Title:        With Love, Jo M. xxx
Author:       Tish
Email:        tezz_hai@yahoo.com.au
Fandom:       The Bill
Status:       Complete
Archival:     Yes, if it's worthy ;)
Genre:        Romance/Tragedy
Characters:   Well, that's part of the mystery, innit?
Rating:       M15+
Warning:      Some mild femmeslash themes, nothing explicit really.
Word Count:   599
Feedback      Yes, please.
Summary:      A box of photos bring back memories.
Disclaimer:   Pearson Television own the characters, I'm just playing
              with them.
A/n:          This was originally intended as a bit of a mickey-take on
              the Jo/Sam Jam spammers, but it kinda took another turn.



She took the last few photos out of the box and gazed at them. So long ago,
it seemed. In the harsh light of the naked attic bulb she caught her
reflection, distorted in a tarnished pewter goblet.

She gazed at herself in silent regard.

Hmm, not bad, even if I do say so myself, she silently mused.

Hair still a warm golden glow, with a little help from her hairdresser,
naturally. Body still as slim as at nineteen. She glanced at her hands, a
little time and slightly sun-worn. Like her face, just showing deeper lines
and jowliness.

She smiled, So bloody what? She had nothing to prove. She was at peace with
her life and her past, and bugger anyone who tried to spoil it now.
Her gaze returned to the photos, feeling a frisson of memory as she studied
the first one.

An Open Day at the station. How long ago? Ten, fifteen years? The assembled
group looked happy and so hellishly young. Jo's smile lit up her face, caught
in mid-reaction to a semi-obscene comment from Tony. Reg, oddness personified
and seemingly never-changing, looking perplexed. The others in the photo were
all gone, scattered to the compass points.

It had been soon after that Open Day, that a birthday celebration at the pub
had brought out the attraction between her and Jo. No matter where she went
and with who she had mixed, Jo seemed to always find herself at her elbow.
They had laughed, then Jo had led her over to a quiet corner, the words had
just poured out. They had clicked, just like that. Simple and complicated at
the same time.

A curtain seemed to draw before her eyes and the next thing she knew, she was
at home with Jo's hands all over her body. She had responded with kisses and
her own exploring fingers. Clothes were shed, along with any doubts or
inhibitions.

Jo's caresses and kisses were born from a knowledge of her own needs and
desires. She knew her own body and generously applied that knowledge to her
lover. Jo's reward was to lift her head and watch her handiwork - the glazed,
half-blind eyes and gasping mouth, transforming into a serene expression of
climax.

But that was Before....

Before Jo had gained her well-earned promotion and transfer. Before her
return...

She remembered sitting in the car, about to leave the station with the
witness. Then a blur as Jo shouted something, started running towards them.
The loudness of the gunshots, the screams - she had forgotten if they were
real or imagined.

Then an eerie stillness as she realised that the crumpled heap on the ground
was Jo.

Whatever she did next was on autopilot. She could still see Jo lying there,
but she couldn't remember her voice, her scent or her walk.
Only later, alone, did the tears and memories return. That was all she had
now.

She snapped back into the present day. An old clock, long stopped, reflected
the light. She smiled as she held up the last photo, her and Jo on a sunny
day. Jo's fire-cracker smile that reflected in her eyes, and her own smile -
perhaps more inhibited and cautious.

The Polaroid was a little faded with age, its white border starting to peel
from the emulsion. Jo's handwriting elegant, despite the biro:

To June,
Thank you so much for all your support, encouragement and above all, your love.

I'd have never done it without you!

With love Jo Morgan xxxx