced up from his computer terminal, from the email from Mike’s young niece who was back at university and still grieving for her uncle.

“Yes, Sir?”  He impressed himself by sounding friendly.

“Kennedy‘s trial starts tomorrow.  I know it’s going to be a guilty plea, but I’d like you to be there.”

Burke’s intonation definitely didn’t invite any discussion, but that didn’t matter.

“No, Sir.  I’m sorry but… I don’t want to go.  I never want to see that bastard again.”

Burke turned in mid-step.  “It wasn’t a request.”

Robbie stood slowly.  “If I ever lay eyes on that man, I might kill him myself.  So I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re a copper, Ross,” Burke shot back, “someone promoted you to Inspector for a reason, start acting like one.”

Robbie was around the desk and in his boss’ face before either Stuart or Jackie could stop him.

“Michael Jardine wasn’t just my boss,” he told Burke, closing in on him.  “He was a good, close friend.  A friend who should have been around for at least another forty or fifty years.  Kennedy ended his life, took him from us.”  He indicated the stunned-looking detectives in the room, half of whom were staring, the other half of whom were pretending they weren’t listening.  “We’re all mourning him.  We miss him.  For God’s sake, man.  Just try to be a human being.”

Jackie was surprised she didn’t hear clapping as Robbie exited stage right.

*

“I have no idea how to make the sauce for this,” Jackie muttered, looking up from the recipe book.

“Mike always did the sauces,” Robbie replied, dropping a disc into the CD player and watching the door slide close.  As he spoke, he felt what was fast becoming a familiar sadness, a stabbing pain in his heart.  Suddenly, the knowledge that Michael was never again going to be cooking them anything, going to be with them, talking to them, touching them, drove itself to the forefront of his mind.

The tears came unbidden, overwhelming him.

Jackie found him kneeling on the carpet in front of her stereo, one hand covering his face, his shoulders shaking from the force of his sobs.  She crouched in front of him, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him to her.

“Ssh, it’s okay.”

Robbie shook his head against her shoulder.  “How the hell do we get through this?”

“I don’t know.”  She stroked her hand over his hair.  “I think we just… do.”  She let out a deep breath, hoping she believed her own words.  “When Jim Taggart died, Michael was destroyed.  Somehow he managed to hold it together through the day, and I thought he was okay.  But I went round to his place one night and he… he was just sitting there crying his eyes out.”

It was only recently that Robbie had realised how close Mike had been to his old boss.  He’d seemingly buried his memories and feelings regarding Taggart, keeping them to himself, as he’d kept everything to himself.  It had taken time for Michael to open up to Robbie as he’d sometimes opened up to Jackie.

Robbie pulled out of her embrace just enough to sit back.  “That first night Mike and I were together, he was so responsive, so passionate, but he seemed… nervous.  When I called him on it, he told me that afterwards I would know him, and everything would be different.  I asked him if that scared him and he said, yeah, it did.”

“He let us both close,” Jackie murmured.  “One day we’ll feel… honoured that we knew him so well, that he let us know him that well.”

Robbie nodded, pulling the tattered remains of his self back around him.  The sound of the doorbell surprised them both, and he actually chuckled.  “God, look at us.  Poor Stuart.”

Jackie squeezed his shoulder.  “I’ll get the door.”


Jackie smiled at Stuart as she invited him in.  He handed her a bottle of red wine.  “I didn’t know what you were cooking,” he told her by way of an apology if he’d brought the wrong colour.

“Duck, so you made the right choice,” she lead him through into the living room.  “Make yourself comfortable.”

Stepping through the glass doors, Stuart looked around him.  Although they’d spent many nights out together as a group, he couldn’t remember the last time he was here in Jackie’s house.

He wasn’t sure why that struck him as odd.

“Do you want a drink, Stuart?”

He turned, surprised to see the other man standing behind him.  “Sir!  I didn’t….”

Robbie stepped closer, smiling gently.  “Robbie.  Here, like this, it’s Robbie.”  He liked to think he’d learnt something from his relationship with Michael.

Stuart looked at his superior for a moment.  “Sir… Robbie, are you all right?”  Nodding, Robbie tried to find the words, but he couldn’t.  Stuart touched his arm.  “You don’t have to explain.  It hits sometimes.”

Robbie sighed.  “Yeah, it does.”  It took a moment to find his smile again.  “Now about that drink…?”

“A glass of wine, please.”

Robbie inclined his head slightly and headed out for the kitchen.

A minute or two later, both he and Jackie came back and handed Stuart a glass of wine.  They found him standing by the mantelpiece, holding a photo of Jackie with Michael.  As he took the glass, he put the frame back.

Robbie dropped down into the armchair, Jackie and Stuart at opposite ends of the sofa.

For a few moments, the silence was stifling, until Jackie finally took the plunge.

“Stuart, I asked you to come over tonight because there’s something I want to tell you.”  She cursed herself for not having a speech worked out.  “It’s… about Michael, and us.”

Stuart smiled in understanding.  “Jackie, everyone knows how close you and he were.”

“Aye, they did.  But….”  She sighed, looked around and her eyes caught the photo he’d been looking at.  “That photograph was taken in Burgundy last year.  We were on holiday.”  She glanced across at Robbie, who was being no help.  “Thing is, Robbie took that photograph.”

Stuart’s eyes did widen a little at that revelation.  And he grinned.  “A double date?”

Finally, Robbie sat forward.  “Not quite.  It was just the three of us.  It’s been… just the three of us for about four years.”

They waited for the truth to sink in, which it obviously did.

“Michael wanted you to know,” Jackie continued, “but we had to keep it quiet and he didn’t know if it was fair to drag you into it all too.”

Stuart was still looking from one to the other.  Leaning forward, Jackie took a white envelope from where she’d deliberately left it on the coffee table.  She handed it to him.  “He left us this, along with his house, in his will.  We want you to read it.”

Putting his glass down, Stuart took the letter in silence and unfolded the paper, reading it through.

As he reached the end, the tears were blossoming in his eyes.  He looked up at Jackie, and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around him as he held her in return.

“I’m so sorry,” he told her uselessly.  “He should still be here.”

Quietly, Robbie got up and disappeared into the kitchen, checking on the meal.  He’d been worried that Stuart would be angry with them for not telling him, for leaving him out of it.  The man had every right to be angry at him for all the cracks he’d made about his sexuality over the years, when Robbie had all the time been at it like rabbits with his boss and colleague.

They’d tried to make sure that Stuart was never affected by their relationship, that he never felt like they were ganging up on him for any reason.  But now and again, they’d had reason to feel a little guilty.




The team looked up as their Superintendent put her head around the door.  “Leary wants a bodyguard tonight, so I need a volunteer.”

Michael glanced at Jackie, whose eyes had widened momentarily.

But Robbie was first in, as smooth and calm as usual.  “Sorry, I promised a friend I’d take her to the theatre.  Her husband’s abroad with the army and she gets lonely.”

Michael had to look away, glad when Jackie spoke up next.  “I’ve got a date and I’d rather not cancel.  I barely get lucky as it is.  Ma’am.”

Michael was saved by Stuart.  “I’m free,” he piped up.  “I’d be happy to do it.”

“Thank you, Stuart, it won’t go unmarked.”

*

Michael burst out laughing as soon as Jackie and Robbie stepped into the hall.

“’I barely get lucky as it is,’” he quoted between chuckles.  The next minute he had an armful of Jackie as she wrapped herself around him and kissed him hard.

Robbie grinned at them before stepping around behind Michael and twisted his arms around the other man’s waist.  “I notice you couldn’t keep a straight face long enough to come up with an excuse,” he teased.

Michael turned once Jackie let him free.  “It was you!  Taking a friend to the theatre cause her husband’s in the army?!”

“Sad thing is,” Jackie joined in, “half of the people in that office would have believed you.”




“You okay?”

Robbie looked up as Jackie appeared in the doorway.

“Aye, just assaulting the duck.” 

“Well stop it and go talk to Stuart.”

Closing in on her, he hugged her briefly.  “Is he all right about it?”

“Yeah.  He’s just amazed that Michael was your type, after everything you’d said to him.”  Her tone was teasing, and Robbie knew that he deserved it.

“I know, I know.  No one feels more guilty than me about it.”

She pulled back to study him for a moment, before declaring.  “That’s bollocks, Rob.”

He shrugged.  “I try.”


Sipping his wine, Robbie sat down on the sofa next to Stuart.  “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier.”

“It’s okay.  I get how difficult it must have been for the three of you.”

“Ha!  Michael made it so easy.”  The glint in his eye coaxed a smile from Stuart.  “He was such a cheeky bugger, you wouldn’t believe it.  Some of the things he said….  One night the three of us spent the whole night at my place and had ended up cooking chocolate muffins naked at midnight.  The next morning he had the audacity to stride into the office and tell us that we looked a bit tired and we should get more sleep at nights.”

Stuart giggled.  “I’m impressed you kept it so quiet.”

“Me too.”  They both looked up when Jackie walked in.  “Food’s ready, if you’d like to make yourselves comfortable at the table.”

*

“Think he’s going to be all right?” Jackie asked Robbie as he wondered into the kitchen after saying goodnight to Stuart.

“Yeah.  He’s doing better than we are.  Although, I did find that it was easy to talk to him about Michael.  Sorta like… not having to pretend any more, just being able to tell someone else….”  He shrugged.  “He was saying that that WPC, Heather, who had the hots for Michael, was still quite upset.  He’s tried to talk to her and said he was going to ask you to, but under the circumstances….”

“I couldn’t, Rob.  I can barely deal with my own grief at the moment.”

“Aye, Stuart knows that now.”  He put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the kitchen.  “Leave it, Jackie.  We’ll do it in the morning.”

As they stepped out of the room, Jackie reached back to turn out the light.  As they reached the living room, she stopped them in their tracks.

“What about us?” she asked suddenly.

“Us?”

“You and me.  I mean, we’ve never… been together without Michael and you know I love you, but….”

Turning her to face him, Robbie touched his fingertip to her nose.  “I loved him.  Very, very much.  I love you too, Jackie, but right now, I don’t think either of us is ready for anything more than hugging, am I right?”

Jackie smiled.  “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“And I don’t think I could either.  One day… I think we could make a great couple, if you still want to.  But we need to grieve, and I can’t say how long it’s gonna be before I stop bursting into tears at the mention of his name.”

“Aww, Robbie.”  Reaching up, she hugged him tight, happy just to have another warm body to press against.  She hoped Stuart had someone hidden away from them.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.  It’ll do no one any good if we run ourselves into the ground.”

* * *

 two weeks later


Stuart arranged the flowers, touching his fingers to the crème marble gravestone.  Robbie and Jackie were crouched together at the other side of the grave.  They’d brought their own flowers – red and white roses with a card that read the same as the first one.

simply:  ‘love you’

The stone they’d chosen themselves, agreed the words between the three of them.

Detective Chief Inspector Michael Jardine
1961 - 2002
A beloved friend who will always be remembered
and forever be missed
Rest In Peace

Below the words was an engraving of a single, simple rose.

“It’s beautiful,” Stuart told them.

Jackie smiled sadly.  “Whatever we put on there could never say what we wanted to say.  But when it comes down to it, this is somewhere for us.  Michael’s not here.”

“I’ll leave you two alone, see you back at the station.”

They watched him walk away, hands in his pockets.  Robbie squeezed her hand.  “I hope all this is what he would have wanted.”

“He wanted us to sell the house.”

“I know.  But… it’s the only place I feel… close to him.  Like… he’s just around the corner, just out of sight and any minute he’ll walk into the room.”

Jackie was reminded of a poem someone had read at Michael’s funeral.  She remembered it had made her cry at the service.  “Don’t you find that… hurts?  Knowing he never will.”

Not able to speak at that moment, Robbie nodded.  Hooking her arm through his, Jackie leaned into him.

And for a long time, they stayed like that next to Michael’s grave, lost in memories.  Below them, the city went on, as it always had.


fin
elfin

Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped away into the next room,
I am I and you are you;
Whatever we were to each other, That we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used,
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we shared together.
Let my name ever be the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant,
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well.
- DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL (Henry Scott Holland 1847 -1918)

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