The explosion threw Harry Pearce to the ground. His ears were ringing and all around him was confusion. A dead feeling filled his heart as he realized that his officers and the Home Secretary were probably still inside. He fought his way through the CO19 officers and rescue workers, desperately looking for a familiar face. It was slow going, and the further along he went the more his eyes stung from the acrid smoke. He did just manage to catch a glimpse ahead of him of the tall outline of Lucas before he was engulfed in a cloud once again. At least he's still alive. He made a silent prayer that Ros' knack for cheating death was with her again today.

Then suddenly all around him was hell and fire. A split second of brimstone and then blackness. His lungs and eyes burned. There was a vague sensation of a set of arms, Lucas' he thought, of dragging him along. There was nothing to see but black smoke and nothing to hear but the endless ringing. He could smell blood and wondered if it were his own. The next thing he could remember was lying on small patch of grass looking up at the sky. Searing pain was coursing through his body, and after a bit of concentrated effort he figured out it seemed to be mostly from his right side and head. He concentrated a bit more and reasoned that this excruciating pain was a good thing…he wasn't dead. He contemplated the overcast sky above and thought of Ruth, and gradually the memory of her voice was replacing the din in his head.

"I need Ruth," he croaked to no one in particular.

Without knowing how, Harry found himself in hospital. His shoulder was immobilized and some sort of bandage was on his head. The pain was terrific, but his lapses in memory were worrying him more. To not be in control was one of the worst things he could imagine. The ringing in his ears was subsiding a bit and he needed to find out what was going on. His phone must be around somewhere, and he gingerly tried to stand up to look for it. The world was spinning fantastically. Someone grabbed him.

"I don't think so, Sir Harry," a nurse said. "It'll be awhile yet before you're up and around."

Harry struggled to focus on one of the spinning people in front of him. "There's just one of you?"

"I certainly hope so."

"I need…" "

"You need to rest now – no arguing."

"Ruth Evershed. I need to talk to her. Please."

Harry was working on charming his way to at least being able to make a phone call when the syringe was plunged into his arm.

"Don't worry. It's just a painkiller, although a pretty powerful one. You may be a bit loopy for awhile, but this will help."

"Ruth…"

The door closed and Harry was alone. The room was small and Harry could feel a surge of panic start to overwhelm him. Since his trip in a car boot a little over a year ago, he had bouts of claustrophobia. By sheer force of will he had managed to deal with the elevators at Thames House, but other spaces were trickier. He needed to get out, and he needed to get to work. Harry thought that if he moved slowly enough, he could keep the room from spinning and he could get himself out and back to the Grid and Ruth. The painkiller was starting to kick in – a sensation of pins and needles was working its way up his legs and arms. The sharp pain in his head was definitely subsiding, but it was being replaced by a very foggy feeling which was very disconcerting. He managed to get his feet on the floor and was trying to take a step when he was vaguely aware of the door opening.

Almost before he could look up, wonderful, beautiful Ruth was beside him.

"Back to bed, Harry."