Title: Reincarnation
Author: Cath
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me
Summary: When spooks die, things aren't always as they appear to be. Post series 5 ep 5. RH.
Notes: Many, many thanks for all the wonderful feedback I've received. I really appreciate it, even if I don't have the opportunity to thank you all individually. I only hope you enjoy this offering!
Please note, italics indicate flashbacks.
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Zaf & Jo
"Jo Portman."
"Harry… There was a car accident. Harry's dead."
Jo doesn't think she's ever heard Juliet sound so unsure, so affected. It causes her to miss the substance of the words for a good few seconds.
"I'm sorry, you said…" she starts. And then the words sink in. She looks up at Zaf who watches her with a concerned expression. "Dead?" She rolls the word round in her mouth for a moment before spitting it out. It seems foreign and unnatural. "I…" She fumbles for the words to use, but fails, and the phone slips slowly out of her hand, banging loudly on the desk. She sits down. Blinks back tears.
She is unaware of the silence that envelops the Grid following her reactions; people stare at her.
Zaf grabs the phone. "Hello?" He places one hand gently on her arm, a comforting gesture which she barely feels due to the encompassing numbness. A few words register from his side of the conversation. "How?" "When?" "Are you okay?" "Don't, Juliet, I'll do it." He hangs up the phone.
"Come with me," Zaf tells her. He practically drags her out of her chair and around the corner. She is shaking. He stops in a deserted corridor, notices her reaction, draws her into a comforting embrace. "Jo. Jo, I need you with me right now. Things aren't exactly what they seem."
"I… I don't understand, Zaf. Harry's…" she can't bring herself to link the words together. Harry. Dead. They cannot be related.
"Come with me," he repeats. At this point she'd blindly follow him wherever he went.
---
Harry & Zaf
"Zaf, you remember when Ruth left," Harry asks him late one night.
If he thinks it's a strange question, Zaf has the decency not to show it.
It's been three years since she went. Three years since Harry has mentioned her name. Three years and still they can't forget.
"Yes," he replies simply.
Neither man says a word as Harry takes two glasses from the cabinet and fills them with scotch. He offers one to Zaf.
Zaf isn't much of a scotch drinker, but he accepts the glass. He wonders what he is doing here. He wonders why Harry can now say her name without hesitation.
Harry smiles cryptically before he drinks, obviously lost in his own thoughts.
"We should have been able to save her," he says after some amount of silence. There is still pain there; subdued with time and distance, but still present.
Zaf thinks back to that time, and to an evening that never really happened, when four of them went back to his place and used alcohol to dilute their pain.
Ros: nonchalant, pretending that she was unaffected, but quietly downing vodka by the shot. He'd never formally invited her; after all, without her intervention Ruth would have never been in that situation. But she'd shown up at his apartment with the bottle and an expression that, for Ros, seemed awfully close to distress.
Adam: a bittersweet smile on his face as he recounted the story of how Harry extracted Ruth's whereabouts from him. The unspoken thought that Harry got to say goodbye. The unspoken thought that at least Ruth's death was not the finality of Fiona's. Even then clearly spiralling towards despair as he alternated between glasses of Ros' vodka and whiskey.
Jo. Still new to this life and already having to deal with the loss of two of their group. She sat quietly to one side, curled up on the couch, watching Adam and Zaf attempt to hide their pain behind forced jokes and Ros deal with her part in it through over-played denial and indifference. He hadn't even realised she was drunk until after Adam and Ros had left and she tried to stand up. "Do we get happy endings in this job?" she had asked. "I mean, Ruth and Harry, they should have been able to have a chance, right? Adam should still have Fiona. There are ghosts all over the Grid," she rolled her head drunkenly to one side. "S'pose that tomorrow we have to go back in and ignore them." She hadn't made it any further than the couch that night; he placed a blanket over her as she slept.
She'd been right, though. Despite the fact that rarely they spoke about those who had passed, the ghosts still haunted them.
"At least she got to have a life," Zaf says to Harry. "She's probably living in some exotic location, with a husband and kids, leading a normal life. To be honest, I'm not even sure I don't envy her."
"Yes," Harry replies, before a short laugh. But there is something else in his expression that Zaf nearly misses; something that Zaf can't quite interpret. "That's one thing this job guarantees: you won't get to experience normality." He drinks the remains of his scotch. "As I get older, I'm just not entirely convinced that it's worth it."
They say nothing more on the subject, but Zaf ponders about what prompted Harry's philosophical wonderings until mere weeks later when Harry asks his favour. And after that, there is no time to do anything but plan.
---
Adam & Jo
"Zaf tells me you did well at the morgue," Adam informs her as they sit on a bench near the river the next day. She has too many questions; questions that cannot be asked in the presence of other people.
"I nearly threw up. How is that good?"
Adam gives the hint of a smile. "It looks convincing."
She laughs almost bitterly. "That body, it was burned so badly. I could almost convince myself that it was him." Nausea threatens to overcome her as she replays the images in her head.
"I know this is difficult, Jo, but this is the only way it could happen."
"Who else knows?"
"You, me, Zaf, Malcolm; Harry didn't want anyone else involved. He thought it was bad enough that he had to involve anyone."
"Why involve me?"
"Harry wanted you to know the truth. And Zaf didn't like the idea of keeping you out of the loop."
"Why now? Why like this?" she asks after a while. It's something that has been plaguing her since she first learned the truth.
"He wouldn't say."
She suspects that she has as many answers as she will ever get.
The funeral is on a Friday. Jo sits uneasily throughout the service, watching Harry's daughter and son as they try to come to terms with their loss. Listening as lies about Harry's past float around her. Watching as Adam easily fools his audience during the eulogy.
But at some point she begins to believe it all and Adam's words cause her to soar and sink with the memories and her emotions threaten to overwhelm her.
Zaf takes her hand. "It's okay," he tells her.
"I'm so confused," she admits after the service has ended. "I don't know what to think anymore." She breathes slowly and deeply: once, twice, three times. She closes her eyes and then opens them. "Do you think that he's happier, now that he's… dead?" she asks, and she feels foolish as soon as the words pass from her lips.
Zaf thinks this over for a moment, and the conversation over scotch comes flooding back. "I know he is."
---
Harry & Adam & Zaf
"Adam, Zaf, a moment?" Harry summons them after the morning briefing. He motions for them to collect their coats, and they leave the building.
They walk down to their usual meeting place, down by the Thames. It is a place where conversations will not go overheard.
"Well, I'll certainly miss our little chats by the river," Harry comments almost idly.
"Miss?" Adam asks. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Yes. I'm going over to the other side," he smiles ironically. "I'll need your help, of course. Malcolm, as well. Perhaps Jo."
"I don't understand," Zaf admits.
"I want a "normal" life as you so aptly put it, Zaf. And I need some assistance from the best in the profession. I've planned it all out; a car accident seems to be the best route. No one would really accept suicide, would they? And besides, that would take weeks to prepare."
"You… you want us to help you fake your death?" Adam asks hesitantly.
"Well, actually dying would rather defeat the object, wouldn't it?" Harry queries. "Can I rely on you? Adam? Zaf?"
There is a short moment of silence, as both contemplate what this means.
"Of course you can count on us, Harry," Zaf assures him. Adam nods in agreement.
"Good. It's on a need to know basis only, of course. I hope you understand."
"Why now? Why not retire?"
Harry laughs bitterly. "There are too many eyes and ears for someone in my position to ever retire from the service entirely, Adam. No, I need to leave without having to look over my shoulder constantly for surveillance." Harry stands up. "I have to get back for a meeting with Juliet. We'll talk again soon."
Adam and Zaf watch as Harry walks off into the distance.
"Why…"
"We don't discuss this, Zaf. We'll do this Harry's way. We're not going to be able to talk him out of it," he is adamant. "A nice, normal life." Adam looks wistful for a moment. "Sometimes, I think I could give up a lot for that."
---
Adam & Ros
After the funeral he stands solitary, looking out at the river, contemplative. He is aware of Ros' presence even before she announces herself.
"What really happened?" Ros asks.
He turns round. "What do you mean?"
"You don't really expect me to swallow all that crap about a car accident do you, Adam?" She laughs derisively. "I thought you knew me better than that. I know something's going on, Adam. Don't bother to deny it."
"Ros…"
"Where is he, Adam?" she demands.
He leans his arms against the railings and looks out across the river and smiles cryptically. "He's gone to a better place."
Ros smirks satisfied that she has some part of an answer. "Somehow I'm thinking that's more Le Havre than heaven." She turns round, her back to the railings, her arm resting against Adam's. "So what happens now?"
"We go to the party and celebrate the life of a brilliant man."
"And after that?"
"Well, you can come back to mine if that's what you're hinting at," he teases her.
Ros laughs. "One dayAdam, I might even take you up on your offer." There is a moment of quietness, both thinking about the day. "What made him do it?" she wonders aloud.
"He'd had enough, I suppose," Adam reasons, but the answer sounds weak, even to his own ears.
"Enough? Harry? No. There must have been something else. Something that we won't ever find out," Ros rationalises.
"His whole family… Everyone at the Grid. They all think he's dead."
"We've done this before..."
"But this is Harry," he practically shouts.
"Adam," she starts after a pause. "Let's go celebrate his life." She puts one arm through his and guides him away from the river.
---
Ros, Zaf, Adam, Malcolm & Jo
Six months have passed since Harry's alleged death. Things finally start to settle down. Life starts to return to what it once was.
Jo finds the postcard one damp and drizzly Monday in between a letter from her mother and a phone bill. A postcard originating in Australia. A simple message: Wish you were here. Unsigned.
It takes a moment for her to consider who might be sending her such a message. Then she smiles.
She suggests to Ros, Zaf, Malcolm and Adam that they go for drinks after work. They find a secluded corner in the pub and she promptly produces the postcard. Zaf takes it off her and examines it. He peels it apart and laughs loudly. "The sly bastard!" he exclaims.
Adam takes it off him, and soon he, too, laughs. Malcolm smiles. Ros raises an eyebrow, "Six months?" she queries, amused.
Finally, the postcard is returned to Jo. She looks at the hidden section; it contains a photograph and a message: "Ella Ruth, born 28/7". The photo is of a baby and her parents. The parents are instantly recognisable to Jo: two dead spooks, her former colleagues, her friends.
She laughs, and raises her glass. "To Harry, Ruth, and Ella," she toasts. The others join in.
---
End