Come morning light

Summary: 3.10 tag. They always had eachother to lean on, it was how they coped, how they survived. He just had to get her though tonight, and she'd be OK. They both would.

Spoilers: 3.10, possilble, very minor ones for other bits of season 3. Very crypticaly, a minor detail of 4.7.

Rating: K+If you can deal with Spooks, you can deal with this no problem.

Disclaimer: I do not own Spooks or any part thereof, barring this scene.

Thank God they were out of the hospital. That was all Adam could think right now. The doctors had examined and debated for almost an hour, while Fiona just sat staring blankly at the wall ahead of her. She hadn't shaken, she hadn't cried. That would come, but waiting for it was worse than enduring it, like any pain. Adam had had a hard time persuading the doctors to let her come home, they'd bleated about sub-clinical shock, psychological trauma, secondary shock. Eventually, a shout of,

"Look, we're both police special branch for god's sake! This won't be the first rough night she's been through. She'll do better if she's not surrounded by strangers in a bed on wheels that stinks of bleach." had won the day. For all their examining, they hadn't actually made any attempt to get the petrol off her. By the time Adam pulled up outside their house, the fumes were starting to make him light headed. Fiona must have been almost passed out, but she hadn't opened her window. Her head was still in that house...

She didn't move until he walked round and opened her door, calling her name. She jumped as if startled, but walked with him to the door. There was a note on the table, otherwise the place was as they'd left it that morning, no milk, dishwasher in need of unloading... It seemed an age ago. Adam stopped to skim read the note.

`Two audio bugs in the kitchen (now removed), otherwise clean, data destroyed. Sorry for letting ourselves in, but we thought you'd rather not be bothered with it tonight. Neither of you need be in for briefing tomorrow.

Malcom`

"Oh God." Fiona breathed. Adam pulled her in to his arms. "I hadn't even thought about tomorrow. We're one down already because-" She stopped to gasp a breath. "And I don't think I'll be any use-"

"Hey." Adam cut across her. "No one expects you to do anything for a while. After being in enemy hands, that's standard. You know that." She nodded, she was starting to shake now.

"You're two down, Adam. Danny's never going to get up again, and I'm not sure-"

"We've got one spare we can use."Adam cut across her again. "We've borrowed Zaf Younis from Six. Remember him?" Fiona nodded.

"He's not an easy man to forget." Adam smiled.

"No. He's not. Let's get this stuff off you. Come on." He led her away again, holding her more firmly this time. She felt as if she might be about to collapse.

It felt very strange to help Fiona out of her petrol-soaked, stinking clothes, then in to the bath like this. It was like an obscene parody of something very normal, and very beautiful, between them, mangled, twisted until it was painful. Fiona's skin was puckered, she was shaking, her eyes were damp and closed, and sobs edged her breath. Adam excused himself to get rid of her ruined clothes, and to pull himself together. They should have gone out to eat tonight, come home late, arm in arm, laughing like new lovers, talked all the way about everything and nothing. They should have made love tonight, alone, in the quiet, with nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, but pleasing each other.

He braced his hands against the kitchen table and hung his head forwards, breathing hard. Normally, when he felt like this, felt shaken to his core, felt like he'd come so close to falling apart, felt like the ground had vanished from under his feet, he just went to Fiona, she held him, she put him back together, and he healed. It took time sometimes, but he healed. He always did. She needed him now, he couldn't lean on her, that wasn't fair. He had to brace himself as best he could and let her lean on him. He didn't feel strong enough right now, but she needed him right now. He had to be strong.

When he went back up to the bathroom, the first thing he noticed was her forearms. They were red raw and looked ready to bleed. She was scrubbing at them with her fingernails.

"Hey." He took hold of her wrists gently. "That won't help." The water Fiona was sitting in had accumulated an iridescent sheen. Adam pulled the plug and reached for the shower head. "I think we're probably better off like this." He pulled his shirt off, he'd dry faster than it would, and went back to her side. She didn't resist his attempts to clean her with the sponge, which was starting to change colour, even though he kept on rinsing it out. She just sat and cried quietly, head bowed, letting him manipulate her limbs to wash her thoroughly, like they'd bathed Wes early on. He was as gentle as he could be, but even so, she occasionally winced in pain and recoiled. Her bruises weren't showing yet, but they were obviously there. Her eyes were red-rimmed, even before he started to wash the stuff out of her hair.

When he'd finished, rinsed the bath and put the shower head back, she turned to him and hung her arms round his neck. She was clinging to him as if her life depended on it, head turned away, her body shaking with silent sobs. He returned the embrace, stroking her back gently. She felt so fragile in his arms tonight. That was frightening. She usually felt so alive, so strong, as if every part of her body was smouldering. She was usually so controlled. She was sometimes described as devoid of human emotion, but she was human now, and it was hurting her, badly.

"It's OK." He breathed meaninglessly. "It's OK. You're safe, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now." She breathed in deeply, trying to control her crying. "You were so brave today." She shook her head.

"I fell apart. Danny was so much braver. That should have been me."

"It shouldn't have been either of you. And you didn't fall apart. Most people would have begged for life when... You didn't. You held on to your pride. In situations like that, it's all you can do." Fiona shook her head.

"Danny-"

"I know what Danny did Fi, they made me listen. He made his choice, he knew what that maniac would do." Fiona nodded.

"That makes it worse."

"I know. But you couldn't have stopped him. You told him not to. That was all you could do. There was nothing you could have done."

"You know why they did it? Because we tried to escape. If I'd been faster, we might have made it out, he came back for me. If he'd let them shoot me, he'd have made it out."

"You know the kind of man Danny was, he'd never have forgiven himself for that, for leaving you to die."

"Like I let him die to protect me."

"What could you have done, Fi?" She shook her head. "Come on." He pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in a towel, then helped her out of the bath. Neither spoke again until Fiona had dried herself and was half way in to her pyjamas.

"Why do we live?" She asked quietly. "Time and again, Adam, we should die. You in Serbia, me in Morocco, that time with the bomb in that tunnel, the raid Sam died in, both of us, in-" She stopped abruptly. That was unspeakable. They never mentioned that. Adam thought that had been his closest encounter with death. Adam had no direct answer for that, so he crawled on hands and knees across the bed to her back and embraced her.

"If we survived that, we can survive anything." Fiona tilted her head down and lifted one of her hands to one of his.

"Adam, before Danny-" She stopped again, shuddering. "He had the gun to my head. It would have been me if you hadn't answered and Danny hadn't... Neither of you should have. I'm not worth any more than anyone else. People get hurt for me, Adam, and it makes me sick. It makes me feel..." She shuddered again. "I can't do it anymore. It's been going on for too long." Adam took her jaw in his hand and turned her head to him.

"Fiona, if this is about what I think it's about, I've told you a thousand times, and I'll tell you a thousand times more, if that's how long you take to believe me, it was worth it. For you, it was worth every minute. If I'd died, it still would have been worth every minute, for the time I had with you." She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him again. "And there are people who need you."

"Danny was somebody's son. Somewhere tonight, his mother will be screaming."

"And you're somebody's daughter. It's not that that makes the difference. For one, if I lost you, I..." There weren't words for that. It was like Syria. It didn't bear thinking about. "I don't know what I'd do. But it's more than me." Adam released Fiona and reached for the phone by the bed and pressed the answer phone button, hoping he was right about what would be on there.

"You have one new message." A cool female voice said. A beep, then;

"Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday dear Mummy,

Happy Birthday to you!" Wes's voice singing very fast. "Happy Birthday Mummy and `many happy returns of the day`" The note of pride in Wes's voice made them both smile. He'd learned that line from A.A Mile, and figured out how to use it. "And guess what Mummy? We were kicking in Sport today and guess what? I kicked the ball even further than Anton, and the teacher said he couldn't wait to have me on the team when I'm bigger. I love you very much Mummy." A brief pause. "And I love you too Daddy." Adam smiled again.

"To replay the mess-" The cool female voice began. Adam turned her off.

"See?" He asked. "He loves you very much. And so do I. He needs his Mum. I can't do this on my own. You mean the world to him. You know that. Now come here." Fiona, not quite crying, not quite laughing, slid back across the bed to him, and curled up in his arms. Adam reached for the light switch. The first night after something like this was always the worst part. If they made it through to the morning, somehow, she'd be alright.

Thanks to my Mother for beta (as usual) and introducing me to Spooks in the first place, and persuading me to pen my fanfiction.