<![CDATA[Spooks Forum - All Forums]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/ Fri, 03 Sep 2010 19:43:32 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Season 8 Available on DVD Now]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1121.html Fri, 03 Sep 2010 18:59:46 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1121.html http://www.dhgate.com/spooks-mi-5-season...544b4.html

Just rec'd this. It looks like it was DVDR'd & is in fact a 'bootleg' copy. That said, the only difference is the BBC Three 'bug' appears in the upper Left hand corner of the screen. The subtitles work, audio is in synch. It works on my American DVD player. If you are interested in purchasing this & you do not possess an American DVD player, you might wish to ask the seller if this set is compatible w/your DVD player.

Cheers, J]]> http://www.dhgate.com/spooks-mi-5-season...544b4.html

Just rec'd this. It looks like it was DVDR'd & is in fact a 'bootleg' copy. That said, the only difference is the BBC Three 'bug' appears in the upper Left hand corner of the screen. The subtitles work, audio is in synch. It works on my American DVD player. If you are interested in purchasing this & you do not possess an American DVD player, you might wish to ask the seller if this set is compatible w/your DVD player.

Cheers, J]]> <![CDATA[Scottish agent reporting in]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1120.html Fri, 03 Sep 2010 17:36:30 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1120.html
As a Spooks watcher from the beginning, I've dipped in here occasionally but with the announcement of the new series, well I bit the bullet and joined. Oooh, so much to read...I'd better get started!Yahoo]]>
As a Spooks watcher from the beginning, I've dipped in here occasionally but with the announcement of the new series, well I bit the bullet and joined. Oooh, so much to read...I'd better get started!Yahoo]]> <![CDATA[Happy birthday Bertowud!!!]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1119.html Fri, 03 Sep 2010 10:38:57 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1119.html

Cumpleaaaaaañoooos feeeeliiiz, cuuumpleeeañoooos feeeeliiiiiz! Te deseeeaaamooos tooodoooos, cuuuumpleaaaañooos feeeliiiiz!! *singing* Big Grin]]>

Cumpleaaaaaañoooos feeeeliiiz, cuuumpleeeañoooos feeeeliiiiiz! Te deseeeaaamooos tooodoooos, cuuuumpleaaaañooos feeeliiiiz!! *singing* Big Grin]]> <![CDATA[New S7 promo shots]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1118.html Fri, 03 Sep 2010 01:06:53 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1118.html anyroad, found through the ever-reliable source of Richardarmitagenet.com
unseen (at least for me) HUGe series 7 promo pics from a Dutch website http://omroep.vara.nl/Fotos-detail.3154....76b1123948..
I LOVE the Jen/Pete one, and o/c crouching Lucas.. but Harry shooting Arkadi is just brill. Wallpapers that need making Big Grin]]> anyroad, found through the ever-reliable source of Richardarmitagenet.com
unseen (at least for me) HUGe series 7 promo pics from a Dutch website http://omroep.vara.nl/Fotos-detail.3154....76b1123948..
I LOVE the Jen/Pete one, and o/c crouching Lucas.. but Harry shooting Arkadi is just brill. Wallpapers that need making Big Grin]]> <![CDATA[[Spoilers] BBC Press release - series 9]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1117.html Thu, 02 Sep 2010 12:16:33 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1117.html

You can find the information about it here. There you can find the account of events which will take place in series 9 episode 1. So BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!


You can read an interview with Richard Armitage about what will go on in Series 9 on the Program Information page. Obviously, it's full with spoilers!

I'm so excited I can barely type!!!Yahoo]]>

You can find the information about it here. There you can find the account of events which will take place in series 9 episode 1. So BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!


You can read an interview with Richard Armitage about what will go on in Series 9 on the Program Information page. Obviously, it's full with spoilers!

I'm so excited I can barely type!!!Yahoo]]> <![CDATA[Status 2.0]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1116.html Thu, 02 Sep 2010 11:34:24 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1116.html The new thread where you can tell us what are you doing right now Wink]]> The new thread where you can tell us what are you doing right now Wink]]> <![CDATA[Blood For Blood Part III]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1114.html Thu, 02 Sep 2010 07:13:43 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1114.html PART III
Wednesday 17 November, Evening
Malcolm’s house, London

They’re sitting in two comfortable wingback chairs, positioned in front of the fire. Harry is cradling a tumbler of whiskey, staring into the fire absently as Malcolm observes him. His old boss looks weary, troubled. Harry takes a sip before turning to Malcolm.
“How have you been, Malcolm?”
“Oh well, I can’t complain. Life is… calm.” He smiles to himself.
“I’d have thought you’d be living by the sea by now.”
Malcolm takes a sip of his own drink before answering. “I have a cottage north of Scarborough where I go during the summer. In winter though, I prefer to be closer to civilisation.”
“North of Scarborough?” Harry asks in surprise. “That’s on the North Yorkshire moors, isn’t it?” He looks at Malcolm inquiringly. “I guess I always pictured you in Cornwall.”
“Oh Lord no,” Malcolm sniffs dismissively, “too many yobs descending on the place in summer.”

Harry stifles a smile – he finds it comforting that retirement hasn’t changed Malcolm as of yet, and he realises, again, how much he has missed him. He watches as Malcolm shifts in his chair awkwardly, and sees a glimmer of guilt in his eyes when he asks: “So, er, how’s Ruth? What happened to her after…”
Harry decides to take pity on him. “It’s all right, Malcolm. I know she writes to you.”
The relief on Malcolm’s face is almost comical. “Oh.” A thought suddenly occurs to him. “Does she know you know?”
It’s Harry’s turn to look a little awkward. “Er, no, and I think we should keep it that way, yes?”
Malcolm nods in agreement, before asking: “You don’t mind?”
Harry looks up in surprise. “No, of course not. Why would I mind?”
“Well, it is against regulations, for one…”
“Yes, I know.” He sighs wearily. “But after what happened… She needs friends she can trust, Malcolm. The two of you have always had a special bond, and I see no reason to deny her that because of some rule.”

As Harry looks back at the fire, Malcolm shakes his head in wonder.
“I never thought I’d see the day… Old hard-hearted Harry Pearce has softened at last.” He pauses, weighing the wisdom of his next words, but the need to let his old friend know that they have his support wins out.
“I’m happy for the two of you, Harry.”
Harry’s head snaps back to him, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight. Malcolm hurriedly continues.
“She wrote to me that you’ve been seeing each other… I think it’s wonderful, the two of you have always just fitted together.” He pauses again, before sticking his neck out a little further.
“She’s good for you. And you make her very happy, you know. Although what she sees in you is beyond me…” The last bit is meant as a joke, but it doesn’t have the desired effect on Harry. Instead, he looks stricken, and a little sad.
“No. Neither do I…” He turns his gaze back to the fire.
Appalled, Malcolm hurries to repair any damage he may have caused. ”Oh, no! Harry, I didn’t mean…”
Harry waves a hand in the air, and gives him a sad smile.
“I know, Malcolm. I’m sorry. I’m a little maudlin tonight.”
Mollified, Malcolm takes another sip of his drink, before continuing.
“I’m sorry about Jo and Ros.”
Harry nods, and rubs a hand tiredly over his eyes. “So am I.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room as both contemplate lost colleagues, before Malcolm speaks again.
“Nice as it is to see you, Harry, this is not a social visit, is it?”
Harry’s eyes linger on the fire for a few more seconds, before he squares his shoulders and looks at Malcolm.
“No.” He sighs. “I have no right to ask you this, but I need your help.”
As he explains the situation, he watches Malcolm carefully, and he doesn’t fail to notice the spark of interest in the techie’s eyes at the mention of Johnny O’Connell and his hacker skills. When he finishes his account, Malcolm stares down at his drink, deep in thought, and Harry holds his breath. Finally he looks up, and meets Harry’s eye.
“What do you need me to do?”

It’s the answer Harry has been hoping for. He feels like getting up and hugging Malcolm, but he doesn’t want to freak the man out with such an uncharacteristic gesture, so he settles for a grateful smile instead.
“I want to keep you off the radar. If things go wrong, I don’t want you to be connected to this operation in any way. The only people who’ll know of your involvement is myself and Ruth. She’ll be running our operations centre at the hotel, but I don’t want you on the premises. You need to go to Belfast as soon as possible, and find a place to use as your own operations centre close to the hotel. The conference will be held at the Culloden Estate – it’s on Bangor Road in Holywood. Here.” Harry draws a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Malcolm.
“Those are contact details for two men in Belfast who owes me a few favours. Tell them Harry sent you, and they’ll help you get whatever you need. As soon as you’re settled, let me know, and Ruth’ll send you everything we have on O’Connell’s modus operandi. You need to work on blocking any attempts he’ll make to interfere with the PSNI’s digital equipment, or possible remote detonation in the case of a bombing attempt. Remember, Malcolm, you only contact either Ruth or myself. No-one else will know that you’re there. Yes?”

Malcolm nods. “Actually, I’ve been working on a few things that may come in handy.” He notices Harry’s amused glance. “It’s, er, good to keep the old noggin ticking over…”
“Well, I’m sure the neighbours will be thrilled to know that you’ve been building state-of-the-art spying equipment in the back shed,” Harry can’t help but tease, and Malcolm laughs.
“I need you to do something else for me.” Harry has turned serious again, and Malcolm can sense that Harry is uneasy about asking him this, so he nods at him to continue.
“I need you to source two things for me. An older model Land Rover… and a gun.”

* * *
Thursday 18 November, Morning
The Grid, London

Despite getting home very late, Harry is still the first one back on the Grid the next morning. He feels slightly better about the operation after having secured Malcolm’s assistance, but he knows they are still in the dark about too many things. It would seem that any hope he’d had of avoiding contact with anyone linked to his time in Belfast was fast receding. He knows that he has no other choice but to contact Steak Knife, in the hope that the former agent can provide them with the breakthrough they need.

Steak Knife. Harry sits motionless, as the memory of the last time he saw the agent wash agonisingly over him. He can still remember every little detail as though it had happened only yesterday: himself and Bill in the pub, and the two PIRA Nutting Squad members bursting in, guns drawn, snatching Bill. He was forced to watch, helpless, as his friend was dragged off, and he’ll never forget the two men who did so - Patrick McCann… and his own agent, Steak Knife.

With a sigh, he turns to his computer, and types out the message to be placed in the Belfast Telegraph classifieds, under Deaths. The doors swoosh open and Ruth enters, just as he clicks on the Send button. She glances towards his office, and smiles at him when he catches her eye. After dumping her overstuffed handbag on her desk, she comes into his office, and on impulse, Harry gets up and envelops her in a hug.
“Morning,” he murmurs into her hair, and tries to ignore the little voice telling him his actions are an attempt to salve his guilty conscience for not informing her about Steak Knife. The tight squeeze she gives him in return goes a long way to soothe his troubled thoughts, before reality asserts itself and he wonders morosely whether he is about to ruin it all.

They pull apart, and slip back into work mode effortlessly.
“Please tell me we’ve found documents conveniently setting out the dastardly plans of those bloody Republicans?” His voice is resigned, as he can already tell from her face that there is no new information to offer him.
“Sorry. No luck with the Home Secretary then, I take it?”
Harry grimaces. “None. He seems hell-bent on allowing the Republicans every opportunity to launch an attack. In fact, he’s probably hoping it will happen just so he can have the pleasure of firing me, of course rather stupidly forgetting that he will probably be too dead to do so. Moron.”
Just as Ruth is about to reply, Harry’s phone rings. He glances at the screen. “I’ll have to take this, but I need to talk to you later – the Embankment. I’ll let you know.” With that she is dismissed, and the day starts in earnest.

* * *

“Ruth, do you know where Lucas is?”
Ruth looks up from her computer to see Beth hovering before her desk, looking worried. She glances at her watch – it’s nearly 11:00, and Lucas is supposed to brief them on the PSNI’s security measures then. A glance at Harry’s office confirms that he is back from his meeting in time, and she knows that Lucas’ absence will annoy him. She shakes her head at Beth.
“He hasn’t been in yet this morning. Has he said anything to you?”
“No, nothing. But he’s been disappearing regularly for the last few weeks.” Beth casts an anxious glance at Harry’s pacing form.
“Harry’s going to be apoplectic if Lucas doesn’t pitch for the briefing.”
Ruth knows Beth is probably right. In light of Lucas’ history, Harry gives him more leeway than he did with most of his other team leaders, but she also knows there is a limit to Harry’s patience, and given the pressures of the Northern Ireland operation, she fears what his reaction to Lucas’ latest disappearing act will be. Just then Harry strides out of his office, calling them all to the meeting room.

They file in, Beth and Ruth exchanging a nervous glance. Dimitri bounds in, seemingly unaware of the underlying tension in the room.
“Where’s Lucas?” Harry’s voice has a dangerous edge to it, causing everyone to avoid eye contact with their smouldering boss. As the silence stretches out, Dimitri glances around the table before speaking up.
“While we wait, I have something new from my Customs & Excise sources.”
“Fine.” Harry bites off the word.
“Last night they intercepted a small boat near Ballycastle in the north. Unfortunately, it was on its way out from the coast. It was empty when they searched it, but tests have confirmed that explosives had been transported in the hold recently. They’re holding the skipper of the boat.”
“Brilliant. Once again they arrived just after the nick of time.” Harry’s mood has clearly not been improved by the latest news. He’s about to continue his complaints, when he catches a slightly reproachful look from Ruth. Taking a deep breath, he makes an effort to reign in his anger and not shoot the messenger.
“Still, it’s something. Beth, Dimitri, get over there and talk to the skipper. Get me something! The time for delicacy is over, so do what you have to, just… don’t give me too much to deny, all right?”
They nod and start gathering their papers.
“And when Lucas gets here, I want to see him immediately.” The dangerous, deceptively calm tone of voice is back, and a chorus of “Yes, Harry” follows him out of the room.

* * *

It is closer to 12:00 when Lucas steps onto the Grid. Ruth, who has been keeping an eye out for him, moves to intercept him, but before she gets a chance to warn him, Harry’s voice cuts through the air.
“Lucas!”
Ruth gives him a sympathetic smile, and Lucas reluctantly moves towards Harry’s office.
As soon as he’s inside, Harry impatiently instructs: “Close the bloody door!” He waits until Lucas has done so before continuing.
“Where were you?”
“I had… things to take care of.” He doesn’t look Harry in the eye, but he can still sense Harry’s anger rise another notch.
“Are these things in any way connected to the Northern Ireland operation?”
“… No. Look, Harry, I…”
“For God’s sake, Lucas! We’re about to walk into a very dangerous situation in Northern Ireland. I need you on top of your game, not swanning off to do God knows what at the most inconvenient of times! I will not allow your personal life to interfere with an operation…”
Lucas’ head snaps up. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Harry’s eyes narrow and he stands up abruptly, sending his chair scuttling across the floor. “What did you say?!”
Lucas meets his stare squarely. “Are you denying, Harry, that you have a personal stake in this operation? Are you going to lie to my face – again – and tell me your personal feelings about the IRA are not going to come into play during our time in Belfast?!”

The two men glare at each other across the desk, neither willing to give an inch. Finally, Harry breaks the tense silence, his voice dangerously low and controlled.
“Don’t make me regret my decision to make you Section Chief. I’ve given you a lot of leeway because of your… situation, but my patience is wearing thin. I will not tolerate you ignoring my orders again, is that clear?”
“Very.” Lucas continues to hold Harry’s look with a challenging one of his own, before turning on his heel.

Harry drags his chair back to the desk and sits down heavily. When he picks up his pen, he notices that his hand is trembling. He closes his eyes, but it doesn’t stop Lucas’ accusation ringing in his ears. Exasperated, he flings down the pen, gets up and grabs his coat, and steps out of the office.
“Ruth.” She looks up. “Come with me now.”
He waits until she has collected her coat, before ushering her through the doors.

* * *

They are seated on their favourite bench on the Embankment, looking across the river at the Houses of Parliament. The November afternoon air is cold, but at least it isn’t raining, for which Ruth is extremely grateful. She loves being back in London, but sometimes she misses the warm, sunny climate of Cyprus. She tucks her scarf into her coat more securely, before turning to study Harry. It is obvious from the red hue of his face and his moody silence during the walk over that the confrontation with Lucas has gotten to him.
“A penny for them?”
Turning his head towards her, he gives her an awkward smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you out here in the cold to listen to me think.”
“Hmm. Much as I love coming here with you, it would be helpful if you tell me what it’s all about before we turn into popsicles.” She looks at him inquiringly.
Harry devours the sight of her, his gaze travelling slowly over her features. Noticing the trusting, open look she is giving him, he suddenly wishes he was worthy of the faith she places in him. For as they sit there, he so desperately wants to tell her everything; confess about his plans to contact Steak Knife, and how the idea of vengeance is slowly growing in his heart, squeezing out all other thought, and that he no longer knows how to change the path he is choosing. But he cannot find the words, does not know how to articulate his thoughts in a way that would make sense to a sane person, a moral person, like Ruth.

Instead he sticks to operational matters, despising himself for his cowardice.
“I’ve asked Malcolm to help us with this operation.” He watches her reaction carefully, worried that his decision to involve her friend will be yet another thing that she can disapprove of. Instead she smiles slightly, and looks at the river.
“I thought you might. What did he say?”
“He said yes.”
She nods. “Of course he did. How is he?”
“He looks well. Sends his regards. He was happy to hear you’d come back to us…” He tries to sound casual, but something in his voice must have given it away, because she turns towards him with an accusatory look.
“You know!”
Holding her gaze, he smiles gently. “That you’ve been writing to each other? Yes.” He looks at his hands.
“Are you angry?” This time it is Ruth who sounds a little apprehensive.
“No!” He gestures helplessly. “Why does everyone assume that I’ll be angry about this? Am I that pedantic about the rules?” His indignant expression makes her laugh.
“Well… Just when it pertains to personnel matters. When it comes to operational rules, you tend to veer the other way.” She lays a cold hand against his cheek to placate him. “But I love you anyway, pedant or not.” In response, he takes her cold hand between his two gloved ones, warming it, whilst explaining that they will be the only two to know of Malcolm’s presence. But whilst he’s talking, she can see the growing sadness in Harry’s eyes, and she knows for certain that he is not telling her everything.

* * *
Friday 19 November, evening
Ruth’s house, London

It’s late, and Harry stares at the darkened ceiling of Ruth’s bedroom, listening to her even breathing as she sleeps snuggled against him. His brain refuses to shut off, and he goes over the day’s developments again. They received no new information; Dimitri and Beth’s interrogation of the skipper only proved that the man is nothing more than a mule who has no idea of the details of the operation. Although there is a lingering tension between himself and Lucas, they’ve tacitly agreed to set aside their personal differences for the duration of the operation, but Harry knows he will have to have another conversation with his Section Chief to sort things out. The only positive development was a communication from Malcolm indicating that he’s found a place close to the hotel, and is all set up.
And of course, there is Steak Knife.

That morning, he had opened the Financial Times with mixed feelings, looking for Steak Knife’s answering advertisement. He is honestly no longer sure which outcome he would have preferred; but there it was, black on white, providing the final impetus. As soon as he saw it, he knew for certain that he would not let this opportunity pass him by – that he would use the trip to Belfast to exact revenge for Bill’s murder.

Ruth moves slightly, and her naked leg rubs against his. Harry turns his head and softly kisses her forehead, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach increasing at the thought that what he is about to do has the potential to ruin everything he has with her. He is ashamed that that thought is not enough to stop him from doing it. There’s nothing he wants more than to be honest with her, but he’s not sure she will understand that the manner of Bill’s death is the single biggest regret of his life. It is the one thing he cannot reconcile himself with, even after thirty two years, and every time he loses another officer, it is Bill’s face that he sees. He knows that it is largely responsible for the emotionally reticent man he has become; that it was his first brutal lesson in the art of repressing personal feelings in the defence of the realm.

Of course he doesn’t blame all his limitations on it; Harry is well aware that he could never have taken the decision to sacrifice Bill for the good of the operation, and so many other decisions that followed it, if there hadn’t been a ruthless streak in his personality to start with. But he often wonders whether the psychological impact on him would have been less if it hadn’t been his best friend of fifteen years who’d been the first mutilated corpse he’d had to identify.

Ruth protests slightly in her sleep, and Harry realises he must have unconsciously been tightening his hold on her as he thought about his past. He lets go, and she turns away from him onto her other side. Although it is something she has done almost every night they have spent together, tonight it causes panic to flood through Harry – it is as though she can sense what is in his mind, and is already distancing herself from him. He rolls over too, spooning himself against her back, and carefully wraps an arm around her. She sighs, and relaxes against him, entwining their legs. Relieved, Harry buries his face in her hair and tries to sleep, tries not to think about the fact that tomorrow he’ll be back in Belfast for the first time in thirty two long years.


TBC]]> PART III
Wednesday 17 November, Evening
Malcolm’s house, London

They’re sitting in two comfortable wingback chairs, positioned in front of the fire. Harry is cradling a tumbler of whiskey, staring into the fire absently as Malcolm observes him. His old boss looks weary, troubled. Harry takes a sip before turning to Malcolm.
“How have you been, Malcolm?”
“Oh well, I can’t complain. Life is… calm.” He smiles to himself.
“I’d have thought you’d be living by the sea by now.”
Malcolm takes a sip of his own drink before answering. “I have a cottage north of Scarborough where I go during the summer. In winter though, I prefer to be closer to civilisation.”
“North of Scarborough?” Harry asks in surprise. “That’s on the North Yorkshire moors, isn’t it?” He looks at Malcolm inquiringly. “I guess I always pictured you in Cornwall.”
“Oh Lord no,” Malcolm sniffs dismissively, “too many yobs descending on the place in summer.”

Harry stifles a smile – he finds it comforting that retirement hasn’t changed Malcolm as of yet, and he realises, again, how much he has missed him. He watches as Malcolm shifts in his chair awkwardly, and sees a glimmer of guilt in his eyes when he asks: “So, er, how’s Ruth? What happened to her after…”
Harry decides to take pity on him. “It’s all right, Malcolm. I know she writes to you.”
The relief on Malcolm’s face is almost comical. “Oh.” A thought suddenly occurs to him. “Does she know you know?”
It’s Harry’s turn to look a little awkward. “Er, no, and I think we should keep it that way, yes?”
Malcolm nods in agreement, before asking: “You don’t mind?”
Harry looks up in surprise. “No, of course not. Why would I mind?”
“Well, it is against regulations, for one…”
“Yes, I know.” He sighs wearily. “But after what happened… She needs friends she can trust, Malcolm. The two of you have always had a special bond, and I see no reason to deny her that because of some rule.”

As Harry looks back at the fire, Malcolm shakes his head in wonder.
“I never thought I’d see the day… Old hard-hearted Harry Pearce has softened at last.” He pauses, weighing the wisdom of his next words, but the need to let his old friend know that they have his support wins out.
“I’m happy for the two of you, Harry.”
Harry’s head snaps back to him, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight. Malcolm hurriedly continues.
“She wrote to me that you’ve been seeing each other… I think it’s wonderful, the two of you have always just fitted together.” He pauses again, before sticking his neck out a little further.
“She’s good for you. And you make her very happy, you know. Although what she sees in you is beyond me…” The last bit is meant as a joke, but it doesn’t have the desired effect on Harry. Instead, he looks stricken, and a little sad.
“No. Neither do I…” He turns his gaze back to the fire.
Appalled, Malcolm hurries to repair any damage he may have caused. ”Oh, no! Harry, I didn’t mean…”
Harry waves a hand in the air, and gives him a sad smile.
“I know, Malcolm. I’m sorry. I’m a little maudlin tonight.”
Mollified, Malcolm takes another sip of his drink, before continuing.
“I’m sorry about Jo and Ros.”
Harry nods, and rubs a hand tiredly over his eyes. “So am I.”

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room as both contemplate lost colleagues, before Malcolm speaks again.
“Nice as it is to see you, Harry, this is not a social visit, is it?”
Harry’s eyes linger on the fire for a few more seconds, before he squares his shoulders and looks at Malcolm.
“No.” He sighs. “I have no right to ask you this, but I need your help.”
As he explains the situation, he watches Malcolm carefully, and he doesn’t fail to notice the spark of interest in the techie’s eyes at the mention of Johnny O’Connell and his hacker skills. When he finishes his account, Malcolm stares down at his drink, deep in thought, and Harry holds his breath. Finally he looks up, and meets Harry’s eye.
“What do you need me to do?”

It’s the answer Harry has been hoping for. He feels like getting up and hugging Malcolm, but he doesn’t want to freak the man out with such an uncharacteristic gesture, so he settles for a grateful smile instead.
“I want to keep you off the radar. If things go wrong, I don’t want you to be connected to this operation in any way. The only people who’ll know of your involvement is myself and Ruth. She’ll be running our operations centre at the hotel, but I don’t want you on the premises. You need to go to Belfast as soon as possible, and find a place to use as your own operations centre close to the hotel. The conference will be held at the Culloden Estate – it’s on Bangor Road in Holywood. Here.” Harry draws a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Malcolm.
“Those are contact details for two men in Belfast who owes me a few favours. Tell them Harry sent you, and they’ll help you get whatever you need. As soon as you’re settled, let me know, and Ruth’ll send you everything we have on O’Connell’s modus operandi. You need to work on blocking any attempts he’ll make to interfere with the PSNI’s digital equipment, or possible remote detonation in the case of a bombing attempt. Remember, Malcolm, you only contact either Ruth or myself. No-one else will know that you’re there. Yes?”

Malcolm nods. “Actually, I’ve been working on a few things that may come in handy.” He notices Harry’s amused glance. “It’s, er, good to keep the old noggin ticking over…”
“Well, I’m sure the neighbours will be thrilled to know that you’ve been building state-of-the-art spying equipment in the back shed,” Harry can’t help but tease, and Malcolm laughs.
“I need you to do something else for me.” Harry has turned serious again, and Malcolm can sense that Harry is uneasy about asking him this, so he nods at him to continue.
“I need you to source two things for me. An older model Land Rover… and a gun.”

* * *
Thursday 18 November, Morning
The Grid, London

Despite getting home very late, Harry is still the first one back on the Grid the next morning. He feels slightly better about the operation after having secured Malcolm’s assistance, but he knows they are still in the dark about too many things. It would seem that any hope he’d had of avoiding contact with anyone linked to his time in Belfast was fast receding. He knows that he has no other choice but to contact Steak Knife, in the hope that the former agent can provide them with the breakthrough they need.

Steak Knife. Harry sits motionless, as the memory of the last time he saw the agent wash agonisingly over him. He can still remember every little detail as though it had happened only yesterday: himself and Bill in the pub, and the two PIRA Nutting Squad members bursting in, guns drawn, snatching Bill. He was forced to watch, helpless, as his friend was dragged off, and he’ll never forget the two men who did so - Patrick McCann… and his own agent, Steak Knife.

With a sigh, he turns to his computer, and types out the message to be placed in the Belfast Telegraph classifieds, under Deaths. The doors swoosh open and Ruth enters, just as he clicks on the Send button. She glances towards his office, and smiles at him when he catches her eye. After dumping her overstuffed handbag on her desk, she comes into his office, and on impulse, Harry gets up and envelops her in a hug.
“Morning,” he murmurs into her hair, and tries to ignore the little voice telling him his actions are an attempt to salve his guilty conscience for not informing her about Steak Knife. The tight squeeze she gives him in return goes a long way to soothe his troubled thoughts, before reality asserts itself and he wonders morosely whether he is about to ruin it all.

They pull apart, and slip back into work mode effortlessly.
“Please tell me we’ve found documents conveniently setting out the dastardly plans of those bloody Republicans?” His voice is resigned, as he can already tell from her face that there is no new information to offer him.
“Sorry. No luck with the Home Secretary then, I take it?”
Harry grimaces. “None. He seems hell-bent on allowing the Republicans every opportunity to launch an attack. In fact, he’s probably hoping it will happen just so he can have the pleasure of firing me, of course rather stupidly forgetting that he will probably be too dead to do so. Moron.”
Just as Ruth is about to reply, Harry’s phone rings. He glances at the screen. “I’ll have to take this, but I need to talk to you later – the Embankment. I’ll let you know.” With that she is dismissed, and the day starts in earnest.

* * *

“Ruth, do you know where Lucas is?”
Ruth looks up from her computer to see Beth hovering before her desk, looking worried. She glances at her watch – it’s nearly 11:00, and Lucas is supposed to brief them on the PSNI’s security measures then. A glance at Harry’s office confirms that he is back from his meeting in time, and she knows that Lucas’ absence will annoy him. She shakes her head at Beth.
“He hasn’t been in yet this morning. Has he said anything to you?”
“No, nothing. But he’s been disappearing regularly for the last few weeks.” Beth casts an anxious glance at Harry’s pacing form.
“Harry’s going to be apoplectic if Lucas doesn’t pitch for the briefing.”
Ruth knows Beth is probably right. In light of Lucas’ history, Harry gives him more leeway than he did with most of his other team leaders, but she also knows there is a limit to Harry’s patience, and given the pressures of the Northern Ireland operation, she fears what his reaction to Lucas’ latest disappearing act will be. Just then Harry strides out of his office, calling them all to the meeting room.

They file in, Beth and Ruth exchanging a nervous glance. Dimitri bounds in, seemingly unaware of the underlying tension in the room.
“Where’s Lucas?” Harry’s voice has a dangerous edge to it, causing everyone to avoid eye contact with their smouldering boss. As the silence stretches out, Dimitri glances around the table before speaking up.
“While we wait, I have something new from my Customs & Excise sources.”
“Fine.” Harry bites off the word.
“Last night they intercepted a small boat near Ballycastle in the north. Unfortunately, it was on its way out from the coast. It was empty when they searched it, but tests have confirmed that explosives had been transported in the hold recently. They’re holding the skipper of the boat.”
“Brilliant. Once again they arrived just after the nick of time.” Harry’s mood has clearly not been improved by the latest news. He’s about to continue his complaints, when he catches a slightly reproachful look from Ruth. Taking a deep breath, he makes an effort to reign in his anger and not shoot the messenger.
“Still, it’s something. Beth, Dimitri, get over there and talk to the skipper. Get me something! The time for delicacy is over, so do what you have to, just… don’t give me too much to deny, all right?”
They nod and start gathering their papers.
“And when Lucas gets here, I want to see him immediately.” The dangerous, deceptively calm tone of voice is back, and a chorus of “Yes, Harry” follows him out of the room.

* * *

It is closer to 12:00 when Lucas steps onto the Grid. Ruth, who has been keeping an eye out for him, moves to intercept him, but before she gets a chance to warn him, Harry’s voice cuts through the air.
“Lucas!”
Ruth gives him a sympathetic smile, and Lucas reluctantly moves towards Harry’s office.
As soon as he’s inside, Harry impatiently instructs: “Close the bloody door!” He waits until Lucas has done so before continuing.
“Where were you?”
“I had… things to take care of.” He doesn’t look Harry in the eye, but he can still sense Harry’s anger rise another notch.
“Are these things in any way connected to the Northern Ireland operation?”
“… No. Look, Harry, I…”
“For God’s sake, Lucas! We’re about to walk into a very dangerous situation in Northern Ireland. I need you on top of your game, not swanning off to do God knows what at the most inconvenient of times! I will not allow your personal life to interfere with an operation…”
Lucas’ head snaps up. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Harry’s eyes narrow and he stands up abruptly, sending his chair scuttling across the floor. “What did you say?!”
Lucas meets his stare squarely. “Are you denying, Harry, that you have a personal stake in this operation? Are you going to lie to my face – again – and tell me your personal feelings about the IRA are not going to come into play during our time in Belfast?!”

The two men glare at each other across the desk, neither willing to give an inch. Finally, Harry breaks the tense silence, his voice dangerously low and controlled.
“Don’t make me regret my decision to make you Section Chief. I’ve given you a lot of leeway because of your… situation, but my patience is wearing thin. I will not tolerate you ignoring my orders again, is that clear?”
“Very.” Lucas continues to hold Harry’s look with a challenging one of his own, before turning on his heel.

Harry drags his chair back to the desk and sits down heavily. When he picks up his pen, he notices that his hand is trembling. He closes his eyes, but it doesn’t stop Lucas’ accusation ringing in his ears. Exasperated, he flings down the pen, gets up and grabs his coat, and steps out of the office.
“Ruth.” She looks up. “Come with me now.”
He waits until she has collected her coat, before ushering her through the doors.

* * *

They are seated on their favourite bench on the Embankment, looking across the river at the Houses of Parliament. The November afternoon air is cold, but at least it isn’t raining, for which Ruth is extremely grateful. She loves being back in London, but sometimes she misses the warm, sunny climate of Cyprus. She tucks her scarf into her coat more securely, before turning to study Harry. It is obvious from the red hue of his face and his moody silence during the walk over that the confrontation with Lucas has gotten to him.
“A penny for them?”
Turning his head towards her, he gives her an awkward smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you out here in the cold to listen to me think.”
“Hmm. Much as I love coming here with you, it would be helpful if you tell me what it’s all about before we turn into popsicles.” She looks at him inquiringly.
Harry devours the sight of her, his gaze travelling slowly over her features. Noticing the trusting, open look she is giving him, he suddenly wishes he was worthy of the faith she places in him. For as they sit there, he so desperately wants to tell her everything; confess about his plans to contact Steak Knife, and how the idea of vengeance is slowly growing in his heart, squeezing out all other thought, and that he no longer knows how to change the path he is choosing. But he cannot find the words, does not know how to articulate his thoughts in a way that would make sense to a sane person, a moral person, like Ruth.

Instead he sticks to operational matters, despising himself for his cowardice.
“I’ve asked Malcolm to help us with this operation.” He watches her reaction carefully, worried that his decision to involve her friend will be yet another thing that she can disapprove of. Instead she smiles slightly, and looks at the river.
“I thought you might. What did he say?”
“He said yes.”
She nods. “Of course he did. How is he?”
“He looks well. Sends his regards. He was happy to hear you’d come back to us…” He tries to sound casual, but something in his voice must have given it away, because she turns towards him with an accusatory look.
“You know!”
Holding her gaze, he smiles gently. “That you’ve been writing to each other? Yes.” He looks at his hands.
“Are you angry?” This time it is Ruth who sounds a little apprehensive.
“No!” He gestures helplessly. “Why does everyone assume that I’ll be angry about this? Am I that pedantic about the rules?” His indignant expression makes her laugh.
“Well… Just when it pertains to personnel matters. When it comes to operational rules, you tend to veer the other way.” She lays a cold hand against his cheek to placate him. “But I love you anyway, pedant or not.” In response, he takes her cold hand between his two gloved ones, warming it, whilst explaining that they will be the only two to know of Malcolm’s presence. But whilst he’s talking, she can see the growing sadness in Harry’s eyes, and she knows for certain that he is not telling her everything.

* * *
Friday 19 November, evening
Ruth’s house, London

It’s late, and Harry stares at the darkened ceiling of Ruth’s bedroom, listening to her even breathing as she sleeps snuggled against him. His brain refuses to shut off, and he goes over the day’s developments again. They received no new information; Dimitri and Beth’s interrogation of the skipper only proved that the man is nothing more than a mule who has no idea of the details of the operation. Although there is a lingering tension between himself and Lucas, they’ve tacitly agreed to set aside their personal differences for the duration of the operation, but Harry knows he will have to have another conversation with his Section Chief to sort things out. The only positive development was a communication from Malcolm indicating that he’s found a place close to the hotel, and is all set up.
And of course, there is Steak Knife.

That morning, he had opened the Financial Times with mixed feelings, looking for Steak Knife’s answering advertisement. He is honestly no longer sure which outcome he would have preferred; but there it was, black on white, providing the final impetus. As soon as he saw it, he knew for certain that he would not let this opportunity pass him by – that he would use the trip to Belfast to exact revenge for Bill’s murder.

Ruth moves slightly, and her naked leg rubs against his. Harry turns his head and softly kisses her forehead, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach increasing at the thought that what he is about to do has the potential to ruin everything he has with her. He is ashamed that that thought is not enough to stop him from doing it. There’s nothing he wants more than to be honest with her, but he’s not sure she will understand that the manner of Bill’s death is the single biggest regret of his life. It is the one thing he cannot reconcile himself with, even after thirty two years, and every time he loses another officer, it is Bill’s face that he sees. He knows that it is largely responsible for the emotionally reticent man he has become; that it was his first brutal lesson in the art of repressing personal feelings in the defence of the realm.

Of course he doesn’t blame all his limitations on it; Harry is well aware that he could never have taken the decision to sacrifice Bill for the good of the operation, and so many other decisions that followed it, if there hadn’t been a ruthless streak in his personality to start with. But he often wonders whether the psychological impact on him would have been less if it hadn’t been his best friend of fifteen years who’d been the first mutilated corpse he’d had to identify.

Ruth protests slightly in her sleep, and Harry realises he must have unconsciously been tightening his hold on her as he thought about his past. He lets go, and she turns away from him onto her other side. Although it is something she has done almost every night they have spent together, tonight it causes panic to flood through Harry – it is as though she can sense what is in his mind, and is already distancing herself from him. He rolls over too, spooning himself against her back, and carefully wraps an arm around her. She sighs, and relaxes against him, entwining their legs. Relieved, Harry buries his face in her hair and tries to sleep, tries not to think about the fact that tomorrow he’ll be back in Belfast for the first time in thirty two long years.


TBC]]> <![CDATA[New Buttons & Welcome Panel]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1113.html Wed, 01 Sep 2010 20:31:47 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1113.html
I think the buttons are a lot more Spooks-like and I think the welcome panel is much-improved.

These new designs were supposed to be part of a bigger re-design being deployed for our birthday, but because of delays in the development of our forum software, they've had to be delayed ever more.

What do you think of the new stuff? Smile]]>
I think the buttons are a lot more Spooks-like and I think the welcome panel is much-improved.

These new designs were supposed to be part of a bigger re-design being deployed for our birthday, but because of delays in the development of our forum software, they've had to be delayed ever more.

What do you think of the new stuff? Smile]]> <![CDATA[August Awards]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1111.html Wed, 01 Sep 2010 13:22:27 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1111.html
Member of the Month
picard1109

Poster of the Month
bertowud

Quote of the Month
YourFutureMuse - http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-743-...l#pid28305


Milestones
YourFutureMuse - 1000 posts
Nia M - 1000 posts]]>
Member of the Month
picard1109

Poster of the Month
bertowud

Quote of the Month
YourFutureMuse - http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-743-...l#pid28305


Milestones
YourFutureMuse - 1000 posts
Nia M - 1000 posts]]> <![CDATA[Will There Be A Series 10?]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1110.html Tue, 31 Aug 2010 16:21:14 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1110.html ]]> ]]> <![CDATA[I love being mysterious]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1109.html Tue, 31 Aug 2010 15:22:08 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1109.html
I live in the UK, adore Spooks and my favourite character is Ros, because she is so tough and glamorous.

Everyone here seems so friendly! I think I am going to enjoy it a lot.

Praxis x]]>
I live in the UK, adore Spooks and my favourite character is Ros, because she is so tough and glamorous.

Everyone here seems so friendly! I think I am going to enjoy it a lot.

Praxis x]]> <![CDATA[Blood For Blood Part II]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1108.html Tue, 31 Aug 2010 06:02:37 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1108.html
PART II


17 November 2010
The Grid, Meeting room, London

“We have a problem.”
Those are the last words Harry wants to hear out of Ruth’s mouth. He knows there is truth in Ruth’s concerns about him going to Belfast, and he wants this operation to be over as soon and as smoothly as possible. That way there will be less chance of him running into anyone connected with Bill’s murder. Harry has always been honest with himself, and he knows that if that happens, he won’t be able to walk away. He tries to hide his unease behind his usual caustic manner, and purses his lips.
“Of course,” he remarks sardonically. Ruth shoots him a little look, then continues.
“About a month ago, a secret meeting took place between the leaders of Republican Sinn Fein, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA. We have no idea what was discussed at the meeting. Now, these groups have never before shown any inclination of working together, so why now?”
She pauses, picks up a piece of paper. “I also, erm, happened upon this.” She waves the sheet of paper in the air.
“It’s a letter from Sinn Fein to the Home Secretary.” She risks a glance in Harry’s direction and sees him close his eyes, and knows that he is contemplating what possibly illegal measures she used to get it.
“In it they suggest that it would a good idea to hold the next round of talks in Belfast… It’s dated three weeks ago.”

As they absorb that bombshell, Ruth continues: “There’s more.” She nods at Beth, who takes up the briefing.
“G2 has been monitoring a number of people from those splinter groups. About three weeks ago, they lost track of these three men.” She points the remote at the screen and the first face appears.
“Patrick O’Leary. He’s known as the logistics man of Republican Sinn Fein. They suspect he’s the one who sources their arms and explosives.” She clicks and the next image appears.
“Johnny O’Connell from Continuity IRA. Apparently he’s a bit of an IT whiz, who uses his hacking skills to mess with security systems and allow them access to premises where they can steal stuff they need for their home-made bombs, or to steal delivery vans etc.” Another click, and the last image appears.
“Peter Miller.” She pauses. “He is Real IRA’s best bomb-maker. G2 credits him with building the bomb that destroyed the bridge in South Armagh in July.”

Harry rubs a hand over his face as the implications sink in.
“So, we have an unprecedented meeting between three of the most militant Republican splinter groups, and just after that Sinn Fein suggests to the Home Secretary that the next round of talks be held in Belfast. Then, G2 lose track of three very dangerous men belonging to these splinter groups, and to top it all off, the Home Secretary takes the bait.” He stares at the image of Miller grimly, almost angrily.
“I fear evil deeds are afoot. And we are standing squarely in the path of it.”
“Uh, there’s something else,” Ruth ventures carefully. Harry’s eyes swivel to her, an exasperated look on his face. He loves her dearly, but sometimes she drives him up the wall with her ability to obtain and deliver more bad news. In fact, he’d once yelled at her that ‘something else’ should be her middle name, and he’s tempted to repeat that now, but refrains with a long-suffering air.
“By all means, let’s have it, then.”
“O’Leary was spotted in Turkey two weeks ago, talking to a known arms dealer that also supplies Al Qaeda with explosives. We lost track of him again after that.”
Dimitri takes up the narrative. “My Customs & Excise sources have heard rumours that a large shipment of weapons is headed for Northern Ireland this week, but they have no details of when or where. They’ve stepped up patrols, but their success rate in Northern Ireland waters is notoriously low.”

Lucas frowns at Harry, who is staring at his hands on the table a little disconsolately. “That’s just too many coincidences. They’re definitely planning something for this conference.”
Harry rouses himself. “Yes. But what, how, and when? We are woefully short on details.” He sounds weary, and there is something in his demeanour that unsettles Ruth, who is watching him closely.
“Hang on,” Lucas continues as something suddenly occurs to him, “since Sinn Fein suggested holding the talks in Belfast, are we saying that they are no longer committed to negotiations, and that they are using the splinter groups to do their dirty work?”
Ruth shakes her head. “Not necessarily. It’s possible that that’s the case, but it’s also possible that the splinter groups manipulated Sinn Fein to their own ends. Sinn Fein is in a very difficult position at the moment – they want to represent the interests of all Republicans at the talks, but it’s increasingly evident that many of the younger leaders are no longer convinced that Gerry Adams and Sinn Fein are doing a good job of representing them. It’s possible that Sinn Fein has no idea that an attack is being planned, and that they are being played into thinking the splinter groups will go along with the talks if it is held in Belfast.”
Harry nods grimly. “Hmm. As much as I like to believe the worst of those IRA bastards, let’s not jump to conclusions. We need more information.” He looks around the table. “So get me some. In the meantime, I’ll go and talk to the Home Secretary again, try to make him see sense.”
He gets up. “Lucas, a word in my office, if you would.”

* * *

“Close the door.”
Lucas does so, and takes a seat across from Harry. He senses a tension bubbling underneath the surface from the man behind the desk, even though none of it is showing in his face.
Harry looks at him. “When we get to Belfast, I need you to do something.” He pushes an old file across the desk, and Lucas glances at the name stencilled on the cover.
“’Steak Knife?’” He looks at Harry quizzically.
“It’s the codename of a very high profile agent I recruited in the PIRA Nutting Squad back in ’78. I think he may be of some use to us on this operation.”
“I take it you don’t think the Home Secretary will change his mind?”
Harry scoffs. “Short of me delivering a blueprint of the conference centre with a big red arrow that states ‘IRA bomb goes here’, and signed by every member of Sinn Fein, I’m not optimistic that he’ll see reason, no.”

Lucas picks up the file and flicks it open at the last entry. “It says here he was decommissioned in 1998.”
“Yes. Once Sinn Fein agreed to talks, most of our assets were decommissioned, which I think was a mistake. There’s no record of what Steak Knife did after his decommissioning, but he’s still alive – I’ve checked – and I think he may have some connection with one or more of the Republican splinter groups. Or if he doesn’t, he should at least be able to point us towards someone who does have access.”
“So you want me to find him?”
Harry’s eyes move to a spot over Lucas’ shoulder, where he can see Ruth typing away at her station.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “You know where he is?”
“No, but before I left Belfast, I put in place some emergency contact protocols with Steak Knife. I told him that even if he were no longer working for me specifically, it would be a good idea for me to be able to contact him, should the need arise.” He says nothing about the fact that he made these arrangements with a heart filled with hatred, in the hope that he could exact revenge for his friend’s death at a future date. “I’ll use that to make contact with him, and go along for the first meeting. After that, you’ll have to handle him. I don’t think it’s wise for me to be seen with anyone connected with the Republicans, in light of my history with Northern Ireland.”


Lucas watches Harry carefully. It is blatantly obvious to him that he is not being told the full story. Still, he knows that’s the senior man’s prerogative, so he focuses on the needs of the operation. “You being at that first meeting is a huge risk. Maybe I should…”
“No.”
“Look, Harry, this guy was an agent for years, he knows how these things work. I don’t think it’ll be a problem if I meet him alone.”
Harry’s eyes flicker over Lucas’ shoulder again for a brief moment, before they return to Lucas’ face.
“Steak Knife and I have unfinished business to discuss.”
Lucas frowns. “If you and this agent have some beef with each other, I think I should know.”
Harry shakes his head. “It’s nothing that concerns you, and it has nothing to do with our current operation. I’d like you to keep this between us, thank you Lucas.” It’s a dismissal.

It is clear from Lucas’ expression that he doesn’t like the situation, but he nods, and gets up to leave when he remembers something.
“Oh, I’m worried about the hacker the Republicans have at their disposal. I’ve gone over the PSNI’s security measures, and I’m not sure they have the expertise to counter attempts to corrupt their security cameras and other digital equipment.”
Harry nods. “I was thinking the same thing. Leave it with me.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Harry strides from his office. As he passes Ruth’s desk, their gazes lock briefly, and a mere flick of his eyes communicates to her what he wants. She gives him ten minutes before she follows him to the roof. He is leaning against the parapet, staring across London towards the river, lost in thought.
“Hi.”
He turns towards her and smiles; that soft, gentle smile he seems to reserve only for her. She smiles back at him.
“Did you want something, or did you just miss me?”
Harry laughs softly. “I always miss you, Ruth.” As if to prove the point, he leans over and caresses her lips with his. He pulls away before things escalate and he forgets where they are.
“But I also wanted to tell you I won’t make it over tonight. I’m off to see the Home Secretary, and after that I have another matter to attend to. I’ll probably finish very late, so…”
“Okay.” Ruth reaches up and wipes her lip gloss from his mouth with her thumb. She knows better than to ask for details. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Neither of them move, though, and they stand there, lost in each other’s eyes for a few moments. Finally, Ruth shakes herself slightly and turns to go. Harry watches her walk away, and when she has almost reached the door, he calls after her.
“Ruth?”
She turns towards him, and suddenly he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say.
“…Nothing.”
She studies him, reading the emotions on his face, then says gently: “I’ll miss you tonight, too, Harry.”
She tries not to think about the shadows she can see behind his eyes, and is gone before he can respond.

* * *

Lucas waits until Harry has left to see the Home Secretary before he sidles over to Ruth’s station, and perches himself on her desk.
“Anything new?” Ruth starts at the sound of his voice, so lost in concentration on her screen that she didn’t hear his approach.
“Bugger, Lucas! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”
He grins rather unrepentantly until Ruth shakes her head at him.
“Nope, nothing new since Harry asked about five minutes ago.”
Nodding, he looks around before asking as casually as he can manage: “Harry has an interesting history with Northern Ireland, doesn’t he?” Immediately he can sense her tensing slightly.
“What do you mean?” Her tone is just as casual as his was, and he sighs in defeat, knowing that she will not tell him anything.

Ever since she has come back, he has watched the bond between her and Harry grow. He knows from some of the things that Ros said, that there had been a very close relationship between them before Ruth was forced to leave. There is a lot of speculation in the halls of Thames House about the nature of that relationship, back then and now that she’s back, but Lucas has deduced from the diverse stories he’s heard that no-one knows for sure. The only thing that is certain, is that Ruth is fiercely loyal to Harry, and that Harry, in turn, trusts Ruth above all others. There are times when Lucas is deeply envious of that, as he feels that he is still working at gaining Harry’s full trust. He hopes she doesn’t tell Harry about his attempt to milk her for information, as that will probably not help his quest to gain the older man’s full confidence. But he is concerned enough about the situation to risk it. Besides, he has sensed that she is also worried about Harry going to Belfast, so he decides to be honest.
“I think Harry has a personal agenda that he plans to pursue in Belfast, and I’m worried that it will interfere with the operation. You’ve known Harry the longest. I’m not asking you to betray his confidence, but if you see or hear anything that I should know about, will you tell me?” He looks at her earnestly.

Ruth does her best not to show it, but the fact that Lucas is concerned as well unsettles her. It means that whatever Harry had discussed with Lucas earlier, caused him to surmise that Harry has a personal stake in going to Belfast. She trusts Lucas, and she may need an ally before this operation is over, so she finds herself nodding in agreement.

* * *

As soon as Ruth can get away, she goes down to Registry, and requisitions all the files about Harry’s former agent network in Belfast. The woman behind the counter lifts an eyebrow.
“My, those files are popular today.”
While she goes off to collect them, Ruth turns the registry book around and scans the entries. She spots Harry’s requisition number about halfway down the page, and the file he checked out: 1978/019/611794/STEAK KNIFE.
It causes a cold feeling of dread to settle low in her stomach.

* * *
Same day, Late Afternoon
Home Secretary’s Office

When Harry walks into the Home Secretary’s office, Richard Dolby is already there. Harry requested that the JIC Chairman attend in the hope that Dolby will back his attempt to have the conference moved. Whatever their personal differences, surely common sense must prevail in the face of the overwhelming indications that the Republican splinter groups are planning something. However, as he walks towards them, he notices the two men exchange a quick conspiratorial glance, and he knows that his hope is futile. A flash of hot anger surges through him, and he has to grit his teeth not to show his disgust right off the bat. Instead he greets them civilly, before getting straight to the heart of the matter.
“We believe the Republican splinter groups are planning to launch some sort of attack on the Belfast conference.”
The Home Secretary lifts an eyebrow. “You believe? Sir Harry…”
Harry interrupts. “At least hear me out before you dismiss me.” He holds the Home Secretary’s stare until the politician looks away, and nods at him to continue.

Harry lays out the information, only keeping back their knowledge of the letter Sinn Fein sent to the Home Secretary. He has no idea how Ruth managed to get her hands on that letter, and has decided it’s better not to ask. Even without that piece of information, the case for moving the conference is pretty strong, but he can see from the way that Dolby refuses to meet his eye that the Chairman will not go against the Home Secretary, no matter how strong the evidence that Harry is presenting.

When he finishes, the Home Secretary looks at Dolby, before turning back to Harry.
“As far as I can see, you have nothing concrete. You’re making an assumption that all these circumstantial…”
“With respect, Home Secretary. Intelligence is seldom about concrete evidence. The people planning these things don’t always conveniently leave behind their plans in a drawer for us to find. If you’ve done this job for as long as I have, you learn the hard way that there is no such thing as this many coincidences. I am asking you to trust my instinct on this one.” Harry looks at Dolby for support. Dolby clears his throat, and glances at the Home Secretary before he responds.
“Harry, I’m afraid I have to support the Home Secretary on this one – you have nothing concrete. I think, perhaps, you are letting your history with the IRA cloud your judgement on this one…” He trails off, unnerved by the furious expression on Harry’s face. The Home Secretary quickly intervenes.
“So, the talks will stay in Belfast until such time as you bring me incontrovertible proof that an attack is being planned. Thank you, Sir Harry.”
Harry gets up, breathing hard. “This is folly. You are gambling with the lives of everyone attending that conference. I want my opposition to your decision on the record.” He glares at the Home Secretary until the man nods at him.
“Fine. Your displeasure is duly noted. But know this. If I have the slightest reason to believe that you are not giving the protection of this conference your fullest commitment, and something happens as a result, I’ll have your job.”

* * *

As the car winds through the streets of night-time London, Harry rests his head wearily against the headrest. His anger has subsided, and in its place a tremendous unease is growing. He feels as though he is caught in a web, and no matter how he twists and turns, he only manages to get himself more entangled. His jumbled thoughts flit between Bill’s death, Ruth’s concern, the Home Secretary’s obvious dislike of him, the probable Republican attack on the conference, Steak Knife, and his own growing desire for vengeance.
“Sir?” His security officer’s voice breaks through his contemplation, and Harry realises the car has stopped.
“We’re here.”

Harry looks out the window at the house in front of him, and wonders what right he has to be here, to ask this of someone who has already given so much. But as always, he pushes his personal feelings aside, and does what he believes is necessary for the success of the operation. He gets out, and rings the doorbell. After about half a minute, the door opens, and Harry looks into the astonished face of his old friend.
“Hello, Malcolm.”

TBC]]>
PART II


17 November 2010
The Grid, Meeting room, London

“We have a problem.”
Those are the last words Harry wants to hear out of Ruth’s mouth. He knows there is truth in Ruth’s concerns about him going to Belfast, and he wants this operation to be over as soon and as smoothly as possible. That way there will be less chance of him running into anyone connected with Bill’s murder. Harry has always been honest with himself, and he knows that if that happens, he won’t be able to walk away. He tries to hide his unease behind his usual caustic manner, and purses his lips.
“Of course,” he remarks sardonically. Ruth shoots him a little look, then continues.
“About a month ago, a secret meeting took place between the leaders of Republican Sinn Fein, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA. We have no idea what was discussed at the meeting. Now, these groups have never before shown any inclination of working together, so why now?”
She pauses, picks up a piece of paper. “I also, erm, happened upon this.” She waves the sheet of paper in the air.
“It’s a letter from Sinn Fein to the Home Secretary.” She risks a glance in Harry’s direction and sees him close his eyes, and knows that he is contemplating what possibly illegal measures she used to get it.
“In it they suggest that it would a good idea to hold the next round of talks in Belfast… It’s dated three weeks ago.”

As they absorb that bombshell, Ruth continues: “There’s more.” She nods at Beth, who takes up the briefing.
“G2 has been monitoring a number of people from those splinter groups. About three weeks ago, they lost track of these three men.” She points the remote at the screen and the first face appears.
“Patrick O’Leary. He’s known as the logistics man of Republican Sinn Fein. They suspect he’s the one who sources their arms and explosives.” She clicks and the next image appears.
“Johnny O’Connell from Continuity IRA. Apparently he’s a bit of an IT whiz, who uses his hacking skills to mess with security systems and allow them access to premises where they can steal stuff they need for their home-made bombs, or to steal delivery vans etc.” Another click, and the last image appears.
“Peter Miller.” She pauses. “He is Real IRA’s best bomb-maker. G2 credits him with building the bomb that destroyed the bridge in South Armagh in July.”

Harry rubs a hand over his face as the implications sink in.
“So, we have an unprecedented meeting between three of the most militant Republican splinter groups, and just after that Sinn Fein suggests to the Home Secretary that the next round of talks be held in Belfast. Then, G2 lose track of three very dangerous men belonging to these splinter groups, and to top it all off, the Home Secretary takes the bait.” He stares at the image of Miller grimly, almost angrily.
“I fear evil deeds are afoot. And we are standing squarely in the path of it.”
“Uh, there’s something else,” Ruth ventures carefully. Harry’s eyes swivel to her, an exasperated look on his face. He loves her dearly, but sometimes she drives him up the wall with her ability to obtain and deliver more bad news. In fact, he’d once yelled at her that ‘something else’ should be her middle name, and he’s tempted to repeat that now, but refrains with a long-suffering air.
“By all means, let’s have it, then.”
“O’Leary was spotted in Turkey two weeks ago, talking to a known arms dealer that also supplies Al Qaeda with explosives. We lost track of him again after that.”
Dimitri takes up the narrative. “My Customs & Excise sources have heard rumours that a large shipment of weapons is headed for Northern Ireland this week, but they have no details of when or where. They’ve stepped up patrols, but their success rate in Northern Ireland waters is notoriously low.”

Lucas frowns at Harry, who is staring at his hands on the table a little disconsolately. “That’s just too many coincidences. They’re definitely planning something for this conference.”
Harry rouses himself. “Yes. But what, how, and when? We are woefully short on details.” He sounds weary, and there is something in his demeanour that unsettles Ruth, who is watching him closely.
“Hang on,” Lucas continues as something suddenly occurs to him, “since Sinn Fein suggested holding the talks in Belfast, are we saying that they are no longer committed to negotiations, and that they are using the splinter groups to do their dirty work?”
Ruth shakes her head. “Not necessarily. It’s possible that that’s the case, but it’s also possible that the splinter groups manipulated Sinn Fein to their own ends. Sinn Fein is in a very difficult position at the moment – they want to represent the interests of all Republicans at the talks, but it’s increasingly evident that many of the younger leaders are no longer convinced that Gerry Adams and Sinn Fein are doing a good job of representing them. It’s possible that Sinn Fein has no idea that an attack is being planned, and that they are being played into thinking the splinter groups will go along with the talks if it is held in Belfast.”
Harry nods grimly. “Hmm. As much as I like to believe the worst of those IRA bastards, let’s not jump to conclusions. We need more information.” He looks around the table. “So get me some. In the meantime, I’ll go and talk to the Home Secretary again, try to make him see sense.”
He gets up. “Lucas, a word in my office, if you would.”

* * *

“Close the door.”
Lucas does so, and takes a seat across from Harry. He senses a tension bubbling underneath the surface from the man behind the desk, even though none of it is showing in his face.
Harry looks at him. “When we get to Belfast, I need you to do something.” He pushes an old file across the desk, and Lucas glances at the name stencilled on the cover.
“’Steak Knife?’” He looks at Harry quizzically.
“It’s the codename of a very high profile agent I recruited in the PIRA Nutting Squad back in ’78. I think he may be of some use to us on this operation.”
“I take it you don’t think the Home Secretary will change his mind?”
Harry scoffs. “Short of me delivering a blueprint of the conference centre with a big red arrow that states ‘IRA bomb goes here’, and signed by every member of Sinn Fein, I’m not optimistic that he’ll see reason, no.”

Lucas picks up the file and flicks it open at the last entry. “It says here he was decommissioned in 1998.”
“Yes. Once Sinn Fein agreed to talks, most of our assets were decommissioned, which I think was a mistake. There’s no record of what Steak Knife did after his decommissioning, but he’s still alive – I’ve checked – and I think he may have some connection with one or more of the Republican splinter groups. Or if he doesn’t, he should at least be able to point us towards someone who does have access.”
“So you want me to find him?”
Harry’s eyes move to a spot over Lucas’ shoulder, where he can see Ruth typing away at her station.
“That won’t be necessary.”
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “You know where he is?”
“No, but before I left Belfast, I put in place some emergency contact protocols with Steak Knife. I told him that even if he were no longer working for me specifically, it would be a good idea for me to be able to contact him, should the need arise.” He says nothing about the fact that he made these arrangements with a heart filled with hatred, in the hope that he could exact revenge for his friend’s death at a future date. “I’ll use that to make contact with him, and go along for the first meeting. After that, you’ll have to handle him. I don’t think it’s wise for me to be seen with anyone connected with the Republicans, in light of my history with Northern Ireland.”


Lucas watches Harry carefully. It is blatantly obvious to him that he is not being told the full story. Still, he knows that’s the senior man’s prerogative, so he focuses on the needs of the operation. “You being at that first meeting is a huge risk. Maybe I should…”
“No.”
“Look, Harry, this guy was an agent for years, he knows how these things work. I don’t think it’ll be a problem if I meet him alone.”
Harry’s eyes flicker over Lucas’ shoulder again for a brief moment, before they return to Lucas’ face.
“Steak Knife and I have unfinished business to discuss.”
Lucas frowns. “If you and this agent have some beef with each other, I think I should know.”
Harry shakes his head. “It’s nothing that concerns you, and it has nothing to do with our current operation. I’d like you to keep this between us, thank you Lucas.” It’s a dismissal.

It is clear from Lucas’ expression that he doesn’t like the situation, but he nods, and gets up to leave when he remembers something.
“Oh, I’m worried about the hacker the Republicans have at their disposal. I’ve gone over the PSNI’s security measures, and I’m not sure they have the expertise to counter attempts to corrupt their security cameras and other digital equipment.”
Harry nods. “I was thinking the same thing. Leave it with me.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Harry strides from his office. As he passes Ruth’s desk, their gazes lock briefly, and a mere flick of his eyes communicates to her what he wants. She gives him ten minutes before she follows him to the roof. He is leaning against the parapet, staring across London towards the river, lost in thought.
“Hi.”
He turns towards her and smiles; that soft, gentle smile he seems to reserve only for her. She smiles back at him.
“Did you want something, or did you just miss me?”
Harry laughs softly. “I always miss you, Ruth.” As if to prove the point, he leans over and caresses her lips with his. He pulls away before things escalate and he forgets where they are.
“But I also wanted to tell you I won’t make it over tonight. I’m off to see the Home Secretary, and after that I have another matter to attend to. I’ll probably finish very late, so…”
“Okay.” Ruth reaches up and wipes her lip gloss from his mouth with her thumb. She knows better than to ask for details. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Neither of them move, though, and they stand there, lost in each other’s eyes for a few moments. Finally, Ruth shakes herself slightly and turns to go. Harry watches her walk away, and when she has almost reached the door, he calls after her.
“Ruth?”
She turns towards him, and suddenly he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say.
“…Nothing.”
She studies him, reading the emotions on his face, then says gently: “I’ll miss you tonight, too, Harry.”
She tries not to think about the shadows she can see behind his eyes, and is gone before he can respond.

* * *

Lucas waits until Harry has left to see the Home Secretary before he sidles over to Ruth’s station, and perches himself on her desk.
“Anything new?” Ruth starts at the sound of his voice, so lost in concentration on her screen that she didn’t hear his approach.
“Bugger, Lucas! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”
He grins rather unrepentantly until Ruth shakes her head at him.
“Nope, nothing new since Harry asked about five minutes ago.”
Nodding, he looks around before asking as casually as he can manage: “Harry has an interesting history with Northern Ireland, doesn’t he?” Immediately he can sense her tensing slightly.
“What do you mean?” Her tone is just as casual as his was, and he sighs in defeat, knowing that she will not tell him anything.

Ever since she has come back, he has watched the bond between her and Harry grow. He knows from some of the things that Ros said, that there had been a very close relationship between them before Ruth was forced to leave. There is a lot of speculation in the halls of Thames House about the nature of that relationship, back then and now that she’s back, but Lucas has deduced from the diverse stories he’s heard that no-one knows for sure. The only thing that is certain, is that Ruth is fiercely loyal to Harry, and that Harry, in turn, trusts Ruth above all others. There are times when Lucas is deeply envious of that, as he feels that he is still working at gaining Harry’s full trust. He hopes she doesn’t tell Harry about his attempt to milk her for information, as that will probably not help his quest to gain the older man’s full confidence. But he is concerned enough about the situation to risk it. Besides, he has sensed that she is also worried about Harry going to Belfast, so he decides to be honest.
“I think Harry has a personal agenda that he plans to pursue in Belfast, and I’m worried that it will interfere with the operation. You’ve known Harry the longest. I’m not asking you to betray his confidence, but if you see or hear anything that I should know about, will you tell me?” He looks at her earnestly.

Ruth does her best not to show it, but the fact that Lucas is concerned as well unsettles her. It means that whatever Harry had discussed with Lucas earlier, caused him to surmise that Harry has a personal stake in going to Belfast. She trusts Lucas, and she may need an ally before this operation is over, so she finds herself nodding in agreement.

* * *

As soon as Ruth can get away, she goes down to Registry, and requisitions all the files about Harry’s former agent network in Belfast. The woman behind the counter lifts an eyebrow.
“My, those files are popular today.”
While she goes off to collect them, Ruth turns the registry book around and scans the entries. She spots Harry’s requisition number about halfway down the page, and the file he checked out: 1978/019/611794/STEAK KNIFE.
It causes a cold feeling of dread to settle low in her stomach.

* * *
Same day, Late Afternoon
Home Secretary’s Office

When Harry walks into the Home Secretary’s office, Richard Dolby is already there. Harry requested that the JIC Chairman attend in the hope that Dolby will back his attempt to have the conference moved. Whatever their personal differences, surely common sense must prevail in the face of the overwhelming indications that the Republican splinter groups are planning something. However, as he walks towards them, he notices the two men exchange a quick conspiratorial glance, and he knows that his hope is futile. A flash of hot anger surges through him, and he has to grit his teeth not to show his disgust right off the bat. Instead he greets them civilly, before getting straight to the heart of the matter.
“We believe the Republican splinter groups are planning to launch some sort of attack on the Belfast conference.”
The Home Secretary lifts an eyebrow. “You believe? Sir Harry…”
Harry interrupts. “At least hear me out before you dismiss me.” He holds the Home Secretary’s stare until the politician looks away, and nods at him to continue.

Harry lays out the information, only keeping back their knowledge of the letter Sinn Fein sent to the Home Secretary. He has no idea how Ruth managed to get her hands on that letter, and has decided it’s better not to ask. Even without that piece of information, the case for moving the conference is pretty strong, but he can see from the way that Dolby refuses to meet his eye that the Chairman will not go against the Home Secretary, no matter how strong the evidence that Harry is presenting.

When he finishes, the Home Secretary looks at Dolby, before turning back to Harry.
“As far as I can see, you have nothing concrete. You’re making an assumption that all these circumstantial…”
“With respect, Home Secretary. Intelligence is seldom about concrete evidence. The people planning these things don’t always conveniently leave behind their plans in a drawer for us to find. If you’ve done this job for as long as I have, you learn the hard way that there is no such thing as this many coincidences. I am asking you to trust my instinct on this one.” Harry looks at Dolby for support. Dolby clears his throat, and glances at the Home Secretary before he responds.
“Harry, I’m afraid I have to support the Home Secretary on this one – you have nothing concrete. I think, perhaps, you are letting your history with the IRA cloud your judgement on this one…” He trails off, unnerved by the furious expression on Harry’s face. The Home Secretary quickly intervenes.
“So, the talks will stay in Belfast until such time as you bring me incontrovertible proof that an attack is being planned. Thank you, Sir Harry.”
Harry gets up, breathing hard. “This is folly. You are gambling with the lives of everyone attending that conference. I want my opposition to your decision on the record.” He glares at the Home Secretary until the man nods at him.
“Fine. Your displeasure is duly noted. But know this. If I have the slightest reason to believe that you are not giving the protection of this conference your fullest commitment, and something happens as a result, I’ll have your job.”

* * *

As the car winds through the streets of night-time London, Harry rests his head wearily against the headrest. His anger has subsided, and in its place a tremendous unease is growing. He feels as though he is caught in a web, and no matter how he twists and turns, he only manages to get himself more entangled. His jumbled thoughts flit between Bill’s death, Ruth’s concern, the Home Secretary’s obvious dislike of him, the probable Republican attack on the conference, Steak Knife, and his own growing desire for vengeance.
“Sir?” His security officer’s voice breaks through his contemplation, and Harry realises the car has stopped.
“We’re here.”

Harry looks out the window at the house in front of him, and wonders what right he has to be here, to ask this of someone who has already given so much. But as always, he pushes his personal feelings aside, and does what he believes is necessary for the success of the operation. He gets out, and rings the doorbell. After about half a minute, the door opens, and Harry looks into the astonished face of his old friend.
“Hello, Malcolm.”

TBC]]> <![CDATA[How did you get into watching Spooks?]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1107.html Mon, 30 Aug 2010 15:17:54 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1107.html
I personally got into it via watching Richard Armitage in the first two series of Robin Hood. Saw that he was going to be in Spooks S7, so thought I'd give it a proper go. And, well, the rest is history now Tongue

Anyone else? Do we have anyone who has been watching right from the very first episode??]]>
I personally got into it via watching Richard Armitage in the first two series of Robin Hood. Saw that he was going to be in Spooks S7, so thought I'd give it a proper go. And, well, the rest is history now Tongue

Anyone else? Do we have anyone who has been watching right from the very first episode??]]> <![CDATA[Home Run - Chapter 10]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1106.html Mon, 30 Aug 2010 10:27:23 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1106.html Next chapter guys. Thanks JHyde once again.


Chapter 10.

It is only a short drive from Ealing to Jo‘s flat in Shepherd’s Bush, in the Thames House pool car which has been arranged by Malcolm. As the car pulls up in front of Jo’s apartment block, Ruth finds herself having to coax Nico out of the car. He is being particularly difficult this evening and Ruth feels a little guilty about leaving Nico with a stranger, especially when he is missing his father so much. But Ruth knows that she really needs some time for herself. Even if it is just for a few hours.

Ruth taps gently on the door to Jo’s flat and as it swings open there is a squeal of delight as Jo excitedly embraces her old friend and pulls her into the hallway of her flat.

“Hi Jo,” says Ruth; laughing at how excited Jo seems to be.

“Come in, come in! Hi Nico, I‘m Jo.”

Nico gives Jo a limp wave in reply as Ruth pushes him gently down the hallway into Jo’s lounge.

“Sorry, Jo. He’s missing his dad, I think.” They watch Nico for a moment as he browses through the large collection of DVDs Jo has laid out on the coffee table for him. This seems to do the trick and Nico visually perks up a little.

“That’s OK, Ruth. I understand. I’ve also got the computer set up in the spare room with some games. That should be enough to keep him occupied for a few hours,” says Jo.

“Good. Thanks - thanks for doing this Jo. I know Harry probably made it difficult for you to say no.”

Jo laughs. “It’s fine, really. I like kids. I’m just happy to help. You take as long as you want at Harry‘s. Really.”

“No - no, I won’t be long, Jo. I’m just picking up some papers,” protests Ruth a little more robustly than she needs too.

“Sure,” says Jo with a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Jo!” exclaims Ruth as she taps her friend playfully on the arm. “Anyway, have you got the directions to Harry‘s house? I really don‘t know my way from your flat.”

“Here, take my Sat Nav,” says Jo, as she picks it up off the coffee table and hands it to Ruth. “I used it the other day. Just punch in “last address” and it will take you straight to Harry‘s.”

Ruth cannot help but give Jo an enquiring look.

“I was just picking up some clothes for him, Ruth, after what happened at the warehouse.”

“Oh…yes. Thanks.” Ruth looks at her watch. “I'd better get going. I will phone you when I am leaving.”

“Sure. No rush. Just enjoy yourself.”

As Ruth walks back down to the car, she remembers the twinkle in Jo’s eyes when she had said goodbye. Almost like Jo was privy to something, something amusing, of which Ruth is unaware.

xxxxxxxx

It is only a simple Amatriciana sauce but Harry can not fathom why he needs twenty separate ingredients. As he reads aloud the instructions from the cookery book for the umpteenth time, seemingly hoping they will make more sense to him this way, Harry swears it is a conspiracy between the TV chefs and the supermarkets. There is no doubt about it - he chose the right career. Harry would never have made a chef, not even one who worked in a fast food restaurant. As he surveys the current state of his kitchen, Harry muses that it looks like a Tazmanian Devil has swept through. Rolling up his sleeves, he attempts to clean up some of the mess before Ruth arrives.

Now with the kitchen fairly tidy and with Scarlet greedily finishing off some scraps of smoked bacon in the corner, Harry can feel the nerves starting to take hold. Reaching for the bottle which is aerating by the side of the hob, he pours himself a small glass of wine to help him keep calm. He knows what he has to do this evening, even though it will be difficult. He is going to have to be Ruth’s friend, almost a renaissance of their relationship and give her only what she will accept, which at this time is friendship. As he takes a sip of wine, the thought crosses Harry’s mind that he may only ever be Ruth’s friend but he pushes that thought quickly away. One small step at a time, Harry. One small step tonight.

The sound of the doorbell ringing startles him. Ruth is on time for a change. But Scarlet is determined to get to her first; she darts off down the hallway. Following, Harry has to use his foot to hold her back from the door so he can open it and muses for a moment why dogs are always excited and fearless when it comes to greeting human visitors, but the same cannot always be said about their masters.

Ruth is just about to press the bell again, when she senses some commotion on the other side of the door. The door swings open.

“Harry…er…hi.” Ruth is slightly taken aback by the unusual but amusing sight that greets her.

There, bent over is Harry, holding the door open with one hand and the other is gripping Scarlet’s collar. The little dog is energised and standing only on her back two legs. Clearly she is not used to visitors. As he wrestles with the dog, Ruth can not help but scrutinise Harry’s form. Out of office attire, he is wearing casual black jeans, a light blue check shirt and over his left shoulder is casually hanging a tea towel. Also she can not help but notice the splatter of what looks like tomato sauce, on Harry’s torso. Clearly evidence of happenings in the kitchen.

“Ruth, sorry, please come in.” At last Harry looks up at Ruth slightly out of breath, Scarlet having been almost thrown back down the hallway.

“Harry, are you all right? You look all - all flustered and your shirt…” She points at his chest and the tomato sauce stains.

Harry sighs, “I feel I may need your help if we are to eat this evening. Things... are not going to plan.” He gestures in the direction of the kitchen as he closes the front door behind them.

Ruth can not help but laugh. It is the perfect ice-breaker and she thrusts the bottle of wine she is cradling, into Harry’s arms. “Lead the way, Harry.”

xxxxxxxx

Several hours later, with empty bowls and plates cleared away, Harry and Ruth are still sitting, relaxed, at the dining room table enjoying the bottle of wine Ruth has brought with her. A red burgundy; their second. Conversation has come easily as the pair catch up on lost years and missed adventures, some fun, most not so. As Harry pours the remains of the second bottle into Ruth’s glass, Ruth knows this is a side to Harry he rarely shows and she feels privileged that he is allowing her to experience it. Relaxed, attentive, cheery, funny even, Harry is letting go and showing her that he can escape from his carefully constructed comfort zone. Cooking, entertaining at home and entertaining a woman, are things she is sure he is not used to.

Getting up from his chair, Harry picks up another bottle of wine from the side board next to the dining table.

“Harry, I…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I must get going it’s…heavens it has gone eleven!“ She glances at the clock on the wall and then double checks the time by looking at her watch, just to make sure it is correct.

“Ruth, I don’t think you are in any state to drive. Do you? We have gone through two bottles already,” says Harry pointing at the two empty bottles on the table to emphasise his point.

“Crumbs! I’m not used to this. In Cyprus we just walk everywhere. No need to worry about drink drive laws there. I‘ll get a taxi.....” She is flustered and looks around for her bag.

Harry can not help but flinch at the word “we” but using the boldness the wine has installed in him continues. “Ruth - stay.”

“W- what?”

“Stay here. I’ve got plenty of room. It won’t take me a minute to fix up one of the spare rooms. You don’t have to worry then and we can enjoy another bottle.”

Ruth knows that she is already slightly tipsy and suddenly an old voice reappears in her head telling her that this is definitely not a good idea. There is though another voice, a much louder, fresher one, saying - stay; enjoy his company while it lasts. You will be gone from these shores soon enough. Confused, Ruth starts to panic and Harry can see it in her face.

“No, really. I’ve got Nico to…”

Cutting her off using his lowest and most calming voice he can muster, “It’s not like you have work to go to in the morning or Nico has school. Come on, please. It would be a shame to end the evening now,” says Harry.

“No, I can’t! Sorry. I must phone Jo.” Clutching her mobile phone tightly in her hand, Ruth flees into the Hallway.

A few minutes later Ruth reappears but hovers in the doorway to the dining room. Tapping her phone lightly on her chin, a clearly nervous Ruth looks over towards Harry who is still sitting at the table, with a freshly opened bottle of wine in front of him. He takes a sip of his drink and looks at her over the rim of his glass, trying to hide his amusement.

“Jo - Jo says Nico is sound asleep on the sofa and well…I should just come and collect him in the morning before she leaves for work.”

“So…it’s all sorted then.” It is a statement, not a question.

As Ruth walks silently back to her chair, Harry picks up the bottle of wine from the table and slowly refills her glass, right to the top.

TBC]]> Next chapter guys. Thanks JHyde once again.


Chapter 10.

It is only a short drive from Ealing to Jo‘s flat in Shepherd’s Bush, in the Thames House pool car which has been arranged by Malcolm. As the car pulls up in front of Jo’s apartment block, Ruth finds herself having to coax Nico out of the car. He is being particularly difficult this evening and Ruth feels a little guilty about leaving Nico with a stranger, especially when he is missing his father so much. But Ruth knows that she really needs some time for herself. Even if it is just for a few hours.

Ruth taps gently on the door to Jo’s flat and as it swings open there is a squeal of delight as Jo excitedly embraces her old friend and pulls her into the hallway of her flat.

“Hi Jo,” says Ruth; laughing at how excited Jo seems to be.

“Come in, come in! Hi Nico, I‘m Jo.”

Nico gives Jo a limp wave in reply as Ruth pushes him gently down the hallway into Jo’s lounge.

“Sorry, Jo. He’s missing his dad, I think.” They watch Nico for a moment as he browses through the large collection of DVDs Jo has laid out on the coffee table for him. This seems to do the trick and Nico visually perks up a little.

“That’s OK, Ruth. I understand. I’ve also got the computer set up in the spare room with some games. That should be enough to keep him occupied for a few hours,” says Jo.

“Good. Thanks - thanks for doing this Jo. I know Harry probably made it difficult for you to say no.”

Jo laughs. “It’s fine, really. I like kids. I’m just happy to help. You take as long as you want at Harry‘s. Really.”

“No - no, I won’t be long, Jo. I’m just picking up some papers,” protests Ruth a little more robustly than she needs too.

“Sure,” says Jo with a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Jo!” exclaims Ruth as she taps her friend playfully on the arm. “Anyway, have you got the directions to Harry‘s house? I really don‘t know my way from your flat.”

“Here, take my Sat Nav,” says Jo, as she picks it up off the coffee table and hands it to Ruth. “I used it the other day. Just punch in “last address” and it will take you straight to Harry‘s.”

Ruth cannot help but give Jo an enquiring look.

“I was just picking up some clothes for him, Ruth, after what happened at the warehouse.”

“Oh…yes. Thanks.” Ruth looks at her watch. “I'd better get going. I will phone you when I am leaving.”

“Sure. No rush. Just enjoy yourself.”

As Ruth walks back down to the car, she remembers the twinkle in Jo’s eyes when she had said goodbye. Almost like Jo was privy to something, something amusing, of which Ruth is unaware.

xxxxxxxx

It is only a simple Amatriciana sauce but Harry can not fathom why he needs twenty separate ingredients. As he reads aloud the instructions from the cookery book for the umpteenth time, seemingly hoping they will make more sense to him this way, Harry swears it is a conspiracy between the TV chefs and the supermarkets. There is no doubt about it - he chose the right career. Harry would never have made a chef, not even one who worked in a fast food restaurant. As he surveys the current state of his kitchen, Harry muses that it looks like a Tazmanian Devil has swept through. Rolling up his sleeves, he attempts to clean up some of the mess before Ruth arrives.

Now with the kitchen fairly tidy and with Scarlet greedily finishing off some scraps of smoked bacon in the corner, Harry can feel the nerves starting to take hold. Reaching for the bottle which is aerating by the side of the hob, he pours himself a small glass of wine to help him keep calm. He knows what he has to do this evening, even though it will be difficult. He is going to have to be Ruth’s friend, almost a renaissance of their relationship and give her only what she will accept, which at this time is friendship. As he takes a sip of wine, the thought crosses Harry’s mind that he may only ever be Ruth’s friend but he pushes that thought quickly away. One small step at a time, Harry. One small step tonight.

The sound of the doorbell ringing startles him. Ruth is on time for a change. But Scarlet is determined to get to her first; she darts off down the hallway. Following, Harry has to use his foot to hold her back from the door so he can open it and muses for a moment why dogs are always excited and fearless when it comes to greeting human visitors, but the same cannot always be said about their masters.

Ruth is just about to press the bell again, when she senses some commotion on the other side of the door. The door swings open.

“Harry…er…hi.” Ruth is slightly taken aback by the unusual but amusing sight that greets her.

There, bent over is Harry, holding the door open with one hand and the other is gripping Scarlet’s collar. The little dog is energised and standing only on her back two legs. Clearly she is not used to visitors. As he wrestles with the dog, Ruth can not help but scrutinise Harry’s form. Out of office attire, he is wearing casual black jeans, a light blue check shirt and over his left shoulder is casually hanging a tea towel. Also she can not help but notice the splatter of what looks like tomato sauce, on Harry’s torso. Clearly evidence of happenings in the kitchen.

“Ruth, sorry, please come in.” At last Harry looks up at Ruth slightly out of breath, Scarlet having been almost thrown back down the hallway.

“Harry, are you all right? You look all - all flustered and your shirt…” She points at his chest and the tomato sauce stains.

Harry sighs, “I feel I may need your help if we are to eat this evening. Things... are not going to plan.” He gestures in the direction of the kitchen as he closes the front door behind them.

Ruth can not help but laugh. It is the perfect ice-breaker and she thrusts the bottle of wine she is cradling, into Harry’s arms. “Lead the way, Harry.”

xxxxxxxx

Several hours later, with empty bowls and plates cleared away, Harry and Ruth are still sitting, relaxed, at the dining room table enjoying the bottle of wine Ruth has brought with her. A red burgundy; their second. Conversation has come easily as the pair catch up on lost years and missed adventures, some fun, most not so. As Harry pours the remains of the second bottle into Ruth’s glass, Ruth knows this is a side to Harry he rarely shows and she feels privileged that he is allowing her to experience it. Relaxed, attentive, cheery, funny even, Harry is letting go and showing her that he can escape from his carefully constructed comfort zone. Cooking, entertaining at home and entertaining a woman, are things she is sure he is not used to.

Getting up from his chair, Harry picks up another bottle of wine from the side board next to the dining table.

“Harry, I…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I must get going it’s…heavens it has gone eleven!“ She glances at the clock on the wall and then double checks the time by looking at her watch, just to make sure it is correct.

“Ruth, I don’t think you are in any state to drive. Do you? We have gone through two bottles already,” says Harry pointing at the two empty bottles on the table to emphasise his point.

“Crumbs! I’m not used to this. In Cyprus we just walk everywhere. No need to worry about drink drive laws there. I‘ll get a taxi.....” She is flustered and looks around for her bag.

Harry can not help but flinch at the word “we” but using the boldness the wine has installed in him continues. “Ruth - stay.”

“W- what?”

“Stay here. I’ve got plenty of room. It won’t take me a minute to fix up one of the spare rooms. You don’t have to worry then and we can enjoy another bottle.”

Ruth knows that she is already slightly tipsy and suddenly an old voice reappears in her head telling her that this is definitely not a good idea. There is though another voice, a much louder, fresher one, saying - stay; enjoy his company while it lasts. You will be gone from these shores soon enough. Confused, Ruth starts to panic and Harry can see it in her face.

“No, really. I’ve got Nico to…”

Cutting her off using his lowest and most calming voice he can muster, “It’s not like you have work to go to in the morning or Nico has school. Come on, please. It would be a shame to end the evening now,” says Harry.

“No, I can’t! Sorry. I must phone Jo.” Clutching her mobile phone tightly in her hand, Ruth flees into the Hallway.

A few minutes later Ruth reappears but hovers in the doorway to the dining room. Tapping her phone lightly on her chin, a clearly nervous Ruth looks over towards Harry who is still sitting at the table, with a freshly opened bottle of wine in front of him. He takes a sip of his drink and looks at her over the rim of his glass, trying to hide his amusement.

“Jo - Jo says Nico is sound asleep on the sofa and well…I should just come and collect him in the morning before she leaves for work.”

“So…it’s all sorted then.” It is a statement, not a question.

As Ruth walks silently back to her chair, Harry picks up the bottle of wine from the table and slowly refills her glass, right to the top.

TBC]]> <![CDATA[Blood For Blood Part I]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1105.html Sun, 29 Aug 2010 12:41:33 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1105.html Spoilers for Series 8.

I have always wanted to see Harry go back to Northern Ireland and face his past, so I thought I'd use the recent renewed troubles in that territory and write something about it. It turned out much longer than I thought, so I'll post it in seven parts. I finished writing the whole thing before I posted, because I'm anal like that, so hopefully I haven't dropped too many balls. I made liberal use of the information provided in Harry's Diary about his time there. I envision this taking place somewhere in the second half of season 9, within the following parameters: Ros and the HS did die in the explosion, something is going on with Lucas but no-one knows what, there are two new recruits on the Grid, and Harry and Ruth are together.

BLOOD FOR BLOOD

PART I

15 November 2010
JIC Meeting, London

“Right, final item. I have decided that the scheduled Northern Ireland talks will take place in Belfast.”
Harry knows, the moment the statement is made, that this is the real reason why the Home Secretary chose to attend and chair today’s meeting. He clears his throat.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Home Secretary. There have been increased unrest and bomb attacks from the Republican splinter groups over the last five months and…”
The Home Secretary overrides him.
“That is exactly why we need to show faith in our partners in Northern Ireland, which holding the talks in Belfast will do!”
“No, what we need to do is not provide the growing militant ranks with a tempting target, which is precisely what this conference will be,” Harry states firmly, trying to remain calm.
The Home Secretary glares at him.
“I’m not debating this with you, Sir Harry. The talks will take place in Belfast next week, and since there will be high ranking officials from this government attending, MI5 will oversee the security and make sure that the Republicans do not get a chance to do anything…”
Harry’s patience snaps.
“This is a huge mistake! More than that, it’s bloody irresponsible! There is nowhere near enough intelligence available on all the Republican splinter groups to know the extent of the problem we’re dealing with. We can’t go in there blind and expect to pull off a miracle!”
“Not enough intelligence? Well, Sir Harry, you have a whole week before it starts. Why don’t you show me why all my predecessors sing your praises so highly, and get the intelligence you’ll need. I am committed to this decision, so make it happen. That’s an order!” With that, he gathers up his papers and storms off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
“Right,” Richard Dolby pipes up after a few beats, “that’s settled then.”
Harry rounds on him.
“Is it.” He bites off the words, and Dolby shrinks back in his seat a little bit. Ever since the ‘unfortunate Connie James incident’, as Dolby is now referring to it, he has been wary of Harry Pearce.
“Come now, Harry, I would’ve thought you’d like the idea of going back to where your legend was born…”
Luckily for Dolby, there are no wine glasses near to hand, but the look on Harry’s face is enough to silence him.
* * *
Beth, Lucas and Ruth are gathered around Ruth’s computer as she explains the latest information she’s unearthed on a terror suspect, when Harry comes back onto the Grid. As he stomps over to his office, he yanks off his leather gloves with more force than necessary, a scowl firmly fixed on his face.
“Oh dear,” remarks Ruth.
Beth, who has already learnt that Harry has a fierce temper even though she has only been on the team for a few months, looks a little apprehensive as she cracks a joke.
“If we were in a cartoon, Harry’d have a dark cloud with little thunderbolts drawn above his head.” She demonstrates ‘z’ shaped figures in the air.
Lucas smirks, but his reply is cut off when Harry storms back out of his office sans coat and scarf, and barks across the Grid: “Everyone in the meeting room now.” He stalks off without waiting to see if they’re following. Lucas and Ruth share a quick, resigned look, before following.

Harry looks over his team as they file in and take their seats. Lucas, now his Section Chief, has shown good leadership qualities in the few months he’s been in the job, but Harry still has some reservations about him. He has shown a tendency to ignore orders and go off on his own tangents, something which Harry tolerates when it’s to the benefit of the operation, but he’s getting the feeling that Lucas is embroiled in some personal issue at the moment, and he worries about the impact this is having on Lucas’ operational decision making. But, he is the only experienced field officer Harry has left, so he has no option but to put his faith in Lucas at the moment.

The two latest recruits, Dimitri and Beth, have done well so far and Harry is pleased with them. They seem to have brought back some youthful enthusiasm to the Grid, something which has been lacking since they lost Zaf. And Danny and Zoe, he thinks. Along with Tariq, Harry feels he can mould them into a formidable team in the near future.

And then of course there’s Ruth. Dear, wonderful, beautiful Ruth. Harry simply doesn’t know what he would do without her. Not only is she the best intelligence analyst he has ever known, but she has the knack of calming him when things are going badly, and he knows the others see her as a shoulder to cry on and someone to confide in. She is the heart of the Grid, the moral guardian, the one who makes him think carefully about his decisions and orders. Ruth also holds Harry’s heart firmly in her hands, as he does hers. She has become his trusted and cherished partner in recent weeks; he loves her, and knows that her love for him is making him strive to be a better person.

As they all settle around the table, Harry worries whether he has enough resources, whether his people are experienced enough to handle what he is about to ask of them. Not for the first time, he wishes for a moment that he still had Adam, Ros and Malcolm to call on, but he banishes the thought quickly, before he has a chance to become maudlin.

As soon as they’re settled around the table, Harry starts the briefing without preamble.
“Next week’s Northern Ireland talks are going to be held in Belfast.”
His opening statement is met with a chorus of disbelief.
“That’s insane…”
“Surely not…”
“What idiot thought that was a good idea…”
Harry cuts through the hubbub.
“The Home Secretary has made up his mind. He is committed…”
Ruth interrupts: “Or he should be…”
Harry stifles a smile, knowing that he should be annoyed at the interruption, but he can tell from Ruth’s face that she hadn’t intended to say that out loud. So he lets it slide.
“Quite. But no matter what our thoughts are on the sanity of our esteemed political leader, we have no option but to follow orders on this one. So. We have one week to ensure that none of the many Republican lunatic splinter groups use the conference in Belfast as target practice. Lucas, Ruth, Beth; you’re joining me in Belfast. Tariq, Dimitri, you’ll have to hold the fort here…”
“You’re going to Belfast?” Ruth can’t quite hide her surprise. This time Harry can’t keep the annoyance over the interruption out of his voice.
“Yes, Ruth. As are you, Lucas, and Beth.” His tone of voice tells her that there will be no further discussion on this, at least not in public. She glances around the table quickly, noticing that Beth and Lucas are looking at her with interest, probably wondering why she has a problem with Harry going to Belfast. She dips her head and stares at the table as Harry continues.
“Lucas, you need to start liaising with SO19 – although the PSNI will be in charge of security, I want an SO19 team there as well.”
“Perhaps we should also have another team on standby at the nearest base in England, so that they can chopper in at the first sign of trouble,” Lucas suggests.
“Yes, good. Also liaise with the PSNI, make sure their security arrangements are up to scratch. They need to share anything that causes them concern with you promptly. Beth, you’re going to use your charm to get the cooperation of our Irish Military Intelligence, or G2, counterparts - make sure they’re not hiding anything from us. Get them to share whatever they have on the Republican splinter groups. Ruth, you need to go through everything we have on Northern Ireland since the troubles have started up again; see if you can identify possible persons of interest. Have a close look at Republican Sinn Fein, the 32-County Sovereignty Movement, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA, as well as Oghlaigh na hEireann. If there’s going to be trouble, it’ll be from one of those groups. Tariq, you’ll need to go over to the conference facility beforehand to install everything we’ll need to track the movements of everyone there, and specifically to allow us to listen to whatever the Northern Ireland delegation, and my old friends Gerry Adams and Bobby Storey in particular, is saying in the privacy of their rooms. Also make sure we have the necessary equipment to prevent them from doing the same to us, if you please. Dimitri, you’ll have to handle our ongoing operation here on your own, but for God’s sake, check with me first before you do anything rash. Oh, and drop by your Customs & Excise contacts, see if there are any whispers about arms and explosives shipments to Northern Ireland recently. All right? Let’s get to it, then.” He gets up, indicating that the meeting is over.
* * *
It is two hours later when Ruth finds a moment to herself. She glances over at Harry’s office; he is seated behind his desk, forehead held in one hand as he reads a report. She heads over and knocks before entering for a change.
“Do you have a moment?”
He looks up, and registers the slight look of concern in her eyes.
“Yes.” He motions to the chairs across from his desk. When she sits down, but doesn’t say anything immediately, Harry waits patiently, even though he has a good idea what this is about.

He still gets nightmares about the murder of his best friend, Bill Crombie, when they were both stationed in Belfast in 1978. Bill was snatched and tortured severely by the PIRA Nutting Squad, and when they found his body nine days later, he was almost unrecognisable after being burnt with a blowtorch. Harry continues to feel enormous guilt over Bill’s death. He was there when Bill had been snatched, but did nothing, in order to protect a valuable source’s identity. At least, that is how he feels most of the time, but there are days, when he’s emotionally low, when he still wonders whether it was cowardice, rather than the desire to protect their operation, that made him do nothing. So the nightmares continue to plague him. In fact, he had one a few nights ago, when he was staying over at Ruth’s. He woke her with his thrashing around, and as she soothed him and held him close, he told her about Bill, about his guilt, and about the hatred he still feels toward those responsible for Bill’s torture and death.

Ruth’s voice breaks through his thoughts.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea - for you to go to Belfast?”
Her concern is written clearly across her face, causing a little frown to settle between her eyes. Harry suppresses the urge to get up and smooth it away with his thumb. It is such an alien thing for him, to have someone worry about him like this, that he’s not always sure how to handle it. He’s trying, very hard, to be more open with her, but there are times, like now, when he wishes not to examine his own motives too closely, and is tempted to hide behind the excuse of ‘operational necessity’. He frames his answer carefully: “The Home Secretary expects me to be there…”
He can tell immediately that she is not impressed with his answer. He sighs, and tries again: “I still have some contacts there that can be useful to us, and God knows, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Harry.” There is mild reproach in her tone, as though she is disappointed in him, rather than upset about his evasion. His default defence mechanism is to get annoyed.
“What exactly are you afraid of? It’s been more than thirty years, I’m sure most of those with a grudge against me is long dead, or too old to stalk me and bump me off in the dead of night. I do know how to take care of myself, Ruth!”
She knows him too well to get drawn into an argument, knows that it is an attempt to deflect her attention away from the real issue. So she stays calm.
“That’s not what I’m worried about, and you know it.”
Ruth holds his angry stare, and her soft gaze deflates his anger. His shoulders sag a little.
“No.” It is more an exhalation than a word. “You think I’m going to do something reckless – seek revenge for Bill’s death.”
“Am I wrong?”
“I honestly don’t know…”
She believes him. Harry looks at her, and still, after all these years, she can see the sadness for his friend in his eyes.
“All I know is that I need some form of closure, Ruth. I have to go. I don’t have any plans for revenge, and I won’t go looking for trouble. That’s the best I can do.” He smiles a little. “Besides, you’ll be there to keep an eye on me, won’t you?”
She tilts her head at him. “Is that the reason why you’re dragging me along on this operation?”
“I’m ‘dragging you along’ because I need you.”
She remembers another conference, in another life. “Right. You need my organisational skills again, do you?”
Harry smiles softly. He remembers too.
“…That too.”

TBC]]> Spoilers for Series 8.

I have always wanted to see Harry go back to Northern Ireland and face his past, so I thought I'd use the recent renewed troubles in that territory and write something about it. It turned out much longer than I thought, so I'll post it in seven parts. I finished writing the whole thing before I posted, because I'm anal like that, so hopefully I haven't dropped too many balls. I made liberal use of the information provided in Harry's Diary about his time there. I envision this taking place somewhere in the second half of season 9, within the following parameters: Ros and the HS did die in the explosion, something is going on with Lucas but no-one knows what, there are two new recruits on the Grid, and Harry and Ruth are together.

BLOOD FOR BLOOD

PART I

15 November 2010
JIC Meeting, London

“Right, final item. I have decided that the scheduled Northern Ireland talks will take place in Belfast.”
Harry knows, the moment the statement is made, that this is the real reason why the Home Secretary chose to attend and chair today’s meeting. He clears his throat.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Home Secretary. There have been increased unrest and bomb attacks from the Republican splinter groups over the last five months and…”
The Home Secretary overrides him.
“That is exactly why we need to show faith in our partners in Northern Ireland, which holding the talks in Belfast will do!”
“No, what we need to do is not provide the growing militant ranks with a tempting target, which is precisely what this conference will be,” Harry states firmly, trying to remain calm.
The Home Secretary glares at him.
“I’m not debating this with you, Sir Harry. The talks will take place in Belfast next week, and since there will be high ranking officials from this government attending, MI5 will oversee the security and make sure that the Republicans do not get a chance to do anything…”
Harry’s patience snaps.
“This is a huge mistake! More than that, it’s bloody irresponsible! There is nowhere near enough intelligence available on all the Republican splinter groups to know the extent of the problem we’re dealing with. We can’t go in there blind and expect to pull off a miracle!”
“Not enough intelligence? Well, Sir Harry, you have a whole week before it starts. Why don’t you show me why all my predecessors sing your praises so highly, and get the intelligence you’ll need. I am committed to this decision, so make it happen. That’s an order!” With that, he gathers up his papers and storms off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
“Right,” Richard Dolby pipes up after a few beats, “that’s settled then.”
Harry rounds on him.
“Is it.” He bites off the words, and Dolby shrinks back in his seat a little bit. Ever since the ‘unfortunate Connie James incident’, as Dolby is now referring to it, he has been wary of Harry Pearce.
“Come now, Harry, I would’ve thought you’d like the idea of going back to where your legend was born…”
Luckily for Dolby, there are no wine glasses near to hand, but the look on Harry’s face is enough to silence him.
* * *
Beth, Lucas and Ruth are gathered around Ruth’s computer as she explains the latest information she’s unearthed on a terror suspect, when Harry comes back onto the Grid. As he stomps over to his office, he yanks off his leather gloves with more force than necessary, a scowl firmly fixed on his face.
“Oh dear,” remarks Ruth.
Beth, who has already learnt that Harry has a fierce temper even though she has only been on the team for a few months, looks a little apprehensive as she cracks a joke.
“If we were in a cartoon, Harry’d have a dark cloud with little thunderbolts drawn above his head.” She demonstrates ‘z’ shaped figures in the air.
Lucas smirks, but his reply is cut off when Harry storms back out of his office sans coat and scarf, and barks across the Grid: “Everyone in the meeting room now.” He stalks off without waiting to see if they’re following. Lucas and Ruth share a quick, resigned look, before following.

Harry looks over his team as they file in and take their seats. Lucas, now his Section Chief, has shown good leadership qualities in the few months he’s been in the job, but Harry still has some reservations about him. He has shown a tendency to ignore orders and go off on his own tangents, something which Harry tolerates when it’s to the benefit of the operation, but he’s getting the feeling that Lucas is embroiled in some personal issue at the moment, and he worries about the impact this is having on Lucas’ operational decision making. But, he is the only experienced field officer Harry has left, so he has no option but to put his faith in Lucas at the moment.

The two latest recruits, Dimitri and Beth, have done well so far and Harry is pleased with them. They seem to have brought back some youthful enthusiasm to the Grid, something which has been lacking since they lost Zaf. And Danny and Zoe, he thinks. Along with Tariq, Harry feels he can mould them into a formidable team in the near future.

And then of course there’s Ruth. Dear, wonderful, beautiful Ruth. Harry simply doesn’t know what he would do without her. Not only is she the best intelligence analyst he has ever known, but she has the knack of calming him when things are going badly, and he knows the others see her as a shoulder to cry on and someone to confide in. She is the heart of the Grid, the moral guardian, the one who makes him think carefully about his decisions and orders. Ruth also holds Harry’s heart firmly in her hands, as he does hers. She has become his trusted and cherished partner in recent weeks; he loves her, and knows that her love for him is making him strive to be a better person.

As they all settle around the table, Harry worries whether he has enough resources, whether his people are experienced enough to handle what he is about to ask of them. Not for the first time, he wishes for a moment that he still had Adam, Ros and Malcolm to call on, but he banishes the thought quickly, before he has a chance to become maudlin.

As soon as they’re settled around the table, Harry starts the briefing without preamble.
“Next week’s Northern Ireland talks are going to be held in Belfast.”
His opening statement is met with a chorus of disbelief.
“That’s insane…”
“Surely not…”
“What idiot thought that was a good idea…”
Harry cuts through the hubbub.
“The Home Secretary has made up his mind. He is committed…”
Ruth interrupts: “Or he should be…”
Harry stifles a smile, knowing that he should be annoyed at the interruption, but he can tell from Ruth’s face that she hadn’t intended to say that out loud. So he lets it slide.
“Quite. But no matter what our thoughts are on the sanity of our esteemed political leader, we have no option but to follow orders on this one. So. We have one week to ensure that none of the many Republican lunatic splinter groups use the conference in Belfast as target practice. Lucas, Ruth, Beth; you’re joining me in Belfast. Tariq, Dimitri, you’ll have to hold the fort here…”
“You’re going to Belfast?” Ruth can’t quite hide her surprise. This time Harry can’t keep the annoyance over the interruption out of his voice.
“Yes, Ruth. As are you, Lucas, and Beth.” His tone of voice tells her that there will be no further discussion on this, at least not in public. She glances around the table quickly, noticing that Beth and Lucas are looking at her with interest, probably wondering why she has a problem with Harry going to Belfast. She dips her head and stares at the table as Harry continues.
“Lucas, you need to start liaising with SO19 – although the PSNI will be in charge of security, I want an SO19 team there as well.”
“Perhaps we should also have another team on standby at the nearest base in England, so that they can chopper in at the first sign of trouble,” Lucas suggests.
“Yes, good. Also liaise with the PSNI, make sure their security arrangements are up to scratch. They need to share anything that causes them concern with you promptly. Beth, you’re going to use your charm to get the cooperation of our Irish Military Intelligence, or G2, counterparts - make sure they’re not hiding anything from us. Get them to share whatever they have on the Republican splinter groups. Ruth, you need to go through everything we have on Northern Ireland since the troubles have started up again; see if you can identify possible persons of interest. Have a close look at Republican Sinn Fein, the 32-County Sovereignty Movement, the Real IRA and the Continuity IRA, as well as Oghlaigh na hEireann. If there’s going to be trouble, it’ll be from one of those groups. Tariq, you’ll need to go over to the conference facility beforehand to install everything we’ll need to track the movements of everyone there, and specifically to allow us to listen to whatever the Northern Ireland delegation, and my old friends Gerry Adams and Bobby Storey in particular, is saying in the privacy of their rooms. Also make sure we have the necessary equipment to prevent them from doing the same to us, if you please. Dimitri, you’ll have to handle our ongoing operation here on your own, but for God’s sake, check with me first before you do anything rash. Oh, and drop by your Customs & Excise contacts, see if there are any whispers about arms and explosives shipments to Northern Ireland recently. All right? Let’s get to it, then.” He gets up, indicating that the meeting is over.
* * *
It is two hours later when Ruth finds a moment to herself. She glances over at Harry’s office; he is seated behind his desk, forehead held in one hand as he reads a report. She heads over and knocks before entering for a change.
“Do you have a moment?”
He looks up, and registers the slight look of concern in her eyes.
“Yes.” He motions to the chairs across from his desk. When she sits down, but doesn’t say anything immediately, Harry waits patiently, even though he has a good idea what this is about.

He still gets nightmares about the murder of his best friend, Bill Crombie, when they were both stationed in Belfast in 1978. Bill was snatched and tortured severely by the PIRA Nutting Squad, and when they found his body nine days later, he was almost unrecognisable after being burnt with a blowtorch. Harry continues to feel enormous guilt over Bill’s death. He was there when Bill had been snatched, but did nothing, in order to protect a valuable source’s identity. At least, that is how he feels most of the time, but there are days, when he’s emotionally low, when he still wonders whether it was cowardice, rather than the desire to protect their operation, that made him do nothing. So the nightmares continue to plague him. In fact, he had one a few nights ago, when he was staying over at Ruth’s. He woke her with his thrashing around, and as she soothed him and held him close, he told her about Bill, about his guilt, and about the hatred he still feels toward those responsible for Bill’s torture and death.

Ruth’s voice breaks through his thoughts.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea - for you to go to Belfast?”
Her concern is written clearly across her face, causing a little frown to settle between her eyes. Harry suppresses the urge to get up and smooth it away with his thumb. It is such an alien thing for him, to have someone worry about him like this, that he’s not always sure how to handle it. He’s trying, very hard, to be more open with her, but there are times, like now, when he wishes not to examine his own motives too closely, and is tempted to hide behind the excuse of ‘operational necessity’. He frames his answer carefully: “The Home Secretary expects me to be there…”
He can tell immediately that she is not impressed with his answer. He sighs, and tries again: “I still have some contacts there that can be useful to us, and God knows, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Harry.” There is mild reproach in her tone, as though she is disappointed in him, rather than upset about his evasion. His default defence mechanism is to get annoyed.
“What exactly are you afraid of? It’s been more than thirty years, I’m sure most of those with a grudge against me is long dead, or too old to stalk me and bump me off in the dead of night. I do know how to take care of myself, Ruth!”
She knows him too well to get drawn into an argument, knows that it is an attempt to deflect her attention away from the real issue. So she stays calm.
“That’s not what I’m worried about, and you know it.”
Ruth holds his angry stare, and her soft gaze deflates his anger. His shoulders sag a little.
“No.” It is more an exhalation than a word. “You think I’m going to do something reckless – seek revenge for Bill’s death.”
“Am I wrong?”
“I honestly don’t know…”
She believes him. Harry looks at her, and still, after all these years, she can see the sadness for his friend in his eyes.
“All I know is that I need some form of closure, Ruth. I have to go. I don’t have any plans for revenge, and I won’t go looking for trouble. That’s the best I can do.” He smiles a little. “Besides, you’ll be there to keep an eye on me, won’t you?”
She tilts her head at him. “Is that the reason why you’re dragging me along on this operation?”
“I’m ‘dragging you along’ because I need you.”
She remembers another conference, in another life. “Right. You need my organisational skills again, do you?”
Harry smiles softly. He remembers too.
“…That too.”

TBC]]> <![CDATA[Spooks Lifetime Membership Winner!]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1104.html Sat, 28 Aug 2010 12:43:05 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1104.html
Here's the winning post: http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1053...l#pid28077

Congrats Nia M!

You are now a lifetime Spook at SF. Go forth and enjoy The Grid! Smile

Attached is the result from random.org.

P.S If you liked the randomness and chatty nature of the competition thread, we have the same thing going ALL the time in The Grid for Spooks members.

Become a Spook here: http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/subscribe.php]]>
Here's the winning post: http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1053...l#pid28077

Congrats Nia M!

You are now a lifetime Spook at SF. Go forth and enjoy The Grid! Smile

Attached is the result from random.org.

P.S If you liked the randomness and chatty nature of the competition thread, we have the same thing going ALL the time in The Grid for Spooks members.

Become a Spook here: http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/subscribe.php]]> <![CDATA[Feature Requests]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1103.html Fri, 27 Aug 2010 23:43:40 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1103.html
Can you think of anything you'd like to see on the forum feature-wise? Anything that bugs you currently or that you think could be a good addition?

A thought which crossed my mind would be some sort of spy game integrated into the forum with missions and crap but I'm not 100% sure how it would work or what would be the best way to do it.

Any suggestions are greatly appreciated! Smile]]>
Can you think of anything you'd like to see on the forum feature-wise? Anything that bugs you currently or that you think could be a good addition?

A thought which crossed my mind would be some sort of spy game integrated into the forum with missions and crap but I'm not 100% sure how it would work or what would be the best way to do it.

Any suggestions are greatly appreciated! Smile]]> <![CDATA[Episode 5.3 [rewatch]]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1101.html Tue, 24 Aug 2010 21:52:45 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1101.html
However, I was happy with some of the character development, most especially the H/R relationship, the Ruth/Ros enmity, Zaf/Ros (who seemed to get along pretty well), and the hints that Adam might be having some issues.

Especially appreciated the writer's overt recognition of Harry and Ruth -- H asking R to dinner (loved that scene) and the dinner itself (the grand tour). And absolutely loved Ruth telling off both Ros and Harry re thermobaric bombs.]]>
However, I was happy with some of the character development, most especially the H/R relationship, the Ruth/Ros enmity, Zaf/Ros (who seemed to get along pretty well), and the hints that Adam might be having some issues.

Especially appreciated the writer's overt recognition of Harry and Ruth -- H asking R to dinner (loved that scene) and the dinner itself (the grand tour). And absolutely loved Ruth telling off both Ros and Harry re thermobaric bombs.]]> <![CDATA[Greetings from Canada, eh.]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1100.html Tue, 24 Aug 2010 19:39:53 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1100.html I really enjoyed him in Robin Hood, looked him up on IMDB and discovered he was on Spooks (as an aside, love him as John Porter in Chris Ryan's Strike Back -- can't wait for Season 2!). So watched Season 7 in a weekend, and am almost through Season 8. Tomorrow night I'm watching episode 8. While I started watching b/c of RA, I love the show so much and will keep watching even once he's gone (even though I hope that won't be for a very, very, very long time or ever). I've got previous seasons on order from the library.

It's tough b/c this is the sort of show you need to be able to talk to someone about. None of my friends watch it, although I keep suggesting it. So I'm just thrilled to have found this forum! I will probably be more of a lurker but will definitely be around and look forward to reading people's thoughts on everything in the Spooks universe.

Some of my other favourite shows are Burn Notice, Sons Of Anarchy, White Collar, & Merlin.

Cheers!

ps - how I can get a Cdn flag next to my username? Ummm, never mind -- the flag is there.]]> I really enjoyed him in Robin Hood, looked him up on IMDB and discovered he was on Spooks (as an aside, love him as John Porter in Chris Ryan's Strike Back -- can't wait for Season 2!). So watched Season 7 in a weekend, and am almost through Season 8. Tomorrow night I'm watching episode 8. While I started watching b/c of RA, I love the show so much and will keep watching even once he's gone (even though I hope that won't be for a very, very, very long time or ever). I've got previous seasons on order from the library.

It's tough b/c this is the sort of show you need to be able to talk to someone about. None of my friends watch it, although I keep suggesting it. So I'm just thrilled to have found this forum! I will probably be more of a lurker but will definitely be around and look forward to reading people's thoughts on everything in the Spooks universe.

Some of my other favourite shows are Burn Notice, Sons Of Anarchy, White Collar, & Merlin.

Cheers!

ps - how I can get a Cdn flag next to my username? Ummm, never mind -- the flag is there.]]> <![CDATA[Endings and Beginnings]]> http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1099.html Tue, 24 Aug 2010 14:10:50 +0000 http://www.spooksforum.co.uk/thread-1099.html Hey everyone! I've posted this story on fanfiction.net last month, but figured that I could post it here as well, just in case there are people here who don't use that website.

Just some Ruth/Harry, because you can never have enough of thatSmile

The church bells chime on a sunny day in April, but to the small group of people that has gathered outside the rain might as well have poured down, for nothing would help to brighten this day. It was the day on which they were going to pay their last respects to their friend and colleague Ros Myers.

They all enter in silence, and Harry notices that even though it's a small church, it still looks fairly empty with so few people attending. He takes a seat in one of the pews near the front of the church, and is soon joined by Ruth, who looks as though she hasn't slept or eaten properly for days. Her face is white as a sheet of paper, and her normally bright blue eyes have faded to a dull grey colour without their usual spark. Lucas, Tariq and Malcolm are in the row behind them, as well as a few other desk officers of Section D and some of Ros' old colleagues at MI6. On the other side of the aisle are Ros' mother, brother and sister, and further back is her father, Josselyn Myers, accompanied by a prison guard.

The service starts, and the vicar says a few kind words about Ros' life: about her childhood, her family, and her work. The vicar has signed the official secrets act, as have all the other attendants, so there is no need for secrecy.

Harry has agreed to say a few words, so he gets up and walks over to where the vicar is standing. He had always hated funerals, probably because he has attended too many of them over the years. He takes a pause to pull himself together, and then begins his speech.

"I've encountered many officers in my life. All of them extraordinary people, but I've never met anyone quite like Ros Myers. She was an excellent, outstanding officer, loyal and devoted to her colleagues and to her country. She joined our team in quite an unusual manner, recruited by another exceptional colleague whom we have sadly lost as well. But Ros proved she was worth the gamble many times over. It's safe to say that as both a friend and as a colleague she will be sorely missed."

Harry had never liked long speeches, and he'd said everything he wanted to say. Attending two funerals in as many days proved to be harder than he had expected. Andrew Lawrence's funeral had been yesterday, and Harry had felt it his duty to attend. But now he noticed that the emotions and the fatigue were getting to him. He returned to his seat next to Ruth while Malcolm walked to the front to say a few words and the poem he'd prepared.

*Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

As Malcolm recites the poem, Harry can feel Ruth's hand slip into his own. He squeezes her hand reassuringly, not sure what else to do. But it seems as if Ruth is past caring about what anyone thinks of her. He looks to his left and notices that tears are streaming down her face. At that moment he really feels for her. Because it isn't just Malcolm's poem, or even the fact that they are at Ros' funeral that brings about such intense emotions. Over the past few months Ruth has gone through so much, and she's lost so many people that were dear to her. The tears she sheds are for George, for Jo, for Ros, and even though he is still alive, for Nico as well.

He did not let go of her hand for one second. Not for the rest of the service, not when they stood up and walked up the aisle behind the coffin, not even when they were all gathered outside in the graveyard. As they slowly lowered the coffin into the ground he put a protective arm around Ruth, and she buried her face in his chest and cried unashamedly, no longer caring if anyone could see.

At the same time Harry tried to remain calm and composed, but inside he was tormented by conflicting emotions. He couldn't believe he was actually attending Ros' funeral for the second time, only this time for real. There would be no spectacular resurrection for her this time. At the same time he felt torn and confused by Ruth's behaviour towards him. Ever since she returned to MI5 he had wanted nothing more than to have things back to the way they were before her exile, or perhaps for it to be even more than that. But he knew that she'd been through a lot and that she needed time to recover and get her act together. For a while he'd been afraid that the connection was lost forever, and that they could never go back to the way they were before. But recently she'd sought him out, made contact again, even if it was just a mere look, or a brief touch. But he wasn't sure if these were just signs of friendship, or if she meant anything more by them.

And now she was here, literally in his arms. It was something he normally could only dream of, but at this moment it didn't feel right. She was slowly falling apart again in front of his very eyes, and all he could offer her was a shoulder to cry on. But it was more than he had bargained for, so he wouldn't complain.

The funeral was over, and Harry suggested they'd go for a drink at the George in honour of Ros. He noticed Ruth's involuntary shiver as he mentioned the pub, and immediately regretted his words. Why did the pub have to have that name, of all names? But luckily the moment passed, and she quickly recomposed herself.

They found themselves a quiet spot in the pub where they could have a drink and a chat without being disturbed too much. They all caught up with Malcolm, whom they had not seen at all since his retirement a few months before. Ruth did engage in conversation with him for a short while, but for most of the time she sat quietly in a corner and sipped her glass of wine. Harry wasn't sure what to do. Should he go over and talk to her, or leave her be for a moment? He decided to talk to Malcolm some more. After all, he had really missed his friend and he felt they had so much to catch up on.

They all stayed at the George for quite some time. It had been a crazy year for all of them in which they'd suffered many losses. After the weekend they would be joined by two new field agents, and the team as they knew it would once again change beyond recognition. So now was the time to look back and remember the good times. To drink, and talk, and to remember their fallen colleagues and friends.

Eventually Harry went over to where Ruth was sitting, and poured her another glass of wine. She smiled at him by means of recognition, but did not say a thing. It didn't matter. At that moment words could not add anything valuable to the moment. A comfortable silence was all that was needed.

Finally everyone did decide to go home. They all supposedly had cats to feed, or plants to water, but in truth everyone just craved some peace and quiet time after all the madness of recent events. Everyone said goodbye to Malcolm, not sure when they would see him again. Harry offered Ruth a lift home, and he was surprised when she immediately accepted his offer without hesitation. Back in the day she would have insisted she'd take the bus whenever he offered to drive her home, but now she seemed quite content to accept his offer.

It was past rush hour and it had gotten dark already, so Harry effortless steered his car through the London traffic. Not much was said during the car ride. Their earlier comfortable silence in the pub had been replaced by a much more tense atmosphere. Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something. Small talk seemed highly inappropriate at a time like this, whilst talking about work would seem insensitive. At the same time Ruth's mind was elsewhere, as all the events of the day and the past few months were being played over and over again in her head.

After a while it all became too much, and she found herself sobbing quietly in the passengers' seat of Harry's car. Losing control over her emotions was not something that usually happened to her, but now it had happened twice in one day, both times in the presence of Harry. In a way she felt stupid, almost ashamed of her own behaviour, but she just couldn't seem to control her emotions today. This time it was Harry who reached out. He took her hand and squeezed it slightly, but said nothing and remained focussed on the traffic.

After a short drive that seemed to last a lifetime, the car finally pulled up in front of Ruth's house. He insisted on walking her to the door to make sure she was ok, so he followed closely behind her as she opened the small garden fence and walked up the path that led to her front door. Ruth rummaged inside her bag for a moment in search of her keys. At last she found them, but she had trouble unlocking the door. Her hands were trembling; whether this was from the emotions, the fatigue, or the wine she had drunk at the pub she didn't know, but she failed to unlock the door and eventually dropped her keys. When Harry noticed that this was enough to send her over the edge into another emotional breakdown, he quickly spun her around and gathered her in his arms just like he had done earlier that day. They stood there like that for quite some time when Ruth finally looked up at him. And when those watery, yet beautiful grey eyes met his gaze his self-restraint finally began to waver.

He bend forward slightly and let his lips brush past hers as they met in a gentle kiss. It didn't take him long to realise what he was doing, and he immediately pulled back.

"Oh god Ruth I'm so sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done this, not now, not on this day of all days."

He felt like an idiot. Surely she would think he was just taking advantage of her frail emotional state, and he had ruined the possibility of there ever being anything between them by just one stupid action.

He hardly dared to look at her, but he was forced to do so as she cupped his face with both her hands, just like she had done all those years ago.

"I'm not sorry," she said as she returned the kiss, this time with a fierceness and intensity he didn't know she possessed.

Their foreheads rested against each other as they finally ended the kiss, both taken aback by the intensity of it all.

"Are you sure this is the right time to be doing this?" Harry asked, still unsure about this sudden change of events. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm taking advantage of the situation."

"You're not, and I would never think that." She replied. "We've lost so much valuable time already Harry, and I'm done waiting. I need you right now, I don't want to be on my own anymore."

She turned around to pick up her keys, and opened her front door in one swift move. She took hold of his hand and led him inside, softly closing the door behind them.

And so with every ending, there's a new beginning.

fin


*Malcolm's poem is by Mary Frye]]> Hey everyone! I've posted this story on fanfiction.net last month, but figured that I could post it here as well, just in case there are people here who don't use that website.

Just some Ruth/Harry, because you can never have enough of thatSmile

The church bells chime on a sunny day in April, but to the small group of people that has gathered outside the rain might as well have poured down, for nothing would help to brighten this day. It was the day on which they were going to pay their last respects to their friend and colleague Ros Myers.

They all enter in silence, and Harry notices that even though it's a small church, it still looks fairly empty with so few people attending. He takes a seat in one of the pews near the front of the church, and is soon joined by Ruth, who looks as though she hasn't slept or eaten properly for days. Her face is white as a sheet of paper, and her normally bright blue eyes have faded to a dull grey colour without their usual spark. Lucas, Tariq and Malcolm are in the row behind them, as well as a few other desk officers of Section D and some of Ros' old colleagues at MI6. On the other side of the aisle are Ros' mother, brother and sister, and further back is her father, Josselyn Myers, accompanied by a prison guard.

The service starts, and the vicar says a few kind words about Ros' life: about her childhood, her family, and her work. The vicar has signed the official secrets act, as have all the other attendants, so there is no need for secrecy.

Harry has agreed to say a few words, so he gets up and walks over to where the vicar is standing. He had always hated funerals, probably because he has attended too many of them over the years. He takes a pause to pull himself together, and then begins his speech.

"I've encountered many officers in my life. All of them extraordinary people, but I've never met anyone quite like Ros Myers. She was an excellent, outstanding officer, loyal and devoted to her colleagues and to her country. She joined our team in quite an unusual manner, recruited by another exceptional colleague whom we have sadly lost as well. But Ros proved she was worth the gamble many times over. It's safe to say that as both a friend and as a colleague she will be sorely missed."

Harry had never liked long speeches, and he'd said everything he wanted to say. Attending two funerals in as many days proved to be harder than he had expected. Andrew Lawrence's funeral had been yesterday, and Harry had felt it his duty to attend. But now he noticed that the emotions and the fatigue were getting to him. He returned to his seat next to Ruth while Malcolm walked to the front to say a few words and the poem he'd prepared.

*Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

As Malcolm recites the poem, Harry can feel Ruth's hand slip into his own. He squeezes her hand reassuringly, not sure what else to do. But it seems as if Ruth is past caring about what anyone thinks of her. He looks to his left and notices that tears are streaming down her face. At that moment he really feels for her. Because it isn't just Malcolm's poem, or even the fact that they are at Ros' funeral that brings about such intense emotions. Over the past few months Ruth has gone through so much, and she's lost so many people that were dear to her. The tears she sheds are for George, for Jo, for Ros, and even though he is still alive, for Nico as well.

He did not let go of her hand for one second. Not for the rest of the service, not when they stood up and walked up the aisle behind the coffin, not even when they were all gathered outside in the graveyard. As they slowly lowered the coffin into the ground he put a protective arm around Ruth, and she buried her face in his chest and cried unashamedly, no longer caring if anyone could see.

At the same time Harry tried to remain calm and composed, but inside he was tormented by conflicting emotions. He couldn't believe he was actually attending Ros' funeral for the second time, only this time for real. There would be no spectacular resurrection for her this time. At the same time he felt torn and confused by Ruth's behaviour towards him. Ever since she returned to MI5 he had wanted nothing more than to have things back to the way they were before her exile, or perhaps for it to be even more than that. But he knew that she'd been through a lot and that she needed time to recover and get her act together. For a while he'd been afraid that the connection was lost forever, and that they could never go back to the way they were before. But recently she'd sought him out, made contact again, even if it was just a mere look, or a brief touch. But he wasn't sure if these were just signs of friendship, or if she meant anything more by them.

And now she was here, literally in his arms. It was something he normally could only dream of, but at this moment it didn't feel right. She was slowly falling apart again in front of his very eyes, and all he could offer her was a shoulder to cry on. But it was more than he had bargained for, so he wouldn't complain.

The funeral was over, and Harry suggested they'd go for a drink at the George in honour of Ros. He noticed Ruth's involuntary shiver as he mentioned the pub, and immediately regretted his words. Why did the pub have to have that name, of all names? But luckily the moment passed, and she quickly recomposed herself.

They found themselves a quiet spot in the pub where they could have a drink and a chat without being disturbed too much. They all caught up with Malcolm, whom they had not seen at all since his retirement a few months before. Ruth did engage in conversation with him for a short while, but for most of the time she sat quietly in a corner and sipped her glass of wine. Harry wasn't sure what to do. Should he go over and talk to her, or leave her be for a moment? He decided to talk to Malcolm some more. After all, he had really missed his friend and he felt they had so much to catch up on.

They all stayed at the George for quite some time. It had been a crazy year for all of them in which they'd suffered many losses. After the weekend they would be joined by two new field agents, and the team as they knew it would once again change beyond recognition. So now was the time to look back and remember the good times. To drink, and talk, and to remember their fallen colleagues and friends.

Eventually Harry went over to where Ruth was sitting, and poured her another glass of wine. She smiled at him by means of recognition, but did not say a thing. It didn't matter. At that moment words could not add anything valuable to the moment. A comfortable silence was all that was needed.

Finally everyone did decide to go home. They all supposedly had cats to feed, or plants to water, but in truth everyone just craved some peace and quiet time after all the madness of recent events. Everyone said goodbye to Malcolm, not sure when they would see him again. Harry offered Ruth a lift home, and he was surprised when she immediately accepted his offer without hesitation. Back in the day she would have insisted she'd take the bus whenever he offered to drive her home, but now she seemed quite content to accept his offer.

It was past rush hour and it had gotten dark already, so Harry effortless steered his car through the London traffic. Not much was said during the car ride. Their earlier comfortable silence in the pub had been replaced by a much more tense atmosphere. Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something. Small talk seemed highly inappropriate at a time like this, whilst talking about work would seem insensitive. At the same time Ruth's mind was elsewhere, as all the events of the day and the past few months were being played over and over again in her head.

After a while it all became too much, and she found herself sobbing quietly in the passengers' seat of Harry's car. Losing control over her emotions was not something that usually happened to her, but now it had happened twice in one day, both times in the presence of Harry. In a way she felt stupid, almost ashamed of her own behaviour, but she just couldn't seem to control her emotions today. This time it was Harry who reached out. He took her hand and squeezed it slightly, but said nothing and remained focussed on the traffic.

After a short drive that seemed to last a lifetime, the car finally pulled up in front of Ruth's house. He insisted on walking her to the door to make sure she was ok, so he followed closely behind her as she opened the small garden fence and walked up the path that led to her front door. Ruth rummaged inside her bag for a moment in search of her keys. At last she found them, but she had trouble unlocking the door. Her hands were trembling; whether this was from the emotions, the fatigue, or the wine she had drunk at the pub she didn't know, but she failed to unlock the door and eventually dropped her keys. When Harry noticed that this was enough to send her over the edge into another emotional breakdown, he quickly spun her around and gathered her in his arms just like he had done earlier that day. They stood there like that for quite some time when Ruth finally looked up at him. And when those watery, yet beautiful grey eyes met his gaze his self-restraint finally began to waver.

He bend forward slightly and let his lips brush past hers as they met in a gentle kiss. It didn't take him long to realise what he was doing, and he immediately pulled back.

"Oh god Ruth I'm so sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done this, not now, not on this day of all days."

He felt like an idiot. Surely she would think he was just taking advantage of her frail emotional state, and he had ruined the possibility of there ever being anything between them by just one stupid action.

He hardly dared to look at her, but he was forced to do so as she cupped his face with both her hands, just like she had done all those years ago.

"I'm not sorry," she said as she returned the kiss, this time with a fierceness and intensity he didn't know she possessed.

Their foreheads rested against each other as they finally ended the kiss, both taken aback by the intensity of it all.

"Are you sure this is the right time to be doing this?" Harry asked, still unsure about this sudden change of events. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm taking advantage of the situation."

"You're not, and I would never think that." She replied. "We've lost so much valuable time already Harry, and I'm done waiting. I need you right now, I don't want to be on my own anymore."

She turned around to pick up her keys, and opened her front door in one swift move. She took hold of his hand and led him inside, softly closing the door behind them.

And so with every ending, there's a new beginning.

fin


*Malcolm's poem is by Mary Frye]]>