Thursday 10th August 2006 - mid morning:

Ruth wears head phones, lost inside the translating Ros had given her. "To keep your mind off other things," Ros had explained obscurely, as she'd handed Ruth the mini disk of the meeting between an attache to the Chinese Ambassador and an unidentified English woman. The conversation enthralls her. It is part information sharing, part mutual admiration, part flirtation, and there are times when she can barely determine between the three. She'd spent the whole of Saturday examining any electronic traffic to and from the office of Oliver Mace, but she suspects any staff still working in his office to be sending messages via smoke signal or carrier pigeon. The traffic in and out of his office is only remarkable by its continuing prosaic nature; no odd codes, no trigger words. The electronic traffic to and from Mace's office is just as it should be.

Glancing up towards Harry's office, something she has been doing for longer than she cares to admit, even to herself, she notices Harry, Ros and Adam engaged in a heated conversation. If only she could lip read. Harry is clearly upset about something, and Adam is trying to calm him, while Ros appears mostly unmoved. Ruth would quite like to be a fly on the wall of Harry's office.

"How are things at Camp Carter?" Zaf's cheery voice from behind her startles Ruth, so that she jumps. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

Ruth turns, and looks up into Zaf's dark eyes, his smile softening his features. "I was just wondering what they're up to," she says, glancing towards Harry's office.

"Terribly important things which are galaxies beyond my pay scale," Zaf replies cheekily. "My guess is that Oliver Mace has skipped the country."

"Seriously?"

"I wouldn't know, but to get Harry that worked up, it would have to be something like that. Six days since those parcel bombs went out, and Mace has still not returned to his office."

"Ros thinks he's hiding out in Europe somewhere."

"And Ros might be right," Zaf says. "And harking back to my opening question, what's it like living with Adam and Co?"

"It's alright, but I miss my house. I miss my solitude."

"You don't like them?"

"I didn't say that, Zaf. I'm not used to company."

"I can't stand being alone. That's why I'm happy to have Jo living under my roof."

"I heard someone say my name," Jo says, returning from the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee.

"I was just telling Ruth what a wonderful living companion you are, Joanna," Zaf says, oozing charm.

"Oh, here comes trouble," Jo says, and when Ruth follows Jo's eyes she sees Ros Myers bearing down upon them.

"Ruth," Ros says curtly, "we need you in Harry's office ... now."

As annoyed as she is to have her translating interrupted, Ruth quickly follows Ros, while behind her she can feel two pairs of eyes burning into her back.

"Are you sure?" Ruth asks, and she quickly sits on the sofa beside Harry, leaving a safe distance between them. Both Ros and Adam remain on their feet.

"It's true," Harry says gently. "Jenny sent images to Adam's phone."

"Here," Adam says, opening his phone, and scrolling through his messages, until he reaches the three picture messages from Jenny, before handing the phone to Ruth.

Ruth spends a long time looking at each image, and there is no mistaking it. It's another parcel bomb, and again her name has been typed onto a sticker, along with the address of Adam's apartment. "Where's Wes?" she asks, looking up at Adam.

"He's at school, Ruth. I've asked Fiona's mum to pick him up after school today, and to keep him at hers for a few days."

It is then that it becomes too much for Ruth. Despite her need to be cool and detached, she just can't help it. The tears roll down her cheeks. "Adam, Ros, perhaps if you leave us alone for a moment," Harry says gently, and once the two of them leave the office he turns his attention to Ruth.

Her eyes are cast downwards, while she wipes her eyes and cheeks with her fingers. She feels Harry push some tissues into her hand, and it is only then that she lifts her gaze to him, to see kindness there. She almost begins crying all over again, but she uses the tissues to dry her eyes and her face.

"Thanks," she says after a while. "I feel a bit silly." Ruth is surprised when Harry slides across the sofa until he is close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body. It is when he reaches out to grasp her free hand that she turns to look at him. "Thank you," she says quietly, squeezing the hand holding hers.

"For what?"

"For caring. For being here."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Ruth."

Ruth is suddenly aware that they are sitting just beneath the large picture window, and anyone on the Grid who looks their way can see them - the two of them sitting close beside one another on the sofa. In that moment Ruth sees that what others can see, and what they may make of what they see is really none of her business. It doesn't matter, and it never did. What they are is what they are. She has only ever pushed Harry away because she suspected he was looking for a quick fling with a younger woman - another notch on his bedpost - but it's becoming clear to her that he genuinely cares for her. "I'll have to go away ... won't I? I'm in danger here, and I'll only put others in danger were I to stay."

Harry nods, and Ruth can see the sadness there. "I argued tooth and nail for you to remain here, but they're right. Right now, you'll not be free or safe were you to stay anywhere in London, or .. " Ruth nods, looking into his eyes, hoping she is managing to convey to him her thanks, her gratitude, and even something so much deeper and more personal than that. "I even offered to go with you, but the two of us together would be like ..."

"... sitting ducks," she says, and Harry nods. "I'll have to leave the country ... won't I?" Again Harry nods, and she can see by his expression that's he's as distressed as she is. "When do I leave?"

"As soon as possible. We're aiming for Sunday evening, or early Monday morning."

"That soon?"

Again Harry nods. "I need you to know that I don't want you to go at all, but I'm also heavily invested in you remaining alive."

Ruth feels herself again teetering on the edge of tears, so she drops her head staring unseeing at the carpet. No sooner has she broken eye contact with him than she feels Harry's arm slide around her, and he draws her head to rest on his shoulder. Ruth finds herself relaxing just a little, and beneath her cheek Harry feels strong and solid and dependable, and in that moment Ruth regrets having turned down his second dinner invitation. She just hopes that one day soon she'll be free to tell him so.

The details surrounding Ruth's departure are being dealt with quickly and quietly. After she retires to her bedroom for the night, a tiny, tucked away room at the end of the corridor, Ruth can hear Adam talking on the phone to Zaf, and sometimes to Ros, or Harry. On Sunday morning Ruth is woken by a light tapping on her bedroom door. Forgetting for a moment that Wes is with his grandparents, Ruth hurries to her door to open it to find Adam, dressed and ready for the day, his phone in his hand.

"I've just rung Harry to tell him, and he says I should tell you. A light plane has been booked for early Tuesday morning. It leaves from a military airfield just outside London."

So it's happening. It's real. This is her life. Ruth nods, and says a quiet `thanks' before closing the door, leaving Adam standing outside in the corridor. She climbs back into bed and pulls the duvet over her head. She doesn't want to cry, but she can't help it. It's the shock, the reality of what is about to happen to her, and it's happening to her this time, and not to someone else. This is not Zoe Reynolds being sent away for ten years, this is Ruth Evershed - loyal, clever, reliable Ruth. This is the woman who hadn't been able to see that the man who had been pursuing her quietly for months has been the very same man she wants and needs.

And what about the details of her leaving? She hadn't wanted Adam to tell her any more about the how or the when or the why of her leaving. She is going, and that is final. She'd written a report on Harry's findings about Oliver Mace, and by accident this report had - somehow - found its way into a session of parliament. Harry had made a mistake - a small mistake which had ballooned into something disastrous, and who hasn't made one of those at least once in their lives? Ruth doesn't blame Harry, but she wishes he'd been more careful with that report.

It's true ... she's leaving.

She's leaving a job she loves. She's leaving colleagues, some of whom she likes a lot, some of whom she fears a little, all of whom she respects and admires, and one of whom she has grown to love. It's such an irony that it has taken the prospect of her leaving London, her life, her job, her friends and colleagues, for her to realise she loves Harry, and most of all, having had that realisation, she doesn't want to leave him.

In two short days she's leaving, and she doesn't know for how long. She doesn't want to go, but she must, and so in the face of such uncertainty she'll be strong. She'll say goodbye, and she'll smile into their eyes. Perhaps it will be months before she returns, perhaps only weeks. She has to accept that it may be years, and if so, who will she be when she returns to London?

Monday 14th August 2006:

Ruth has asked they not make a fuss, but Jo has arranged a special morning tea, with croissants and fairy cakes. The food is arranged on Jo's desk, and everyone stands around, pretending to be positive in the face of another loss. Malcolm hovers nearby, and so Ruth stands beside him, knowing he'll field any awkward questions others might throw at her. Ruth hasn't much of an appetite, so she holds her tea cup between her hands, sipping from it slowly. Occasionally she glances up at the man standing across from her, and each time she does, he is watching her, and while his eyes convey deep sadness, Ruth knows him well enough to be able to read the apology in his expression.

"Maybe you'll return to us with a husband in tow, Ruth," Zaf says.

"Shut up, Zaf," Jo says, digging an elbow into his ribs, "not every woman in the world wants or even needs a man."

"So long as she comes back soon, eh?" Zaf says, not deterred.

Ruth has planned to leave the Grid at five o'clock, so she is relieved that at four-thirty Harry is alone in his office. She slides through the doorway without knocking, and when he glances up to see it is her, his irritation soon softens into a tired welcome.

"Come in, Ruth," he says, standing and leading her to the sofa. Perhaps unwisely, given the veiled interest of their colleagues, he closes the blinds before hitching the legs of his trousers and sitting on the sofa beside her. "Are you all ready to go?" he asks, perhaps too cheerily.

Ruth nods. "My bag is almost packed, but I'm not sure I'm ready."

He nods, understanding. "Were there any alternative, any other way of handling this, Ruth -"

"I know that, and I know you don't want me leaving."

"You're right. I'd do almost anything to keep you here."

Neither knows what to say next, so Harry addresses the practical. "I've had Malcolm on Mace Watch, and he's sure the man is hiding out in rented accommodation in a village in the Midlands."

"So, who is the person sending these parcels?"

"He has many people on his staff, Ruth, and he prefers it when others owe him. Such people will do almost anything to get themselves off his hit list. It's clear someone has been watching you, so we're being very careful about how and when you leave." Harry looks around the office, and then back at her, and Ruth still reads sadness there. "Oliver knows that when he returns to London he will have to face the music, so I don't expect him back any time soon."

Ruth, in a moment of inattention, reaches out to place a hand on Harry's knee. When his eyes drop to her hand she is about to remove it, when he covers her hand with his. "It doesn't seem fair," she says.

"Of course it's not fair. I'm working on a way to get him back here, or at the very least, of having him arrested, but it seems Oliver is useful to too many people. I'm in the minority, Ruth."

"What do you mean?"

"Most of the JIC agree with his suggestion about how we treat terror suspects. Most people in power don't even consider them to be human. The MPs have to be seen to be outraged by his suggestions, but privately, most of them agree with him. Having said that, I'm told there are a small group of MPs who are privately talking about forcing Mace back to London."

Sobered, they sit in silence for a long time, her hand on his knee, while his hand covers hers. It is the most intimate moment they have shared, and it may be their last, but neither is prepared to mention it.

"I have to go soon," she says at last.

"I know you do."

Ruth lifts her eyes to his to see that he has steeled himself for her leaving, so it's best she leave - quickly, and without looking back.