Ruth watched her husband by the fireside. He was lost in his own head, as he increasingly was. It was like watching a film by proxy as thoughts and emotions flitted across his mobile face and readable eyes as he looked, unseeingly, into the fire. How long had they been married now? 20? 25 years? It seemed like yesterday. Ruth joined Ray in their separate mental journeys into the past. If she were honest with herself - and the long reach of time made such a thing easier - her first marriage to Dougie had been on the rocks before he took fatally ill. Not sinking yet, but certainly taking in water. His promotion through the police ranks had taken their toll on him and on their marriage. His long absences from home could no longer be blamed entirely on his work. Since they'd moved down to London, he had joined in with his hard hitting, hard drinking police pals. He would frequently come home drunk and Ruth would have to explain daddy's 'illness' somehow to their little girl, Grace. Ruth had shielded her from the worst of it. Dougie had never raised a hand to either of them, but the threat was always in the air. They had to tiptoe around him softly and very carefully. Then Dougie had developed meningitis. It was touch and go. Ruth had hoped, of course, that Dougie would get through it; he was a strong man physically and mentally. She also hoped that this brush with death would bring her husband to his senses and they'd make a new start. He may even consider leaving the force and they could … but her dreams had never come to pass. Dougie had died and she and Grace had had to try to rebuild their lives alone - until one fateful meeting.

It was ironic that Ruth and Ray had met back at the same hospital, some years after Dougie had died. Grace, then 7, was recovering from a traffic accident. Not only had the return to the white and sterile corridors brought all the memories flooding back, but Ray turned out to be a copper, too - well, a kind of copper (he eventually admitted). However, that was the only thing that he and Dougie had in common. She had tried to disguise her shock when he'd told her his job, and so had smiled bravely at this very good-looking man. She had taken a deep breath and gritted her teeth and was determined to at least give Ray the benefit of the doubt. She felt that she needed to move on with her life, and some instinct told her that Ray Doyle may just be such a man to help her do that. As the weeks of courting turned to months, she knew that this man now sat before her was unlike Dougie as sand was to water. He was tender and sensitive and, most of all, he loved Grace as much as she loved him. As the years passed and Grace got into her difficult teenage years, not once did she throw back at Ray that he wasn't her real father. Ruth wondered how much Grace had remembered of Dougie, and what those feelings and memories were. Ruth had told Ray little of her earlier married life. He hadn't asked and she hadn't said. Can silence be a lie? She was sure that there were parts of his life, too, unknown to her and she certainly didn't know about the specifics of his job. He said that it was safer that way, and she believed him.

About ten years or so ago Ray's boss, Major Cowley - a frequent visitor at the house - retired. If Ray or his mate, Bodie, had been considered for the post, neither man got it. Ray seemed neither surprised nor disappointed. Ruth knew her husband to be a man of action, and sitting behind a desk shuffling papers wasn't his way. Give that job to an older man - and so they had. But things had changed, as things must. Ray was not immune to getting older and his reactions weren't as quick as they once were. In his mid-50s he decided to call it a day. Bodie had already retired and crept quietly and slowly from their lives as time passed. With him and the Major gone, there was little to keep Ray in CI5. The wind and drive had gone out of him. Last year Major Cowley passed away. They were surprised that Bodie hadn't attended the funeral but had no way of contacting him. They assumed that he didn't know.

Ray had got a part-time job as a security consultant. They didn't need the money - CI5 had paid well - but Ray wasn't one to sit around - even with a paintbrush in his hand and an easel in the study. But every now and then he would sit quietly in the evening, as he was sitting now, and reminisce in his head. He looked infinitely sad as he watched the fire burn down. Their dog, Sandy, seemed to sense the mood and she put her head on Ray's knee. He rubbed the dog's ear distractedly. It was the anniversary of Cowley's passing. Ruth had forgotten, but Ray hadn't. He relived the scrapes and japes he and Bodie had got up to; how they'd often blatantly disobeyed Cowley's direct orders; how they often had been hauled up before him like naughty schoolboys. Those days seemed endless, timeless, immediate. There seemed nothing they couldn't handle between them. Yes, there were friends lost in the heat of battle, others moving on and away (as Bodie had), but the war was ever the same - even worse now, the sophisticated weaponry available to even the lowliest of the villains. Ray sighed. He was glad to have got out. It was a young man's game and he was honest enough to know that he was no longer a young man. Best to get out while still alive, rather than hang on and wait till a bullet or a 'no longer fit for active duty' statement found you.

Ruth watched her husband shake his head at an internal conversation, then run his fingers irritably through his thick, grey hair. He seemed to have come to a decision, or the end of his conversation. He dragged his thoughts away from the fire and looked into his wife's eyes. He had sensed her quiet presence. She furrowed her eyebrows briefly and cocked her head. 'What?' her gesture implied.

"Just … thinking," Ray said softly. There was a catch in his throat. He knew she wouldn't press for details.

She wasn't sure who was uppermost in his mind - the Major, Bodie, or CI5 in general - but she was sure that this was the terrain where her husband was wandering. She went over and knelt by his side, the dog at the other knee. He took her face and gently kissed her. Their intimacy was broken by Grace and her half-sister, Anne, bursting in - full of youth and enthusiasm. They stopped suddenly and tried to backtrack across the threshold.

"Oops, sorry," said an embarrassed Anne.

Her parents looked across at the gangly girls - one nearly a woman now; the other older but not much wiser - and smiled.

"It's ok. We're done," Ray grinned.

Ruth got up and was about to say something when the doorbell rang. Anne, being nearest, opened the door. The adults heard her gasp. Doyle was first to reach her, anxiously. In the doorway stood a slim, immaculately dressed, very handsome man. Bodie had come home.