"I need to see her now."

"That's not possible."

"You can't stop me," announced Harry, to used to having his own way. He stepped forward purposefully.

"I can and I will," said the sister blocking him. She was more fearsome that he had anticipated.

It was not in Harry's nature to say 'do you know who I am' but he was very close to saying it right now.

"I have to see her, peoples lives depend upon it." He fixed her with his best and most serious expression, failing to mention that the only life that he really believed depended upon seeing her was his own.

She sighed in a slightly exasperated manner but said nothing and refused to move.

Harry changed tack.

"I love her," he said simply.

She looked at him, this time he thought he saw a softness cross her face.

"Please…."

She stepped to one side, "just try and let her rest."

"Thank you," he said and smiled.

The sister walked away wondering how a woman still in her prime could want to effectively kill herself when she had a smile like that to look at everyday.

Ruth lay wired up to god knows what.

Harry's fingers slid up her arm and beyond the v of the inside of her elbow, brushing away the gown that swamped her.

There were no needle marks there.

He was torn between the confirmation of his belief in her and a tiny sceptical part of his head that knew how clever users were, and Ruth, well, she had the potential to be the cleverest of them all.

Several hours had passed. He had refused to move.

His tie, now unfastened, hung around his neck as his eyes closed, fighting sleep.

His hand rested on hers, standing guard, waiting the smallest sign, the tiniest indication that she would wake, a lone sentinel that refused to rest.

His hand screamed a message to his brain and his eyes shot open.

She lay still, her eyes remained closed.

But her fingers….her fingers were curling infinitesimally around his.

He fought his impatience, he fought the need to hold her, he fought the need to wake her.

He sat and breathed deeply.

Her eyes flickered open, unfocused.

"I'm here, Ruth," he whispered.

"Harry?" her small voice rasped back.

"Yes, Ruth," he squeezed her hand.

Her eyes struggled against the lids that were threatening to close once more, as her head heavily turned towards him.

There was a familiar face beside her, a tender voice, a warm hand.

"Harry…"

"It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

She was struggling to answer him, struggling to speak.

"No…no."

"Ruth, please, rest," his fingers tenderly stroked her hand.

"The grid….Harry…the grid…compromised. Needle…couldn't call you."

Her eyes were swinging towards the ceiling as she fought to remain conscious.

"There was someone on the grid, Ruth?"

She nodded.

"Did they do this to you, did they inject you?"

"Yesss….." she said and for the time being she was gone again.