Harry looked around at his team, wishing for the thousandth time that they weren't all so bloody young. Things would be different, if it was Tom and Zoe and Danny and Malcolm sitting across the table from him, if it was a team of spooks with years of experience and battle-hardened souls, rather than these young pups who had yet to learn the true cost of their job. Among them, only Ruth truly understood, only Ruth truly lived their motto, Regnum Defende. Ruth had defended the realm, by his side, for years now, and she knew what it meant, to give her all to the service. Dimitri and Beth had only been with him for a few months, still learning their way around; Tariq had been on the Grid for longer, but he was not a field agent, not meant for true espionage; and then there was Martha, only two days into her job, still thinking the whole thing was a bit of a lark. Thank God for Ruth, he thought grimly.

He was going to have to tell them the whole bloody story, he knew. They were looking to him for answers, for guidance, and he had little enough of that to give. What would they think of him, he wondered, when his sorry tale was done? Likely they would think him soft, once they knew his reasons for showing Lucas such leniency. Only Ruth would understand how he had been manipulated by the man, only she would understand how Lucas had found a way to use his one weakness against him. And, he thought, she would likely hate him for it.

"Right. We haven't much time, so I need your full attention, please. A bit of background on the situation. As you may know, Lucas North spent eight years in a Russian prison after he was captured in the field. He was sent there on my orders; I have known the man for decades and we share a certain history. Upon his return from Russia, Lucas immediately rejoined the team, and he has proven his loyalty time and time again. I am still not convinced that he has turned traitor," at this Ruth's mouth dropped open in soundless fury, but Harry barreled on, heedless. "And I have my reasons for believing this."

Harry took a deep breath. He had kept so much secret from them, and on the surface that didn't particularly bother him; secrets were their stock and trade. What bothered him was that he had kept secrets from Ruth, the one person he trusted above all others, the only person who might have been able to help him, had he only shared his concerns with her. She was going to be livid, by the time he was finished, but he could not go back and alter the course of history. He had made his choice, and the time had come to face it.

"In 1995 Lucas was a brand new agent on my team, and he was briefly seconded to Six for a mission in Dakar."

Ah, she's beginning to put it together, he thought, watching as the light of realization slowly dawned in Ruth's eyes. It was a marvelous thing, watching her mind at work. He had never encountered another living soul with an intuition to rival hers. Most of the time, he loved her for it, but there moments, like now, when he wished she wasn't quite so quick on the uptake. She'd have her mind made up about the situation before he ever had a chance to explain himself, and then where would they be?

For her part Beth was staring at him in horror; he had set her to looking into Lucas's time in Dakar without telling her why, and he wondered what sort of conclusions she was jumping to. No time for that just now, he chided himself.

"Dakar was a hotbed of international espionage at the time, and there were rumblings of a potential threat to British nationals in the city. As it turns out, the British Embassy there was attacked. Lucas was unable to stop the bombing, but he was able to partially evacuate the Embassy, and in the end seventeen lives were lost, when it could have been closer to fifty. Six brought him back in disgrace, for not having been able to stop the attack completely, and he returned to Five, where he belonged."

He paused for breath, taking the opportunity to assess the current mood of the room. Four of them are confused, and one of them is furious, he decided, looking around at all of them dejectedly. He stood alone, near the head of the table; he was too full of nervous energy to sit, just now, adrenaline rushing through his veins, making him feel breathless and alive.

"Several months ago Lucas came to me with a request. He had reconnected with a woman he had known before his imprisonment, but he had discovered that she was gravely ill and unlikely to survive. I gave him permission to go and see her, as often as he was able."

It was entirely out of character for him, he knew, to grant such a boon, but he had done it, because how could he not? Harry knew very well what it was like to love a woman, to lose her, to pine for her, and then have her returned to him battered and broken and so different from his memories. When Ruth had come back from Cyprus Lucas had been there, had been the one to kill Mani, to save her life, had seen her weeping, her face buried in her hands, unable to say a word save for his name. Lucas had cut the ties on her hands first, once the scene was secure, and Ruth had remained in her chair, crying and saying only Harry, Harry, Harry over and over again, her voice rough and shaking. As soon as his own hands were free Harry had gone to her, had pulled her into his arms and cradled her against his chest while she sobbed, and Lucas had seen it all.

When he looked at her now, he could almost watch the scene replaying her mind, as well, could see that she knew full well how Lucas's story might have spoken to his heart.

"That's where I believed he was going, all the times that he was not where he said he was. In retrospect this was not the best decision I could have made, but I felt I owed a debt to Lucas. He had missed out on nearly a decade with this woman, in service to his country, and I thought he deserved a chance to say good-bye to her properly."

"But she isn't ill," Beth protested in a weak little voice. Harry tried not to glower at her, really he did, but he was nowhere near finished with his tale, and he did not have the patience for such interruptions at this juncture.

"I am aware of that, Miss Bailey," he snapped, regretting his tone but not allowing any of that remorse to show on his face. You're boss spook, he reminded himself. Remorse is for lesser men. "It's clear now that Lucas lied to me, in that regard. Several months ago, he came to me and said that he had been approached by a man he had known in Dakar. This man was looking for access to confidential files, and he was trying to blackmail Lucas into retrieving the files for him. He had threatened the woman, and apparently he had something else to lord over Lucas, though I'm not sure what that might have been. I saw this an opportunity; Lucas assured me this man was behind the bombing in Dakar, but we know he was not the brains behind the operation. We need to know who ordered it, and for that we need Lucas to bring him in. I'd also quite like to know who's behind his current machinations, and to that end I encouraged Lucas to go along with this charade."

Harry reached out, and lifted up the composite photograph that Beth had given him just a little while before.

"This man's name is Vaughn Edwards. Lucas and I met with him yesterday morning, and he claimed to have some evidence regarding the bombing in '95. After we had spoken to him, Lucas revealed to me that Edwards is the man who has been trying to blackmail him. Edwards is also likely the man responsible for murdering your friend Marcus," he added to Beth. "We need Edwards, but I fear that Lucas's concern for his lover has clouded his judgment."

"What do you want us to do, Harry?" Ruth asked him a quiet little voice.

Christ, he loved her voice. Most of the time it was soft and warm and gentle, but when she was in a passion - or a fury - it could tremble, it could reach such a crescendo, it could cut right through the heart of him. At this moment, it was low and worn, echoing both her exhaustion and her absolute dedication.

"We find Lucas, we find Edwards, and we put a stop to this, now."


Harry gave them each a task, even Martha, and sent them all scurrying from the room, save for Ruth.

She wasn't particularly surprised by this; he often kept her back after a briefing, to go over some salient detail he considered too volatile to share with the group at large, or to voice some concern he did not want to burden the others with, or simply to reassure himself that she was in agreement with his plans.

Since he had first revealed the truth behind Lucas's many absences, Ruth had been staring at him in horror, unable to wrap her mind around what he had done. Stupid man, she thought as she watched him; how could he have fallen for such an obvious trap? Lovers, torn apart by duty, reunited in horror, bound by grief; Lucas had chosen the perfect lie with which to ensnare him, and Harry had swallowed it whole. If only he had bloody told her, she could have warned him against such folly, but he had shielded her from it, no doubt wanting to keep her from recollections of their own misery.

It was clear that Harry believed Lucas was still on side, still running the op as ordered, if in a rather reckless way, but Ruth did not share his certainty. Was it really possible that Lucas could have lied about the woman, and nothing else? Why had Lucas not revealed Edwards's identity sooner? Just how involved had Lucas been in the plot to bomb the embassy, and what did Edwards have over him that would make him behave in such a way? There were entirely too many questions, and it didn't seem like Harry had any of the answers.

"Before you say anything, I know I made a mistake," he told her softly. Ruth leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped protectively over the swell of her stomach.

"What about Steven Owen?" Ruth asked him suddenly as the young man's face swam before her eyes; had Harry known that the boy was innocent, and sent him off to face imprisonment anyway?

"Owen really did steal that money, Ruth. He had a gambling habit, it's all very well documented," Harry replied. She studied his face; whether it was true or not she still wasn't sure, but Harry certainly believed it.

"You told me Lucas wasn't running an op for you," she said slowly, as she turned her thoughts to every conversation she and Harry had ever had about the man.

"Officially, he wasn't," Harry protested weakly, and if Ruth hadn't been pregnant, if her back didn't ache and her feet weren't swollen and her whole body didn't feel as if it were under constant attack from the inside out, she would have launched herself to her feet and struck him in the face.

"That's bullshit, Harry," she spat. How dare he? How dare he make such a distinction, how dare he lie to me, how dare he treat me as if I'm some junior agent he can deceive at will?

"I thought the less you knew about it, the better."

"I can't believe you, Harry," she said, her voice shaking.

Before he had a chance to defend himself, Dimtri appeared, poking his head around the door.

"Harry, there's a man called Malcolm Wynn-Jones here to see you. He gave all the proper codes, and he's waiting in your office."

Harry never once took his eyes from Ruth's face. "Thank you, Dimitri, we'll be along in a moment."

Ruth's hands were shaking with barely controlled fury, her stomach roiling. Dimly she felt the fluttering of another Braxton-Hicks contraction, and wished for the thousandth time that this wasn't happening now, when she was so consumed by her personal problems that they seemed to cloud her every thought.

"Will you come with me, to speak to Malcolm?" Harry asked her.

She gave him a little nod, and rose ponderously to her feet. Harry's hands reached out to steady her on instinct, but he drew back at the last moment, as if unsure how such a gesture might be received. Ruth loved this man, loved him with everything she had, and no matter how cross she might be, she hated the thought of him holding himself back from her. With a trembling hand she reached out, and twined her fingers with his, giving him a little squeeze.

"When this is over, Harry, you and I need to have a serious talk about retirement," she told him.

She knew now that there was no other choice for them. They had seen too much, done too much; if they stayed in this job much longer, it was going to eat them both alive.

As they made their way across the Grid, Martha tried to impede their progress, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet.

"Keith Deery has come back, Ruth, and he's asking for you," she said breathlessly. Through the glass windows of Harry's office Ruth could see Malcolm's lanky silhouette, and her heart rose into her throat at the familiar sight.

"I haven't got time for him just now, you'll need to send him on his way."

Martha looked as if she were about to protest, but Harry and Ruth carried on heedless of her concerns, their fingers still interlaced as if they never intended to let one another go.

As they passed through the door into Harry's office she got a good look at Malcolm for the first time in nearly two years. He was thinner than he had been, with significantly less hair, but he looked healthier. Some of the pallor had gone from his skin, and he seemed less tense, more open than she could recall him being since before Colin died. On impulse, she all but threw herself into his arms.

Malcolm let out a startled little sound when she flung her arms around him, but he returned her hug just as fiercely. Historically they hadn't really done hugging, Ruth and Malcolm, but time had changed them both, and the sight of her dearest friend had unleashed an unexpected torrent of emotion in her heart.

"Ruth," he sighed as they parted, "it's wonderful to see you again."

His eyes grew round as dinner plates, when he took in the sight of her distended belly.

"This is a surprise," he stammered, blushing slightly, unable to keep his gaze from flicking to Harry for a moment, as if trying to gauge with just one look how his former employer felt about the situation.

"Harry didn't tell you?" Ruth asked, confused. They still spoke on occasion, she knew; how could Harry have kept this from him?

For his part, Malcolm blushed all the harder at the implication of her words. "I suppose congratulations are in order?" he said hesitatingly, his gaze darting back and forth between the pair of them like a spectator at a tennis match.

"Thank you," Harry and Ruth said together. His voice was gruff and hers was kind, and together they had just told Malcolm everything he needed to know about the subject. He nodded, and stared at the floor for a moment, clearly trying to marshal his thoughts.

"Malcolm, did Lucas come to see you?" Ruth prodded gently, folding herself into one of the chairs by the window and trying not to groan as the ache in her back rose to a crescendo.

"Oh! Yes, he did. That's why I've come."

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Malcolm?" Harry asked as he dropped into the chair behind his desk. Malcolm nodded, and took a seat next to Ruth, breathing a heavy sigh before he began to explain.

"Lucas came to see me three days ago. He wanted a file, gave me some story about you being in trouble, but it didn't ring true."

"What file, Malcolm?" Ruth asked him.

For a long moment Malcolm regarded her in silence, and then he turned his gaze to Harry.

"Albany," he said.