The Last Dinner

by paranoidangel

Harry goes missing. This is a prequel to Dream a Little Dream but you don't have to have read that one to understand this.

Summary: Harry goes missing
Beta: by ladyvivien
Spoilers: The beginning of the SJS series 2 audio Buried Secrets, and the UNIT audios, in particular part of the whodunnit at the end. If you haven't heard them and don't care about being spoiled then this should make sense anyway.
Notes: This is a prequel to Dream a Little Dream but you don't have to have read that one to understand this.

Sarah was not having a good day. She had been unable to make herself concentrate, instead spending most of her time sitting at her desk, staring into space. Nothing had seemed that important: not other people, the usual lunchtime gossip or doing any work. So her boss, who she did not think much of at the best of times, was not likely to penetrate either. She honestly did not care what he thought of her or even if he was trying to fire her while she was not listening.

It was only when her brain absently registered that his tone had changed that she focused on the here and now.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Robin frowned at her from across his desk and leant forward on it. "I asked if there was something wrong. And there obviously is."

"No, everything's fine." She was certainly not going to confide in him so she turned her attention to the pile of paper overhanging his desk on one side, wondering when it would be likely to fall off.

"Because if there was something then maybe I can help."

Sarah blinked. The two of them had never quite hit it off but had discovered that avoiding each other generally worked quite well. This was not a side of him she had seen before and she wondered how noticeably different her behaviour had been.

"Is there something?" he asked again when Sarah said nothing.

"No." She sighed. "I don't know."

"So, then tell me what it is. What do you have to lose?"

She gazed absently out of the window and watched as the clouds moved across it and the sky turned from blue to grey. There was no good reason not to talk to him, she supposed. "There's a friend of mine, he's..." she paused and decided to go with the simplest explanation, "in the navy. He's gone missing."

"I'm sorry to hear that but you can't let it affect your work."

Sarah nodded. She knew that but it was not that easy.

Robin sighed. "Take the rest of the day off, you're no use like this. Call in sick tomorrow if you want to but if you come in, you work. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Sarah left his office before he could change his mind and went home as ordered. No-one challenged her as she left the building and she was glad she did not have to think of an explanation. She was not quite up to coming up with a good creative lie at the moment. It was nice not to have to endure the close proximity of sweaty people on the tube in the rush hour but it was not much of a silver lining.

Everything had been fine that morning until the post arrived just before she left. She had flicked through it, expecting to find the usual mix of junk mail and bills and leave them until she got home. However, there was envelope with NATO stamped on it and she tore into it eagerly, intending to blame the trains if she was late. That all changed when discovered the note in it telling her Harry was missing in action.

Her immediate thought was to fabricate an excuse to spend the day out of the office to try and find out where he was. Except that she had promised Harry she would not. He had never qualified it so she could not say for certain whether it counted now he was missing. If it was that secret then she really should not go investigating. But if something had happened to him then he might need her. She had not been able to make a decision one way or the other all day.

Once she got home she decided a phone call to NATO could not hurt, and she was right because they refused to tell her anything. She spent the rest of her day scouring the newspapers online in an attempt to find if there had been anything significant in the past few days that Harry could have been involved in. She found nothing, which was not unexpected. Anything that could have happened would have been covered up somehow.

Since she had not actually found anything she decided it did not count as breaking her promise but she was not any happier about it by the time she gave up and went to bed. She did not expect to sleep but found she was tired. She dreamt of Scotland, spaceships and Harry, which she interpreted as Harry wanting her to find him. Besides, if she did not at least try she was going to go mad.

In the morning she called in sick, as Robin had suggested and started with the address Harry had given her to write to him. It turned out to belong to an ordinary, yet empty house with neighbours that were not nosy. They might annoy everyone else but nosy neighbours were often her most useful source.

She spent the rest of the morning giving herself a red ear and an aching arm on the phone to Royal Mail. She had concocted a story about needing a forwarding address since she had lost the phone number of the house the occupants moved to. This did not prevent her being put on hold for most of the time and being told she was speaking to someone in the wrong department when she did eventually get a person on the other end.

Various people um'ed and ah'ed about whether to give her the information but finally she managed to get hold of a junior person who did not ask too many questions, believed her story and was happy to look it up on the system for her. She wished she had Nat's ability to hack in and get it for herself but without it, and with Nat away, she had to resort to the old fashioned method.

Her suspicions were confirmed in the end - the address Harry had given her was just a cover and the post was redirected elsewhere. Another trip out revealed the same lack of information as the first and she wondered just how many redirects there were. The afternoon saw her coming up with a variety of different voices and stories and yielded her the address of Porton Down. In the end she could not quite decide if that was a victory or not.

Bored of spending most of the day on the phone she went to bed early but her sleep was not any easier for having made the effort of starting her search.

The morning continued her stint of her running up a big phone bill when she began by updating Planet 3 on the state of her non-existent flu. After that she worked through every connection she knew Harry had to find out what he had been working on, or if anyone knew where he was and what had happened to him. Most of them she was sure did not know - some were surprised when he told them why she was calling. But for some of them she could not decide whether their reluctance to tell her anything was through lack of knowledge or inability to do so.

By this point she was willing to try anything and the one person she had not been able to get hold of was the Brigadier, since technically he was retired. The current head of UNIT was not even sure who Harry Sullivan was. Fortunately, she managed to find the Brigadier's address and she was glad for an opportunity to get out of the house.

Once there Sarah marvelled at the size of the house. She knew UNIT paid well - better than the regular army anyway, being as how UNIT was so hazardous - but a Brigadier's position obviously paid very well. When she stopped gaping (only part of which was out of jealousy) she tried the doorbell. The door was opened by someone Sarah assumed to be his wife and an enquiry revealed the Brigadier to be in the garden.

The garden, she found to be just as big and beautiful as the house. It took her some time to find the Brigadier, as he was hidden in the flower beds on his knees with a trowel.

"Miss Smith," he greeted her as she approached. He had never quite changed from the formality he always had when she had been with UNIT. Mind you, everyone she knew still called him the Brigadier. Anything else just seemed strange.

"I'm not taking you away from your plants, am I?" she asked.

"No, I needed a break anyway," he said, standing up, albeit slowly. "I'm not as young as I used to be, can't do this all day."

As they made their way across the garden back towards the house Sarah asked him about it and they made small talk about plants. She was hopelessly lost on the subject, though, for she had never had a garden, so never felt the need to know the difference between a dahlia and a tulip or what exactly an azalea looked like.

The Brigadier's wife, who he introduced as Doris, brought them drinks, which Sarah accepted with gratitude for it was hot out in the sun. Once they were sat down in the shade she turned to the reason for her visit.

"I found out a couple of days ago that Harry's missing," she said. "I thought you might know something."

"Alas, no," he replied. "NATO is not generally in the habit of telling UNIT what it is up to. Assuming I was still in UNIT, which technically I'm not."

Sarah sighed. "No-one will tell me anything, you were my last hope."

The Brigadier smiled kindly at her. "I can certainly ask around, if you think that will help."

Sarah smiled back. "It will, thank you. NATO wouldn't tell me and I didn't know where else to turn to."

There was not time for further conversation on her part because Doris returned with a phone call for the Brigadier. They exchanged quick goodbyes and he promised to phone her the next day.

Sarah remembered well the experience of waiting for phone calls. In the past it had been from men and at least she could ring them before she gave up completely. These days it tended to be sources who were usually, but not always, more difficult to get hold of.

More recently everything happened by email and instant messenger and was usually handled by Nat, while Sarah was out chasing them in person. She had long since given up on men when she realised none of them could offer her the excitement the Doctor had. Besides, she did not need a man anyway, she was much happier with her independence.

Her dreams that night were tortured by the phone, with its stories of ever more gruesome variations of Harry's death. By the time she woke up she decided anything the Brigadier could tell her had to be better.

By lunchtime she was annoyed with daytime TV and wondered why she had ever bothered buying a television in the first place. She was just considering how much she could sell it for when the Brigadier was as good as his word and rang. However, the news was not as useful as she had hoped.

"I'm sorry, Miss Smith," he began, "but I don't have anything for you. All I can tell you is that he has disappeared, there's no more information than that I'm afraid."

"Thank you," she said, mostly out of habit, but followed it up with a "dammit" once she put the phone down. Although that was almost a habit too, at times. She resisted the urge to throw something breakable and contented herself with a cushion instead, which was not nearly as satisfying.

She threw herself down in a comfy chair and contemplated her next move. She wondered if the Brigadier really knew nothing or whether he just was not telling her. It was not as if she could not be trusted to keep a secret! The trouble was that even if she badgered him he would still not give her anything and she had run out of things to try.

If Harry would not tell her anything then it was unlikely he would tell anyone else outside of his work. She did not even know how to contact his family - he never spoke of them so she was not even sure what family he had. She could try and find them, but it would not get her any further and would be no use if she did not even have something to tell them.

She could not give up just yet but if there was nothing else to try what other choice did she have? Suddenly a thought occurred to her. It would have to wait until night but it was worth a go...

Sarah sat on the bunk and leant back against the wall, sighing. At the time, breaking into Porton Down had seemed like a good idea. After all, it was the last place Harry had been working and they must know where he was. But evidentially, even if they did, they had no intention of telling her.

She had spent a few hours earlier in the day walking round Salisbury, formulating a plan. She had known there would be security and that going in as a burglar would not work. Instead she had gone for swiping an employee's card when they weren't looking and buying from the local charity shop so she could dress up to look like her. However, the loss had been reported too soon for Sarah's liking and she had been caught while she was lost in the place, trying to work out where to go.

Now all she could do was wait for them to decide she was not a threat and let her out. Given the number of times her name had come up in the past few days, it could take a while. Tired, she lay back but a small cell was not really conducive to sleep. Her mind wondered and she thought back to the last time she saw Harry, searching for a clue he might have left and she had missed.

Sarah checked her watch as she exited the tube station, hurrying round the pedestrians who were determined to block her path by moving as slowly as possible while simultaneously taking up the entire pavement. She apologised as she nearly bounced off a couple with foreign accents she could not quite place, who then confirmed their tourist status by immediately asking her for directions. She could not find it in her heart not to help them even though she was by now running very late.

There had been so much to do she had stayed at work later than she should, gambling on the trains being on time, which of course meant there were delays. Sitting in a hot carriage under the city of London had really not helped her patience either. She was just hoping by the time she got to the restaurant she would still qualify as fashionably late.

She had been undercover until yesterday and had come back to the office to find she had missed something big. Francis Currie had been in the middle of it, though, and he had consequently been boasting about some of the things he had seen courtesy of his friend in UNIT. Sarah had been trying to remind herself all day she was not jealous, without much success. However, she still had friends in high places herself and was hoping Harry would be able to fill her in and she could be able to get her own back on Currie.

The dinner they had every year was something she always looked forward to and she made an effort to be there, no matter what she was doing. She knew Harry felt the same, even if he would never say so. They kept in touch in between times, of course, but their communications tended to be few and far between, as they were both usually busy and often moving about.

When at last she reached the restaurant, she was twenty minutes late, even for all her rushing. There was a queue in the doorway, partly because it was popular but also due to the slow service that fortunately did not detract from the quality of the food. She took a moment to get her breath back, then nipped around the line while no-one was looking and found their table herself. She resisted the urge to take more than a passing glance in the small mirror that hung in the doorway: Harry would not care what she looked like.

He either had one set of clothes for best or everything he owned looked similar because he always wore the same blue blazer every year. She had threatened to inspect his wardrobe once. He had been so affronted that she had suggested clothes shopping instead and shared some mental pictures she had of him in various outfits that had been fashionable at the time. In retaliation he had mentioned his naval uniform and the point about men in uniform also seemed to apply to her because she would be quite happy if he just wore that. Unsurprisingly, the subject of clothing had not come up again.

She looked round the restaurant to find Harry had not yet spotted her as he seemed deeply engrossed at examining the painting on the wall behind him. Every year the owners redecorated, if changing the paintings counted. It was probably enough to impress the casual visitor but Sarah had been here often enough now to know they just rotated them and they actually only had a few years worth. A quick glance around the room was enough to convince her she had seen all of these already.

The walk to where Harry sat, on the other side of the restaurant, was pitted with dangers because the owners also seemed to have a fascination with greenery. This was at least something they changed on a more regular basis and was very pretty with different colour flowers in different parts of the room, all carefully chosen not to clash with the wallpaper. However, they did seem to be inordinately fond of the things and not of pruning them at all. It made her path rather like a maze and did not enable her to sneak up on Harry for he turned round before she was there.

As she approached Harry smiled and got up so he could pull her chair out. She glared at him but he was not swayed and she sat down with a sigh. Nothing she had said or done over the years had ever stopped him from doing what he thought was right and proper so her protests were more a way of venting her frustration at losing the argument than anything else. They had long since reached the point where she was fairly certain Harry did it expressly to annoy her anyway.

"Sorry I'm late," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "I haven't been here long."

She looked at the table, with plenty of cutlery set out and a jug of iced water in the middle. Harry's glass was half full, or half empty depending on how you looked at it.

"Liar," she joked, smiling.

Somehow Harry was always there before her. No matter how early she left or how far away he had been the day before, he always got there first. She had wondered once if he had bugged her so he always knew where she was, as unlikely as it seemed. After a while, though, she had given up on that game because they were reaching the point of arriving for their 8 o'clock dinner before the restaurant opened for the evening. Not that she had ever admitted what she was doing and she certainly was not going to quiz Harry on the subject.

He smiled back and poured her a glass of water. "I see you haven't lost your touch."

"Thank you," she said, although that had not quite been a compliment, given her previous words.

"Speaking of which, how's the investigative reporting going?"

She took a bigger sip of water than she meant to and only just managed to stop from swallowing a rogue ice cube.

"Steady on, old girl," Harry said, once she finished coughing, although he at least looked a little concerned.

"For a doctor you're remarkably unsympathetic."

He reached out for her hand and pressed his fingers to her wrist. Frowning, he said, "Well, I think you'll live."

He grinned at her as she took her hand back and rolled her eyes.

"As far as my job's going, I've just been undercover. So I've spent most of my day buried under reams of data, trying to work out what is relevant and how to present it. Which I would be getting through much faster if my boss didn't feel the need to remind me every hour to make sure it's all above board - his exact words."

"So, what did you say to him?"

"What makes you think I said anything?"

"Oh, just a guess."

Sarah held his gaze for less than a minute before she admitted he was right. "All I said was I'd been doing this job since before he was born and I knew what I was doing. Then he slammed the door to his office and sulked for the rest of the day." She grinned at the memory.

Harry laughed. "That's the Sarah Jane I know." He held his glass up and with a shake of her head she lifted hers to clink against it.

"I can't do it too often, though," she said, "or he'll find an excuse to fire me. But what I really want to know is what's going at UNIT with that flu pandemic. I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

"I might," he said, but was prevented from saying any more by the arrival of the waiter. Harry deferred to her to choose the wine, which was something of an empty victory on her part as they had already made their way through the list and agreed on one they both liked. Ever since they had stuck to drinking that one. She ordered by the time-honoured method of pointing and agreeing to whatever the waiter said that sounded like it could be the name on the wine list. Her Italian was not improving, even after the number of times she had been here.

Harry, on the other hand, insisted on ordering their food in Italian, which would have been fine had he actually been able to speak it. Her curiosity had got the better of her once and when she asked he had told her he had been there in the past. Obviously he had survived the experience but then a group of sailors could probably get away with pretty much anything.

There had been occasions when she had tried ordering her own food or accosting the waiter to make sure she got what she actually wanted, as opposed to what Harry decided she might like to eat. However, she had discovered he had the hitherto undiscovered skill of looking rather like a kicked puppy, so she had been forced to give that battle up as one she could not possibly win if he was going to try dirty tricks like that. She had not quite surrendered without a fight, though, because it had involved a lengthy lecture about what she liked and what she was prepared to eat.

He had listened very patiently, and nodded a lot, but in the end it made no difference because Harry's pronunciation was so atrocious that the waiter's guesses of what he had said usually bore no resemblance to what he actually meant. The results tended to be amusing at least and after some investigating she had discovered a fish and chip shop round the corner so whatever happened she knew she would not go hungry. This was, of course, not something she let Harry know about.

"You were telling me," she said, once the waiter had taken their order, "about what UNIT have been up to."

"I wasn't."

"All right, you were about to."

"You sound very sure of that."

Sarah calmly poured herself another glass of iced water and waited for him to crack. Before she could let go of the jug he held his now-empty glass up. She raised her eyebrows and refused to move.

"Fine," he said, "is this off the record or on?"

She grinned and poured him some water. "I'd love to get the scoop out from under Francis Currie but if I say it's on the record you won't tell me, will you?"

He grinned. "No."

"All right, you win. At least I can annoy him by knowing more than he does. Or at least I hope I will." She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward in anticipation.

"I don't really know exactly what UNIT got up to. As far as the 'plague' is concerned though, it's an alien virus designed to alter DNA. Apparently makes us easier to digest."

"Ugh," she said, suddenly glad she had not got caught up in it. "Where did it come from?"

"I wish I knew. I think ICIS were involved but I can't believe they did it on purpose. UNIT is investigating, though."

"Hmm." Sarah frowned and wondered who she could ask to find out. Unfortunately, the only two people she knew who were still remotely involved with this kind of thing were Harry and the Brigadier and the latter was not exactly known for being terribly forthcoming. But that was something for her to try later. "Given that the panic seems to have died down already, I'm guessing you found a cure," she said.

"Not us. At least, not on our own; we'd never have found it in time. The Silurians helped."

"Really?" She wondered if Currie knew about the alien involvement in all this and whether he believed it if he did. He had not even hinted at it but then it was something that was probably going to make people less likely to take his story seriously. "So it was something the Silurians already knew about."

"I'd say so. Or something similar at least."

"Perhaps it came from a race the Silurians have come across..." she trailed off trying to remember if the Doctor had ever even mentioned them to her.

Nothing immediately sprung to mind but before she could question Harry any further the wine arrived. Quite how it had taken them so long just to bring it up from the wine cellar was another of life's little mysteries. The consolation was that at least it tasted as good as she remembered. She nodded at the waiter as she confirmed the taste and he filled both of their glasses. Sarah juggled her wine and water and managed to find space for both. Harry was far too conscientious and would not allow her to drink alcohol without water, although whether that was the doctor in him or just him she could not say.

"Leave it for UNIT to investigate, that's what they're here for remember?" Harry said, once they were alone again.

The trouble was that all of this had thrown up feelings regarding UNIT she had not thought about since the last time she saw Harry. Which probably was part of the reason why they only met once a year. "I just wish I could get back in there," she said, wistfully, gripping her wineglass by the stem, dipping one finger in the wine and running her finger around the rim. "If only the Brigadier hadn't thrown me out." She was starting to get melancholy and wished she could drink more wine. Deliberately, she pushed her wine back to its place and reached for the water with a sigh.

"He didn't exactly throw you out. If I recall, he was quite gentle."

"Well, no," she conceded, "but he didn't let me stay either. It wasn't as if I only came as a pair with the Doctor. What are you grinning at?" she added.

"Nothing." Harry tried to school his expression into a more serious one but did not entirely succeed and ended up resting his chin on his hand so he could conceal his mouth behind his fingers.

He had at least managed to lighten her mood, if only slightly. "The trouble is," she continued, ignoring him, "that life after UNIT seems so ordinary and boring in comparison."

"I thought you got death threats after your last investigation."

Sarah had been quite proud - she had won the office competition for the number she got. She regretted telling Harry immediately she had, though, given the lecture he gave her afterwards. "Is it worrying," she asked him, "that there have been so many people, and aliens, trying to kill me that it actually seems quite normal?"

Harry frowned. There was a reason Sarah did not usually talk about this with him - he had a tendency to worry about her no matter how often she told him she could look after herself. She hoped she had not let herself in for a repeat of the previous year's lecture he had felt the need to give her on the subject.

"If you're not careful," he said, "one of these days someone is going to succeed."

"I'll be fine. Hazard of the job, that's all." She smiled but he looked down and swilled the wine around in his glass a few times before finally taking a sip. She gave in and finished hers off while wondering how the mood had gone down so quickly. She refilled her glass, not caring what Harry thought about that.

Fortunately, at that point their food arrived. Sarah was struggling to work out how it could possibly take so little time to cook, relatively speaking, compared with opening wine, but was distracted by discovering what Harry had ordered, however inadvertently. He seemed to have outdone himself this time. Hers was definitely a fruit salad, which was nice enough for dessert but not really the best choice for the main course. His meal, on the other hand, looked like nothing on earth; or off it.

"What actually is that?" she asked the waiter before he could move away.

His answer was something unintelligible, presumably in Italian.

"And that is...?"

"Creamed lamb's brains." He smiled and departed and Sarah wondered if that was really a traditional Italian dish or just on the menu to confuse the English. She had to hide her own smile behind her hand. Harry was certainly not going to get any sympathy from her; this was entirely his fault. To his credit, he did dig his fork in and try a bit.

"What's it like?" she asked.

He swallowed and said, "I've had worse," but she noticed he carefully ate the vegetables around it after that and she refused his offer to taste it without hesitation.

Their conversation turned to old memories and old secrets that often got them funny looks from neighbouring diners if they ever caught any of it. It was possibly her annual dinner with Harry that kept her sane, Sarah thought. There was certainly no-one else she could discuss this sort of thing with without anyone else thinking she was either completely insane or making the whole thing up.

There were lots of 'do you remember when's, not that either of them had forgotten any of their adventures with UNIT and the Doctor. Neither of them seemed to want to discuss anything more current and the mood was much more cheerful by the time they finished the food and the coffee arrived.

"I keep thinking," she said, when their discussion reminded her, "that we should go back to Scotland, see if Nessie's still there."

Harry poured two cups of coffee before he answered; a stalling tactic which worried Sarah because she could not think of a reason why he would feel the need to.

"That's a good idea, you should definitely go."

She pulled her coffee towards her but it was too hot to drink just yet. "What about you? Don't tell me you're too busy." She frowned as Harry absent-mindedly added milk to his, then frowned at the taste. She removed the problem for him by swapping their cups: Harry had once complained to her at length about milk spoiling the taste of coffee. Sarah, on the other hand, did not mind either way.

He looked up at last and she said nothing, waiting for him impatiently. "I didn't want to spoil the meal," he said, "but I'm leaving on an overseas posting."

"That's not unusual, even though you have been in the country for a while recently." It was certainly not enough to explain his odd behaviour.

"You're not going to like it."

Sarah discovered the milk had cooled the coffee quite well and she drank half of it - she had a feeling she was going to need it.

"I can't tell you where I'm going or how long I'll be gone." He gave her a small smile over his coffee cup that did not fool either of them. "It's very hush-hush, old girl."

"Don't give me that, Harry."

"Sorry."

She sighed. "You're right, I don't like it." Especially since not much earlier he had been worrying about her getting killed and now he was going off who knows where doing goodness knows what, and who knew what might happen to him while he was gone.

"I haven't got to the part you really won't like yet."

Sarah went for some more fortification, this time in the form of wine. That Harry did not stop her did not help her feeling of dread about this.

"I need you to promise me you won't try and find out where I've gone."

"Why?" A sudden, horrible thought came to her and she froze. "You're not in trouble are you?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, but it is top secret and I don't want anyone finding out through you."

"You think I can't keep a secret?"

He winced. "It's not that, old girl. But if you knew you wouldn't be safe."

"Why? What the hell is going on, Harry?"

He shook his head and pushed his now-empty coffee cup away. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

She took a deep breath but bit her lip before she could say something she would later regret.

Harry pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket that was starting to look distinctly crumpled and passed it to her. "Here," he said as she took it from him and read it, "you can still write to me."

The address was in this country, which was not really that much of a surprise. It would be a lead she could chase up except that she was already feeling guilty just thinking about it. By the time she had put it away carefully in her purse he was already on his feet.

"Let's go," he said.

"Where's the rush?" she asked him but he already had his wallet out and Sarah was forced to follow him in order to have their standard argument over the bill. Usually she refused to pay for food she had not chosen but equally did not want him paying for everything. Her heart was not quite in it this time, though, so her contribution consisted mostly of saying 'thank you' and 'goodbye'.

While it was true Harry had not been away for a while, he used to be off round the world often. This time, though, there was something about what he said, or rather did not say, that made her think this time it was particularly dangerous and she wondered if he would even make it back for next year's dinner.

Once outside he smiled at her and said "I'm starving. Am I right in thinking there's a chip shop near here?"

Sarah laughed and put her arm through his as they headed off for a more palatable meal.

Sarah let a tear fall down her cheek - there was no-one to see it anyway. Now she could think of things she might have done differently, if only she had known. The worst part was not knowing anything at all; not knowing if he was dead or alive. Harry could come back tomorrow or not at all.

When she heard a key turn in the lock she debated whether to carry on crying to garner some sympathy. However, when the person who walked in was revealed to be the Brigadier she quickly dried her eyes and stood up. He was unlikely to fall for that, she thought.

"Miss Smith. You do seem to have a penchant for getting into trouble."

Sarah gave a tight smile in return. The Brigadier was someone on whom excuses would not work either.

He surprised her, though, by sitting down on the bunk she had just vacated. Sarah sat down next to him.

"I understand; it's hard not knowing where he is or what he's doing."

Sarah looked down at her shoes. The Brigadier being understanding was not that unusual but was a little hard to take at the moment.

"You just have to be patient. You can't go breaking into places, they don't tend to like it."

Sarah looked up at him. He looked a bit concerned, which was unexpectedly sweet. "I'm not good at waiting."

"I noticed. But nevertheless, there is nothing you can do, you just don't have a high enough security clearance to be told anything. And no," he held up a hand, anticipating her next comment, "you can't get one either."

She nodded in response.

"And maybe you'll find one day he'll tell you himself. Patience is a virtue, Miss Smith. Now, up you get, they're sick of the sight of you and you look like you could do with a night in a proper bed."

"Thank you," she said, knowing now why the Brigadier was here and what he had done.

"What for?" he said, but he smiled.

By the time she got home it was late and she found the Brigadier was right - she did feel better for a night spent in her own bed. Although she was woken in the morning by the doorbell. She wanted to ignore it but whoever was there was insistent, so she gave in, put on a dressing gown and opened the door.

"Sarah, where have you been? I've been trying to get hold of you all night," Nat said as Sarah let go of the door in surprise, giving Nat a chance to get inside.

"Hi Nat, how was your holiday, why don't you come in?" She was pleased to see her, even though it was too late to use any of her computer talents.

Nat ignored her and carried on. "I've been worried. I got back to work yesterday to find you've been off sick and when you were in you looked terrible and were really quiet. I didn't know what to think, this isn't exactly the season for the flu."

Sarah thought about cutting in but just sat down and waited until Nat had drawn breath. She did not get a chance to say anything though because it turned out to only be a temporary lull.

"You could have called me you know," she carried on, although more quietly. "France isn't that far away. Which was great, by the way."

"Good," Sarah managed before tackling the rest of Nat's rant. "A good friend of mine has gone missing. He was on a mission for NATO, I think, and no-one knows where he is. I just..." she trailed off and bit her lip.

Nat reached over to take her hand and Sarah held on gratefully. "I'm so sorry. If you need some help looking for him--"

"Thank you but I've tried everything and there's nothing left to do except hope he's okay."

"At least they haven't told you he's dead. That means there's still hope."

Sarah nodded. It was not much of a comfort.

"Are you going to be all right? If I'm any later in this morning it will get too suspicious."

Sarah smiled at that and nodded.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, at work."

"I don't know, Nat..."

"You have to carry on, Sarah. I'm sure your friend wouldn't want to come back to find you pining away like a girl in some trashy romance novel. That's not you."

"You're right." Sarah stood up. "Perhaps I should start now, come back to work today."

"No. No offense, Sarah but you still look terrible. Go pamper yourself, eat chocolate, have a long bath. Have a long bath in chocolate. Hmm, that's an idea... And I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you," Sarah said, as Nat left. Nat smiled in response. Sarah settled in to follow her friend's advice and wait for Harry to come back in her life, however long that might take.