Play@YSDC

In an ordinary cafe, a short walk from the Folly, our intrepid investigators convene…

Skipper sauntered in, looking very pleased with the world. Apparently first to arrive, he ordered a "NATO standard please, luv, coffee with milk and two," and something in the bun family. He found a corner table and claimed the chair with the best view of the door, imagining where he would dive if young Hogwarts wizards started dueling death-eaters in the cafe.

Jordan follows him inside, orders a nice cup of tea, and sits with him. Unlike Skipper, he can't get enough martial arts training. He has just earned his green belt, and while his skills are improving quickly, he knows he still has a long way to go and much still to learn.

Leo entered next, wearing a snow white sweatshirt with two adorably cute seal eyes and a Greenpeace logo beneath it. Vertically striped bell-bottom slacks with embroidered borders and crimson Chucks completed the ensemble. Someone has been to the vintage store.

"Shawarma, please," he said. Then he looked down at his white shirt, and added, and extra napkins. Actually, a bib..."

"And a Pimms, if you have one." Once his order is complete, he joins the others.

"Dear God, DC Goyle, I'm getting sunburn from the glare of your togs." Skipper held a hand up to protect his eyes from the radiance of Leo's attire. "Been trawling the second-hands then?"

"No chance in said pre-loved clothing stall there's some ravishingly fit looking young gent you are trying to chat up by buying all his stock, is there?" The last is asked with an innocent, straight face.

Mid-banter, Skipper's phone made a little foghorn noise. He pulled it out, read a message and his eyebrows went up. "Well, Mirror Group Papers have lost in court to The Spare. Think I can safely say they will not be employing me to hack any more phones. Happy to put that world behind me though, I'm a reformed man."

"I do hope this Folly gig lasts though."

"I think it will," says Jordan. "It's not like there's any shortage of work for us. They'll probably have to increase recruitment."

"Well, I've been making the most of a free week. Two days with the RNVR and three in, ah, Nennington. A good week."

"And what does Dr Jordan do with his normally days?"

"I've been spending more time with my family," says Jordan. "Everything we've seen has shown me just how fragile life is, and how important family is. What drew you back to Nennington? Or should I say who?"

As the others arrive and converse, Izzy enters, definitely dressed for the winter. She's in a fairly thick brown coat, Doctor Who scarf (you know the one...) and skinny jeans, hiking boots, and a thick patterned jumper. She doesn't acknowledge the others at first save for a nod, and orders at the counter - a thick bread bacon and egg sarnie with brown sauce, and the strongest coffee they have. Extra espresso shots, plural, and then some. She heads to the table with the others after paying, and waits for her food and drink to arrive.

It's clear to anyone watching that the toll of the past couple of weeks has been heavy. At least she's not been visibly crying this time. She greets them all with a grim smile and waits patiently for a moment where she can join the conversation currently ongoing. Hopefully without being asked to bring up the obvious.

Skipper looked at Jordan with his best poker face. "Just catching up with a new friend. Chance to practise some photography with a 21st Century camera. Not that I'm complaining about the F3, quite good fun actually."

He looked at Izzy steadily for a moment and sighed. "You know, if anyone's to blame for the idiot's death, it's yours truly. I can get right under people's skin. When I really try. And I succeeded, bit too well actually. He was trying to kill me. You defended me and the rest of the team."

"But really, whatever happened, the whole team was responsible. That's how real combat teams work, by the way. I'm talking military teams. Some of the team run the surveillance gear, some handle the ride, some are on the big guns. But the whole team is responsible for what happens, not the sod on the chain-gun, the sniper rifle, the canon, or firing the missile, even though it's the gun or missile that is doing the killing."

"And in a way, we're a lot more like a military team than a police one. We've got big hitters, but so do the opposition. Death is a real chance. And a lot of the time, we operate without much Met support."

"We were all responsible. And I have lost no sleep, by the way. The guy caused death and danger and let another guy act like an invisible pervy creep. To once again quote Sar'nt Major Williams from It Ain't Half Hot Mum, oh dear, how sad, never mind."

She catches the tail end of the conversation, as much as she hears what both Skipper and Jordan have been up to. Even despite her general ill mood, Izzy refuses for a second to believe the PI's claim of just catching up with a friend. Yeah, right. And she and Alice are just flatmates. Who can only afford one bed.

The moment's levity is gone though when Skipper brings up the elephant in the room.

"That bit about defending everyone else... Alice keeps telling me the same thing. At least she never said I was a hero. Because I don't feel like one. But she keeps trying to convince me that if I hadn't acted, it could have been a lot worse. The counselor said the same thing too."

She's only had a couple of counselling sessions. Twice weekly, for the foreseeable. She's expecting the 'foreseeable' to be a fairly long time, though.

"Thanks for trying to make me feel better. Not that it's really working, but you know, the effort's appreciated."

Izzy's food and drink arrive, and she tucks in as if nothing was wrong, but the stress lines are still apparent on her otherwise youthful face. A burden nobody should ever have to carry. A moment or two pass by, before a thought comes to mind. She isn't sure it'll help, but hey, she didn't bring the topic up - she'd have been happier leaving it for her next appointment, but the ex-soldier did start discussing things...

"Skipper... how did you cope with it? The first time you ever... you know..."

Jordan would probably do well in a poker game with Snapper, because he sees right through him. "They're right," says Jordan. "I've gone over it in my head myself, and I don't see how it could have ended any other way, unless it had ended worse. I tried to reason with Grimes, but he was beyond reason, both because of the early stages of his brain deteriorating and because he was Grimes. None of us are trained hostage negotiators as far as I know, but we did the best we could, and it turned out as well as we could have hoped."

Skipper sipped (NATO style) coffee and considered his answer to Izzy's question. Then he counted off five points on five callused fingers of his left hand.

Digit one. "You protect your honour and you protect your team."

Digit two. "You protect your honour by making the best, most decent decisions you can on the best information you can get. And being honest."

Digit three. "You protect your team and you know they will protect you, no matter what the job is, what the mission is."

Digit four. "You do all that every shift, then when you kip, you shut your eyes and know you've done your best."

Digit five. "And finally, let me quote Malone from The Untouchables. You just fulfilled the first rule of law enforcement: make sure when your shift is over you go home alive."

It's not exactly an answer to Izzy's question, but it's as good as. It seems less how Skipper copes, but more a bullet point list by rote of things to remember. Still, it helps a little bit. She nods.

Jordan's response is a bit better, though it re-treads a lot of what the counsellor has already told Izzy. If she hadn't acted, it would have ended worse. It's a small comfort, but maybe it's the start of the healing process. Maybe both of her colleagues have a point. And Skipper's final comment rings true.

"They drummed that into us at Hendon, you know," she replies, quietly. "End of your shift, you go home alive."

How would Alice have reacted, hearing that Izzy had been killed on duty by some raging far right lunatic with a grudge? How would her parents, her brother, have coped? No... better not to start chasing thoughts down that rabbit hole...

Skipper summoned his best Connery accent impersonation. "Here ended the lesson."