A/N; This is a just a short fic set during episode 5 of season 7. It follows on from when we see Ros in her bathroom after having sex with Meynell. It's kinda angsty, mainly because I love writing Ros angst!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ros Myers or any other Spooks character or storyline. I did ask Santa, but I must have been a bad girl this year!

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The water from the showerhead pounded down onto her skull, searing the already red raw skin. Turning her face up into the spray, the hot tears streaking down her check mingled with the boiling water, quickly becoming lost in the steam surrounding her body. She didn't know how long she had been in the water, didn't know how much longer her skin could bear it, but she couldn't move. Hot water was supposed to remove dirt, but she could still see his hands all over her body. She could still feel his mouth as it left tracks of phlegm and saliva down her neck. Grabbing what was left of the bar of soap, she began scrubbing her body yet again, trying to wash him away. Forcing her eyes open, she looked up into the water, hoping to wash the images out of the inside of her eyelids where they seemed to be branded.

***

It took her several minutes to realise that the bar of soap was all gone, washed down the drain in a mass of white bubbles. Somewhere, it dawned on her that she was still rubbing at her skin with her hands. Closing her eyes in resignation, she finally reached up and flicked the electric shower off. As she stood in the last few seconds of the spray, she forced the tears to stop before hauling her dead tired body out of the shower. Standing on the tiles, she felt dazed, could feel the exhaustion seeping through her muscles. She knew she should go to bed, knew that she needed to get some sleep so she could get up in the morning and face not only Meynell and his cronies, but also her team. But as the cold seeped into her feet from the tiles, she stared at her fuzzy image in the steamed up mirror. She watched as the glass slowly cleared, as her normally pale features became ever more defined. It was with some satisfaction that she saw the redness of her skin, but as she stepped closer to the mirror she noticed the bruising that was quickly forming on her left shoulder, and dimly recalled Meynell biting down there in his excitement. Repressing her shudder of disgust, she clamped a hand over the area. Taking stock of her appearance without having to see the mark, she was grateful that her lips were no longer swollen, her hair no longer mussed. Shivering from the cold, she smiled a grim and emotionless smile, and padded off, drying herself with the towel as she went.

As she climbed into her bed a short time later, she looked at the clock. In the dark, the bright red numbers seemed to stare back at her, silently telling her that it was 2:57. She lay back, burrowing down into the covers, and sealed the events of the last six hours into a box. She had had her moment of weakness, she had spilled her tears, and now it was time for her mask to slide back on. So as she began to dose of, she locked the box, and threw away the key.

***

The next morning, it was with a sense of detachment that she picked a shirt with a collar high enough to cover the bruising. It was without a tear that she swallowed two paracetamol for the pain between her legs. As she smeared her foundation on, she covered up the reddened skin around her eyes that were the only testament to her tears and lack of sleep. And it was with a cold and deadened smile that she left her apartment, no longer Ros Myers the woman, but Officer Myers, the Spook. She was ready to finish this operation, and any that came after it. Because after all, that was what she did. That was what she was.

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So, what did you think? I love feedback! xx