"That's very presumptuous of you. I might have said no."

"Well I'll go anyway. Be like the Charlie Chaplin character waiting for the girl and making the bread rolls dance."

"Of course it's not a trip to do alone."

"Did you have a particular companion in mind?"

"Well it would have to be somebody whose conversation you enjoyed, yet who understood the need sometimes for quiet. Somebody with a gentle sense of humor, principled, but not foolish or naive."

"Dear God, Ruth. Is any institution in this country safe from you?"

"I like to think not."

"You're all flustered."

"Yes, well, that happens sometimes... such as when a group of armed thugs kidnap eight of the wealthiestand most politically powerful men on the planet."

"And on my first day back, too. Harry, you shouldn't have."

"What? Either that or a basket of muffins."

"I guess we were never meant to have those things..."

Flashes of pain before her eyes. She can feel herself fall to the grass. Then bright lights flash in her eyes.

"Small pulse." she hears.

She flashes back to the hospital room.

"They'll go after Harry if they discover you're alive." Towers speaks.

Then another female voice comes in. "You can choose where you want to live. We'll set it up for you."

It was Erin.

Now she is in Paris, sitting in her new apartment. Alone.

"You promised me Danny." she whispers to herself.

And then she hears another voice. "Keep believing in my promise Ruth."

She shifts and sees Harry on the ground with the cyclist next to him. Her heart races and her feet soon follow. She clutches her side and falls next to a tree. She forgot to take her pills. Blood is seeping through the band aid slightly, but not by much.

And then it is black.

"Ruth... Ruth wake up." she hears. She could barely make it out to be Jo's voice.

"Wake up!" she hears someone shout again.

Her eyes open quickly. She is staring at the ceiling. Heart racing faster than a race horse. Her hand moves to her side and she frowns. A fresh band aid was on her side. She then moved her hand back up and saw she was in a man's shirt.

This wasn't her apartment.

It wasn't a dream.

She slowly moved her head and saw she was in a hotel room. She moved her right hand up her body. She still had a bra on and knickers. She sat up and smelt the shirt. A combination of a cologne, whiskey, and tea. She knew this scent.

It wasn't a dream. None of it was. She was wearing a gray button up shirt. She heard noises from the bathroom. It sounded like a sink... but there was a sound she made out that wasn't the sink. It was someone crying. She swung her legs over the bed. She spotted slippers underneath, women's size. She slipped into them and grabbed the robe hanging on the bed post. She wrapped it around her and slowly made her way to the bathroom. Before she entered, she noticed her pills sitting on a tissue next to the bedside table. She quickly swallowed them and proceeded to the bathroom.

She felt her heart sob.

Harry was gripping the sink. His head looking down. There was blood on the white tile floors and in the sink mixed with water. His shirt had a small blood stain.

"Harry..." she whispered.

He carried her back into the hotel. He could feel her wound seeping blood. He hit the elevator button and brought her up to his room. Once in the room, he laid her down on the bed. He took a deep breath. He knew her band aid needed to be changed. He raced over to his suitcase and grabbed a gray tee shirt.

He removed her shirt, but left her bra on. He didn't want to break any privacy. He also didn't want her skirt to get ruined so he took it off and threw it across the room. He opened Ruth's bag and sure enough there was a spare band aid. He carefully removed the band aid and placed it on the ground. He lifted Ruth very carefully as if she was a china doll. He put the new band aid on and laid her back down. He then grabbed his shirt and carefully put it on her. He tucked her under the duvet. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He placed her pills on the bedside table for when she awoke. He leant forward and kissed her forehead ever so lightly. He then pulled away. He felt the tears coming as he moved to the bathroom with the bloody band aid.

He just stood there for about ten minutes until her began to wash the cloth band aid. He had never used one of them before. He had always had the throw out kind. The bloody water splashed up onto his shirt, but he didn't care. Once it was clean, he gripped the sides of the sink and then let the tears fall.

She was alive.

And whoever brought her here knew she was alive and never told him.

He cried for ten minutes straight.

And then he heard her.

"Harry..."