A/N – This chapter was easy to write, really easy, and there's only two more to go! The Malcolm and Lucas one in this chapter is perhaps the silliest drabble I have written but I still don't think it is completely out of the realm of possibility.

Sam and Adam - I Wish I Could Go Back To College

"Well, screw you Sarah," Sam barked into her phone, trying hard to not throw the stupid thing across the break room.

"Alright?" Adam asked, turning from his newly made cup of tea, eyebrows raised.

"My flatmate," Sam sighed, toying with a piece of chicken in her salad, "She says I'm unreliable."

"What does it matter, as long as you pay the rent?"

"Exactly. I wish I could afford somewhere on my own."

"Why?" he slid into the spare seat across from her.

"Because I had the best flatmates I will ever have when I was at university and now everyone sucks in comparison."

"You had good flatmates at university? Lucky you!"

"What were yours like?" she couldn't resist asking, even as she realised he was just trying to distract her.

"Hell. Smoking weed at all hours, setting off the fire alarm four nights a week, parties every evening."

"At Cambridge? I thought only good boys and girls went to Cambridge?"

"I bloody wish."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Ruth and Jo - Alibi

"What are you doing tonight?"

Jo asked Ruth that same question, every single day and she always got the same answer.

Not much.

Tonight though, Ruth hesitated for a fraction of a second, and she turned bright red before she could say it.

"Not much."

She fumbled through packing her bag, even though Jo was trying hard to make her believe she wasn't watching her.

"Bye then," Ruth said brightly, a little of her composure returned, and she was walking away before Jo could even answer.

Five minutes later, Harry left too, much earlier than he normally did. For a brief moment Jo allowed herself to speculate, wishing there was more than coincidence to Harry's unusual time keeping and Ruth's funny reaction. Then she turned back to her screens.

Speculation was a waste of time.

Harry and Dimitri - Run and Tell That

Erin sent him with Harry to the hospital, when the helicopter finally arrived. She took Calum back to the Grid, dazed as they were, to deal with the fallout. Dimitri knew why she had sent him - there was no telling what Harry's reaction would be when they finally separated him from Ruth.

As it was, it was calm. Too calm. Eerily calm, and Dimitri wished his boss would at least cry again, anything to show he hadn't shut down completely.

Eventually, Dimitri lead him out to the car that Erin had sent for them and still Harry said nothing. In fact, he only spoke to correct the destination, giving an address that Dimitri didn't know. The driver set off and Dimitri watched Harry the whole time from the corner of his eye.

Blank. Nothing.

An older man answered the door at the house and only then did Harry break again, leaning his forehead against the doorpost, shoulders shaking. The man bundled him inside and Dimitri sighed, because at least he could tell Erin, at the very least, Harry was not alone.

Malcolm and Lucas - Perfect 10

"Oh come on," Lucas groaned, "No way was that worth twelve points."

"We could have predicted that," Malcolm shrugged, glancing at the television screen, "Ex-Soviet bloc."

"Mmm," Lucas dipped into the bag of crisps he had perched on the desk, "It's all politics."

It's all politics.

That was the excuse either of them would have given, had anyone happened to realise they were in fact tuned into the Eurovision Contest on their overnight shift.

"And our ten points go to...the United Kingdom!"

"Ten! Not bad," Lucas nodded.

"Especially from Ukraine," Malcolm deigned to take his eyes away from his screens properly, "What is our score now?"

"Thirteen."

"In total?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Harry and Beth - More I Cannot Wish You

He could not argue with Erin's decision to remove Beth, not when it was probably the best thing to do. She had been unpredictable once, and disloyal. It was a shame though, that just when she was seeing the light, her talents would once more be offered to less savourable sorts on the open market.

A damn shame.

And so maybe he asked Tariq to find the latest number for her, and maybe he called her, soon after he was back in his chair.

"Harry?" she sounded incredulous, "I'm out, remember? Damaged goods."

"I know," he said, "I'm going to give you a phone number. You should call it and offer your services to the man who answers. Tell him I sent you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you could be very good, Beth. This man is good too, for all his sins. You'd never have to do anything for...morally questionable people."

"What's his name?"

"Tom. Tom Quinn."