The weeks rolled past, settling into a routine. Harry wasn't happy, but he was coping surprisingly well. He'd bought several novels on CD, so Ruth didn't have to read to him all the time, and he had begrudgingly started to learn Braille. It wasn't as hard as he'd thought. He'd taken for going out for walks when it rained. He liked feeling the raindrops on his face more than he'd ever thought he would do. He had managed to occupy his time, but it became hard when she'd worked long hours. He wanted to be there in the thick of it. That or have her at home with him. Occasionally he would get a call from the grid about an old case or terror suspect that was relevant again, and he loved those calls. It was good to feel useful again.

Ruth's house had become practically obsolete, but neither of them mentioned selling it. She privately thought it was funny how more and more of her possessions kept appearing at his house day after day.

Ruth was cooking on Saturday afternoon when the doorbell rang. Harry turned the radio off and then opened it. "Hello?" There was silence and Harry felt irritation fill him at his lack of sight. "Who is it?"

"God dad, do you not even recognise your own daughter?"

"Catherine," he said with relief. He could recognise her irritated tone of voice from halfway across London. "Come in." He walked up the hall, back into the kitchen, hearing Catherine follow him. Ruth turned as they both arrived.

"Oh, hi," she said quietly. "You must be Catherine. Sit down."

"Hi," Catherine said.

"This is Ruth," Harry said.

"Have I come at a bad time?" Catherine asked, her eyes flicking from her father to the newly introduced Ruth.

"No she hasn't has she Harry?" Ruth said, her voice ice cold. The silence in the room became very uncomfortable. "You haven't told her have you?" Ruth asked in disbelief.

"No," Harry said, turning his face to the table in embarrassment.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to it," Ruth said, taking the curry off of the cooker. "Nice to meet you Catherine." Ruth left, closing the kitchen door with a snap.

"Dad what's going on?" Catherine asked.

"Well I haven't told you something," Harry said, still with his head down. "I was on an operation about six weeks ago. I got in the way of an arms dealer when he realised he'd been caught. He threw some untested chemical in my eyes and… he blinded me," Harry said succinctly.

"What?" Catherine asked, her voice hushed. "You're… blind?"

"Yes."

"No, you can't be," she said firmly. "You just can't be."

"I know. I keep telling myself that," he said, looking at where he hoped her face was. Catherine felt her heart drop as she realised he was slightly off.

"God dad! Didn't that deserve a phone call?!" she shouted. "You become disabled and you couldn't pick up the phone to call me? Come on dad!" He grasped for Catherine's hand and held it tightly.

"Cate, I feel so useless. How was I supposed to call you and tell you that I've become blind? That I used to run MI5 and now I can't even see? I'm so helpless Catey."

"Dad," she said, her voice soft as her fingers grasped her fathers hand tightly. "I deserved to know."

"I know," he said. "I hoped… with time I might get some of my sight back. I hoped that when I told you it'd all be on its way to getting back to normal. Which is a stupid hope when its permanent, but I wanted more. Not this… blackness and darkness and… blindness."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Oh dad…"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "Oh well. How are you?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. His daughter could tell.

"Well, I had something to tell you," Catherine said, sounding happy. "Give me your hand." Harry did and Catherine put it against the curve of her stomach. A rather pronounced curve.

"You're pregnant!"

"Yes," Catherine said with a smile. "I did wonder why you didn't recognise me on your doorstep, I'm not that fat!"

"Oh my God! My darling girl!" Harry kissed her cheek and held her for a moment. "How far along are you?"

"Four months."

"Four months! You couldn't call me and tell me I was going to be a grandfather!"

"You neglected to mention the fact you're blind for six weeks," Catherine countered quickly.

Harry glowered at her. "Who got you into this mess?" he demanded.

"I suppose that's your less than subtle way of asking me who the father is?" Catherine asked.

"Well, yes," Harry said. "Who is it?"

"A man called Matthew," she said. "No, I'm not married and I'm not planning to get married in the near future."

"But Cate, a baby should be born in wedlock." Harry wasn't demanding, simply asking which is why Catherine didn't get mad.

"Dad, I know you have traditional values and I love that about you," she said. "But really, if I hadn't have come along at an inconvenient time would you ever have married mum?"

"Probably not," he admitted after a moment, ashamed.

"Look, I love you and I love mum, but none of us can ever say it was a marriage that worked."

"No," he agreed. "It wasn't."

"I'm not going to marry him because I'm pregnant dad." She squeezed his hand. "He's a nice man. If I want to in a couple of years, you can give me away. Walk me up the aisle. If he asks me of course."

"You always were wiser than your years," Harry said. "I'm going to be a grandpa!"

"Yes," she said. "It's a boy."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Catherine said. "So, who's Ruth?" she asked after silence filled the room. "The pretty woman who can cook a good curry from the smell."

"She's my… better half," Harry said. "I've been with her maybe three months. A bit less. But I've known her for eight years. She's beautiful and intelligent. She's wonderful."

"Good," Catherine said. "I'm glad you're happy. I shouldn't have blamed you for the things that went wrong dad. I was a teenager and would blame anyone but myself. You only did what you thought was right for myself and Graham. I'm not going to say you always did right by mum though."

"Well… no," he said. "I'm sorry. How is your brother?"

"Clean," Catherine said. "He's got a small flat in south London. He's… doing well. He'd like to hear from you." Harry snorted. "He would lie and shout at you, but really… deep down he'd like to know you're thinking about him."

"Maybe I will call him," he said honestly. "I don't like arguing with him. Does he know he's going to be an uncle?"

"Yes," Catherine said. "He's already bought a little teddy for the little one. I think he likes the idea of being the favourite uncle."

"This Matthew, does he treat you right?"

"You've changed," Catherine said. "I thought the first question would be what does he do for a living."

"Catherine…"

"Yes," she said. "He treats me very well. He's in his forties. Please don't make an issue of that, he makes me happy."

"I'm not going to make an issue of it," he said. He squeezed Catherine's hand again. "Do you want to meet Ruth properly?"

"I'd love to," she said.

"Can I…" Harry reached for her face and felt her smiling for a moment before it slid off of her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if you're happy," he said. "I'll go and get Ruth." Catherine nodded and watched as he left the room, his hand resting on the wall as a guidance. She watched as he fumbled the door handle, and then left. It felt hard to picture her father as a blind man. Hard for her to comprehend it. But there seemed to be no other way he wouldn't recognise his eldest child on his doorstep. Harry Pearce was blind. It was hard to imagine.

Ruth came in, holding Harry's hand, a nervous smile on her face. "Hello Catherine."

"Hi," she said, smiling at the woman who lived with her father. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," Ruth said. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Catherine said beaming. "I'm really looking forward to it. So where did you meet dad?"

"Work," she said. "I was the mousy analyst that he ignored for two years until I started to… well, see my attractions?"

"I always recognised your potential," he said dignified.

"You held it over me for three weeks when my secondment was over," Ruth said sharply. "Threatening to send me back to GCHQ. You never were going to were you?"

"No," he said. "I liked having you under my eye. So to speak."

"So, what do you do Catherine?" Ruth asked.

"Well, instead of travelling to the middle east, I have a job editing the films. Charity programmes and the like. Its fun and enjoyable. Plus I know you like it when I'm safe in the country dad."

"I do," he said. "Seen far too much in my line of work Cate. Plus when you were in Islamabad I know for a fact there was a bomb pointing at the city. It took ten years off my life, so forgive me if I'd rather keep you safe in the UK."

"God, I never knew that!" Catherine said. "And all the time I thought you were a paranoid git."

"I am a paranoid git," he said. "I love you though." Catherine smiled at him.

"Thanks dad." Catherine hugged him again. "So Ruth, why is a beautiful woman like you settling for a man like him?"

"Excuse me?" Harry said.

"He has qualities," Ruth said. "Even though he can be a stubborn git."

"Right, I'm leaving now while you two continue to discuss me like an inanimate object," Harry said grumbling. Both women laughed at his retreating back, the ice well and truly thawed.

"Do you want a drink?" Ruth asked. "Tea or coffee?"