a/n: Just a little thing wrote in summer boredom. Fun to write and enough to fill the spooks void in my heart. Hope you enjoy.
CHAPTER ONE
Crisis had been averted, yet again. Thanks to the efforts of Section D and their quick actions, another Al-Qaeda bomb plot had gladly failed and the hundreds who could have died were still roaming the streets, living another day. Everyone knew that the quiet wouldn't last long, however, but it was pleasant while it lasted.
"The home secretary, again, iterates his gratitude," Harry Pearce announced to his team, sat on either side of the table in the meeting room. "If this bomb had detonated, it would have had disastrous consequences. You did well today."
Section D – a team made up of section chief Adam Carter and his colleagues Ros Myers, Jo Portman, Malcolm Wynn-Jones and Zafar Younis – all accepted the praise graciously. It wasn't often that Harry said well done, but they really did deserve it this time. It had been a none-stop forty-eight hours in the race to apprehend the bombers but somehow they'd all managed to succeed.
Harry paused. The team looked exhausted. He highly doubted that any of them had slept, or even eaten, much in the last two days. It was time they left the Grid behind and back to their own beds before another full-on day tomorrow. "Go home. All of you. Back here bright and early tomorrow morning."
Jo in particular looked relieved to hear those words – her long blonde hair was straggly and well in need of a wash – and she'd been fantasising about a hot bath for at least the last five or so hours. Malcolm, as always, would claim that he needed to check the computer terminals before traipsing out way after everyone else had left. Zaf would say a quick goodnight and head off with purpose, immediately lost in the darkness. Adam and Ros would leave separately and join again in a cab five minutes away, thinking nobody would notice his hand in the small of her back and the way he smiled at her.
The group began to tuck their chairs in and leave before Harry interrupted with more information. "And before you all leave, remember we'll be having a new recruit with us from tomorrow. Hannah Fitzpatrick. Don't forget to make her feel welcome."
Harry's glance seemed to linger on Ros longer than the rest of the team. She rolled her eyes rather pointedly in his direction. "When have I been anything other than welcoming, Harry?"
"All I'm saying, don't want to scare her off before she's properly started," Harry stated, "She sailed through training with flying colours and has a first class degree from Cambridge. Should be an asset to our team."
"That's all well and good," Adam chipped in, "But if she's got no field experience I doubt she'll be that useful."
"I've only heard good reports from her placement at Section K," Harry reminded him that his recruitment had its reasons, "So we'll all give her a chance. Clear?"
This, of course, was no problem for Malcolm, Jo and Zaf; it was only Adam and Ros who had their doubts. The pair nodded anyway – they had leeway with Harry because of the immense trust they had between each other, but they didn't push it.
"Good," Harry said, "I'll see you tomorrow."
-x-
Adam and Ros's tendency to use MI5 safe houses for their late-night rendezvous was most definitely not allowed, Ros had no doubt about that. But there were hundreds across London and she supposed they wouldn't miss this one; the one a half-hour tube journey from Thames House, a cosy flat on the top floor of one of the inconspicuous townhouses lining the street. They didn't like using Adam's flat because they'd have to talk about Wes and they didn't like using hers because they'd have to talk about how it looked like no-one had ever lived there. The safe house was like neutral ground. The walls held no memories other than the ones they shared, the ones that required no explaining.
"What do you think?" Adam asked, falling onto the sofa, "About getting a new recruit?"
Ros was pacing the living room wearing only a dressing gown. Adam couldn't believe she could possibly tease him like that – it was just rude. She paused when he asked the question. Adam could hear the beat of the tap running in the bath in the background.
"Not sure," Ros murmured. She knotted back her shoulder-length blonde hair with a hair tie.
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Not sure?"
"Well," Ros continued, "I'm not sure I want a cold-eyed, uptight, privately-educated postgrad cramping our style."
Adam couldn't help but laugh at that. "Another one of us, you mean?"
"Exactly," Ros smiled, bemused, "Another one of us."
Ros wandered out of the living room again. She threw a bag of toiletries on the bathroom floor, then quickly stalked back to sit next to Adam on the sofa. He didn't mind when she laid her legs across his knees. He'd missed the contact.
"Harry's never been wrong before," Adam mused, "I think I trust his judgement when it comes to recruitment."
"It's like what you said before though, in the meeting room. If she's got no field skills, she's no use to us. That's the problem with these twenty-one year old fast-tracked kids. They lack the experience."
"You have to get the experience from somewhere," Adam reasoned and Ros rolled her eyes immediately in ricochet. Typical him, to say that. He always wants to give the new ones a chance, whilst she'd happily feed them to the wolves. That was what her first year at MI6 was like.
"Fine, but I think I'll leave the welcoming party to Jo," Ros said, "She's the compassionate one."
"You mean she's the newest one, and therefore anyone newer than her is her responsibility."
Ros merely shrugged, attempting to look like that wasn't the exact response formulated in her head. "Possibly."
"You're a cruel woman," Adam teased, but the smile on his face was enough of a giveaway to realise he didn't mean that. He leaned over, his hand cupping her jawline, and pressed a kiss on her smiling lips.
This, what they'd found between each other, was one of the only good things about nearly dying. Adam had quickly realised that if Ros Myers' face was the last one he saw, he wouldn't be too bothered about it. It was enough to form their complicated relationship on and so far, they hadn't done too badly. They'd found solace in each other.
"My bath will be ready," Ros murmured against his lips, "Join me?"
"As if I could say no to that," Adam laughed, kissing her once more for good measure, before letting her drag him by the hand to the bathroom.
-x-
The steam of the bathroom instantly calmed Jo's nerves as she towelled her hair dry. She'd had so much adrenaline pumping through her the last few days – the only way she could have survived – that it was nice just to let it all go for a few hours. No bomb threats, no assassinations, no cyber terrorism. Just her, a glass of wine, a Game of Thrones boxset and eventually, bed. She didn't get a whole lot of time to herself now. MI5 had completely taken over every aspect of her life: she couldn't really see her friends, meet guys in bars, casually let people into her flat anymore. Everything and everyone had to be vetted and vetted again to be let anywhere near her in a social capacity. That was the nature of the security services. She couldn't trust anyone, not now.
And she accepted that. It was difficult at first, but now it was just natural. She loved her new life and making a difference, no matter how hard it was. She wouldn't ever change it.
Jo threw the towel on the radiator and padded into the living room. This two-bed flat was a recent introduction to her life. Sharing with Zaf was fine, at first, but working so close with one another and then going home with each other was a little too hard to handle. They'd shared one misplaced kiss after a particularly challenging op and decided that it was best if they lived separately in order to retain their working relationship. It was a good decision and one neither of them regretted. Harry had offered her this flat to her on the cheap because it was an ex-safe house, and she'd gladly accepted the rent agreements and moved in quickly after the proposition. Sometimes she missed the company, especially after days where she honestly felt her life hanging in the balance and everything had the potential to collapse on top of her. Most of the time, however, it was nice to have freedom from people for a while.
She was about to flick the TV on when her phone buzzed loudly against the granite of the kitchen island. She was tempted to leave it, but past experience deterred her from it – she'd once accidentally ignored a red flash which had disastrous consequences. Despite being sleep-deprived, she wasn't going to ignore one again.
To Jo's surprise, it was Harry who had texted her. But it wasn't about an emergency operation.
Our new recruit has nowhere to stay. Knew you had a spare room. Expect her in less than twenty minutes – HP
Oh. So that's why she was given the flat so cheap. In case Harry had any visitors he needed to quickly place somewhere and he knew that she wouldn't argue about it. Jo felt a little annoyed that her new home and her good nature had been taken advantage of because seriously, twenty minutes? Only twenty minutes before someone she'd never met was supposed to start living with her? Then again, it wasn't Hannah's fault. Jo had to leave her flatmate and find somewhere new to live moments after she officially joined the service, and they didn't seem to understand how long it took (or how expensive it was) to find a house in London.
"Twenty minutes," Jo murmured to herself, "Twenty minutes."
In an effort to make the flat somewhat more presentable, she tidied up the trashy magazines she absent-mindedly read during time off and dumped them in the recycling box. Any dirty cutlery she shoved in the mostly empty dish washer. A quick glance in the fridge showed she had nothing in apart from cheese that had been there for a solid three weeks and half a carton of milk. The cupboards didn't throw up anything else more interesting: a jar of olives and a half-eaten box of shredded wheat. She didn't eat at home much. Coffee was breakfast, sneaking out for a sandwich was lunch (if she had the time) and she was often too tired to cook anything for tea. Sometimes her and Zaf would share a pizza or eat something at the pub on the way back from Thames House and when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she'd grab a readymade salad and perhaps some chicken breasts from Tesco she could throw in a pan with minimal effort. She hoped Hannah wasn't expecting a feast on her first night in.
The spare bedroom, on the other hand, was somewhere Jo rarely ventured in. She'd never had the luxury of one before. It contained a bed, wardrobe, chest and bedside cabinet but not a lot else; she had no drunken friends she could throw on the mattress after a heavy night out and no family members she had to put up for a week. The only items that were actually hers in there were piles of clothes she was considering donating to a charity shop but hadn't got round to it yet. She gathered them up, threw them on the floor of her own bedroom, before covering the bare mattress with a sheet and duvet she'd tidied away for no other reason than having no use for them.
At that moment, the buzzer to the front door rand. Jo abandoned her last-ditch attempt at tidying and bound to the front door. She warily picked up the phone, unsure of what to expect.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Jo, it's Hannah," a friendly, distinctly southern voice replied, "Harry Pearce said you'd be expecting me?"
"Yeah, of course!" Jo answered, "Come on up, come on up."
Jo held the door open and barely a minute later, a young woman – a few years younger than Jo – could be heard traipsing up the stairs. Hannah had shoulder-length chestnut brown hair and a fringe swept across her forehead, and a smile that instantly warmed Jo the moment they caught eyes. Immediately, Jo couldn't believe how she'd felt reluctant letting her stay originally. Maybe it was the service breaking through her, making her hesitant to trust anybody.
Hannah had a huge rucksack on her back and a cardboard box in her grip, but nothing else. She was obviously a much lighter packer than Jo.
"Hi!" Hannah greeted, once she'd finally reached the top of the stairs. "Jo, right?"
"That's me," Jo smiled in return. Hannah dropped the box on the floor in order to shake her hand. "Come on in. The bedroom is all yours."
Hannah visibly sighed with relief. "Oh my god, I can't thank you enough! Harry Pearce phoned me a couple of hours ago and told me I couldn't stay in my old flat anymore. I shared with a mate from six – can't be too careful, apparently, even though we're supposed to be on the same side."
"Sometimes it isn't that simple," Jo said wistfully, reminiscing about many an operation where the good guys turned out to be the bad guys. MI6 were usually okay – bit arrogant, maybe, but okay. However, like Harry had said, you couldn't be too careful with the neighbouring service.
"I can imagine," Hannah said, traipsing into the flat. It was bigger than she imagined; much bigger than the flat she'd shared last time. "Still, I was panicking about finding a place at such short notice, and Harry Pearce said something about a vetting process every potential landlord has to go through. It would've been impossible for me to find a place overnight and I don't have any family in central London, so thank you."
"It's not a problem," Jo smiled. Zaf had done the same for her when she joined the service, and she was eternally grateful for his kindness.
"I can assure you, I won't be here for very long," Hannah iterated, "I'll try and get another room sorted and be out of your hair as quick as I can. It's just… London, isn't it? I mean, Cambridge flats were pricey, but they weren't London pricey, and now I'm going to have to do it on my own…"
"Please, don't worry about it," Jo interrupted, Hannah visibly relaxing thanks to the reassurance. She closed the door, encouraging her new flatmate further into the flat. "I've been in your position. The only reason I got a look-in on this flat in the first place was because it was an ex safe-house Harry was offering me cheap. Let's just see how it goes, and… Stay here as long as you like."
Yeah. This was the exact reason why Harry thought to offer Jo this flat.
"You're a saint," Hannah grinned, looking more than marginally awake than Jo felt. Harry had mentioned her being on a placement at Section K, which wasn't as full-on as Section D – Hannah was going to get a bit of a shock once she started working round counter-terrorism's timetable. But Jo had no doubts that they'd both get on. Similar age, lifestyle, employment… She hadn't met anyone like that in MI5 and she'd missed having girlfriends and someone who understood her.
Jo smirked. "You can repay me by getting me up in the morning. Alarm clocks don't work very well for me."
"Good thing I'm a morning person then," Hannah said cheerily, and Jo doesn't doubt it for a second. She seemed the type to roll out of bed at six am with no qualms. Jo, on the other hand, would happily lie in until way past midday; a habit she's learnt to strictly control.
Jo did a quick tour of the flat and pointed out the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen, apologising about the lack of food. Hannah didn't seem to mind: she appeared to mentally note things that were absent and not complain about it.
"Sorry, I'm being a terrible host," Jo apologised, "But do you mind if I head off to bed? I haven't slept in a solid thirty-six hours, early start and all that…"
"Course I don't mind. You should've told me and I wouldn't've blathered on," said Hannah with a laugh, "I'll see you in the morning. And thanks, again. For putting me up."
After that Hannah immediately scurried off, determined to organise her room and install a notion of formality in her new environment. Jo smiled bemusedly as she heard her muttering to herself. She was going to like Hannah, she decided, and so was Zaf, Malcolm and Adam – it was only Ros she was unsure about. Hannah's upbeat personality was definitely going to clash with Ros, seeing as she was the epitome of the Ice Queen trope. Maybe she would win her round, eventually. On that thought, Jo traipsed through to her own room with the main intention of falling straight to sleep.