She made her way up the staircase at the end of the white tiled hall, full of marble statues. Aware as she was that, having only just returned from exile, there were more prudent contacts she could choose to be meeting here- almost any other contact would have been more prudent that this one- she still pressed ahead. If nothing else, this was something to keep her busy until Harry made up his mind about giving her control of Section D. It would definitely keep her busy. Whatever her other detractions may have been, nothing about Tessa Phillips could ever be called boring.

She turned into the long narrow gallery of stained glass, the heat of the afternoon light hitting her face, the colours tesellating off the floor and over her skin as she made her way to the end. Her shoes made a sharp swift sound on the floor. The long silver bar of sunlight from the arch at the far end stretched before her eyes; and then was sharply broken. By the slender silhouette of a woman.

"You came," Tessa Phillips was not in the least different to when Ros had last seen her in London, "I see you've tided your hair like any serious spook does when she reaches a certain time of life."

"If you'd wanted to talk about grooming we could have met at Harrods," Ros replied.

Tessa smiled, at the floor.

"Very good, Ros," she congratulated her dryly, "I see they've got you reading the same ettiquette manual they gave to Harry."

"No, really," Ros told her, "Why here?"

Tessa gave a glance around her, at the perpendicular corridors of the museum, that met and joined where they stood.

"You used to meet Zoe Reynolds here," Ros supplied, "Before you-... went off."

She left the statement open, allowing Tessa to interpret as she would, wondering if she knew how much could be passed from generation on the grid on without ever being taken down officially.

Of course she did. Tessa raised an eyebrow in surprise so faint that it was either being titanically downplayed or entirely performed.

"I didn't think you would have made it your business to find out about me and Zoe," Tessa remarked.

"It seemed pertinent," Ros replied, "When you asked to meet. You needn't get your hopes up. Zoe and I may look the same to you, Tessa, but the similarity ends there, I promise you."

Tessa's eyes flickered up and down Ros' figure for the briefest of moments.

"That's a pity," she told her quietly.

"What do you want, Tessa?" Ros asked, making no effort to disguise her growing boredom, "I take it you're not risking meeting like this just to proposition me."

"Well, there you'd be wrong," Tessa smiled, "Work for me."

It was Ros' turn to downplay surprise.

"Are you insane?" she asked calmly.

Tessa grinned.

"It has been said," she replied.

Ros did not reply.

"Come on, Ros," she told her after a moment, "You worked for the service for how long? They had you straight out of Cambridge. What do they give you in return? Six months in Russia and a perhaps the only person you could be said to have loved blown to pieces to celebrate your return."

She flinched uncontrollably at the mention of Adam. One tear, trailing down her face in Harry's office; that was all she was able to give. She wasn't going to cry in front of Tessa.

"And what would you give me?" she asked in a low voice.

"Money."

"You can do better than that, surely?"

"I don't usually need to," Tessa replied.

"Not when you're fucking them too," Ros replied.

Tessa smiled.

"It was enough for Zoe."

Ros said nothing.

"Come on, Ros," Tessa mumured, "We're the same, you and I."

"Yes, I was called a serpentine bitch once too."

Tessa barked with laughter.

"Oh Ros," she told her, "You could do so much. You could be really good. But you won't learn it from Harry."

"I wasn't aware it was something I needed to learn."

Tessa sniffed in mirth.

"Ros-..."

"I don't want your money, Tessa," she told her sharply, "Or anything else. I know what you're doing. You think what happened with Adam makes me easy prey, that I'm waiting for a chance to get back at Harry because of it. Well, it was my fault. Not Harry's. I've had my share of treachery for one career."

"Then you really should think about seeing if the Home Secretary can find you a quiet desk job in some forgotten corner of the civil service," Tessa told her, "You'd better stay well clear of Harry Pearce."

"How do you think Harry will react when I tell him we've had this conversation?" Ros asked her in reply, "Do you think he'll be pleased to hear that you're back? Back off, Tessa," she almost spat, "Crawl back into your sordid little hole, wherever it is, and if I'm feeling mellow I might just let you stay there undisturbed."

She turned and left, striding back down the gallery, the colours of the glass flashing over her face.