The Boxing Day blues had arrived, followed by the final days of the year that involved eating the last of the mince pies and hoovering up pine needles. There wasn't to be a New Year party, however, as a joint agreement concluded that most of everyone's alcohol supplies had been consumed at the Christmas Party, and also that another heavy helping of vodka would probably be best avoided.

"So, what's going on this year, Harry?" Adam had nipped into the office on the last day of the year to sort through some files.

"Who knows? Each new year manages to surprise me," muttered Harry.

"Statistics say that street crime has risen by 20% in the last decade," commented Adam.

"Bugger the statistics." Harry's offhand comment was amusing to Adam. He smirked, slapping some files on his desk, ready for the morning. The phone on his desk began to bleat.

"Adam Carter," he said efficiently, stepping back into character.

"Carter; rendezvous at the wine bar down the road at 21:00 hours."

"Nice try mate," said Adam. "Surprised you're not taking advantage of your last lie-in of the year."

"Yeah, well, work to do," said Zaf.

Adam snorted. "What work?"

"Flat is messy. And I spilt a glass of red on the carpet last night."

"Smooth."

"Shut up Carter – don't you have some people to boss around?"

"Nah, that's you, bright and early tomorrow."

"Arrogant bastard." Zaf hung up. Adam smiled and got back to stacking some papers.

...

Harry watched Adam through the glass of his office. He hoped that this year would be better for him. It obviously wouldn't be easy in this line of work, but perhaps a little less emotionally gruelling. Then again, no-one's time here was guaranteed. The harsh memories of losing an officer were still close to the surface after Fiona's death; Colin's death.

Harry was always silent at an officer's death. Strong and silent. He never let anyone know how much it killed him inside, saying goodbye to people who were honest and good and unbelievably brave. Harry had stared down the barrel of a gun, but had never seen a colleague get a fatal bullet. Had never held someone he loved as they died.

He didn't want to have something wonderful and see it torn apart.

Harry cleared his throat and tapped some keys, replying to his overdue emails.

...

Malcolm was also in work a day early. He had sat silently for over an hour, carefully checking all of the computers for glitches and trying to upgrade some of the firewalls. A new year, a new tonne of potential computer viruses to sidestep.

Malcolm picked up his mobile at the irritating sound of a text and a small smile lighted his face.

He had met Julie at a carol service. They had been for dinner several times. Malcolm was at last feeling some happiness after Colin had died; he had at last found someone worth picking up that wretched mobile phone for.

Malcolm texted back swiftly and waited for a reply.

...

Ros had planned to go in today, get back into the work routine, sort through a mound of paperwork that she had abandoned. But sometimes her plans didn't work out.

She sat on a single park bench at the edge of a grassy slope near her house. It was a nice day: clear sky and cold. Ros watched the sun helplessly try to claw through the clouds.

No-one understood her. It sounded so petulant, so selfish, which is why she never chose to talk about herself. But that didn't stop her thinking.

That was why she saw the prospect of the security services so appealing. No-one would know who you really were. You do something for the greater good. You make a difference, rather than sitting in an office and returning to a home cooked meal with your husband, three kids and Labrador.

Ros stamped her feet together to dislodge some of the cold and thought of Adam. So cool, so clever. But a little like her. He knew loss; he had felt it burn him up until it felt like there was nothing left. Ros understood this. There wasn't a day that went by when she didn't think about her father, ageing in prison, watching the world go by from a small chink of light in his cell.

Maybe this year she would try to be more open. Not a bloody new year's resolution, but a hope that just happened to be recognised at that time. She would try to be less dismissive with people she liked. Maybe she would go to a hockey match; try to relight some of the passion she held for the sport as a child. Perhaps she would go out to a bar with Jo sometime, to just talk about real life and not work. And sometime, hopefully, see Adam at dinner. Even the thought made her smile.

Ros rose from the bench and walked solidly away.

...

Ruth was dusting. Dusting made things brighter, cleaner, and generally made everything look better. Books, vases and shelves were all victims of Ruth's rigorous cleaning regime.

She took a break to have a cup of tea, watching a drizzle of rain stain the windows. Ruth wished that the weather would get brighter: it made her feel happier. When the wind tugged her hair she felt messy and disorganised. When the rain soaked her shoes she felt like she might slip and fall.

Ruth got back to work after ten glorious minutes of sitting down. She found an old photo album that her mother kept. There were pictures of beautiful little villages that Ruth's parents had visited over the years; mountains they had tackled; walks they had taken. Ruth flicked to the picture of their wedding day and felt herself smile.

Ruth put the album aside and thought about what she had done. She was, of course, proud of the work she had done. The books she had read. The languages she had learnt. But there was nothing worthy of photographing and keeping in a treasured album. No family to spoil on Christmas day. No friend to travel the world with. No husband to savour a marriage with.

A part of Ruth longed for a normal life, a companion. Someone intelligent. Someone whose conversation she enjoyed, but who also understood the need for quiet. Someone who was thoughtful, but not afraid to express their opinion. She sighed, realising who she had just described.

Ruth brushed some dust from the knees of her skirt and picked up the duster again.

...

Jo buried her head in a cushion and snuggled into the sofa, kicking off her slippers. This year had been good for her. Career-wise, it had been her most challenging. She often wondered what her life would be like if she had continued with journalism. Drinking wine with her old flatmate Kelly; talking about the future; struggling to pay rent; thinking of dreams that they'd never fulfil. But now, Jo felt like she had accomplished something. If she had stayed in journalism, she wouldn't be making such a difference.

And if she had stayed, she wouldn't have found an even better flatmate.

...

Zaf soaked some plates in a tub of hot water topped with bubbles. It was, unfortunately, his night to wash up. He didn't mind it, really. But everything had to be so ordered and careful. Bit like his job. He enjoyed sitting in his flat, no plans, just letting things crinkle out.

Working at Five was something that Zaf enjoyed thoroughly. The excitement, the adrenaline, the fact that he was helping his country. He was intrigued as to what his next challenge would be.

New Year's resolutions: Improve research skills and risk assessments in operational contexts. Stop eating so many Mars Bars. Have a great year.

Zaf glanced over at Jo.

*and let her know how much she means to me.

Zaf dried the plates, stacked them away carefully and crashed down onto the sofa.

...

"Have you got that file I was after?"

"Where's the list of known associates?"

"Yeah, it's on my desk."

"Dunno, Adam had it last."

"Ruth, can you check out this number for me?"

"What's the target's address?"

"Shall I inform CO19?"

"Harry, there's a call for you."

"Jo, can you send these files down to the archives?"

"We've found him – Ros, follow on foot."

"I've just had a phone call from the head of GCHQ, telling us to back off. Malcolm, continue to monitor."

"Five witnesses have been found to compile the case."

"Zaf, I need to you head down to the scene of the crime. Collect evidence."

"For goodness sake, where are the post-it notes?"

Thames House was back in full swing. The New Year promised to be a hectic one. And the team were back together, stronger than ever.

Malcolm tapped keys and plugged wires.

Ruth wrote hasty notes.

Jo shuffled files.

Ros pulled off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves.

Adam paced and collected data.

Zaf clicked his pen and spun round in his chair.

Harry watched his team ticking, and couldn't help but smile.

A/N: Hope you had a wonderful Christmas and wishing you all the best for the New Year! :)