A/N - Okay I dont normally bore people with this kinda stuff but a gap this long needs explanation. Basically I had a family situation involving my wife and although everything worked out really well in the end I've just had alot of problems getting into the head of 2 grieving parents when it hits a little to close to home.

That said I'm still really interested in this story and providing people are still interested in it as well I'm gonna continue writing it.

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Part 13 – The Public Enemy

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"I ain't so tough."

- Tom Powers (James Cagney) – The Public Enemy (1931)

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2003.
Thames House.
London.

Harry held court before the group at the centre of the Grid.

"I've put Mr Mace off until tomorrow, so we work quickly."

"What's going on, Harry?" Danny asked. Harry wanted to know that himself.

"Yes, at the station, there was this tramp..." Malcolm began. Harry barely listened as he moved slightly and then winced.

He knew Ruth was watching him carefully and was less than surprised hear her speak softly, directly to him.

"Harry..."

"Yes, Ruth?" He looked up and saw Adam Carter come through the pods. "Adam, come most presently upon your hour. Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to your vagrant."

"Hi. How are you doing?" He smiled at them all. They stared at him. Harry tried not to be distracted by his accent. "This is Adam Carter. I've bulldozed some rules and seconded him from Six to help us sort out this mess." Pain shot up Harry's spine and he was forced to sit. Ruth was staring at him with a mixture of annoyance and concern, an expression he was very familiar with.

"Yeah. Well." Adam had obviously noticed that as well because he suddenly became a much more authoritative. "We've got one hell of a situation here. But there's a neat way to get the gremlins off our backs."

Zoë was hostile in her reply. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

But Adam didn't seem to take it personally. Instead, his eyes flickered from her to Harry. "We prove Tom Quinn was innocent." Harry raised his eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Yes!" Danny exclaimed, seeming exceptionally happy with that suggestion.

The proposal had at least drawn Ruth's eyes away from him and back towards Adam; obviously she hadn't considered that option if her stunned expression was anything to go by.

Adam continued. "Now I'm sorry about this, but it looks we're in for an all-nighter. We need a heap of sandwiches, coffee, tea."

Sam stood up. "I'll get that. I mean I don't have to. I don't get the tea. Usually." She seemed slightly flustered.

"Thanks Sam, not still bugged?"

"What? Oh, no." Sam smiled before turning slightly red and moving away.

As the others did the same, Zoë spoke directly to Adam himself. "He wasn't innocent though, was he?" She made to move past him but Adam held her arm.

"Zoë, until we really know, let's assume that he was the man you knew," Adam told her before letting go and allowing her to leave.

They'd all left the immediate area bar three people.

"Interesting plan, Adam," Ruth commented, as he turned towards the both of them. "The only snag being that he tried to kill Harry."

"If he'd really wanted me dead he could have shot me in the head," Harry reminded her, grimacing in pain.

"Doesn't change the fact that he shot you," she told him. Her eyes were cold but the anger was directed at someone other than him, for once.

"Don't worry, I wont be forgetting it in a hurry," he stated, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

"If you've got a better solution then I'd love to hear it, Ruth," Adam told her but she shook her head in reply. "Our first priority is the Section itself. We can worry about everything else after we've got the JIC off our backs."

Ruth nodded, reluctantly.

Adam lowered his voice and his expression changed to something more serious. "Fiona and I were sorry to hear about your son," Adam told them sincerely.

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1994.
Christ Church.
Oxford.

Ruth had never been an observer of the human condition.

It wasn't that she was anti-social or anything; it was simply the fact that there were much more interesting and important things to do than people-watch.

She was always well liked but had never considered herself popular. She'd just never really understood people. They weren't like books; you couldn't read them in that way. You could never know everything about a person no matter how long you'd known them.

Ruth had known Lucy for what she considered a 'long time'. When you live in each others pockets for years you get to know people well. But not completely.

She'd had a slightly guilty feeling in her bones since the moment Lucy had said yes to Gary… because Ruth had never even considered that Lucy would choose Gary. Not when she had Justin, the perfect future husband, a man who'd inherit a trust fund to rival any as soon as he joined the family practice.

But instead of the expected Justin and Lucy fanfare, her best friend had chosen Gary. A man who'd been sacked from his last job for trying to write about a holocaust survivor rather than the football results. A man who'd never have a steady job. Never make enough money to keep Lucy happy.

It was a cruel thing to say but Ruth had just assumed that it would never happen. Lucy's parents would surely never allow someone with the surname Hicks into their illustrious family without a six figure income.

Ruth had also assumed, back then, that Lucy would break things off and just carry on as usual. Gary would get over it and go down the pub before disappearing into Africa to write a book about the evils of globalisation. But that was looking less and less likely as they got to the 'I do' part.

And they did.

Ruth loved Lucy dearly but she had made the mistake of assuming that she also knew everything about her at the same time.

Ever since he came into Ruth's life, ever since he walked out of it as well, she'd begun to notice things she'd never even thought about before. She'd selfishly assumed that she was better than her friend, arrogantly thought of herself as more intelligent, that she was a nicer person.

But ever since Ruth had sat on a park bench and felt a cold hand grab tightly onto her arm - a hand that that still haunted her nightmares - ever since she'd touched his fingers and felt an electric current that she still dreamed about, she'd been different.

She'd begun to watch people. Notice things she'd never thought about before. Like the fact that, every Thursday, Lucy was busy at the same time and she'd always deflect any questions about it. Like the fact that she'd barely danced at her own hen party despite insisting on the club for that express reason.

Minor things out of context. After all, there was no law that said that Lucy always had to be the party animal and never settle down.

But the problem was, Ruth knew better.

Less than an hour before the wedding itself she'd overheard the throwaway line that she'd normally never have picked up on. She'd never normally have even noticed that Justin Collins-Hume was even there, he was such a non-entity in her life.

But she had. She'd overheard his words from across the room.

"And I thought it was her heart that was defective. Not her brain." He was drunk. But he was serious.

Everything had come together in her mind at that moment and she'd replayed it through the entire ceremony. Right to this moment when the happy couple were together. Forever.

As she followed them down the aisle she could help but wonder two things.

Where was the confetti she'd bought especially?

And how short was their forever going to be?

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2003.
Thames House.
London.

"Do you have any kind of ... you know ... plan?" Danny asked, as they stood alone in the darkened corridor.

"I did something once, when I was stationed in Damascus. I made up a story about a high ranking intelligence officer in the Syrian Secret Service. The guy was a torturer, a real pig."

"So?"

Adam smirked. "I put it about that the pig was, well, mole Working for the Israeli secret service. And do you know what? It turned out to be true."

"What happened?"

"The Syrians hanged him. The Israelis went ape of course."

"And the agent?"

"I married her."

"Oh right."

"You'll meet her, she's gorgeous. See, don't plan too much Danny. Let things just crinkle out."

Danny just stared at him in disbelief.

"Look I'm not saying that it's always a good idea to go in half-cocked. But sometimes it's better to do the opposite." Danny didn't reply so he changed the subject completely. "What about the boss and his ex?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Adam smiled. "You know Harry Pearce is spy royalty and I've always wanted the meet the woman who could tame such a man."

"Tame?"

"God…" Adam chuckled. "Do you really not know the history? It's legend at Six."

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Why do you think Harry and Oliver hate each other?"

"Ruth said they were rivals."

"Exactly. Only Ruth was what they were rivals for. It's the most open secret in the business that Six tried to recruit her and then Harry swooped in."

"So what?"

"So… what's the lay of the land?"

"We have no idea."

Adam grinned. "And you people call yourselves spies?"

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1994.
Royal London Hospital.
London.

"You'll be out before the weekend apparently," his visitor stated, talking as if Harry hadn't been told that yet.

"I know," he replied, staring at the grapes he'd just received. Obviously, Malcolm was attempting to offer him tea and sympathy.

He'd clearly got the message because an uncomfortable silence was forming over them.

It wasn't that he disliked the man. He was tolerable. In small doses. But not at your hospital bedside when you're recovering from being shot - more than once - and apparently lucky to be alive.

"How was the funeral?" Harry asked him. It seemed like the polite thing to do.

"The same as any. Depressing and upsetting. The children…" Malcolm shrugged. "How can you tell what five year olds are feeling? I'm appalling with children."

"I might go and see them when I'm out." He looked at Malcolm. "Unless you think that would be inappropriate?"

"How can it be inappropriate?"

"I lived, he died."

"That's the luck of the draw Harry. You know that." He paused. "Simon certainly did."

"Don't try the foolish platitudes."

"How many times did you save his life? There was always going to be a time when you couldn't. We understand the risks in this job. We do it anyway."

Harry said nothing.

"Harry…"

"I'm tired Malcolm," he said forcefully.

Malcolm paused, choosing his words very carefully. "I checked on her for you." He said simply. "Just a quick look, she's fine. Might not finish her masters though. Asked for a deferral. Nothing of note otherwise."

Harry stared at him, keeping his expression passive, though he felt anything but at that moment.

"Thank you for the information."

"Not a problem… I'll be sure to keep you informed if anything changes," he added.

"I'd appreciate it very much Malcolm, but be tread carefully," he cautioned.

"I always do."

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2003.
The Club.
London.

Harry moved with purpose towards the table that both Oliver and Jason Belling occupied.

Oliver smirked at him. "Ah Harry… good of you to join us. Do you know Jason Belling?" He gestured to his companion, who'd gone rather white at the unexpected interruption.

Harry smiled at the man. "Only on certain tape recordings." He and Oliver both laughed slightly. "Forgive us Mr Belling, Spook humour," he explained.

Oliver looked towards the man he'd been working with. "Convivial though this is, sadly Mr. Belling is not a member of this club. Nor is he my guest. Is he yours?"

"No." The smile left Harry face as he said so, calmly.

"So I think you had better leave," Oliver told him.

For a moment, Harry thought the stupid man was actually going to argue. But he obviously understood the statements and left quickly.

"You cut down one but another will pop up in his place, I fear."

"Indeed." Oliver nodded in agreement.

Harry looked at him. "You went over to them."

"Yes."

Harry shook his head, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "You damn well nearly landed us with a Ministry of Security running a secret police."

"I was ... perhaps somewhat blinded by ambition."

"Somewhat blinded?" Harry stated, disbelieving.

"You can't force my resignation you know."

"Sadly I am aware of that fact."

There was a moment of silence before Oliver spoke again. "Ruth looks well. I was surprised to hear of her secondment."

"What of it?"

Oliver smirked. "I'd also heard about the divorce. You know if you need rid of her quickly there's always a place at Six…"

"Not going to happen Oliver," Harry interrupted.

"Shame." Oliver swirled his near empty glass before drinking the rest. "This is only a one all draw."

There was a moment before Harry turned to the waiter. "James, same again for Mr Mace and I'll have a large usual." He looked at Oliver. "Not on my tab."

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