A/N – The third in the Harry/Ruth/Kodaline series. You don't have to have read the other two but if you want to, they are 'One Day' and 'Love Like This'. I hope that you enjoy.

Maybe believe, or maybe don't care,
Or maybe there is no God in the big white clouds up there,
Maybe live long, maybe die young,
Or maybe live every day like it's your last day under the sun.

She could hear Zaf in the bathroom, the sounds of his now familiar nightly routine something of a comfort to her. He always, without exception, turned in after her, even on nights when she had been out and he hadn't; the perfect gentleman, he had waited up to see that she got home. Jo knew she should feel smothered, knew she should have told him to stop after the first time it happened, but she hadn't. It was sweet and he meant nothing by it. Sometimes when he was peacocking with Harry and Adam, Jo lost sight of that side of him so it was always nice when he came back, sprawled on the sofa at 3am with a cup of tea and the TV on low, waiting for her.

Only once had he been asleep, exhausted after a long op and she had woken him gently and he looked so annoyed with himself that he had slept that she had laughed and she had almost kissed him. Almost. She had stopped herself at the last moment, because kissing Zaf would be easy and what came next wouldn't be. She didn't know if either of them was ready for that. So, instead, she had kissed his forehead and turned off the TV, helping him to his feet and leaning on him on the way to the bed, because perhaps she had drunk more than was good for her.

Eventually, the bathroom light clocked off and Zaf padded softly past her bedroom door, pausing just long enough to call out.

"Night, Jo."

"Night, Zaf. Sleep well."

In the dark, she heard his door open, heard him climb into bed, clear his throat, toss and turn a little as he got comfortable. It went quiet quickly. The speed with which he could fall asleep was something impressive. Jo still smiled at the story Ruth had told her, of Zaf asleep at his temporary desk when he first started on the Grid, his head on the keyboard, hunched in a position that no one could possibly have found comfortable.

Ruth.

Jo was not blessed with Zaf's abilities and her still very much awake mind seized onto the memory now, began to worry at it. Jo missed her, missed her so much. Adam had been the one to recruit her and everyone made her welcome but Ruth had been her first real friend on the Grid. Ruth was everyone's friend and they all missed her, although none so much as Harry.

It had been painfully clear from the moment that Jo joined the team that the pair of them were in love with another and she wondered how everyone else couldn't see it. She soon realised she was wrong, of course; everyone knew but no one would say a word, not whilst they could still hurt the small tentative thing with those words. So everyone watched and everyone waited and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when it became clear that Harry had finally climbed his own walls and asked her out to dinner and she had, crucially, said yes.

No one blamed Malcolm for what happened next, least of all Jo. He had been watching the pair of them for longer than anyone, had been rooting for them for longer than anyone. His little word of encouragement had been premature but he never meant to hurt them. Malcolm could never mean to hurt anyone and, besides, Jo thought that either Harry or Ruth would have found a way to sabotage themselves without Malcolm's help. It was all part of the dance.

Jo had tried to tell Malcolm that but it hadn't helped; he was distraught that he might have been the cause. But then Malcolm was hurting and would be for a long while yet; Zaf had told her about Colin over the phone, said that he thought Malcolm might actually have hit Harry if Adam hadn't intervened. Jo sat next to Malcolm at the memorial, guilty she hadn't been there for him when he heard the news, and she held his hand and pretended not to see the tears roll down his face as Harry read the poem that Malcolm had chosen for his friend, his best friend and – his best friend. She never let herself wonder about Malcolm and Colin's friendship. That was something private.

Ruth had sat on Malcolm's other side, her hand threaded through his arm and she was there for him but she was also there for Harry. Her eyes never left his face, not once. Perhaps she knew how saddened he was, despite his steady hands and his strong voice. Ruth could see right through him, Jo thought.

And now she was gone and Harry was a mess and everyone was walking on tip-toes around him. He had snapped at everyone except Malcolm more than once and no one even begrudged him the outbursts. Adam just nodded and carried on, Zaf had the good grace to look chastised, Jo always agreed that she had made a mistake and said sorry. If Harry needed to protect himself from the world by playing the boss, by putting his walls back into place, then they would let him. He'd find his balance again soon enough, Adam said, they just needed to wait.

Jo tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, unable to forget the last time she had seen Ruth. Adam had warned her that team members came and went and she had to get used to it, but after Colin she had not expected to lose another one so quickly. It hardly seemed fair, somehow.

It was no good. She wasn't going to sleep like this. She rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of tea. Ruth swore by a good cup of tea. Flicking on the kettle, she threw a teabag into the Take That mug that Zaf had bought her as a joke. She was just attempting to toss the teabag the length of the kitchen and into the bin when Zaf appeared, sleep-ruffled and so adorable. In her surprise, the teabag missed the bin and he chuckled.

"Any more water in the kettle?"

"I would have got it in if you hadn't surprised me," Jo grumbled, taking his BMW mug from the cupboard and making him some tea as well, "Why are you up? I didn't wake you, did I?"

"I could hear you thinking, thought you might like some company."

He was rooting around in the cupboard, made a small noise of triumph when he found the jumbo bag of crisps he was looking for. He carried it and his mug over to the table, ripping the bag open appreciatively.

"I love a good midnight snack," he said, "So come on. What's up?"

Jo looked down at her mug and contemplated the question. Did she really want to drag him into this? Did she even know where to start?

"I was thinking about Ruth and Harry," she said eventually.

Zaf was looking into the bag, selecting the largest crisp he could find, but he nodded seriously.

"Did Adam give you the speech when you started? About loss and how we have to get used to it?"

"Yep."

"Well, it's bullshit," he said matter-of-factly, "Just so you know."

Jo snorted into her cup and raised her eyebrows, "Really?"

"Yep," he echoed, popping a crisp into his mouth and shrugging, "We learn to deal with it, but that is not the same thing. The minute you get used to loss, you might as well be dead. Have I told you about Danny Hunter?"

Jo shook her head, amazed at the idea that he was only three years older than her but that he could suddenly seem so wise.

"Well," Zaf licked his fingers and dove back into the bag, "Danny was on the team when Adam got me in. He was cool, maybe a bit older than me. Danny and Fiona got capture, held hostage. The kidnappers decided to kill one and tried to make Adam choose. He couldn't do it, froze up, Fiona was crying because she thought it would be her, so Danny starts to taunt the kidnapper. Calls him all kinds of names, says all sorts of things until eventually the kidnapper snaps and makes his own decision and shoots Danny in the head. It was one of the bravest things I ever heard."

"Sounds it," Jo said softly, "That's- that's just-"

"I know," Zaf said, taking a sip of his tea, "Crisp?"

"No thanks," she said, "Why did you tell me that story?"

"Oh yeah," he murmured, "Well, I told you to show you that Adam is in mourning as well, for Danny. So when he is being Mister Cold and telling you to get used to loss, it's only because he isn't yet. Used to it, that is. He's only learning to deal with it."

There were a few moments of quiet, punctuated by the crunch of crisps, as Zaf allowed her to think about what he had said. He was watching her though, those dark, soft, beautiful eyes fixed on her, gauging her thoughts.

"It isn't fair," she said eventually, "Harry and Ruth were so close to having something. Harry must have lost so many people in this job and he still falls apart when she leaves. If he hasn't learnt to deal with loss, what hope do the rest of us have?"

"I suppose we don't," Zaf said, "But we have to try. Adam is learning, Malcolm is too. You and me are. Harry will, in time. I have complete faith in him."

Jo smiled and reached across the table, taking his hand, "When did you get so philosophical, Mister Younis?"

His eyes flickered down to their hands and then back to hers and he smiled himself, "I'm a spy, Jo. It's my job to watch people."

"I am too!"

"I've been at it longer. And besides, you are already pretty good. You'll be giving me the one am lectures soon, just wait."

She was struck again, in that very instance, with the need to just give in and kiss him, consequences be damned. If he had held her hand for a second longer she might have, but then he pulled away and drained his cup.

"Well, time for bed or I'll be unbearable in the morning," he said, tossing her a final smile and a goodnight over his shoulder.

She watched his retreating back thoughtfully. It was probably for the best that he had backed away, that she hadn't taken that step. It would be easy to kiss him and, she suspected, even easier to love him, but it would not be easy to lose him. Jo didn't know if she had the same strength as Harry or Malcolm, the same strength that allowed them to keep on everyday even though it was the last thing they wanted to do.

She couldn't afford to love Zaf until she did know that for sure.