Sorry if this is dragging folks; the end is in sight, I promise! As ever, I don't own Spooks or the characters; Kudos do.

'What?'

He tensed. Ruth's voice.

'Dimitri? Have you found something?'

Before he could say anything she was beside him. He felt her go very still. 'Harry. That's Harry.' He risked a glance at her, and saw disbelief then distress flit across her face. And then resolution. 'No. It's part of the legend, whatever they're doing.'

'Well, yeah, 'course it is,' responded Dimitri, with more conviction than he felt.

'When was this?'

'Uh...3.14pm, Sunday. Outside the Balmoral Hotel.' He winced.

'Well, they're not staying there; I checked. Can we see before and after footage?'

They watched in silence. Jenna and Harry emerged from the crowds milling around the nearby bus stops and the station steps, and just as quickly they were swallowed up again.

'Tariq!' Ruth called, 'check out everything you can around the Balmoral Hotel going...'

Dimitri pulled up the city map. 'Could be east, north or south.'

'...going east, north or south around 3.14pm on Sunday.'

'Well, which?'

'All of them.'

'No, I mean do you want me to look for Jenna today or Jenna and Harry on Sunday?'

'Both!'

Tariq blew out his cheeks and swivelled round to set a second computer onto the search.

'Ruth!'

She looked up. Malcolm was beckoning to her from across the Grid, his face grave.

Pausing her search, she followed him into his office.

'Close the door, would you?'

Ruth slid it shut. 'Something wrong?'

'Mm. I've just had the DG on the phone, wondering what Tariq and Dimitri are working on practically 24/7 and why you're back. '

'What did you tell her?'

'The truth.'

She grimaced. 'Right. What did she say?'

'She's concerned that there's a backlog building up. Reports not being written, intel not being investigated, chatter not being analysed, blah di blah di blah.'

'It's been 24 hours, Malcolm, and we're nearly there.'

'You know how scarce resources are. You know how twitchy our lords and masters are about the slightest hint of terrorist activity, about leaks...and there have been plenty of both lately. And here we are running around like headless chickens because one of our team has gone AWOL on annual leave.'

Ruth stared at him. 'He's not gone AWOL on annual leave. He's gone dark and vanished off the face of the planet - well, okay, he's surfaced in Edinburgh - but something is wrong. I know it. And this is Harry we're talking about, for god's sake. '

'I'm sorry, Ruth. I know that your instincts are good, I know about feminine intuition and what have you, but the fact remains we have absolutely nothing to suggest that anything has happened to Harry. Regardless, I'm afraid my hands are tied. And I don't want to make things more difficult for him when he does come back.'

'So what exactly are you saying?'

'Tomorrow morning, it's business as usual. And you go back to GCHQ.'

'Hello, Accident and Emergency, can I help you?'

'Hi. I'm wondering if my dad may have been brought in. I haven't heard from him for a few days and I'm a bit worried something may have happened to him.'

'What's his name?'

'Julian Craster.' Jenna spelled the surname.

Pause. 'No, I'm afraid nobody of that name's been admitted this past week. Do you have grounds for thinking he might have been taken ill?'

'Well, he's quite old. And he jogs, and if he had a heart attack or something while he was out he wouldn't have had any ID on him.'

'Okay, can you give me a description?'

'White; late 50s; balding; short fair hair, quite curly; 5 feet 9; medium build; brown eyes; beard. No tats or anything. So far as I know.'

'Can you hold please?'

Jenna curled one hand round her latte as she waited, wishing she'd also got something to eat. Out the window, a soft, smirry rain was falling from the lowering sky, blackening the pavements; hexagons of colour in her eyeline the only respite from the grey. A blast of cold air hit as the door opened to her left; a young couple hurried in, laughing, shaking the raindrops out of their hair. Normal, everyday life continuing as usual. She had already fully appraised the student to her right; tousled dark curls, bone structure to die for, long slender fingers practically stroking the laptop keyboard...

'...Hello?'

'Uh, hello, yes.'

'We do actually have a patient who matches that description and whose details we've been unable to establish. He was admitted yesterday morning.'

'Oh my god. What happened?'

'I'm afraid I can't discuss that over the phone. Is there any chance you can come in?'

Jenna massaged her forehead. 'Sure. I'll be with you as soon as I can.'

Dodging the puddles, head down, Jenna ran along Chambers Street, past the museums, the university buildings, the sheriff court, the few passers by moving out of her way. When she reached North Bridge she paused, taking in the stream of traffic and the huddled pedestrians, dilapidated discount shops mingling with minimalist cafes, the grandeur of Old College. Her street map had showed the hospital to be on the south east outskirts of the city; turning right she jogged up the hill to the row of bus stops, the stop panels finally confirming a bus was due in less than ten minutes. As she waited, her mind churned over all the possibilities of what might have happened to Harry. Of what state he might be in. Of what the hell she should do now. He'd told her that no matter what she should remain in legend and not contact the Grid, but surely he hadn't envisaged this. They weren't going to be doing anything dangerous, he'd said. Don't worry, he'd said. The bus pulled up and she boarded, hoping that when she saw Harry the decision would be made for her - one way or the other.

As she followed the nurse down the maze of corridors, her apprehension mounted with every step. All she knew was that Harry was heavily sedated so she wouldn't be able to talk to him. When they finally reached his room and the nurse held the door open for her it took all her courage to step inside. The first impression wasn't too bad; his face was bruised and grazed, but he looked for all the world as if he were sleeping peacefully. Then she saw the strip of bandages above the blankets, the lurid bruises on his chest and her breath caught.

'Is this your dad?' The nurse asked, one hand on her arm.

She nodded.

'Okay, I'll let you have a few minutes with him, then we'll need to take some details.

'What happened?'

'All we know is he was stabbed. He was found on Monday morning, at the back of a pub in Leith. We don't think he was robbed as he still had wallet, but there weren't any cards or anything to ID him with.'

'Right. Is he going to be okay?'

'He lost a lot of blood and he's had major surgery so he's not out of the woods yet; but he's strong, he's healthy, so he should be fine.' She gave Jenna a sympathetic smile. 'I'm sorry, this must be a shock for you. I'll be back in ten minutes.'

'Thanks.'

Jenna sat down beside Harry and took his broad hand in hers. 'Well, Mr Craster,' she sighed, 'where the hell do we go from here?'