She waited until Mace emerged at the far side of the pods, then went over to his office and slid open the door. Slumped in his chair, he was cradling a tumbler of whisky against his chest.

'Um, you shouldn't be drinking that.'

'After the day I've had, do you want to try taking it off me?'

'Do you want Mike to have to carry you home? Booze and industrial strength painkillers aren't the best combination, Harry, and you need to keep your wits about you right now.'

He grunted, and leaning forward gingerly slid the glass onto his desk. Somewhere in the back of his mind the wisp of a thought floated, the awareness that if anyone else had given him that lecture he'd have bawled them out of his office. Too weary to contemplate this further he leaned back in his chair.

'Did you barge in here for anything in particular, Ruth?'

'I – I just wondered if you were okay. You look exhausted.'

'Thank you for that.'

'How's your shoulder?'

He bit back a sarcastic retort. 'Sore.'

She tried again. 'Look, I, um, noticed that you didn't eat any of the sandwiches. You must be hungry though; can I get you anything?'

'Somehow I doubt that any eaterie open at this hour will serve anything remotely edible. Now, if that's...'

Her face lit up. 'No, no, I know a great all night place about ten minutes away! I, er, go there sometimes on my way home. We could...if you like...I mean...'

He pinched his thumb and forefinger together across his eyelids. 'Actually, now that we know that Tom was set up there's probably not a lot we can do until the morning, so why not. Give me five minutes to pack up and whatnot, and I'll meet you at the front door.'

'Let me help you. It won't be easy with one hand..'

'Thank you, Ruth, but the emphasis was really on the whatnot rather than the pack up. I meant nip to the loo.'

'Oh! Right. Well, no...I...' blushing furiously she backed to the door. 'I'll see you...' she waved vaguely, '...yes.'

'Full English for me please,' said Harry. 'The works. And a pot of tea.'

'I'll have a thin crust pizza. Anchovies, olives, jalapeno peppers, and...pineapple. Thanks. Oh, and make that tea for two.' Ruth beamed. The cafe owner nodded and moved off, still scribbling on his pad.

She turned back to Harry, who looked faintly nauseated. 'Ruth, um, that's, that's quite some combination. None of my business of course, but is there anything you want to tell me?'

She looked at him blankly.

'Are you pregnant?'

'Actually, yes.' She smiled, mischievously.

Harry felt a curious weight settling in his stomach. 'Oh. Well, congratulations.'

She was still grinning at him. 'Just one tiny thing. You're the father.'

He stared at her. 'Ruth,' he said at length, 'in recent days I've had my section chief go rogue, turn my shoulder into a colander, and get set up by someone who's been dead for five years. And I'm not even going to start on Oliver Mace's shenanigans. So, forgive me if I have no appetite for games.'

'Sorry, sorry, it's just when you said...sorry.'

Ruth looked so chastened that Harry, feeling guilty and irritated by turn, snapped, 'So get to the point, then!'

She leaned back as the owner re-appeared with their tea. Harry, who'd been expecting styrofoam cups and sachets was taken aback at the stoneware laid out in front of them, and his hopes lifted that the first decent meal in days might actually be edible.

'Thank you Tony,' said Ruth, and she waited til he'd disappeared back behind his counter before continuing.

'It's just that I went to the hospital to tell you about Mace and the JIC, but they wouldn't let me see you. I had to bribe a nurse with £50 and tell her that I was carrying your child before she would even pass on the note.'

'Fifty quid? I'm obviously paying you too much, Ruth,' he grumbled, reaching for the teapot. He filled both mugs, his almost to the brim. 'Milk? Sugar?'

'Just milk please. That's fine,' she added, as he poured.

'Thank god Danny didn't go to the hospital then,' he murmured. 'Although I would've loved to have seen him trying to camp it up. And Zoe...nobody would've believed her if she'd told them she was expecting my child.' He chuckled, oblivious to the fact that across the table Ruth had gone very still.

'Really? Why's that?'

'Well, somebody like her would never...' Too late, Harry realised his mistake.

'Whereas I would?'

He winced. 'I'm old enough to be Zoe's father, Ruth. And yes, okay, yours too, at a push, but... Oh god.' He sighed. 'Zoe is one of those women that every man sees as unattainable, regardless of his age. Don't ask me what it is about her...no!' he exclaimed, as Ruth threw him a withering look, 'it's not just about a pretty face or a, uh, good figure, it's...she oozes self confidence, self reliance, the assurance that she could have any man she wanted but doesn't really need one.'

Ruth eyed him over the rim of her mug. 'Keep digging, Harry.'

He took a slug of tea and leaned back in his chair. 'I think I've been unprofessional enough for one night, wouldn't you say?'

'Coward.'

'So be it.' His smile was smothered by a yawn.

They lapsed into silence, Harry desperate just to close his eyes, Ruth all too well aware of this, and wondering if she should just forget the meal and call a taxi.

'I-I'm sure Danny didn't mean, it, you know.'

'About shooting me? Yes he did. Danny doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean.'

'He was probably just trying to impress Adam.'

Harry chuckled. 'Yes, Adam does rather appear to have something of a fan club already, although you and Zoe seem less than enamoured of him.'

'Just because we weren't fawning all over him doesn't mean...'

'No, no, noses were definitely out of joint, for some reason. But, I promise you, Ruth, Adam's one of the good guys. One of the best. I'd trust him with my life.'

'Well, Zoe and Danny may have to, so they're not just going to welcome him with open arms just because he's your blue eyed boy.'

'Danny did,' Harry retorted.

'Yeah, well,' Ruth muttered. 'That's probably because he's so loyal to Tom, and Adam's the one person who hasn't had him tried, sentenced and executed for what he did to you.'

He pursed his lips. 'Are you saying that I need be concerned about Danny's loyalty?'

'What? No! Not at all. But they've been through a lot together and you build stronger bonds with someone you're out risking your life with on a regular basis than with some borderline alcoholic who just barks orders and throws hissy fits from behind a desk.'

She's smiling, he thought, but something like that doesn't come from nowhere. Is that really how she perceives me? Shit. Moodily he picked up his teaspoon and flipped it between his fingers. And since when did it bother you what your team think of you, anyway?

Ruth, in turn, hadn't missed the flash of hurt in his eyes. 'I'm joking, Harry. Well, insofar as there's no 'just' about it. You also do a good line in sarcasm.' Expecting a demonstration of just that, when he didn't respond she realised with a jolt that the hard nut persona he projected was maybe just that; a shell. She closed her hand over his, halting the teaspoon in its tracks. 'Harry, your team thinks the world of you, and when I'm not being totally offensive and presumptuous and inappropriate and effectively writing my own P45...'

'Ruth..'

'...I am actually doing my best to impress you because...'

'Ruth...' the combination of her hand on his and her flushed cheeks was beginning to have a totally inappropriate effect on him.

'...I don't want to go back to GCHQ and I've really..oh...great!'

To Harry's relief, Tony had arrived with their food, and Ruth released him and sat back, eyeing her pizza with a hunger she hadn't known she felt. Tearing off a slice she looked up at Harry, who had started attacking a sausage with the edge of his fork.

'Would you like me to cut that up for you?'

He shook his head. 'I can manage,' he said, his tone abrupt.

Oh god, she thought. Way to go Ruth, you finally land an interesting, challenging, worthwhile job with a great bunch of people and you throw it away by insulting your boss.

Harry Pearce might be sarcastic, demanding and short tempered, but she knew all too well that he was also fair, supportive of his team and appreciative of the work they did. More than that, he would always back them to the hilt no matter what. Despairing, she slapped the slice of pizza back onto her plate.

'I'm sorry,' she burst out.

Harry, intent on spearing an unwilling mushroom, looked up in surprise, and was confronted with Ruth, who moments before had been playfully teasing him, clearly on the verge of tears.

'Ruth?'

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. It's just...' she flapped her hands.

He'd never been very good with tearful women. His mother had been the stoical sort, never one for public displays of anything other than calm forbearance. He had no sisters, no close female friends; and Jane...Jane had been more one for yelling and sarcasm and angry silences. And now Ruth sat across from him, eyes skyward, dabbing at her lower eyelids in a bid to salvage what remained of that morning's make up.

At that moment he was distracted as the cafe door flew open, and a gang of workmen trooped in, laughing uproariously. Builders, Harry surmised, going by the grubby jeans, the worn sweatshirts, and the rigger boots. Three of them shouted greetings in the general direction of Tony, then they all clattered down at a couple of tables in the far corner, ribbing the youngest of the group, who seemed to be taking it all in well-accustomed good part.

He turned back to Ruth. 'Look, the last few days have been difficult for all of us. You have nothing to apologise for. Trust me, the day you do you'll know all about it.'

She sniffed, forcing a laugh. 'Sorry, I must look a fright. I should go and...'

'You look lovely,' he said, unthinking. The instant the words left his lips he blushed. Ruth's eyes eyes darted to his, astonished, then her face bloomed into a bashful, dimpled smile which made his stomach somersault once more.

'Thank you.'

'Eat your pizza,' he said gruffly. 'It's getting cold.'