Did I say this one would be more cheerful? Hmmm. Bit of a change of tack so not quite the chapter I'd intended. Thanks for all the lovely reviews; I'm not sure I deserve them!

The next day

Alec tipped his chair backwards and rocked on the back legs. 'So we have nothing at all? Belfast have nothing, Six have nothing, and other than the chatter the Krispys have nothing?'

Silence.

He scanned the weary faces round the table.

'No contacts? No assets?'

'I think we might just have mentioned it if we had,' Ruth snapped.

Alec eyed her, lips pursed. 'Indeed. Of course we do have one contact that we're overlooking. Harry.'

Three pairs of eyes swivelled towards him. Ruth's remained resolutely trained on the folders in front of her. From where he sat he could see the muscle in her jaw pulsing.

'Ruth, I want you to go and see him. Strictly on the qt, of course.'

Her voice was eerily calm. 'I really don't think that's appropriate. And given that Five hung him out to dry, why would he want to help us?'

'Because he's Harry. Because he could never let anyone do this, especially not any of the Irish lot. And it's entirely appropriate. He knows you. He trusts you.'

Now she turned to him, eyes blazing. 'Oh, you think? He hates my guts, Alec. Send Beth or Dimitri; he's got no axe to grind with them.'

'They've got assets to meet.'

She looked at them. Both nodded, just a little too quickly.

'Now, please. We need to move quickly on this.'

Ruth stared at him for a moment, then her eyes dropped to her folders, and shuffling them into order, she gathered them up and strode from the room.

She found a space a couple of streets away from his house. Switching off the engine she sat for a bit, trying to quell the sick feeling of dread that was rising within her. She wasn't even sure what it was she did dread. His anger? His quiet contempt? Indifference? Sadness that weighed so heavy it was almost tangible? There would be no joy; that much she knew. When he opened the door she wouldn't see his face soften, his eyes light up, those sinful lips curve into a smile. Heartsick, she buttoned up her coat, turned up the collar, and set off into the damp, grey chill of the December morning.

By the time he woke the room was already bathed in a pale wash of light. As he slowly came to he shifted, gasping as his back protested. His eyes flickered open. He lay, fully clothed, on the sofa, a blanket twisted round his legs. As memories of the previous night resurfaced he swore softly. Crying like a baby, making a clumsy pass, then falling asleep on a beautiful woman after she'd made him dinner. Way to go, Harry. Massaging the back of his neck he dragged his legs off the sofa and pushed himself upright. Surely he was at least 30 years too old to be having morning after regrets and owing apologies. He felt a wet nose nudge the back of his hand and reaching down he lifted Scarlet up onto his lap. 'Hey,' he whispered, nuzzling his face into the soft ruff at her neck. 'I really hope Sally fed you and let you out last night, because I have a horrible feeling I screwed up on that score as well.' He stood, the little dog wriggling in his arms, laving his chin with darting licks, and wandered through to the kitchen.

Sally had cleared up as well. Shit. He opened the back door to let Scarlet out and slumped into a chair to contemplate his options. He was just coming round to the idea of coffee when the doorbell rang.

'Oh, fuck off,' he muttered. 'Not interested, whoever you are.' He sat, elbows on the kitchen table, head in hands, eyes closed. The bell rang again. 'Still not interested.' He heard the clatter of paws on the path and Scarlet came hurtling through the door and shot past him out to the hall. He heard her hurl herself at the door, barking joyously. 'You bloody traitor,' he grumbled, following her. 'Okay, okay, calm down.' Blocking her exit route with his legs he opened the door.

He looked, frankly, like he'd had a skinful and spent the night in a skip. His hair, grown well beyond the army regulation short back and sides, was mussed into a riotous dark blonde halo. His brown eyes, bloodshot and ringed with dark circles, regarded her blearily. He was wearing a crumpled chambray shirt that had contrived to both largely unbutton itself and escape from the confines of his Levis, and his feet were encased in a pair of bright red rugby socks that had seen better days. As his brain caught up with the evidence of his eyes a crimson blush scorched his cheeks, and his lips moved, but no sound emerged. He swallowed.

It registered that she wasn't any more together than he was. Her eyes had flicked up to his briefly, but were now focused somewhere in the region of his chest. She clasped one hand in the other, her middle finger rubbing the garnet in her ring. As she ducked her head, a tendril of chestnut hair fell across her face. Absently she tucked it back behind her ear in a gesture he knew so well.

'Ruth,' he managed finally.

She gave him a small smile. 'Harry.'

'It's been a while.'

'Six months and thirteen days. To be precise.'

He blinked.

'I-I'm sorry to interrupt. Alec sent me. We need your help.'

With those four words the brief flicker of hope fizzled and died. Bending, he picked up Scarlet once more, then stepped back. 'You'd best come in then,' he said quietly, and headed off down the hall.