A.N: And we're back! Apologies for the delay, I really did think I was going to have more times to write.

2 June 2005

Ruth was sitting quietly at her desk, covertly tracking Harry's progress from behind her computer monitor. As an analyst, she knew she had a duty to provide her Section Head with every available piece of information in order to neutralize the present threat. As a mother, though, she had her reservations about revealing her latest discovery. The photograph of Mary, their mercenary's daughter, lay atop his file on her desk. This little girl could be the key to breaking Morgan, but Ruth took no joy in having located her. She was only eight; not that much older than Adam and Fiona's little Wes, and gravely ill as well.

As she struggled to come to a decision regarding Mary, Ruth recalled her own son at that age. Will had always been a bright child, clever and cheerful, endlessly inquisitive. What was Mary like? Ruth wondered. Was she still afraid of the dark? Will had all but outgrown that fear by the time he was eight years old, but she knew it lingered in some children. Did she struggle with maths, as Will had done? Maths was the only school subject that didn't come easily to Will, and Ruth had spent countless nights sitting with him at their kitchen table, muddling through his schoolwork together. Maths was the only thing they ever really fought about when he was young, she recalled with a sad little smile.

If Ruth revealed Mary's existence to Harry, what would their Section do with this information? Would Harry truly allow Adam to threaten a little girl, a little girl with a sweet face and a terrible illness? Ruth continued to watch him, contemplating Harry, and the sort of man he was. He had a daughter of his own, Ruth knew. He could be hard, when the occasion called for it, could be downright ruthless; that was part of his job. But he could be kind, as well; surely he had been kind to his daughter. Tended to her hurts, assuaged her fears. Maybe he had helped Catherine with maths, too. Surely Harry wouldn't go this far, wouldn't dare to hurt a child, a child who had nothing to do with her father's questionable business dealings.

Would he?

Before she could make up her mind, Harry approached her instead.

"Is there any area we don't touch?"

The question was out before she could stop herself. Ruth knew, deep down, that she had no choice, but still, the thought of what might happen to this little girl as result of Ruth's own efforts left a bitter taste in her mouth. And Ruth was afraid, terribly afraid, that if she continued in this job, continued to make these sorts of choices, to be an active participant in this sort of treachery, she might wake up one day and find herself no longer concerned with the human cost of their work.

"Ethics? Here?"

Of course Harry didn't understand what she was talking about; he thought she was still quizzing him in preparation for the DG interview. Ruth had no smiles for him now, though; her heart was torn, between her duty and her sense of compassion for this child, and it was Harry she turned to for absolution, for guidance.

Haltingly Ruth explained Mary's situation, and beside her, she watched as Harry sighed and slumped his shoulders. It affected him, too, she realized. However he might try to appear unwavering in his dedication to doing whatever was necessary to protect his country, somewhere inside Harry still harbored doubts. Strangely, that thought comforted her. Harry was just a man, after all, a man with a heart and a conscience and a strong desire to do good. Ruth prayed that he would make the right decision, where Mary was concerned, that he would help Adam toe the line, for this little girl's sake.

"Do you never draw the line on this stuff?"

Ruth genuinely wanted an answer to that question. For a moment, she thought Harry was going to reach out and place his hand on her shoulder, perhaps to offer her some comfort, but he tucked his hand in his pocket instead. And when he did, Ruth found she was bitterly disappointed. Any sort of contact, however fleeting, however benign, would have been welcome just then, when she was overcome with guilt and fear. And it would have been doubly welcome coming from Harry himself.

"We have to do the best we can with what's available to us, Ruth," he told her. "I can promise you, whatever Adam says, I won't allow any harm to come to this little girl. I won't allow our agents to frighten her."

It was the best Ruth could hope for under the circumstances, and so she nodded as she handed the file over to Harry. He offered her a sad smile, a smile she returned gratefully, and then he left her. As he walked away, Ruth found herself feeling more conflicted than ever. Not just about Mary, though she was still deeply troubled about what Adam might do once he found about the child. It was more than that; she realized that she wanted Harry to touch her, wanted to feel the warmth of his hand against her shoulder, wanted that connection to him. And that want, that small, slowly blooming desire that had taken root in her heart, that tiny flicker of hope that warmed her from the inside out every time he came near, absolutely terrified her. Could she have chosen anyone more unsuitable? He was her boss, seventeen years her senior, and blissfully unaware of the existence of her son. Ruth had learned a lot about maths, during all those nights she'd spent teaching Will, and this particular equation only added up to disaster.

Still, though, she thought, he does look nice today.

3 June 2005

They did use the girl, in the end, but to Ruth's eternal relief, Mary never learned the truth of the little outing she and Danny had undertaken. Mary had never truly been in any danger, Morgan gave Adam the information they needed, and for once, all was well. Will and Emma had agreed to reschedule their dinner, and Ruth found herself once more touching up her make-up before heading out to meet them. And once more, Harry sought her out.

They were alone on the Grid. In itself that was not unusual; with Will away at Oxford and no one at home to greet her but the cats, Ruth often found herself working late, though never as late as Harry. As she looked up at him, she wondered how many times they had found themselves alone, in the dark, working in such close proximity, and yet always maintaining a professional distance. Or perhaps not so professional, if she were being honest. More and more, Harry was coming to her, chatting with her quietly as they wiled away the hours together, and though their conversations remained for the most part work-related, there was something…intimate, about the private nature of those discussions, as if they were a little secret only Ruth and Harry shared. Ruth kept more than her fair share of secrets, but unlike all the others, this one made her happy. She treasured it, as she treasured every moment she spent in Harry's company.

"See? Wrongs righted, evildoers brought to heel, miracles performed. Is there no end to our goodness, Ruth?"

When Harry spoke his voice was low and warm, and she couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her face when she heard it.

He handed her the letter he'd received regarding the DG position, explaining that he had been passed over, as intended. Somehow, though, he didn't seem happy about it; his face had taken on that pout she found so completely adorable.

"But that's what you wanted," she pointed out, trying to understand his displeasure. In her heart, Ruth was relieved; she didn't even want to contemplate what would happen to the Grid, if Harry were no longer occupying the Section Head's office. She tried to tell herself that she wanted him to remain because he was so very good at his job, and not because some days the only thing that got her out of bed and into work in the morning was the thought of seeing his face.

"Yes, but it's annoying when the best man for the job is passed over for a politician."

Ah, yes, she thought. Harry's legendary hatred of politicians once again reared its ugly head. Privately, Ruth agreed; she would much prefer a DG who had spent time in the trenches, who truly understood the work they did. As long as that person wasn't Harry.

"It seems you were right," he continued.

"Yes," she answered, beaming. "But I'm pleased."

Oh no. She hadn't meant to say that, to confess to her relief at the knowledge that he wasn't leaving them, wasn't leaving her. Harry quirked an eyebrow at her; there was something almost triumphant in his expression, visible for only moment before Danny interrupted them. Ruth didn't know whether she wanted to kick Danny or kiss him, for cutting off the question that Harry had very nearly asked her. He had come to complain about some damage done to his flat while Fiona had taken up residence there; Ruth only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at him.

"Off out are we, Ruth?" Harry asked her, clearly not interested in continuing to indulge Danny's complaints.

"Yes, I'm only three days late," she answered. As she rose from her chair and gathered her belongings, she didn't miss the little grimace that passed across Harry's face at those words.

What is that about? She wondered, her heart leaping up into her throat. Why should Harry pull such a face upon learning that she was going out? Unless he, like Sam, assumed she was going on a date. But why would that make him unhappy?

Don't even think about it, she told herself sternly, even as she fought the urge to confess to him that it wasn't a date at all. It's all in your head, he doesn't fancy you, let it go.

"And if anything happens between here and the pods, please don't tell me." This last she delivered over her shoulder, in an attempt at friendly banter. That's all you are, and all you'll be, she told herself. Just friends.

As she approached the pods, she heard Harry call out behind her.

"Ruth?"

She was grinning fit to burst; Harry Pearce was teasing her, she realized. And she quite liked it, though she did not abate the pace of her departure.

"I'm not listening!" She shouted back.

As the pod whirred closed behind her, the faint sound of Harry's laughter rung in her ears like a cheerful, tinkling bell.