A/N – I'm going to try and keep these relatively canon-ish, by the way, in case anyone was wondering. And, to that end, I do believe the subject of the Harry and Tessa drabble is probably what happened at some point. Thanks again for reviews and support. You should all tell me if you think I am getting a bit repetitive at any point!

Lucas and Beth - Living On A Thin Line

It was weeks before she found out who Lucas was, where he had been, how he had suffered, and finally he began to make sense. She'd put it down to spy paranoia, the instinct that all Spooks had to guard themselves and never quite let people know them. Russia explained so much more; Dimitri's hero worship of him, Ruth's tendancy to check on him, Harry's habit of watching him as though he was never quite sure of what he would do. Beth got the feeling Lucas' appointment as Section Chief was more from a lack of options than from Harry's wholehearted endorsement.

So Beth resolved to treat Lucas no differently to how she had when she first met him. He was achingly perceptive and he knew what people thought of him, even people who were so good at hiding it. She resolved to treat him the same because, she reckoned, if anything was likely to make Russia a problem, it would be Lucas' realisation that people believed it had changed him.

Calum and Tariq - Live And Let Die

Calum rode in the ambulance with Tariq, flashing his ID at the paramedic and threatening his job if the man refused him. Tariq was already gone, had been long before the ambulance arrived, but Calum couldn't leave him alone. It wasn't fair to leave him.

Harry had gone back to the office, to make the calls he needed to make, and he had just nodded when Calum climbed into the ambulance too. It was a short ride to the hospital and a short walk downstairs to the mortuary where the MI5-friendly pathologist was already waiting. Tariq was rolled in and Calum paced the corridors until Harry called him and told him he needed to come back to work. Calum almost refused, his forehead pressed to the window as he watched the pathologist work, and then he gave up, walking away before his resolve was lost to him. He couldn't help Tariq here and now.

He would have to find another way.

Harry and Tessa - God Help The Outcasts/Nobody Knows

He'd lost her. Harry cleared his throat as he watched Tessa leave the Grid for the last time. He'd lost her as much as if she had been shot in front of him. She was dead now, in all the ways that mattered, in all the ways that the Service counted anyway. Tessa had never been a bad sort - desperate to have his job, of course, but then a fair few people could make that claim. He always thought they had resolved their tension, on that one stupid night a thousand years ago when too much brandy and an anonymous hotel room had lead to an argument that almost had them thrown out mid-op and then a night of angry but hugely satisfying sex.

Tessa had never mentioned it after that; never mentioned that night, never mentioned the job, never mentioned anything more. And, with the bitterness that only hindsight could provide, Harry realised that should have been the first sign that he had a problem.

Tom and Sam - Little People

The weather, so recently terrible, had finally begun to pick up and Sam was enjoying her afternoon away from the office. Tom was meeting an asset and Sam had tagged along, child in tow to complete the disguise.

She perched on a bench, coffee in hand, watching Tom kick a football with the boy, a five year old borrowed from one of the junior analysts. They had been playing for a good twenty minutes and the little boy was hopeless, but Tom was displaying a patience that Sam had never seen on the Grid. When the kid got tired and asked for an ice-cream, Tom scooped up the ball and took him to the nearby ice cream van, lifting him so he could point to what he wanted on the menu.

It was the most chilled she had ever seen him, the most genuine smile on his face, and she thought of his ex and the little girl he had lost, and she sighed.

Sometimes, their job really, really sucked.

Malcolm and Zoe - Don't Carry It All

Zoe had been in the Archives for hours, digging out a few old files that Harry had decided would help for the current operation. He'd called it a few but by the time Zoe was done, the pile was so enormous that she decided she must have done something to upset him.

She staggered under the weight of them, backing out of the door and trying to press the button for the lift without losing her tenuous grip on the stack. Now she had a hold on them, she wasn't sure she would be able to get it just right again.

The young officer who ran into her as she left the lift probably didn't mean to knock the pile from her hands, but he definitely meant it when he didn't even stop to apologise.

"Shit," Zoe sighed, sinking to her knees and trying to put the right papers back in the right files, "Shit, shit, shit."

At her side, someone knelt quietly and murmured, "Let me help you."

"Malcolm," she smiled, never more pleased to see him, "Thank you."

"It's no problem," he twitched his lips, "Anything for you."