Thank you all for your continued interest in this story and for your wonderful reviews. They're really keeping me going as normally I lose interest in longer fics and abandon them in the middle (I know, my plan is to work on Earth, Sea and Sky next). I'd just like to say here that I'm using Harry's Diary as a reference point for the dates used, but there seems (to my mind) to be a bit of a discrepancy between the Diary and Episode 4.05. The episode appears to take two (at the most three) days until they know Woodring's behind it all, but Harry's diary indicates that Clive McTaggert's death occurred on the 7th of November, a Monday, and the whole situation was resolved by the 20th of November (though it might have been cleared up earlier but Harry was lax about writing it up in his diary). Given that Jo mentions it's Friday night when she warns those in the safe-house about the imminent attack, which would put the date at November 11th, the whole timeline doesn't really fit the way the episode was filmed (in my opinion). I have undoubtedly given this far too much thought, but the upshot of it all is that I'm using a combination of Harry's Diary and the information revealed in 4.05 to do what the heck I want because it's my story anyway (though I do acknowledge that I use some lines and the overall storyline of 4.05). Anyway, hopefully, it works, and you enjoy it. Cheers, S.C.
Three days later – Monday, 7th November
She doesn't understand him. No matter which way she looks at it, she cannot fathom him at all. On Friday he'd been heartbroken, angry and upset, biting people's heads off at the slightest provocation and shutting himself away in his office for hours, and when he'd said those words - "And what I am, Ruth? Am I not a person too?" - her heart had almost stopped at the anguish in his gaze, and it was only with an effort greater than she'd imagined possible that she'd managed to hold it together long enough to escape to the roof before she'd broken down completely. For the rest of the day, she'd somehow managed to keep it together, though she'd moved through it in a daze and still can't recall what exactly she'd accomplished, and at five o'clock sharp, she'd left to go home. The journey on the bus had been a wonderful relief, but though she'd been craving solitude all day long, once she'd entered her house and closed the front door behind her, she'd found the silence suddenly acutely oppressive. Thank God for Fidget, mindless TV, and wine as, without them, she'd never have got through the night.
She'd had the weekend off, and she'd spent it mostly moping around the house, torturing herself over her decision and the pain she's caused him, unable to find any kind of relief, even for a moment. When her mother had called as usual, she'd had to plead a headache and a sore throat to get out of talking to her despite her desperate need for advise and support. But she'd know that, this time, she couldn't confide in her mother or David because she'd have had to tell them everything to have any hope of them understanding her dilemma, and that really wasn't an option for so many different reasons. She'd briefly considered talking to Fiona who, after all, must have some idea of what she's going through, though she met and married Adam when he was just a field agent. But somehow, she hadn't been able to find the courage to open up to her, share her private affairs with a colleague again after what had happened when she'd confided in Sam.
So having suffered through another couple of restless days and nights, during which she'd consumed far too much alcohol, she'd expected to find Harry in a bad mood again today, but instead, she'd come into work to find him acting as if the last two weeks simply hadn't happened. He's his old, charming self again, treating her like he did before they'd, unexpectedly and quite wonderfully, become lovers, making her wonder what the hell has happened and breaking her heart all over again at the realisation that she must have been mistaken to think that he cared deeply for her, to think that he loved her. And to make matters worse, she's sure the others take his behaviour as a sign that everything's going well between them, that they're still together, Fiona's little smile at their disagreement over his use of the word brotherhood to describe their group this morning seemingly confirming this. She's utterly confused and heartbroken right now, unable to concentrate at all as she mulls things over, unable to figure out what's changed his mind so completely, or decide if he's a brilliant actor or just a heartless bastard after all.
