As the call of the crickets echoed through the night, Jack sat at his desk, the light of the computer screen illuminating his face. All his emails had finally been answered to, all the latest evidence had been locked up and put away, and all his reports had been written. There was nothing else for him to do today, and yet still, he couldn't bring himself to move.

He checked the clock. It was almost midnight. He had to go home and sleep at some point. There had been too many nights he'd woken up in the early hours of the morning slumped over his desk, dribbling on a file, his eyes crusted over with sleep. As he exited out of his computer programs, Jack heard the door to the station creak open. His eyes snapped up, searching for his intruder. Footsteps on the hard floor disturbed the silence.

"Hello?" he called out into the night.

Florence stepped into the dim lamplight. "Sir," she grinned, then folded her arms. "You're still here?"

Jack laughed, as she looked down at him, almost disapprovingly, like she had caught him with his hands in the biscuit tin. "Busted," he muttered. "But so are you, out past your bedtime," he said, wagging a finger at her. "What are you doing here?"

Florence picked up a foldout chair from the where it lent against the wall and unfolded it in front of Jack's desk. "I was passing, and I saw the lights on," she said. "I knew you'd be here."

"Been anywhere nice?" Jack asked, pocketing his phone, and turning off his computer.

"I couldn't sleep so I just went for a drive," she replied.

"I often can't sleep," agreed Jack, turning off his monitor.

"And that's why you stay late?" Florence half-asked. "Keep yourself busy. That way when you get home, there are fewer hours of you lying awake, staring at the ceiling."

Jack cocked his head slightly. "Yeah, that's right," he said. "How did you figure that out?"

"Because I know you," Florence replied softly. Jack digested her words, then sat back in his chair.

"You do, don't you," he agreed.

"I could stay here and help you with some work if you like?" asked Florence.

"No, you're fine," said Jack. "There isn't anything left for me to do now, not till tomorrow. We're better off going home." Jack got up from his desk and tucked his chair in. "Besides, it's midnight."

Florence looked up at the clock, then back at Jack. "We could always get some coffee?" she suggested. "The night doesn't have to be over just yet."

Jack eyed her, regarding her for a moment. She was choosing to spend her time here with him, time that was hers to freely do whatever she wished, and yet here she was, giving it to him. He should make the most of it, Jack thought, to know her like this. Even if perhaps by tomorrow it would be nothing more than a memory between them, a "remember when…"

"Sure," Jack nodded, digging his hands in his pockets for the keys. "Coffee sounds great."