Disclaimer: I don't own Spooks and any and all plot in this story is a load of nonsense, largely made up as I go along…

Hello! Work is stressing me out, so naturally that means I wrote fic. I'm not sure it's very good. I'm trying to do something with an actual plot, but I'm not entirely sure how long it's going to last before I give in and go back to random fluff… Would love to know if this is worth continuing or if it's just as bad as I fear it might be, so any thoughts either way would be appreciated! Cheers :)

Chapter 1 - Moët & Chandon

He called her out of the blue one day and asked her to dinner at a pub near her house. "Seven o'clock," he said, casually, as though it was a normal occurrence for them to meet in such a way. "Don't be late."

He hung up the phone before she could even agree to the time, let alone question him to find out how it was that he was phoning her – as far as she knew, he wasn't meant to be in touch with any of them while the enquiry was still going on. But then, she supposed, when it came to 'meant to', how likely was it that Harry Pearce was going to play by the rules?

It didn't occur to her not to meet him. Her curiosity and her inner masochist meant that she was always going to go, whatever his reasoning for the invitation. The fact she hadn't seen him for eleven weeks and had been missing him only served to make the almost definite absolutely inevitable.

Harry was already at The Renegade and Alchemist when Ruth arrived, sitting at a corner table with a champagne bucket in front of him and a slightly nervous look on his face. He stood up when he saw her, jostling the table slightly.

He looked just the same. She didn't know why, but she'd been expecting him to be changed somehow. She'd thought he might have lost weight or be completely exhausted or otherwise altered. Maybe he was. Maybe he was concealing it, but the smile he gave her as she approached the table was certainly genuine enough. She was also a little surprised that he was alone; she'd been half-expecting some Internal Affairs minders to be close by, but she'd seen no one, outside or in.

Her footsteps sounded very loud as she crossed the floor of the still-quiet pub. The floorboards felt slightly tacky underfoot and she could smell the remnants of smoke, leftover from back when cigarettes were still allowed in public places and smoke had filled the air, permeating the whole building. It was hardly a classy establishment, but she thought that made it somehow appropriate for their meeting.

"Moët and Chandon," she said in place of a greeting as she drew level with the table and looked at the champagne that was propped, uncorked, in the bucket of ice. "I didn't even know they sold that here. What's the occasion?"

"Does there need to be one?"

"I suppose not." She sat down in the chair he gestured her to and then waited while he sat back down opposite her and busied himself with pouring the drinks into two flutes that she'd bet any money weren't made of crystal. Not in this pub.

It was weird, being with Harry like this after so long of not being with him in any way at all. She thought she should say something to acknowledge the significance of it, but it was so far all so straightforward, she didn't want to jinx it.

He passed her a glass, her fingers brushing over his as she took it. She caught his gaze properly for the first time since arriving and was oddly pleased to see the familiar, caring heat there. "Cheers," he said, chinking his glass against her own.

It made a dull noise – definitely not crystal, but that couldn't possibly be less important. "Cheers." She took a sip of the champagne and felt the sharp sting of the bubbles as it slid down her throat.

"How have you been?" Harry asked her when the rituals of tasting the drink had been done away with.

She nodded. "Okay." She knew he'd be able to read a lot into that one word. "And you?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Okay." But not great. "Are you hungry?" Harry picked up a cardboard menu and passed it over to her, seemingly back to the little normalcies of going for a meal with a friend.

It took them five minutes to choose the food and order it at the bar, by which time Ruth was starting to get a little bit impatient. She wanted to ask Harry why they were really here, but he seemed to be doing things very deliberately. She hoped he'd get to it soon.

He seemed to be reading her mind. "I invited you here for a reason," he said, as though it had only just occurred to him she might appreciate an explanation. "Two reasons."

She couldn't hold it in any longer. "What are the reasons?"

"One is that I need to ask you something."

"Ask me what?" A small part of her instantly began to wonder whether he had bought her here to make another proposal of marriage. That would certainly explain the champagne, as well as the fact he was wearing a full suit despite him currently being on suspension. She wondered what she'd say in response. Something was telling her that it wouldn't be 'no', even if she couldn't quite see it being 'yes', either. Something else was telling her that wasn't the question he had in mind. She pushed the errant thoughts from her mind and shut the door on them, firmly.

Harry shook his head. "That can wait until after we've eaten. The other reason…" He trailed off, cleared his throat, drank a mouthful of champagne. He looked like he was preparing himself for something. In the end, he said it simply, softly, looking her straight in the eye with nerves and sincerity warring in his gaze. "The other reason is that I wanted to see you. I've missed you."

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "I've missed you too, Harry."

"I hope you won't judge me harshly if I say I'm glad."

Ruth was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the food. She watched as the waiter put down their plates in front of them and smiled at him in thanks. She reached for her knife and fork and looked up to find Harry watching her intently. The depth of feeling in his eyes made her blush, but she didn't look away.

He wanted to touch her. He wondered if she'd push him off if he reached out and put a hand on her arm. He was almost brave enough to try, but a small part of him niggled that this wasn't just a social occasion; he was also here on business. Just the thought of that part of the evening, still to come, was enough to have him reaching for his champagne once more.

He drank a few mouthfuls, then turned back to his steak and ale pie, using the distraction of eating to wonder how he might broach the subject. He doubted she was going to be thrilled when he asked her what he'd bought her here to ask her. He also knew she'd have lots of questions, most of which he wouldn't be able to answer. Whether or not she trusted him enough to let it go was something that had been plaguing him ever since it became clear that he'd need to bring her into the whole sorry mess in which he was currently living, but he couldn't think about that anymore. He had to assume that it would go well, that she'd agree to what he suggested.

The alternative was trying to do it all on his own, and he wasn't entirely sure that he could.

Harry wondered if the champagne had been too much. She'd obviously been bemused by it, the incongruity of Moët and Chandon in the establishment he'd chosen.

She'd also said that she'd missed him. The speed and intonation of her response to his confession had told him that it was the truth. The look in her eyes had suggested something of the extent of her feeling. And, while he did feel a bit bad about it, he really was glad that she'd been missing him, too. It meant that, maybe, with a bit of luck, they could still make it together. He certainly wasn't about to give up on them, for all sorts of reasons.

Oh, bugger it. He put down his fork and reached out to put his hand on hers. She looked up from her risotto, surprised. He smiled at her. "I'm glad you came, Ruth."

She returned the smile, then turned her hand in his and squeezed his fingers. "Well, it didn't sound like I had much of a choice." She was still smiling when she said it, so she clearly wasn't too annoyed about it.

"Yes, I suppose I was a bit presumptuous." That was nothing new. "But I really had to see you."

Ruth looked a bit undecided at that one, like she wasn't sure whether he was saying he had to see her just for the sake of seeing her, or if it was for whatever other reason he'd asked her to meet him. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what he meant, either. He just brushed his fingers over the back of her hand and turned back to his food, feeling the need for a little more fortification before he started on the business portion of the evening.

The business portion of the evening came far too soon.

Ruth felt something in the atmosphere shift after the empty plates had been cleared away and they waited for the coffees that Harry had ordered. "Need a clear head for this," he'd mumbled and she'd known then that he was finally getting to the point of the whole thing.

He was clearly nervous about it and that fact was making her unsettled, too. It was amazing, really, just how easily she'd been able to settle into his company even when things had been so awkward between them in the weeks leading up to the Albany disaster. It was as though, away from work and all the tangles they got themselves into because of it, they were fine. Good, even. On their own, they worked.

Yet now Harry was clearly about to bring up something that she was fairly sure was going to be about work and the awkwardness was already making a reappearance. She was also fairly sure that she wasn't going to like whatever he came out with.

Their coffee arrived and Ruth wrapped her hands around the hot mug, needing something to hold onto; an anchor.

Harry leant towards her, glancing around the quiet pub before looking back at her with such intensity, she didn't know what to do with it.

"I need to ask you a favour," he said, so quietly she could hardly hear him.

"What is it?" She was surprised her voice was so steady, considering the way her nerves were beginning to jangle inside her.

He swallowed, looked away and then back. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He appeared to think for a minute. "Just… I'm trying to decide the best way to ask this."

"Just say it." She wanted to hold his hand, but under the circumstances, she wasn't entirely sure it would calm him.

"Right. Yes." Harry shuffled in his seat.

"Harry?"

"I need you to come on holiday with me."

Well. She hadn't been expecting that.

He hadn't finished. "A holiday of sorts, anyway. And I need you to break a few laws, probably. Most likely, actually. But it's quite important and… I need you. Will you help me?"

She was fairly certain that if she clutched her coffee cup any tighter, it would shatter.

Thanks for reading! If this first part isn't too much of a disaster, I'll post chapter two soon… just as soon as I figure out what's going to happen and actually, y'know, write it.

:)