A/N: This story – in 8 chapters and an epilogue – is a series of hidden scenes, set after each of the deaths Ruth experiences during her time in Section D. I have attempted to keep the characters IC, and to respect the canon story which flows either side of these scenes.

[There may appear to be some similarities between this and NatesDate's latest fic, `What Comes After'. NatesDate and I developed our stories separately, but at the same time, and we have discussed our stories, and are each aware of the similarities ... and the differences.]

~ Danny ~

(between 3.10 & 4.01)

His conversation with the police over, Harry turned to see Ruth still standing beside the dead man's body, touching and caressing his face, like a mother comforting her distressed child. There was something about the image of the two of them – live woman grieving beside dead man in a body bag – that sent chills through him. He was worried about Ruth. This was her first experience of a colleague's death, and the dead man was Danny – more than a colleague …... a friend, an admired and respected confidante. He'd died saving the life of another colleague, herself a wife and mother.

Harry stepped quietly to her side, placing a comforting hand on the small of her back while the body bag was again zipped, the face of Danny Hunter now forever a memory.

"Come with me, Ruth. My driver will take you home."

Her eyes followed Danny's body as it was lifted into the helicopter …... now out of sight, soon to be taken to a city morgue.

"But …... Danny," she said, her voice on the edge of tears. "Who will …...?"

"His family …... his Mum and Grandma …... they'll meet him at the other end. He'll not be alone."

Ruth turned to look at him for the first time, and nodded her head. When they reached the limousine, Harry opened the back door, and stood aside as she climbed in.

"You'll come with me, Harry?" she said once she sat on the far side of the back seat. "I don't want to be alone."

So he climbed in beside her. She needed him more than he needed to be back on the Grid with the others. Fiona was visibly traumatised, but she had Adam. The Grid would have to do without him for a while. Adam would be driving Fiona home, and Ruth had no-one to comfort her.

The car slid noiselessly through the traffic, and Harry kept an eye on Ruth, her head resting against the window on her side her eyes staring at the cityscape as it whizzed by. Harry Pearce was good at most things, but comforting a woman in distress was not among the things at which he excelled. The emotional life of women was for him another country, one he had visited, but had always left before he'd had a chance to figure it out. He liked women a lot, had loved several, but had never felt at ease within the peculiar and unpredictable feeling life women inhabited.

When the car pulled up outside Ruth's house, Harry quickly got out, and walked around to her side to open the door.

"I'll walk you inside, Ruth," he said quietly, indicating with a nod of his head that his driver could leave.

Ruth said nothing. When they reached the door, he took her keys from her hand, and opened the door, closing it behind them as they entered the hallway.

"You don't have to do this," she said at last, her eyes pools of sadness as she looked up at him.

"You go and turn on the fire, while I make us some tea," was his only reply.

Harry took off his coat, and his jacket, and made them a pot of tea. He hadn't eaten in a while, so he found some biscuits, and arranged them on a plate.

In the sitting room, Ruth had removed her coat and her scarf, and had turned on the gas fire. Had they not lost one of their own that day, the two of them alone in that cosy sitting room, with tea and biscuits, may have been cause for anticipation …... or embarrassment. Harry was not sure which would have suited he and Ruth. She was a brilliant analyst, but she was still an enigma as a woman, and he found this intriguing.

They sat over their tea in near silence, the only sound being made by Harry breaking a ginger nut with his teeth.

"How do you do it, Harry?" she asked at last.

They were sitting across from one another on opposite sides of the fire, he in an armchair, and she in a two-seater. Harry looked up to see her eyes on him.

"How do I do what?"

"Deal with it. You've been dealing with the deaths of colleagues for years now. How do you go on?"

"I don't have a choice," he said quietly.

"You always have a choice."

"Someone has to do what we do, otherwise the world descends into chaos."

"The world is already in chaos, Harry. We lose a loved and trusted colleague, and we all turn up for work next day. It's obscene."

"No, Ruth, it's not obscene. We turn up tomorrow out of respect for Danny. We keep going …... otherwise his sacrifice is meaningless. He sacrificed himself …... for Fiona. He gave his life so that she could live, and bring up her child."

When Ruth didn't reply, he looked up from his tea, to see that Ruth was crying silently, tears rolling down her cheeks to her chin. Prior to this day, he would have found an excuse to leave …... a meeting he was already late for, a need to boost morale back at the Grid, a report he had to have written before he was free to go home. He would return to the Grid tonight, but not yet. Ruth was important to him. She had become indispensable to him at work, and he owed her this hour or two.

Real men cry, Jane used to say to him. How is it you can't cry, Harry? Where is your heart? Do you even have one?

Ruth was saying one phrase over and over, "He was just a boy. He was just a boy."

Harry put down his cup, stood up, and moved across the space between them to sit next to Ruth on the two-seater. He touched her shoulder with his hand, and she turned towards him then, and buried her face in his shoulder. The only thing left for him to do was to slip his arm around her and hold her. His hold on her was loose. He was her boss, and he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. All the same, he could detect a light whiff of her perfume, and her hair tickled his chin. The sensation was not unpleasant.

"Danny wasn't a boy, Ruth. He was a man. Only a man could have acted with such courage."

"What about his family? His mother and grandmother?"

"They'll be broken for a while, maybe for a long time, but in time they'll come to terms with it. The sad thing is that they'll never know what a brave man their son and grandson was."

Ruth sobbed against his shoulder, and Harry held her there with his arm around her, his hand resting on her back. Rather than feeling awkward and out of his depth, he began to feel strong, and comforting, and …... useful. Yes …... he was sure that being here with Ruth was the right thing to be doing. He was of more use here with her, than at the Grid with the others, offering platitudes and empty words, knowing that they were all gutted by what had happened that day, and nothing he could say would make that better.

After around ten minutes, Ruth sat up, and wiped her eyes. She stood up and mumbled something about needing to find a tissue. Harry wondered whether he should leave. The crisis was over. Ruth seemed to no longer need him. He stood, and was about to put on his jacket when she came back into the room.

"You're leaving?" she asked.

"I thought I'd give you some space."

"I don't want you to go, Harry. Can you stay a little longer?"

So he sat down next to her, and they each turned to face the other.

"Death is so random. I can't believe that Danny won't be at work any more. I'll miss him terribly."

"We'll all miss him."

"Danny was a good man."

"Yes, he was. A little over-confident at times, even cheeky on occasion, but he was a good man."

"And he had very good dress sense."

"He did indeed," agreed Harry, trying not to smile, remembering Danny's appreciation of nice things.

Ruth rubbed her hand under her chin. "Does it get any easier, Harry? After a few more people die, does it get easier to live with?"

Harry looked into her sad, beautiful eyes, and shook his head. "No, it doesn't get easier. It's like anything shocking which happens over and again. You get better at pretending that it doesn't matter as much as it does. You get better at hiding it."

"You're talking about burying your feelings, Harry."

"I am."

Ruth's eyes turned from pained to wise in a few seconds. "That's not good for you."

"I imagine you're right." For a moment, Harry thought of sharing with her Jane's words to him about him not having feelings, but that was too personal a tale for a boss to share with his employee.

"Harry ….."

"Mmm?"

"Do you think that Danny simply gave up? That with Zoe gone, and living with Will in South America, he thought …... why not?"

"No, Ruth, I don't. Having been in life and death situations myself, the will to live is a very powerful drive. No matter how wretched one's personal life, the will to survive is more powerful. I think that Danny did a very brave thing. I'm not sure I would have been that brave."

"I've no doubt had you been in his position, you would have done what he did, Harry."

"Thank you, Ruth. You have more faith in me than I deserve."

"You're a good man."

Harry smiled then. He hadn't smiled since he'd learned of Danny's death. "Thank you," he said quietly. He felt the tears then. They welled up in his eyes, and it was too late for him to turn away. Ruth had seen them, and she reached across and put her hand on his.

"It's alright to cry, Harry. I won't tell anyone."

Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. "I'm meant to be comforting you, Ruth, not the other way around."

"I hope we have provided comfort for each other."

Harry nodded, unable to speak. It had been a hard day to begin with, but it just got harder as the day progressed. He looked at the gas fire, and for a very brief moment in time wondered what it would be like to be the man in this delightful woman's life. As far as he knew, Ruth had no-one. He had no-one. Were things different – were he not her boss, were they not spies, were their jobs not so dangerous, had a loved and respected colleague not died that day – the day may have ended differently.

Harry rose from the couch before his thoughts took him into dangerous waters. He was tired, and distressed …... and vulnerable. Besides, Ruth seemed a lot better. She had comforted him, so it was time for him to go.

Ruth accompanied her boss to the front door. He seemed eager to leave.

"Thank you, Harry. For coming home with me."

He turned to look at her, a slight smile on his lips. "Get an early night, Ruth. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Will I?" What she wanted to say was: How can I ever feel better with Danny gone? How can I concentrate at work, knowing I'll never see him again?

"You will, I can assure you."

Harry put his hand on her arm, and lightly squeezed, before letting it drop to his side. Too familiar, Harry. She's your employee …... never forget that. The trouble was, he suspected she was already more to him than that.

"If you like," he said quietly, "you can travel with me in my car to the funeral service …... and we can sit together …. inside the church. I don't know about you, but I need the company."

Ruth nodded, unable to speak, knowing how much it had taken for Harry to make this suggestion. She would welcome his company, his unspoken support. Harry turned to walk down the path to the gate. He'd called his driver, but the car had not yet arrived. Ruth thought of calling him back until his car arrived, but Harry was a grown-up, used to looking after himself. He'd manage somehow. She closed the door.

Out of curiosity, Ruth didn't go straight back to the kitchen. She silently entered her front room, and pulled aside the curtain. Harry was sitting on her front fence, his head bowed, his arms folded, his hand propping up his forehead. His shoulders were shaking with sobs she couldn't hear. Harry had a few minutes before his car was due to arrive, and he'd chosen these minutes as his time to grieve.

Ruth allowed the curtain to drop closed, and she left him to it. Silently, she hoped he'd take his own advice, and have an early night.