Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC.
Spoiler warning! This story has spoilers for 6.10, based on the BBC Press Office programme information for this episode. If you don't want to be spoilt, then don't read this.
A/N: This is a bit different from my usual stuff. It's also unbeta'd, so forgive any mistakes, which are entirely my fault.
Miles to go Before I Sleep
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep
Robert Frost
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Harry felt his skin prickle as the large house briefly came into view between the trees as he steered the car along the dusty drive. He'd always disliked Tring – not the town itself but the imposing Edwardian building that was the repository for damaged and distressed officers of the Security Services. This was a journey he'd made a number of times over the years and he always felt he lost a little more of his soul with every trip.
After he parked the car, he sat for a few minutes gathering his thoughts. He had been dreading this visit more than any other. That it should be the youngest member of his team who had suffered was not the worst part. To his mind, the worst part was that the officer in question was a woman. He knew he was supposed to treat them all as equals and generally he managed to do so; but he never completely succeeded in quelling the uneasiness he felt when sending female members of his team into the field. It wasn't some chauvinistic trait that made him doubt their abilities but more an old fashioned desire to protect them.
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The receptionist carefully scrutinised his identification and then made a phone call. Harry shifted from foot to foot, fighting the temptation to pace across the linoleum floor. He was certain that any sign of a nervous or obsessive habit would be quickly detected and Diana Jewell would be inviting him to stay for a while and enjoy the facilities.
"You can go through, sir."
He walked into the large, airy lounge and was greeted by a tall, dark-haired man sporting a badge bearing the name 'Gary'.
"Good afternoon, sir. She's in the garden. I'll show you."
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and walked across the grass in the direction the nurse had indicated. Jo was sitting on a bench under a tree. The leaves were just starting to turn and the autumnal hues of the canopy, framed by the blue sky, looked picture perfect. As he neared her, he could see a book resting in her lap, the pages flapping in the gentle breeze.
"Hello, Jo." He hesitated for a moment and then settled himself next to her on the wooden seat. "Good book?"
Her eyes briefly met his and then she looked away. "Madame Bovary. Flaubert isn't really my thing but there's not a great deal of choice here."
"I would have brought you something if I'd known – maybe next time? Or I could get Ben to-"
"I don't want to see him."
"He wants to see you."
She ignored the comment and Harry watched her for several moments as she compulsively turned a few pages of the battered paperback.
"How are things?" It was a fruitless attempt at euphemism but far easier to say than 'how are you?'.
She shrugged. "I'm still here."
"Hopefully you'll be able to leave soon…"
A breathy sound that could have been a laugh or a sob escaped her lips. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh."
"I really wanted to die, Harry. I really wanted Adam to kill me."
"Jo-"
"It's true!"
"And now?"
She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Do you still want to die?"
Her eyes dropped to the book still balanced on her knees. "Sometimes I think it would be the answer to everything."
"But not all the time?"
"No, not all the time."
There was a long silence as they lost themselves in contemplation of her words. He was aware that he would never know all the details of her experience. The medical staff who had treated her had proved resistant even to his considerable powers of persuasion and declined to tell him anything. Adam had been more forthcoming once he had consumed half a bottle of single malt. His revelations had been interspersed with tears and recriminations and it had taken Harry most of the night to piece together what had happened.
"How do you do it, Harry?"
Her soft words broke through his thoughts. "Do what?"
"Keep going. Keep living. After everything that's happened. After losing friends…"
"I suppose it's…" Habit? Duty? Or for a promise made; a life surrendered; a love lost. He took a breath. "I suppose it's honouring those who've given their lives. Not just the people we've worked with but all those who have gone before. It's an acknowledgement of the debt we owe..." He fell silent, the words sounding hideously pompous to him.
Jo nodded slowly. "Keeping their memories alive. Carrying on fighting for what they believed in."
"Yes."
She closed the book and moved closer to him. Her arm felt warm against his.
"I miss them. Fiona, Colin, Zaf…Ruth. I miss all of them."
"So do I." His eyes were focused somewhere in the middle distance but he was aware that Jo was looking at him.
"Especially Ruth."
He turned to face her. "Yes. Especially Ruth."
"Tell me how she ended up working for you. Tell me how all of them ended up working for you."
"It'll take a while."
"That's OK. I seem to have quite a bit of time on my hands at the moment."
Harry smiled at her. "Right. Well I suppose I should begin at the beginning."
Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated.
