Sadly I don't own any of the characters of Spooks – that honour goes to Kudos and the BBC. I just wanted to take them out and play with them a bit.

Thank you for the reviews – very kind very encouraging. Just so you know, this all popped into my head pretty much intact, and there'll be five chapters, not all of them happy. Oh yes, there's angst to come – buckets and buckets of it…

Set after the end of series nine. Possible spoiler.

Chapter Two

The November breeze was crisp and cold as they left Thames House, and Ruth thought she could smell burning in the air. The car pulled up and they got into the back and despite the obvious tension, Ruth hadn't been outside since she'd arrived at work yesterday and so rather than taking Harry to task, she sat wide eyed, staring out of the window, twisting her hands at the procession of ambulances and fire engines, and, new to this crisis, military vehicles that shuttled past them, sirens blaring, lights flashing, the visceral evidence of a city under attack, understanding in way that she hadn't at her desk, that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Harry meanwhile just wanted to get home.

"Mike, show them the bloody badge" he snapped, and the policeman on traffic duty lifted the tape and let them through.

The calls kept coming. If it wasn't the 'how are we going to keep the stock market open squad', it was the British Way, picking up on the Indian/Pakistan element and stirring up trouble, while the PM's office wanted his new Home Secretary's security clearance rushed through on a promise, and as soon as Harry batted one problem away, another was lobbed in his direction, and, nauseous with pain, dizzy with fatigue, his critical faculties hanging by a thread, he felt like a tail end batter having a very bad day.

Ruth never so much as looked at him. When they stopped outside his house, Harry finished the call he was on, watched at her staring out of the window, and got out without a saying a word.

"Mike." She said "Take me home, please."

But the car didn't move, and Ruth saw Harry holding a 'stay' hand up, while talking to his security detail. When he'd finished, he doubled back and tapped on the car window.

"Ruth?" he said and nodded towards his house "Ten minutes. Now."

Then he turned and walked up the steps.

"He did it again!" hissed Ruth "Damn him!"

Getting out she slammed the door making an audible point that Harry chose to ignore as he let himself in, and by the time she'd apologised to Mike and joined him, he was in his front room, kicking off his shoes, undoing his shirt and pouring himself a drink.

"Alright" he said before she could start "Get it out."

"Get what out?"

"You obviously have some deep seated need to tell me I'm an idiot and shout at me or whatever" he said "So get it out, or you won't sleep tonight, and I need you on top form tomorrow."

"Don't be glib Harry!"

"Well, that's a start."

"I mean it."

"Keep going." He said sipping his drink.

"Is this a game to you Harry? Some great big stupid let's just see if we can get killed at random and find it funny afterwards if we survive, because aren't we noble game?"

Fatigue and frustration over-rode self control and her voice rose, her face flushed and Harry let her continue.

"Ros got killed Harry, other people got killed, bystanders got killed, what makes you think you're so bloody special? You're not invincible you know, you're not even young any more."

Still Harry didn't react.

"It's one thing to get hurt in the line of duty, but to go out of your way to put yourself in danger is not just stupid, it's selfish. After the bomb went off, comms went down for forty seven minutes. Forty seven minutes Harry when we, I, didn't know whether you were dead or alive! And all we could see on the news was devastation. How dare you! First George, then Jo, and now Ros. I won't stick around and see you put in a box because your pride demands it Harry, I just won't."

He walked toward her, palms up, a pacifying gesture intended to draw things to a close.

"At least I didn't get shot!"

"Don't make fun of me!" she said and pushed him away.

She knew the moment she did it, it was exactly the wrong thing to do…

"Ribs!" gasped Harry the colour draining from his face. "Ribs!"

Her panic was instant and voluble.

"Oh my God! Harry I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, oh God oh God I'm sorry, what do you want me to do. I'm so sorry."

Sweat pouring down his chest, Harry backed away from her, arms out protecting himself.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance? Can I get you anything? Stupid stupid, I'm so sorry,…I'm so sorry."

Ruth ducked through a series of doors until finding the kitchen, she emerged with a glass of water, handing it to Harry, now leaning against the back of the sofa, his face contorted in pain, trying not to howl.

"I'm so sorry Harry, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, I was being so –"

"Please" he whispered. The do shut up was implied.

"Sorry."

The room plunged into welcome silence broken only by Harry's laboured wheezing and the clock ticking in the hall. He sat stock still, eyes shut, focusing on his breathing and after a minute or so, Ruth sat next to him, and laying a hand on his forearm and finding it not rebuffed, did what any good recent mother of an eight year old would do, and started rubbing his back.

Slowly but surely the crisis peaked and the pain began receding and Ruth's relief was almost as intense as his own.

"Do you want me to call Dr Shore?"

"Dear God no." he said, discovering adrenalin had over ridden the anaesthetics and his mind now posessed a peculiar, if distant, clarity. Ruth however was breaking down.

"I shouldn't have done it" she said, eyes reddening "I shouldn't have lost my temper, I had no right, I'm sorry Harry it won't -

"Ruth" he interrupted "I know this will probably come as a shock to you, but I've been shouted at by women before."

He waited until she returned his smile.

"Although you do have the distinction of being the only one to get angry because I put myself in harms way rather than actively wishing me hurt."

"But I did hurt you, and I'm sorry."

"Yes, well" he drew in a long slow breath "if you're going you're going to continue in this relationship…"

Ruth shifted, her face taking on a different kind of flush.

"Harry" she said awkwardly "we're not..."

"In a relationship?"

"I mean we're not, we haven't," she stammered "We've never– "

"Slept together" he offered and she nodded.

"I'd noticed" He sighed, his voice tinged with a regret so pure it almost acquired atomic weight.

"Nevertheless" he said, "It's four in the morning, you're in my front room, you've just finished shouting at me, and now you're rubbing my back – don't stop by the way it's helping – I wouldn't let anyone else from the grid do that."

"Not even Malcolm?"

Harry laughed, pleased to see her spirit returning.

"Well, maybe Malcolm. We're in a relationship Ruth, we've been in one for years, we just don't quite know what it is yet, yes?

She nodded and on this slight permission he continued.

"So you need to know" he said calmly and matter of factly "I love you very much."

He laid his right hand over her left one stilling her objections.

"There's not a thing you can do about it" he said "and there's not a thing I can do about it either, and God knows I've tried."

He debated fleetingly with telling her about his tortuous struggles trying to work out which was more painful, the manner of her leaving, or the manner of her return, but decided on a happier tack.

"Did you know" he said "I actually feel both calmer and more excited in your presence? No, really I do. I've done a pulse test, under the table during meetings. Calmer because I trust you, and your intelligence, and your inability not to try and do the right thing, more excited, because well," he shrugged as if it were obvious "you are so very beautiful. I'm telling you, if you walked in while I was having a polygraph I'd be doomed."

He tilted his head, hoping to see her smile, but something flickered across her face and it took him a second to work it out.

"You don't believe me do you? That you're beautiful?"

"I'm fine with how I look."

"You really have no idea" he said. "Ruth there are times when I look out over the grid and all I can see is computerised madness, then you'll stand up and start talking to Tariq and the light will catch you just so, and it's like a little patch of Vermeer has opened up just for me. Then you move and pfft, it's gone. But I saw it."

He shook his head at the wonder of it all, and smiled.

"And you know that thing you do, when you've worked something out, and you can't wait to tell me, and you chew your lower lip, and bounce from foot to foot on the spot?"

"Yes" she said, unsure where this was going.

"Very sexy."

"Harry!" said Ruth, laughing even as she blushed.

"Thanks to you" he said " I must be the only man in the world who gets aroused by the sight of a woman concentrating. No wonder" he added, the thought just occurring to him "pornography does nothing for me."

"So, anyway…" he said, readying himself "what I'm saying is, when I tell you you have nothing to apologise for, I mean it. Now please?"

He held out his arms and Ruth helped pull him to his feet.

"I must go to bed. Tomorrow promises to be bloody. Security will lock up, Mike will drive you home."

He started towards the stairs. "Goodnight."

"I….I don't know what to say." said Ruth.

"That's alright" he said, not stopping "You're the best analyst I know, you'll work it out."

"I'll see you tomorrow Harry!"

"Good." He said. And disappeared.

(small edit...because lovely people got worried, but aw, you care...they'll be alright, really they will. Just not yet)