Alec opens the door to the back bedroom, more box room than bedroom, and calls Erin. It is after seven, but he knows she will still be at work. "Erin," he says cheerfully when she answers. "I have a suggestion for you."


By the time Alec returns to the kitchen, his weathered features are softened by a rare smile, which quickly turns to a frown when he notes that Charlie has already eaten a third of the pizza. "Sorry," Charlie says, quickly dropping his eyes, "I haven't eaten since breakfast."

Alec sits at the table opposite Charlie, and grabs a piece of pizza. "My boss would like to talk to you," he says.

Charlie's dark eyes widen, and then he drops his head, compulsively picking at the crumbs on his plate, his actions reminding Alec of a chicken pecking repeatedly at seeds in the soil. "I didn't do anything wrong," Charlie says mechanically.

"Don't worry. You're not about to be sent to the Tower Of London. She would like to contract out some of our more .. challenging jobs to you .. if you're interested."

"You have to talk straight with me. I don't understand innuendo. By challenging, you mean illegal, don't you?"

Alec drops his pizza on the open side of the pizza box, which he is using as a plate. "Yes. We sometimes have hacking jobs which are best done by someone .. independent of the team."

"If you had decent firewalls, you could do anything from anywhere. When I was fourteen I hacked into the Pentagon's mainframe."

"No shit."

"Of course, it's much harder now to complete that hack, but it can still be done, and is being done. You just have to know how to not leave behind any digital fingerprints."

"My boss will have to interview you, and our chief technical officer will have to approve. You'll be working closely with him … if they decide to add you to the payroll, that is."

"Of course. I know how this works."


After dinner Ruth and Harry climb into bed. It is only a little after nine o'clock, but Ruth is tired, and Charlotte is usually awake by six each morning. On the nights they spend together, Harry normally retires with her, partly to keep her company, partly to spend extra time with her, since their times together are precious, but also in the hope that she may be looking for more than a kiss goodnight from him. He knows Ruth is weary, and has just endured her most stressful day in years, so he is not expecting sex, so when she slides across the bed to entangle her feet with his, her hand resting on his stomach, her fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt, he is surprised, as well as hopeful. When she slides her fingers under his t-shirt to caress the skin of his lower abdomen, her little finger straying towards his pubic hair, he knows he is not imagining her intentions. He turns on his side to kiss her, gently at first, and then with more commitment, and increasing passion.

When her hands move to lift his shirt from his body, he smiles into her eyes. "I thought you were tired," he says.

"I am, but I really need you tonight."

Harry knows what she means. She needs to feel desired and loved, but most of all she needs to celebrate being alive. She needs for him to love her, and to express his desire for her, to play her body like a delicate instrument capable of making music only they can hear. She craves release, but she doesn't want to have do all the work. He slides down the bed and buries his face between her legs, pulling down her pyjama pants as he goes. Beneath his mouth he feels her relax, and she murmurs, "you are so good," as he begins to pleasure her. His own pleasure can wait. Besides, he is easily pleased. This night he will put Ruth's needs ahead of his own.

After she grinds her body against his face as she comes rather violently, he moves up the bed, smiling. Her eyes are closed as she comes down, her arms reaching out to embrace him. "You almost woke our daughter, Ruth," he whispers against her cheek.

"Oh, shut up, Harry. You're just fishing for compliments."

She's right, of course. He is overwhelmed by her response, and knows how good they are together, and there is no better turn-on than her open appreciation. He feels her hands on the waistband of his track pants, pulling them over his hips and his very needy erection. He will take his time, and she will complain, and then beg him to push himself inside her. For him, holding off his own own pleasure is worth it. He kisses her deeply, his fingers playing lightly along her abdomen. "Harry," she moans, and he smiles against her mouth.

A little later they collapse together, falling onto their pillows, their energy spent. "Pardon me if I don't kiss you goodnight," Ruth says breathlessly.

"You're pardoned," he breathes, unable to move.


23rd December 2012 – London:

It is late morning when there is a knock on the door of their hotel room. Harry and Ruth have eaten, and Charlotte has been fed and dressed for the day, spending most of the morning toddling from her parents' bed to the portacot and back. She has been walking unaided for only a little over a week, and she is very proud of her achievements, smiling widely at her adoring parents as they watch her. Harry had then taken Charlotte outside in her stroller for a brisk walk around the block, before returning just before eleven, so that Ruth can prepare her for her nap.

It is Ruth who answers the door to Dimitri. "Mrs Valentine," he says formally, as she shows him into their room, and leads him to the table where they have eaten their meals, and where Harry already sits. Harry stands to shake hands with Dimitri, and then the three of them sit around the small round table by the window. Dimitri glances at the cot in the corner of the room. "Out like a light," he says, seeing Charlotte's small blond head at one end, next to the green plush fur of the ever-present William. "I hope you don't mind me recording you, but it's my job to write the report."

"No, but just get on with it, Dimitri," Harry says impatiently. Ruth plans to spend the afternoon Christmas shopping, while he is taking Charlotte to the hotel's heated pool in the basement.


Charlie is clearly uncomfortable with having extra people in the flat, although he had enjoyed showing Tariq his computer system in the back room. Alec has noticed that while communicating through the electronic medium, and through the language of technology, Charlie is in his element, but remove him from that, and he requires the social equivalent of water wings to stay afloat and breathing. For the time being, Alec will need to be the one to provide that little bit of support, as he and Charlie, Erin and Tariq sit around the kitchen table in Abby's flat.

Erin had already taken Charlie through the requirements of whatever work he may be doing for Mi5, and that he will be contacted directly by Tariq as needed, but first he will need to sign an Official Secrets form. With the business done in quick time, Erin then segues to the real reason she is there in person. "I need to know something," she says, watching Charlie carefully. "Your ability to leap through firewalls is clear, so you would have known that James and Alison Valentine own a house in Suffolk, where they spend most of their time, and yet ..." and Erin hesitates, keeping her eyes on Charlie, whose own eyes are fixed on the sugar bowl in front of him, "you directed your father to the hotel where they had a booking. Why did you do that? Surely a better option would have been to send him to Suffolk, where he could have killed Mrs Valentine, with her husband present, and with limited chance of police or other authorities being nearby."

Well, kudos to Erin for having the balls to ask that question, Alec thought. He'd wondered the same thing, but hadn't quite had the bottle to ask. Charlie seems to have taken the question well, but is taking a while to answer. "Charlie," Alec says, "would you like -"

"Stop," Charlie says, lifting his hand as though to block any further words Alec may utter, "I can speak for myself." It is then that Charlie lifts his eyes towards Erin, who sits directly across the table from him. "You're right," he says, his eyes on Erin's fingers, which are fiddling with a spoon, "I knew about the house in Suffolk, and I chose to keep that information from my father. I suggested he go to the hotel to wait for Mrs Valentine, and it was my idea that he hold her in the lift. I hadn't expected her to have the child with her, and I hadn't expected her husband to not be accompanying her that morning. He – Pearce, Valentine – stopped off at his London house, while she and the child continued to the hotel. I hadn't wanted the woman to be killed, and I certainly did not want her baby to be killed." Charlie lifts his eyes ever-so-briefly to Erin's, and then drops them again. Seeing no clear signs of disapproval on her face, he continues. "I .. arranged everything so that the most likely outcome would be the one which eventuated."

"Then I'm glad and relieved, Charlie," Erin says quietly. She is amazed at this young man's bravery and compassion in the face of his father's determination.

"I had to leave my cat back in Reims, and I miss him."

Although Erin appears confused by Charlie's odd comment, Alec understands. Charlie is telling them that he is not a violent man, and does not enjoy killing. He has a cat that he misses. How is it possible for a cat lover to conspire to kill a woman or a child?


"He had me standing for the whole time with my back to him." Ruth is giving Dimitri her version of the previous day's events. "He had a pistol stuck against the middle of my back, so it was in my best interests to not try anything clever. Fortunately, Charlotte slept through the whole thing."

"How was that possible?" Dimitri asks.

"She's rather a heavy sleeper, and Regnier only ever spoke in a low voice. Sometimes he would lean towards me and whisper in my ear. He said things like, "I can get your husband to come here any time, and then – boom – it will all be over. He will have to watch us both die."

"So he told you that he would take his own life .. after he killed you."

"Almost immediately, after he told me that he was waiting for Harry to arrive."

"Why didn't he get you to ring Harry yourself?"

"I'd wondered the same thing. He seemed quite nervous and .. paranoid, so I suppose he didn't trust me to do that. Perhaps he thought I'd ring you instead, Dimitri." Ruth has been fiddling with the spoon next to her cup of tea, and she looks up at Dimitri. "He was on comms the whole time, speaking with his son. He told me about his son. In fact, he talked a lot. I felt like he was offering me his .. confession, which is strange, given he was planning to kill me."

"Perhaps he didn't really want to kill you," Harry offers quietly. "I can only imagine that he'd be wanting me dead, rather than you. His whole … plan all along may have been little more than a ruse to get me there."

Dimitri continues questioning them both until he has all the information he needs. He is about to leave when he turns and, a little embarrassed, says, "I guess I won't be seeing either of you until after the new year -"

"No, you won't," Harry says abruptly, earning a sharp look from Ruth.

"Then … Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you both, and to your little girl."

"Thank you, Dimitri," Ruth replies quickly, reaching up to kiss Dimitri on the cheek, which earns her a sharp look from Harry.

"And to you, Dimitri," Harry says, reaching out to shake hands with the younger man.

And Dimitri is soon gone, and Harry breathes freely for the first time in two hours. "I thought he'd never leave."

"Harry! He was just doing his job."

"Mumma," calls a small voice from the corner of the room.

"Our daughter has perfect timing, Ruth."

"She can't possibly take after you, then," retorts Ruth, which earns her an unexpected kiss.


24th December 2012 – London, early hours:

Harry is confused. Amish Mani is Indian, and yet he speaks with a heavy French accent, leering at Ruth as he describes what he plans to do with her. Harry is tied to a chair, a gag tied tightly over his mouth. Mani gets in Ruth's face and shouts at her, "Why are you not afraid? I need you to be afraid. How can I kill you when you stare at me like that … and what do you see in this old man?"

"Shoot me, then," Ruth says calmly. "It will upset him. He can't stand the sight and smell of blood."

The sound of pistol fire has him crying out. "No!" he says.

Harry opens his eyes to find he's sitting up in bed, breathless, his heart beating rapidly, sweat breaking out at his temples and on his forehead.

"Harry?"

"What?" He turns to see Ruth in bed next to him, having turned to face him. "Sorry," he says, "I thought we were …" He rubs palms down his face in an attempt to pull himself into the present. When he removes his hands, he feels Ruth beside him, her hand rubbing his back. He takes a deep breath and turns towards her. Her eyebrows are drawn together in a frown, and he sees their daughter reflected in her face, her grey-blue eyes the same eyes as her mother's.

"What is it?" she says.

"Just then … you looked so much like Charlotte."

"Where were you?"

Harry sighs again, his shoulders slumping. "Not just me, but you also .. we were back .. with Mani," he says quietly, "and he was threatening to shoot you. I was unable to help you."

Ruth leans against his shoulder, tucking her hand around his waist. "I think we should get out of London," she says. "Bad things happen when we're here, and it's no longer just the two of us. The next time someone comes for one of us, there is ..." She has no need to finish her sentence. They both know what she means.

Harry turns to face her, placing a quick kiss on her forehead. "We're supposed to be meeting Graham today."

"Then we invite him to the cottage, not for Christmas Day .. that will be our time, but .. perhaps he might like to visit on -"

"Charlotte's birthday?"

Ruth nods.

"He'll want to bring .."

"Zenith?"

"I prefer to call her Zen, which is almost as bad."

"I'm sure she answers to either name, and .. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Harry nods, wishing his son had fallen for a girl with a nice, sensible name – like Ruth, or Jane, or Emily. "I'll ring him."

"Preferably once the sun is up."

Harry nods, slipping down under the covers next to his wife.


Erin is still in bed when her phone rings. She quickly grabs it from her bedside table, and noting the name of the caller, she quickly answers. "Charlie? Has something happened?"

"I've found something on that group in Leicester, but I thought you might want to know about the background of their newest member."

Erin is still rearranging her thoughts, having remembered that today is Christmas Eve, and she still hasn't bought a gift for her mother, although Rosie's gifts are stacked at the back of her wardrobe, behind last year's winter coat. "Go ahead."

"I think he's originally Mi5."

Erin mentally slaps her hand on her forehead. Who is it had given Charlie the Leicester job to investigate, and why hadn't they first run it by her? Erin pushes herself to remember the quick conversation she'd had with Alec only the night before. Had he mentioned Leicester? Had she? And why hadn't anyone thought to mention to Charlie that Calum was working undercover? These, and many more questions threaten to overwhelm her. "Charlie .. it's all right. I think you may have stumbled across Calum Reid. He's one of ours, and he's undercover."

"Well, he's making some strange alliances, if his memos are to be believed."

"Then send them through to my work email. I'll deal with them when I get to work."

"All right. I just thought you should know."

"Thank you, Charlie, and .. good work."

"I know my work is good. You don't have to keep telling me. I'm not a child."

"No, you're not. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Erin quickly ends the call. Checking the time, she notes that it is four-fifty-three. She sinks back against her pillow and sighs. It's about to be another long day.


A/N: That is pretty much the end of the story, with just an epilogue to go.

I included Charlie's hacking into the Pentagon mainframe at 14, since Julian Assange claims to have done the same at age 15. I chose to place Charlie Regnier on the autism spectrum since my own adult son is mildly autistic, with some odd and persistent behaviours, many of which have become Charlie's, although my main motivation came from the character of Jesse in the Australian TV drama, "The Code", so I am acknowledging this here.