Okay, here's a new story. Working on the rest for this. Story starts in 8-1 but assumes Ruth was never brought back to the UK or disturbed from her life in that episode.

Malcolm knocked on Harry's door and then opened it to find his boss and friend pouring a very large whisky. "Tough day?" Malcolm asked.

"Oh you know," Harry said taking a sip. "The usual. Kidnap and torture for terrorists looking for hidden uranium. All in a days work."

"They didn't hurt you?" Malcolm asked.

"I'll be fine," Harry said, sitting down heavily. "Want a whisky?"

"No thank you," Malcolm said. "I wanted to talk to you. I want to retire Harry."

"What?" he replied. Out of all the things he'd been expecting, that wasn't it. "But… why? What will you do?"

"I've had enough Harry," Malcolm said. "I need to leave while I'm still sane. Maybe I'll read books by the beach. I've always wanted to visit the south of France, now I'll be able to. Plus there's about a hundred up and coming techie's who will be much cheaper than me. I'm getting old."

"You've been doing this as long as I have."

"Which is why I want to leave," Malcolm said. "Don't argue with me or I'll change my mind and end up dying here in Thames House."

"I'm not going to argue." Harry said with half a smile. "Go home and take a long break."

"You could always leave too," Malcolm said, knowing as he said it that it wouldn't happen.

"I won't," he said quietly.

"Can you sort out my decommissioning?" Malcolm asked.

"Consider it done," Harry said, smiling. "Do keep in touch. I know ex service people aren't meant to but…"

"Of course I will Harry," Malcolm said. "Goodbye Harry." Harry smiled as Malcolm left the dim confines of the grid. He filled his glass again and took a deep steadying sip. The real reason he wouldn't retire is because he didn't trust himself. If he had nothing to do, no work to go to, there wouldn't be anything to stop him looking into a certain beautiful brunette who'd been forced to flee the country several years before. He never stopped thinking about her but locked in the grid everyday he was reminded that if he ever looked for her he could bring serious danger to her. And he would never do that. As much as the distance between them hurt him desperately, he knew it was for her own safety. Jeopardising that was not an option. He feared that if he was left alone at home, with nothing to do, he'd forget that and find her. Simply jumping on a plane to wherever she was.

Turning his thoughts away from the temptation he opened his desk drawer, and lifted up the false bottom. As well as a hidden alternate identity for him there was a single picture he cherished more than any other. The only one he had of her. She hadn't been looking at the camera, but over the photographers shoulder, so the blue of her eyes was still striking. A small smile was playing over her lips which pained him. He wanted her to be happy, but mostly he wanted her to be happy with him. In another life, at another time they should have been together. But that happiness wasn't meant for them. He took one last look of her photograph, half remembering, half imagining the scent of her hair. Then he put the picture back where it had come from. He started filling out the paperwork for Malcolm's retirement to keep himself busy. It wasn't like anyone was waiting at home for him after all.

Three Months Later

Malcolm was sitting in a beautiful little French café, reading a novel, as he had said he would. In fact he was having a brilliant time. The temperature in Saint-Cyprien was hotter than England would ever get, the beach was only a five minute walk away, but the south of France was still close enough to home if there was a problem with his mother who had had no desire to travel abroad at all.

Malcolm slipped his bookmark in at the end of his chapter and stirred his rapidly cooling coffee. He looked out of the window watching the world go by and debated whether he should order another croissant or not. He'd been here a week already and he hadn't found anything to beat this little cafés baked goods yet. While looking out of the window he saw something that made him stare through the window. Someone he never expected to see again was walking past the window. Ruth Evershed, her dark hair catching the light as she walked down the street. Holding her hand was a little girl wearing a blue summer dress, who judging from the exact match in hair colour must have been Ruth's daughter. She couldn't have been anyone else.

He snapped out of his stupor and threw a pile of Euros on the table before leaving the café. It was way too much money but at the moment he didn't care. He had to catch up with Ruth. He ran after her and then thought he was really too old to be running down the street after women. He'd never even done it when he was younger after all. "Ruth!" he called. She froze for a second and then without turning around she picked up the little girl in her arms and started to run. It was an even match between them as she was carrying the child, even though he was exhausted. Completely out of breath he kept running, ignoring the ache in his lungs.

"Ruth would you just look at me!" he called in a last desperate attempt to make her turn. Miraculously she did. She froze when she recognised him. The little girl had wide hazel eyes, looking scared of her mothers sudden run through the streets.

"Oh my God," she breathed, her blue eyes wide as he approached her. "Malcolm. But how? I was sure no one could find me!"

"I wasn't looking for you," Malcolm said honestly.

"We can't talk about this here," Ruth said, looking around as if she was being hunted. "Rue de Allende. By the beach, I'm the one with a green front door. Come when she's asleep." Before Malcolm could even reply she had vanished down a side street, leaving nothing but a haze of heat in her wake. He watched the space where she'd been in a daze. Had that really just happened? Had he really bumped into Ruth in a small town in south east France? He had no idea why she was here, as well as the chances of bumping into her being absolutely miniscule. And he had no idea about the little girl either. But one thing was for sure. He was going to find her later that night.

What do you think?