Season 10 speculation thus spoilers for 9.8. Unlikely and adventurous... but isn't that what fic's for? :) In all other Enquiry based fic, Harry has been put under surveillance at home. The whole point of this fic is the fact that he hasn't.

Hope you enjoy!

Ruth likened Section D to chess pieces, or plastic toy soldiers perhaps. Despite everything, she found herself and her colleagues easily trodden upon by commanders with assumed authority who bulldozed over the Grid recklessly. She never once fought a battle emerging victorious. In Harry's absence the job had become impossible. The enquiry brought with it an abrupt sense of vulnerability and, like acid, it began to erode her and her friends bit by bit. Even Dimitri – who she was certain had no faint personal affections towards his boss – became angered when Harry's office was cleared of his desk and private belongings.

They sat at their computers pretending to work for over a week. On several separate occasions, everyone had demanded they be told where Harry was being held. Beth got the closest when one man replied 'a detention centre,' but never elaborated.

Alec quickly admitted he was surprised by the forceful nature of the enquiry, stating he had never encountered such efficient and discourteous action as a result of a Head of Section being placed under investigation. The abhorrence he felt was evident in his expression every time he threw a scowl to the guards dotted around the Grid.

Ruth took it for granted that Dimitri, Beth, Tariq and Alec had come to learn Harry's reasoning for surrendering Albany. They never questioned it. And like accomplished spies, they pretended they were unaware of the fractured love affair between their boss and their intelligence analyst.

They worked quietly, uncomfortably, with different versions of Harry's current state playing out in their minds. The Home Secutary had graciously informed them that they would be allowed contact soon – his words came as water to a desert. It gave Ruth the smallest, faintest string of hope that she held onto as if it were life itself. Everyone knew the enquiry made little sense so far but no-one retained the authority to change it.

The day after Lucas had jumped, Harry had been taken blind from his house in the early hours of the morning. He knew without a doubt it was the enquiry, but pondered over the brutal nature of what felt more like kidnap than anything else.

With no offered explanation he was driven to a prison like centre decorated with burly army officials and barbed wire in every direction he dared to look. He was aware that high state prisons required elevated levels of security, but at the same time, couldn't see how he posed a threat to anyone anymore. One man spoke to him without introducing his name despite knowing everything there was to know about his prisoner. He lead Harry (and several guards) into a small white stone room illuminated by harsh florescent light. Here, Harry was forced to strip before being handed a grey jumpsuit that didn't fit properly and offered an insultingly small glass of water.

Everything he said was ignored. The procedure was clear cut and every officer knew their place and jurisdiction. Harry was told he would be taken to 'Ernest' who would show him to his cell. With cuffed wrists, he was escorted down a short brightly lit corridor before being abandoned with a beast of a man sporting short dark hair and substantially muscular arms. Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked particularly out of place in the prison like surrounding. He stood rigid by a cell door with a key held loosely in one hand.

"Ah, and you must be my newest enemy." Harry smiled, "Ernest isn't it? It's good to put a name to a face. I'd shake your hand, but err..." their eyes simultaneously dropped to the cuffs biting his wrists.

"You won't get out of this alive Pearce." Ernest growled with swirling eyes. He knew of the future. He knew the price his onlooker would be paying within hours yet hid everything except a scornful look of odium from his expression. "You know that though, don't you."

"Oh please. I knew as soon as Ruth was kidnapped it was over for me. You can't hurt me now, let's be honest. Everything was over long before any of this," he acknowledged the building around them. The stone walls craving art and paint, the silence hanging thick down the walkway that faded to a murky mix of dusty air and darkness. Ernest kept his eyes shadowed by his frown, watching Harry for anything enigmatic or unexpected. It took a long moment before he realised the spook had truly - in his heart and soul - given up and decided upon embracing his future. He had nothing left to give or loose, he was as open and ready to be burned.

"You're not frightened?" Ernest almost smiled as he spoke but his strong frown quashed most of his curiosity before it became apparent. Harry smirked.

"Why would I be frightened?"

"You know nothing of what is to come? You don't even know who I am."

"I know exactly what's to come. Knowledge overrules anticipation Ernest. You're going to keep me in this cell until some obscure higher corporation decides my future for me. Death or deportation. Hopefully the latter. With regard to who you are, am I to presume you're my interrogator? Though you look more like a man built for inflicting physical pain rather than psychological interrogation."

The larger man paused and scrutinised every inch of the prisoners face. "It is not my decision to determine your fate, whether you're to be torture or not."

"Of course not. If instructed, however, I've no doubt you will torture me. We both know that."

"It is my job, an aspect of my duty to my country."

Harry laughed.

"Yes." His eyes clouded, he briefly saw his life before him in watercolour appearing slowly on the bland wall ahead. "I had a duty to my country once and look where I ended up."

At the remark Ernest felt a single atom of his integrity falter and he knew, trained as a machine, he had to remove himself from the situation at the risk of experiencing remorse. In a single notion he pushed Harry to one side and unlocked the prison door to swing open and reveal a metal white and grey hell. Then he turned and with a firm hand seized Harry's bicep before forcing him into solitude, smashing the door closed for the last word.

And when he was sure no-one was present to observe, Harry regressed slowly onto the cold hard mattress and began to weep.

More soon, if you'd like. If not, I'll go migrate to Yugoslavia.