"Where's Ruth?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Tariq. Then four pairs of eyes turned to where Harry had just lifted his gaze from the meeting agenda on the desk in front of him. "What?" he asked, looking in turn from Ros to Lucas to Dimitri, and lastly to Tariq. "Where's Ruth?" he asked at last, his eyes taking in the empty chair next to him, the chair on which no other senior member of the Grid dared sit.

"That's what I said," replied Tariq.

"Am I missing something?" Harry continued, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes," Ros drawled, "Ruth."

Again Harry gazed from one to the other of his team. "Someone had better ring her and remind her that she's needed at this meeting."

"Right," said Ros, who placed her phone on the table in front of her and pressed Ruth's name in Contacts. From through the glass which separated the meeting room from the Grid, everyone heard the distinctive sound of a choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah – Ruth's ringtone. "Wherever she is, she didn't take her phone."

Harry caught Ros' eye. "Could you check, Ros? There are only two places she's likely to be."

"And they are?"

"The women's toilets or the roof."

"The roof?" Ros lifted one eyebrow.

"She sometimes goes there to .. think, but given this meeting was to have begun -" he consulted his watch, squinting and holding his wrist at a distance to read the time, "- eight minutes ago, I think it's more likely she'd be in the loo, and maybe she ..."

"Lost track of time?" Again Ros lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't know. You're a woman, Ros -"

"Glad you noticed."

"I have no idea what women get up to when they congregate in the rest rooms."

"Plotting to overthrow the patriarchy, mostly."

"Good luck with that," Lucas interjected, grinning.

"What .. with guns and bombs and stuff?" Tariq's excitement was almost infectious. "Cool."

"We use anything which is lethal to those with the Y chromosome," Ros purred. "You know – logic, reason, compassion -"

"Hah!" Lucas's response was part laugh part cough.

"- intelligence, forethought -"

"Yes, yes, we all get the picture, Ros," Harry said impatiently, "but would you find Ruth and hurry her up? We need her here."

Which really means that you need her here, thought Ros. "Right," she said, standing and making her way to the door. "I'm quite happy for you to start without me," she threw over her shoulder as she left the room, the doors closing behind her.

Ros strode along the corridor towards the ladies' loos, wondering would it be fair to the others if, when she found Ruth, they both absconded for a half hour to take a coffee break away from Thames House. She was certain that the combined testosterone levels of the men in Section D was interfering with her menstrual cycle. Reaching the fifth floor women's toilets, Ros pushed open the door, only to have the door hit an obstruction, followed by a yowl. She poked her head around the door, and there on the floor was Ruth, her face streaked with tears.

"Could you help me to my feet, please," Ruth pleaded, her eyes panda-like from running mascara.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Ros' eyes darted around the wash room, and then towards the four toilet cubicles, checking under the doors that there were no .. interlopers. Apparently Ruth was alone, and there were no signs of foul play.

"I slipped," Ruth said lamely, "on some water which had splashed on the floor. I think I've .. done something to my ankle."

"Can you get to your feet?"

"If I could get to my feet I would have," Ruth said curtly. "Every time I tried to stand I slipped over."

"All right, no need to lose your shit, Ruth -"

"I'm not losing my shit, Ros. I'm upset, and my ankle is already swelling, and I haven't been able to remove my shoe."

"Right." Ros kneeled down beside Ruth, letting the door close behind her. Very carefully she removed Ruth's shoe, and yes, her ankle already appeared quite swollen, and was turning an odd colour. "Can you move your toes?"

"Move them? Move them where? They're attached to my foot."

Ros looked into Ruth's eyes, and seeing no sign of sarcasm or clear understanding, she changed tack. "Try wiggling your toes."

"I have and it hurts."

"But can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Wiggle your toes."

By this time Ruth was leaning her back against the tiled wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, the hem of her skirt just above her knees. "I can, but it hurts."

"So your ankle isn't broken, but it's no doubt sprained."

"Can you help me up? I need to get to the meeting."

"Not today you won't." Ros dropped to the floor, and in an apparent gesture of solidarity she rested her back against the wall next to Ruth. Then she took her phone from the zippered pocket of her black jacket and pressed a number. "Harry? It's Ros. Ruth is in the ladies' loos. She's fallen over and injured herself. I think it's a sprained ankle. Harry?" Ros took the phone from her ear and stared at the screen. "He hung up."

"He's running the meeting, and you interrupted him," Ruth said sulkily. "That kind of thing annoys him."

"Tell me about it," Ros murmured, and then no sooner had she thought the words, `very odd state of affairs', and the man himself was outside the door.

"Ros? Let me in."

"Say please."

"How about you open the door and let me in or I'll send you on obbos for the next three weeks in a row."

"Jesus, keep your hair on."

Ros got to her feet and opened the door. Ruth looked up at her in disbelief. She opened her mouth to object, but no sooner had she decided what to say than Harry was through the door and inside the wash room. Ruth heard his knees click as he dropped to one knee beside her. "Are you all right, Ruth?" he asked, reaching out to touch her leg just above the ankle.

"I'll head back then, shall I?" Ros stood in the doorway, one hand holding the door open. When Harry ignored her, she let out a sudden sound of disgust, and then left. The door closed behind her with a soft whoosh.

"I need to get to my feet, Harry. I can't sit here all day. Besides, the tiles are cold."

Harry looked into Ruth's eyes, and for the first time noticed her distress. "Put your arms around my neck," he said, his face close to hers.

"Harry, this is hardly the time to be making overtures -"

"Bloody hell, woman, as if I'd take advantage of you while you're injured. Put your arms around my neck, and I'll lift you to your feet."

So while avoiding Harry's eyes, Ruth reached up to slide her arms around his neck until both hands cupped the back of his neck. Harry suppressed a smile. He had always wondered how it would feel to have Ruth's arms around his neck. It was rather .. nice. Very slowly he got to his feet, bringing Ruth with him. When he was standing upright he rested his hands on Ruth's hips to steady her. They stood there, their bodies close, but not quite touching, his hands lightly resting at her waist, while her hands were still around his neck.

They stood that way for a long moment, their eyes lost in the person standing in front of them, when the door opened suddenly, hitting Harry in the back, so that he stumbled against Ruth. He removed one hand from her waist, pressing it against the tiles behind her head to steady them both, while with his other hand he pulled Ruth close to him to protect her. From the doorway Kimberley from the technical suite stared wide-eyed, taking in the couple in a semi-embrace.

"Gosh .. sorry," she said, clearly rather interested, "I didn't know you were -", and then as quickly as she'd entered the wash room, she left, the door whooshing softly as it closed behind her.

Harry and Ruth both stood, still with their hands on each other, staring at the closed door, their minds trying to grasp what had just happened. Harry turned back to Ruth, whose eyes were about as wide as he'd ever seen them. He experienced a mad moment when he thought that kissing her might be a good idea, but then she looked into his eyes. "Harry, we've got to stop her."

"Stop her? Stop her doing what?"

Suddenly Ruth took her hands from around his neck, and stumbled, so she reached out to grasp his sleeve. "She'll talk," she said.

Taking advantage of Ruth's evident vulnerability, he pulled her closer, his hands resting at the small of her back. "Her job involves quite a bit of talking, so yes, she'll talk."

"No, I mean about us."

"Us?"

"She came upon us in the ladies' loos, and she saw us with our ..."

"..arms around each other. We are fully clothed, Ruth. What could we possibly have been doing?"

"She only saw us for a second. We could have been .."

"What? Kissing?"

"Much worse than that."

Since when was making love worse than kissing? "Who can she tell? Even if she does talk, we know that nothing was happening here." And not because he didn't want it to. Harry watched as a wave of distress passed across Ruth's face, and tears formed in her eyes. When one lone tear trickled down her cheek he reached out with his thumb and brushed it aside. "If anyone says anything about what Kimberley saw I'll -"

"What? Have them deported? Send them to the Arctic Circle to check out rumours of organising amongst the polar bear population?"

Harry tipped his head to the side and lifted his eyes to look just above Ruth's head, where he saw their reflection in the mirror above the basins. With one of his arms around her, and her hands still grasping his sleeves they appeared to be in a warm embrace. "I could give them a good talking to."

"Oh, right. That should sort them out."

"Ruth, you need to go somewhere you can sit down."

"And how do you propose I get there?"

In the meeting room things were not going well.

"We can't make a decision about the Chechens without Ruth's input," Dimitri said.

"Why not?" Ros was becoming irritated with them all. How was it that every time Ruth and Harry were unavailable everything on the Grid ground to a halt?

"She has the intel."

"Tariq?" Ros said, glaring at the technical wizard, who appeared to shrivel under her gaze. "Can't you drum up some intel on those Chechen contacts?"

"Not without the encryption Ruth uses, and she won't share it with me."

"Jesus. Why do the rest of us even bother turning up?"

"Every morning I ask myself the same thing," Dimitri said.

"Look," said Tariq, pointing through the glass to the Grid. "Harry is helping Ruth into his office."

Ros sat back in her chair and passed her hand over her eyes.

"We'll go then, shall we?" Dimitri suggested.

"Why not," Ros said, not looking up, "and if the country is threatened by this latest group, then we'll all just lie down and take it."

Dimitri and Tariq quickly left the meeting room, leaving Lucas and Ros alone. "That went well," Lucas murmured.

"Oh, shut up."

"No, I mean it. This leaves us free to get out in the field and crack some heads."

"Crack some heads? This isn't the ghetto, Lucas. You need permission to start a random fight on the streets."

Lucas grinned. "I have this asset."

"Good for you."

"His wife is Chechen."

"And?"

"She has a brother."

"And he is in the inner sanctum?"

"Better than that." Lucas dropped his voice and leaned forward in his seat. "He's been in the target group, but then left when his sister married a Russian."

"Your asset is Russian."

"Yes. And his brother-in-law is dying to spill the beans."

"So he has a death wish."

"Most likely."

"Go for it," Ros said. "I suggest you milk him for information before they kill him."

"What will you do while I'm out?"

"Contemplate the gross inconsistencies within the British ruling class."

"Time well spent."

"I thought so."

And once Lucas left the meeting room, Ros sighed and yawned. It looked like she was in charge, perhaps for the remainder of the day. Sweet.

Harry had called the section doctor to Ruth, who had complained over and over of not wanting to be a nuisance. After the doctor had declared that Ruth's ankle was badly sprained, and that she needed a minimum of three days away from work with her foot elevated, he had bound it tightly, then instructed her on how to change the elastic bandage.

Once the doctor left Harry's office, Ruth had begun her protest. "I have so much to do. I can't be sitting here with my foot up."

"The section will run just fine without you, Ruth."

"Well, thank you for that. It's nice to know I'm valued."

Harry drew his lips together in exasperation. Sometimes Ruth could be rather difficult, a characteristic he tended to forget on a daily basis, hoping that it would have disappeared overnight. "What I meant was, we can cover for you for a few days."

"A few days?" Ruth had sat up straight and was staring hard at Harry. "I can't be away from work for a few days. What about this Chechen thing?"

She had a point. The section could grind to a halt were Ruth to spend more than twenty-four hours away from the Grid. "You need to rest, and you need to keep your foot elevated, but …"

"I can still work, Harry."

"Not here. This place is not set up for it."

"Then where? I can't be at home. I'll go mad."

"I have somewhere better."

"Where?"

Dare he? Why not? What can be the worst thing to happen were he to suggest what was on his mind? "My place. You can -"

"You must be out of your mind," she said, her eyes flaring. She tried to stand, but her ankle was too sore to bear even her partial weight, so she sat down heavily, and once again tears of pain and frustration rolled down her cheeks. Harry reached a hand towards her, but she pushed it away. "Don't even think about trying to comfort me," she said between sobs, "especially since you're the very reason I hurt my ankle in the first place."

Ruth pushed her hand into the pocket in her jacket and drew out a tissue. She blew her nose and took a deep breath, glancing up at Harry to check how he had received her news. Surprised didn't even begin to describe it. Floundering, perplexed, befuddled all came close, but underlying all that she could detect more than a smidgeon of hurt. "You'll have to explain that," he said quietly, his voice giving nothing away.

In an attempt to deflect his question, Ruth took out another tissue, at which point Harry got up and strode over to the shelves behind his desk and brought back a full box of tissues. "Here," he said, "supplied by the government. I keep them for emergencies."

"Emergencies? Like what?"

Harry felt himself redden as his mind wandered to the kind of emergencies he suspected Ruth might be imagining. "Like now. You need a tissue and I have a year's supply."

Ruth drew three tissues from the box and wiped around her eyes, and then blew her nose. Most of all she felt embarrassed to be in such a state in front of Harry, who always presented himself as tidy and unruffled.

"You still haven't explained your statement of three minutes ago," he said.

"It was nothing." Ruth looked at the wall opposite, determined to not catch Harry's eye. "I was upset."

"Ruth .. you as good as accused me of being responsible for your sprained ankle. I seem to remember being in the meeting room at the time."

She looked up at him warily, unsure of whether to give him an explanation which could quite easily result in his scorn. Very carefully she lifted both legs onto the sofa and turned, so that she looked towards the door. "So you don't remember what happened before the meeting?"

A/N: 2nd and last chapter up in (around) 24 hours.