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Just Because We Do What We Do	By : gallygaskins Category: G through L > Hustle Views: 1283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hustle and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction

Chapter List
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Chapter 3

It had taken her about a week but she had done it. And now that she was on English soil she took a deep breath thanking her stars for getting her there safe; for her new false name, Bettina Hardwick; an auburn wig, green contacts and the £2000 pounds and gold ladies Rolex with at least a carat’s worth of diamonds she had found, courtesy of her transatlantic flight neighbour in seat A20.

Having bought a cheap pay as you go phone from an airport vendor with some of her cash, she’d proceeded to pick up her bag and catch a taxi into London. She paid the cabbie what he was due and stepped out onto the Embankment, the welcome sound of Big Ben chiming in the background. She’d missed this place.

Taking the two phone numbers from her old phone and plugging them into her new handset she dismantled the old phone, dropping the bits into the Thames, before ringing her old friend. “Hi, Stace, I’ve made it.”

“Great, Betty. I’ve managed to get you a junior suite at the Royal Lancaster Hotel at Lancaster Gate under Mrs Stacie Henry, can you get there?”

“Yes.”

“It’s all paid for, I’ll speak to Albie and get him to come and see you tomorrow with Tom, tell him to text you with a time.”

“Thanks, any cover?”

“Only that you’re agoraphobic.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult then. Bye.” She turned on her heel in order to make her way to Embankment tube station but stopped suddenly, jumping back as a small group of men walked past her muttering obscenities at her as they walked on.

A man now sat in the previously vacant seat, a cigarette to his lips, seemingly deep in thought. A couple of girls walked by; one stopped and asked him for a light, which he gladly obliged before telling her to be safe and get back to her friends. If ‘Betty’ didn’t know any better, then that man was Ashley Morgan, he’d aged a bit in ten years and a distinguished silver had taken over his side burns but there was no mistaking the voice, she looked around her, anywhere other than looking in his direction. “You ok, love?” He asked. Their eyes met, his were full of concern, “are you alright?”

“Just not sure where the underground station is from here,” she lied, laying on her best Australian accent whilst hoping and praying that she’d never used that in front of him before.

“It’s just over there on the other side of the road, around the back of the bridge.” He pointed behind him.

“Oh, right. Thanks.” She smiled briefly before wandering over to the pedestrian crossing and punching the button.

“Do you know where you’re going?” He asked now by her side crossing the road together.

“Once I get my bearings, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s alright; I’m not being weird or anything. Just don’t like to see a woman on her own. You got someone meeting you wherever you’re going to.”

“Yeah, I’m good thanks.” Looking out for the Northern line train, she stopped and turned back to him. “Look, I’m sorry if you thought I thought, well, that you were weird or something. I can tell you’re not. I’m ok now; I know where I’m going and my boyfriends meeting me off the train.”

He seemed satisfied with that, “right, good. Best be on your way then, don’t want to keep the lad waiting.” He smiled at her, the lines around his eyes creasing together. He looked so charming that it took everything within her to remember what she was supposed to be doing instead of wanting to jump into his arms and demand he take her to a hotel nearby. She took a couple of steps backward smiled, turned and walked away as quickly as she could. She could feel her palms sweating and her heart hammering away in her chest. Even after all of this time how could he still have that kind of effect on her?

She got to the gates realising that she’d have to buy a ticket from one of the machines. Not being used to them she fumbled her way through the menus trying to find her destination but failing miserably. “Where are you going to?” A familiar voice said behind her.

“Lancaster Gate.” She said a bit quickly. Maybe it had been the wrong thing to do but she couldn’t take it back now.

“Rich boyfriend, eh?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She agreed, attempting to covertly pull a ten pound note from the large stash of cash she had on her in her bag. She handed him the note, his fingers brushing over hers as the money changed hands. A discreet look passed between them but nothing was said as he handed her her ticket and change. “Thanks, again.”

“My pleasure, now go. Get to that boyfriend of yours before he sends out a search party.” He grinned at her. She held out her hand for him to take but he kept his thrust firmly into the pockets of his jeans, the tension only easing when she allowed her hand to drop away. “He’s a lucky bloke.” He gestured, before turning on his heel and walking from the station.

As she made her way through the station she contemplated the events as they had happened, surely he had no way of knowing who she was. After all they hadn’t seen each other in a little over ten years. But there was no mistaking that look he’d given her, she’d seen it before so many times. It had always been his little way of telling her that he didn’t quite believe her but he’d let her run with it for a bit, at least until she was ready to tell him the truth.

A train pulled in just as she’d walked onto the platform so she made her way onto the train, finding a quiet set of seats, away from a group of girls shrieking about their anticipated night out and far away from a young lad with music pumping out of his headphones at what seemed like two hundred decibels.

Noticing her reflection in the opposite window as the train passed through the blackened tunnels, she saw a sad, lonely, middle aged woman looking back at her. What had happened to make her feel so miserable? This morning she had been happier than she’d been in a long time, knowing that she would be soon reunited with her son and hopefully rid herself of her evil husband. Even earlier that evening she’d found herself overjoyed at the prospect of being back in the city that she had always called home from the first moment she had ever lived there.

She looked old, gaunt, drawn in, dead almost, but not quite believing that Ash could’ve been the cause of her despondency. Perhaps knowing that she would never have him in her life was making her feel and look the way she did. Perhaps he had recognised her beneath the red hair and the green eyes. “How could he have done?” She asked herself. Both she and him looked physically older and whilst he had put a little weight on she had lost a lot from her face. In truth she had lost a lot from her whole body, there was no way he could’ve recognised her.

By the time she’d got to her hotel she was already in a state and as she came to check in she nearly forgot her assumed name. But she was soon within the confines of the suite Stacie had laid on for her and as she inspected the apartment she found that someone had been generous enough to leave her several changes of clothes, shoes, some jewellery, a varying selection of makeup and toiletries and a bottle of her favourite perfume, one she’d not seen or smelt in years. Further investigation found that there was a generous fruit basket and a cold meat salad in the fridge along with a couple of mini bottles of a fairly inexpensive white wine that she’d heard of but not yet had the opportunity to taste.

However, her first job was to get herself clean and after pulling the wig from her head and removing the lenses from her eyes, Imogen Baxter slipped her aching body into the shallow waters and cascading bubbles of the bath she had run for herself. She’d not had a bath in so long it felt like heaven, the only thing missing was someone to rub her back for her. The tears welled as her heart ached, “oh Ash, if only you were here.”

.oOo.

Ash was a man in deep contemplation by the time he’d reached Eddie’s. As he perched himself on a stool at the bar and sipped at his drink he went over the events of late that didn’t seem to add up to him. The first had definitely been Stacie and Danny’s unexpected arrival as well as Eddie’s nephew turning up the same day. It hadn’t seemed right that Eddie had left the lad on the doorstep and as he took the boy down into the bar there had been Stacie’s unfinished statement followed by an unusual awkwardness. ‘... She doesn’t want Ash too know ...’ He never had found out who or what he wasn’t supposed to know about and Stace was rarely on her own long enough for him to confront her about it.

Then there had been that day he’d gone with Albert to the races. Albert had been decidedly quiet, too quiet really. Almost as if he was making sure he wouldn’t say the wrong thing to Ash. And it hadn’t stopped there. By the time they’d got home, Mickey and Emma were barely saying two words to each other and no one was really saying anything to him. In fact, it felt distinctly like they were all treating him with kid gloves. It had been a bit of a surprise to see Danny taking Emma out but he’d wished them luck all the same. But again he wasn’t able to get more than two words out of Emma when Danny had finally dropped her back. Even when he was in the bar Eddie was zipped quiet too. Something was definitely up.

He picked himself and his drink up and walked over to the booth, six pairs of eyes looked his way as he sunk what was left of his drink, slamming the glass down on the table. “I haven’t got a bleeding clue what is going on or why no one is talking to me but if I’ve done something wrong then I’d sure as hell like to know what it is.” He looked around everyone in the group. “Come on, Mick, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Ash. Everything’s fine, we’re all just a bit wary of this next con.”

“Hmm, you haven’t even told me about that yet either.”

“All in good time. Emma seemed to think you needed a holiday, we’re just giving you a bit of space so that you can relax without all of us messing with your head anymore than we normally do.”

“Right, well just so long as we’re cool then.”

“We’re cool, Ash. Look, go home, watch a bit of TV, put your feet up, relax and sleep for a bit, I know how much of an insomniac you are when we’re working.”

“Ok, I’ll do that.” Ash seemed railroaded into it but if it was what Mickey thought he should do then maybe he should try it. “I’ll see you all later then.”

He slowly meandered up the stairs, if they were going to say anything then it would be when they’d thought he’d gone. He opened and shut the door, giving the impression that he’d left, but staying at the top of the stairs in order to catch any of their conversation. “I told you,” he heard Emma say, “honestly is the best policy but you wouldn’t have it, Mickey, would you? Now the poor bloke thinks we all hate him.”

“He doesn’t think that,” Mickey tried reasoning but in his heart he knew that Emma was right. “Soon we’ll know what con we’re playing and then perhaps we can talk a bit more freely, even with Ash.”

“It won’t work. We need to tell him everything and we need to tell him soon, otherwise I dread to think what he’ll do.”

“Emma, he’s not going to do anything.”

“I don’t know Mick,” Danny put in, “she’s been right so far. It’s not going to take much for Ash to be pushed just that little bit too far, especially considering how we’ve all just seen him react.”

Mickey let out a long breath, “Albert, when you see her tomorrow get as much info as you can from her. Then, if it feels right to push it, start applying a bit of pressure, try and make her change her mind about letting Ash know.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” Emma said. Ash opened the door once again and left as silently as he could. So they were keeping someone from him and Emma didn’t appear to be too happy about it. Tomorrow he would instigate a conversation with her, try and see if he could ply her for any information that he could confront the rest of them with.

As he came out of Eddie’s he hung a left instead of taking a right and going towards the apartment. He wasn’t one for putting his feet up and relaxing in front of the box anyway and he felt like he needed a good dose of fresh air.

Making his way onto the Embankment from Lancaster Place he walked the short distance passed Cleopatra’s Needle and under the Hungerford Bridge, weaving in and out of assembled groups of young men and women as they decided where to party next. If slightly envious of their youth he didn’t show it, acknowledging them with a smile as he passed them by. He loved this part of town, especially at this time of the evening when things were just starting to come alive as darkness descended. Autumn would soon be upon them but that didn’t matter, the revellers would still be about and he would continue to take up his silent watch, ready to step in and break up a fight if he needed to. The plate in his head wasn’t only useful for ‘the flop’.

It was then that he noticed a woman standing close to the river’s edge, throwing what appeared to be bits of a phone into the river. Perplexed, he took a seat on the vacant bench, lit up a cigarette and carefully watched her. She dialled a number, waiting for it to be picked up before speaking and, totally unaware as she was of him scrutinising her, he was able to examine her profile as she spoke. From his situation he could see the left side of her face but it was the voice that held him fast in his seat. “Hi, Stace, I’ve made it ... yes ... thanks, any cover? ... that shouldn’t be too difficult then. Bye.” Not only had her face involuntarily made the kind of signs that only a lover would notice but he’d have known that tone anywhere; it wasn’t just a coincidence that she had spoken to their mutual friend. But take away the red hair and the indeterminate eye colour that from his position he couldn’t quite fathom and it was definitely her, even if a little thinner, it was Imogen. The woman that no matter how much she tried to disguise herself he knew every inch of.

Ready to go to her aid if needs be as she stepped into the oncoming path of a group of lads, a couple of girls on their way to a party passed between them all, one stopping briefly to ask for a light. Being his usually gentlemanly self, he pulled the stainless Zippo from his jacket pocket and held the glowing flame up towards the end of the girl’s cigarette. Having being thanked by the girl profusely he told her to keep herself safe and get back to her friends.

His eyes now rested on the redhead again, what was she up to? For someone as intelligent and quick witted as Imogen had been, this version of her appeared positively agitated. Perhaps he should have been more wary of the lads that she’d nearly walked into? Perhaps they’d said or done something to shake her up a bit? He tried to keep the concern to a minimum but it didn’t work, his first question to her was laced with it. “You ok, love?” He asked, believing that she hadn’t heard him until she raised her eyes to look directly into his. “Are you alright?”

He watched her falter, wondering if she was deciding what to say to him. “Just not sure where the underground station is from here,” Ah so that was it, trying to decide how to disguise her voice, one of the oldest tricks in the book. It had also been a shame that he’d remembered spending hours perfecting it with her and knew instinctively which words she’d never managed to sound authentic Australian. And then to lie to him on top of that, he knew damn well that this wasn’t only one of his favourite haunts. They were like two peas in a pod.

Turning in his seat a little he pointed behind himself. “It’s just over there on the other side of the road, around the back of the bridge.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” He watched her make her way to the pedestrian crossing, her jean clad arse sashaying away from him. The urge to say something was overwhelming but he bit it back, losing the words as he severed the contact by closing his eyes.

The next thing he knew he was out of his seat and crossing the road with her, the signals beeping away in the background letting them both know they were still alright to cross. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Once I get my bearings, I’ll be fine.”

She seemed genuinely fearful of him, how could that be? She must have recognised him, surely? “It’s alright; I’m not being weird or anything. Just don’t like to see a woman on her own. You got someone meeting you wherever you’re going to.”

That hadn’t come out quite as he’d expected it to but it seemed to allay any fears she may have had considering that she had stopped and was now looking directly into his soul once more through the green lenses she was wearing. “Yeah, I’m good thanks.” He noticed her searching for a sign. “Look, I’m sorry if you thought I thought, well, that you were weird or something. I can tell you’re not. I’m ok now; I know where I’m going and my boyfriends meeting me off the train.”

Well as long as someone was looking out for her he’d play along, not that he believed it, “right, good. Best be on your way then, don’t want to keep the lad waiting.” He smiled at her, a little more than he felt was necessary but he just couldn’t help himself. He noticed a spark flash behind her eyes and waited for her to respond to it like she had done so on many occasions before; but instead she took a couple of steps backward, smiled, turned and walked away as quickly as she could from him. He felt disappointed and dejected but nothing could move him from that spot, continuing to spy on her as she hesitated at the gates before going to the machines and pressing at an inconceivable amount of buttons, she obviously hadn’t used the tube in a while. She was in need of a rescue and he was just the man to do it. “Where are you going to?”

“Lancaster Gate.” She said, without hesitating. She’d regret that.

“Rich boyfriend eh?” He joked as he punched in the right journey and pointed out the fare to her.

“Yeah, something like that.” Unconvinced as he was by her reply he still felt the pang of jealousy settle in his stomach. She was trying desperately to pull out one note form the fistful she had in her bag he noticed, where on earth had she got all of that cash from? Not to mention the gold watch on her wrist? As she handed him the note, his allowed his fingers to brush over hers in a manner that looked accidental. Electricity shot up his arm and he felt the jolt tug at his heart, his head angled towards hers as a discreet look passed between them. Nothing else was said until he handed her her ticket and change. “Thanks, again.”

“My pleasure, now go. Get to that boyfriend of yours before he sends out a search party.” He heard himself say as he shot her an affectionate grin. She held out her hand for him to take but he couldn’t bring himself to shake it, not yet anyway, keeping his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s a lucky bloke.” He said as an end to their conversation, before turning on his heel and walking from the station. From his viewpoint by the station entrance he was able to watch her walk through the gates and walk down towards the Northern line.

He followed her, a pocket picked oyster card from a young reveller allowing him access through the gates, ambling to the platform and waiting for the train that she had stepped onto to just about leave before slipping onto a carriage further back. He held back at Holborn station waiting for her to disembark before doing the same himself and following her to the Central line train that would take her to Lancaster Gate. Once again he held back and joined the train as it was about to leave and once again as the train arrived at her destination he watched her leave before following behind.

As he pursued her out of the station he couldn’t help but consider what had happened to her. When they’d first met she had been sharp, vibrant, gifted to a fault and sometimes better than Mickey at doing what he did best. But this woman that he now tracked didn’t seem to be a patch on the one that had left him all those years before. His Imogen would’ve have had his balls in a vice by now, she’d have picked up on his scent and have turned his following her on its head. The hunter would have become the hunted. But the new Imogen didn’t seem to have the same instincts as the old one and it left him feeling shameful and oddly cold. She was vulnerable and he didn’t like praying on her inabilities. For someone that Mickey had loved to tease into dumbing down once upon a time, they now would have to reinvigorate her senses in order for her to shine like she once had.

It was a short walk from the station that had him ending his chase in front of the Royal Lancaster, he whistled, even he’d never been bold enough to try getting anyone in this place. The doorman held the glass door open for him and he passed over the threshold, his eyes everywhere looking for the woman that he’d spent the last twenty minutes tailing. Wherever she was, she wasn’t in the lobby and that allowed him the opportunity to find out where she was from the front desk. But first, that meant getting hold of a key.

Walking through to the bar he found a bloke that seemed to fit the bill. His attention was on the barmaid but he was a city type, greed perspired out of every pore and as he drummed his key card against the woodwork, Ash dropped his heavily laden wallet unnoticeably as he wandered by. It fell with such a thud that the man had no option but to drop his key onto the bar in order to stoop down and pick up Ash’s wallet, calling after him. He turned around and upon noticing the wallet in the man’s hand he went to retrieve it. Insisting on buying the man a drink he laid the wallet on top of the card and palmed it, putting it into his pocket as he walked away; the city man sipping gratefully on his free drink.

Arriving at the front desk he asked the receptionist to check for any mail. Not remembering his room number it meant that the receptionist had to go into the back office and use a reader to ascertain it by swiping the key card. It gave Ash ample time to quickly go through the records and find out which room Imogen was occupying. He found her under an alias, Stacie had obviously told her to use her name and the bill for the next two weeks had been paid in full.

By the time the receptionist had returned to the front desk there was no one in sight and it looked like nothing had been touched. She shrugged her shoulders as a young city type wandered over and asked if anyone had handed in a key.

Ash hailed himself a cab and sat back into the seat. Things began falling into place, Stacie’s, Danny’s and the young lad’s appearance obviously had something to do with Imogen being back in town. And the reason they were probably all keeping quiet when he was around was so as not to arouse him to that fact either. Ok, if that’s what they wanted then he’d play along but he didn’t have to like it. Why would Imogen’s close proximity to him cause such a commotion, unless there was something more sinister?

But he couldn’t believe that, so she’d got married and had a kid, so what? Lots of people did and lots of people also got divorced too. He only had to look at himself to know the statistics on that particular score. He couldn’t fathom why she wanted to keep away from him though, not that he was going to let her get away with it that easily. But first things first he had some groundwork to put into place and that would mean one or two covert operations.

By the time he got home he was surprised to find that no one was up in the living room. Stopping by the drinks stand he poured himself a generous shot of whiskey and took a seat. He nursed the glass as he sat back, resting the base against his chest, his free hand and arm stretched along the back of the sofa, an ankle resting over bended knee. There were a few things he needed to know; obviously Imogen was the woman that didn’t want Ash to know something, but what? And what was it that had Mickey and Emma at each other’s throats? Probably one in the same thing going by Emma’s need to make sure that Ash was told the truth, but why? And what was the truth? Did it really matter anyway, he was sure that he could handle most things but it would clearly have an impact if both Imogen and Mickey wanted to keep the truth from him.

Well, the first thing to do would be easy; he would ask Emma a couple of pertinent questions. Knowing that she didn’t want to lie to him he knew he’d get some of the truth. Then, maybe, he’d speak to Imogen, confront her with what he did know and hopefully the rest would come from her. He knocked back the drink allowing the warmth to sink through him before getting up and making his way to bed. Tomorrow would be a day for truth and knocking down these barriers that the crew had inadvertently put up, he only hoped that he could keep control.

.oOo.

Ash hadn’t had a particularly easy night’s sleep. In truth he’d never really slept well since June had left. A vast emptiness in his bed had never had cause to calm him unlike the warm, nurturing body of someone that loved him and wanted to take care of him, he’d always slept well then.

His only respite had been at about half two, his mind thinking back to the red hair and green eyes of the Imogen he no longer knew and how she had reflected his own loneliness. Perhaps he was getting sappy in his old age, but yeah, if he had to admit something then it was an innate fear that he was going to be left alone, living in a pokey bedsit on some housing estate like ‘Liability’ Finch. It had rattled him when he’d visited Finch with Mickey, now it really had him reeling.

So he’d thought about her, thought about how much of a fool he’d been to let her go, about the chances of him being able to get her back and how he would go about doing it. He’d closed his eyes, envisaging her in his arms, her beautiful face turned towards him, gently nipping at his chin and lips with her teeth, causing him to laugh when her hands tickled over his chest and down over his stomach. Her hazel eyes with their flecks of gold would search his asking him silently to make love to her and he wouldn’t hesitate, plundering her mouth with his and taking her to heaven. Dreaming of her had allowed him to catch a few hours sleep until worry and agitation had brought him awake once more.

He’d got up then, pacing his room for a while and looking out onto the world below him from the vast picture window. He showered and got dressed, going out for a little while in order to get himself a paper. He fixed himself a cappuccino upon his return noticing that most of the crew had by now gone out. He settled himself into the sofa in order to read the early morning news and racing form sipping away at the frothy coffee as he did. It was the first time he had relaxed in what seemed like forever. Thinking about Imogen had obviously done the trick during the night and he only hoped that his insomnia would get better if he continued in the same vein. Perhaps having her back in his bed would be the perfect solution?

“Morning,” he said brightly to whomever was walking up the stairs.

“God, how come you’re so chirpy.” Emma complained. It was rare that Ash ever saw any of the others in their nightwear but he had to admit it, she looked endearing, even in her oversized satin kimono dressing gown that almost drowned her tiny frame and the thick fisherman’s socks she wore on her feet.

“I managed to get a couple of hour’s kip,” he held his arm up in order to invite Emma within it. She sat next to him, her feet curling up by her side.

“Wow, who was the lucky lady?” He eyed her suspiciously, “what? Sex is always a good way to unwind, Ash.”

“Good God, is that what you think happened ...? Nah, Em. I didn’t sleep with anyone. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about it.”

She smirked. “Oh, right.”

“What happened to you then?” He asked, concerned. “Why are you not your normal breezy self?”

“Danny happened to me.” Ash looked shocked, “whoa, Ash. I didn’t sleep with him.”

“Good, ‘cause if Mick finds out he’ll ...”

“He’ll what? Make my life more of a living hell than it already is?”

“That’s hardly fair, Em.”

“And I thought out of everyone you’d understand. All Mickey has done is mess about with my emotions, flaunt his attachment to Stacie in front of my face and then act like the jealous schoolboy when Danny shows me some attention.”

“You did tell him you weren’t interested.”

“But then I told him I was, we were going to have dinner, he nearly kissed me once too but he pulled away from me.”

“Oh,” Ash pouted, it seemed that grifter’s never seemed to have an easy time with love whoever they were. “So what exactly are you doing with Danny?”

“Having a good time and living life to the full. Danny knows where he stands in my reckoning. The first night we went out it was very conventional, very pleasant and he walked me home without any preconceived notion about getting me into bed. I actually think he’s trying not to mess this up with me.”

“You’re not playing with his emotions, are you? Even Danny’s got feelings, you know?”

“I know and I’m not. I do like him though.” She smiled absently.

“Just be careful.”

“I will Dad, promise.” She kissed him on the cheek, noticing a smile appear on his face that she was sure she’d not seen in weeks. “So this woman that you were thinking about? Who is she?”

“Never you mind.” He grinned, his cool blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh come on, Ash. Promise I won’t tell.” She said coyly.

“Imogen.”

“Imogen?”

“The woman I was telling you about. The one I messed up with. The one who’s back in London.” She shook her head in response. He had to hand it to her, she was a good little actress, “come on, Em, you know who I’m talking about.”

Her eyes said it all as they fell away from his face. “Yes, I know.”

“Do you know why she’s back?” She shook her head, “Em, please?” He coaxed almost silently.

What on earth was she going to tell him? She’d promised Mickey that if asked she’d tell Ash the truth but now she was confronted with him she wasn’t sure she could do it. “It’s to do with her husband, something about conning him in order for her to be able to leave him.”

“Not so easy the second time around then.” He said bitterly.

Emma’s hand rested on his arm, “don’t be like that, the circumstances are different.”

“How?”

Well she wasn’t going to tell him that, “he has some kind of financial hold over her, something to do with the fact that he was nothing until they got married and then he got his hands on her money.”

“I see; she wants to feather her nest for her and the kid then. That makes sense.” Maybe there was hope for him yet. “So why didn’t she want me to know?”

Emma shrugged, “I have no idea, perhaps she felt you might get a little personal?”

“I don’t want to know what she’s been getting up to over the last ten years with her husband.”

Emma went to get up, “but you want her back in your bed.” She giggled at his horror filled face. “It’s not that bad is it, sleeping with you?”

“Oi, you saucy git,” he laughed getting up with her and watching her make her way towards the stairs. On the floor was a piece of paper, he bent down picking it up and holding it in the air, “wait, Em, you’ve dropped something.”

“No, I haven’t,” she called back before the event of those days before replayed in her mind’s eye, “Oh shit,” she clambered back up the stairs. “On second thoughts, I did.” The expressions on her face quickly turning dour as she watched him read the document.

He looked up towards Emma, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief, unshed tears being blinked back as he stood motionless, the document still in his hands. Within seconds he’d picked up his jacket and walked down the stairs, all the while Emma attempted to bring him back to her but it was almost as if he had gone deaf. The door slammed between them as he walked out of the suite.

“Shit,” Emma screamed running into her room and picking up her phone. She rang Mickey, “we’ve got a problem. Ash saw the birth certificate.”
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Just Because We Do What We Do