Dimitri had managed to park his hire car down an elusive backstreet, and was just walking up towards Thames House when he spotted Erin and Calum approaching from the opposite direction. He waved his hand to catch their attention.
"Admiral!" Calum greeted loudly as they approached. "Papa Bear got in and out smoothly, I hope."
"Yeah, there didn't seem to be any problems." Dimitri said quietly.
Together, they crossed the busy street, winding their way through stubborn, lunchtime traffic.
"Disguise worked okay?" Erin asked under her breath, anxious not to be overheard.
"A few strange looks, but yeah, I think it did the job."
"So what was actually so urgent that Papa Bear needed to visit?" Calum demanded, narrowly missing a car and paying no mind to the blaring horn that was fired in his direction.
Dimitri hesitated, wondering whether or not he should tell his friends about Harry and Elena's history.
"It's a long story." He said eventually, deciding that it wasn't his piece to tell. Not yet, anyway. "Did the trip go well?"
"All fine." Calum shrugged. "We brought him back with us. He's at the mortuary as we speak."
"Wait, you took him with you?" Dimitri frowned, stopping suddenly and causing Calum, who was only a few steps behind, to bump into the back of him.
"Oi!" The younger man grumbled.
"Yes," Erin answered, rolling her eyes and dragging Calum out from behind Dimitri to walk alongside them. "He wanted to help. And we could definitely do with an extra pair of hands. Especially with his contacts."
Dimitri had to admit that she was right.
They entered Thames House, flashed their ID badges to Gerry at Reception, and passed easily through the security gates. With a squint of the eyes, they silently agreed to climb the stairs rather than take the lift. They knew that several of the flights weren't monitored by CCTV, giving them valuable time to pool information.
"You got the packages, then?" Dimitri asked.
"Left them with our other asset." Erin nodded.
"He's a weird one." Calum commented. "Tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, brooding. He's every spy stereotype personified. It's a wonder he hasn't got 'Spook' tattooed on his forehead."
"He's not a Spook anymore." Erin reminded him. "He's a private contractor."
"A private contractor without a sense of humour." Calum sulked. "The man has the straightest face I've ever seen."
"Just because he didn't find you funny, doesn't mean he doesn't have a sense of humour, Cal."
"I find you funny." Dimitri muttered dryly. "Just not in the way you mean."
"I have to say, I'm hurt by that."
"Calum, there are several qualities a good Spook needs – comedic timing is not one of them."
"Ruth once told me to hold onto my humour for as long as I could. I intend to take that advice, if you don't mind." Calum stated coolly.
"Children, if we could get on..." Erin interjected, aware that they were already halfway up their second flight of stairs and had very little camera-free time left.
"Yes ma'am, Madam Section Head." Calum mock-saluted.
Pointedly ignoring her sarcastic friend, Erin turned to Dimitri, "The board's almost set and the player's are getting into position. We just need to get Mama and Papa Bear out now. Do you think Mama's well enough to be moved?"
"I don't know." Dimitri frowned. "She was sleeping when I got there last night, and according to Papa Bear, she's still pretty weak."
"And Baby Bear?" Calum asked.
"Out of the woods, but again, weak as a kitten."
"We need to move them soon if we're going to get them out at all." Erin said grimly. "When the DG briefed me last night, I was told they're closing in on Mama and Papa Bear. They found traffic cam footage dating back a few days. The image is quite grainy, but they're sure they can spot Papa driving a car, with Mama in the back seat."
"That must have been when he was getting her to the hospital." Dimitri surmised sadly..
"Cal, I need you to bide us some time. Set a few more trails."
"That'll only work for so long, you know."
"Just do it." She snapped, before setting her eyes on Dimitri. "We're running out of rope. I'll allocate you half an hour out this evening so that you can call Papa Bear – see if he and the family can be moved sometime tomorrow."
They reached the top of the final staircase, and as they moved into view of the security cameras, their conversation drew to an abrupt close. From there, they silently made their way onto the Grid. A select few glanced up as they entered, but most continued working, entirely oblivious to the latecomers.
Erin sighed, taking in the hubbub of the Grid – the Grid that was now her responsibility. How had she ended up in this rut again? She took a breath, counted to three, and put on her best no-nonsense face.
"Right," She barked. "Everyone with Gold clearance on the Anglo-Russian assignment – briefing room, now!"
After the coldness of Elena Gavrik, Harry had not known how much he needed to see the warm sight that greeted him as he entered the hospital room. As promised, Charlotte's incubator-turned-crib had been wheeled in and was standing within arm's distance of the bed. All was silent, save for the rhythmic beep of Ruth's heart monitor. Both of his girls appeared to be fast asleep. Ruth's hand, still so laden with wires, was splayed out towards the crib. It was as if, even in sleep, she wanted to keep her child safe and close; shielded from the evils that loomed beyond the hospital walls.
Harry shut the door behind him and crept as quietly as he could towards his family. He couldn't help but smile as Charlotte let out an adorable little snuffle, flexing her tiny fingers towards her mother. Whilst still so small and fragile, she was looking stronger and healthier each day. The jaundice was fading fast and she was breathing so well on her own that it was hard to believe she had ever been born in such distress.
Harry silently shrugged off the smart black suit that Dimitri scrounged for him, draping it over the nearest chair. Before he knew what was happening, the new mobile Dimitri had also given him tumbled out of the inside pocket, landing on the floor with a sharp, resounding clatter. Harry swore, cringing at his own clumsiness. He picked it up and quickly checked the crib. Fortunately, it seemed Charlotte had slept on, undisturbed. Her little chest rose and fell quite peacefully, and the only fuss she made came in the form of another tiny snuffle.
"Hi." Came a soft voice from behind him.
Harry whirled round to see Ruth, now fully conscious thanks to his clumsiness. She gave him a gentle smile that, again, he hadn't known he needed until he felt warmth rekindle inside his battered heart.
"Hi." He whispered, quickly discarding the phone before easing himself into the chair. He leaned down, planted a soft kiss on Ruth's forehead, and took her hand in his. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't. I wasn't asleep. Well... not really." She amended as he raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Just sort of drifting."
She must have spotted some lingering tension in him, because all of a sudden her sweet smile faded, and her eagle eyes began to peruse every inch of his weary face, once again giving him that bizarre impression that Ruth Evershed could see into his very soul. He looked away, struck by the irrational fear that she might see where he had been, what he had been doing, just from his eyes alone.
"Are you okay?" She asked concernedly, her hand gently squeezing his.
Harry chuckled, "Given where we are, I think I'm the one who should be asking you that question, don't you?"
"Harry..." She began in weak admonishment.
"I'm fine, Ruth. Honestly." He cut in quickly, anxious not to have this particular conversation when she was still so poorly.
"Harry, the number of times you replace 'not fine' with 'fine', you could – "
" – Create major confusion in relation to the English language – yes, I know." Harry finished, rolling his eyes yet failing to hide an affectionate smile. Typical Ruth to use his previous reprimands against him. "You really are a stubborn old mule, do you know that?"
His light-hearted comment was not received as he had intended. Rather than reigniting that beautiful smile he loved and cherished so dearly, her eyes clouded over, worry lines creasing her forehead to paint a sadder, yet largely indefinable expression.
"What's the matter? What's wrong?"
He checked her over for any sign of discomfort or injury. When there was nothing physically apparent, he began to analyse his words. Surely she could not have taken offence from the 'stubborn old mule' comment? He had been throwing that adage at her for years, and she had always seen the humour in it, even on her bleaker days.
Ruth opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Swallowing, she shook her head and offered a rather unconvincing smile.
"Nothing. Nothing, I'm... I'm just being silly again."
The note of fear he detected amidst her self-deprecating words did not sit right with him at all.
"Ruth..."
"It's fine."
"Ruth, the number of times you replace 'not fine' with 'fine' – "
" – Okay, yes... point made." She murmured hastily, effectively halting his retaliation. "Touché."
Shaking her head woefully, Ruth shut her eyes for a moment. When she re-opened them, a tiny, sad smile began to emerge across her weary face.
"Listen to us." She lamented softly. "Tiptoeing around each other; both hiding things rather than talking about how we actually feel like normal human beings."
Had Harry not been so concerned about what was upsetting Ruth, he might have chuckled at Ruth's accurate analysis. As it was, he just returned her humourless smile, deciding to play dumb as he asked:
"What makes you think I'm hiding something?"
"Your eyes. They go wider when you're playing your poker face." She observed quietly, fiddling absent-mindedly with Harry's hand. "And your lips pout even more than usual."
"I didn't know I pouted, Ruth." He teased, opting for light-heartedness in spite of the serious turn in the conversation.
"You do." She answered briskly, nodding towards baby Charlotte, still sleeping so peacefully in her crib. "And so does she. I think she inherited your pout."
"Poor child." Harry smirked, and even Ruth could not resist raising a weak grin at the twinkle in his eye.
He drank in that sweet smile, marvelling at how beautifully it brightened her whole face; how it lit it up slowly, inch by inch, like tiny, delicate fairy lamps flickering to life, light by light. He revelled in how it washed away the worry lines that had become so prominent of late; how it caused his heart to flutter then swoop so profoundly each and every time.
"That's better." He whispered, stroking his thumb lightly over her palm. "There's the smile I love."
Ruth shook her head fondly, and though her smile lingered, it became rueful as her thoughts ran away with her once more.
"I suppose you can take the spook out of MI5, but you can't take the secrets out of the agent." She surmised.
Harry sighed, hearing both the recrimination and indeed self-recrimination in her voice. Was protecting Ruth from the truth really worth any strain on their relationship? He had made a career out of concealing lies and protecting secrets. But now they were due to leave that life behind. And maybe that gave them a chance to start afresh; to begin to be a little more open with each other. It would be a hard habit to break, for they had both become so attuned to lies and deceit. But on the whole, he was convinced that sharing a little would only strengthen their relationship. He knew that there were some things regarding his past that he would never tell Ruth – or, indeed, anyone. Things he couldn't bring himself to talk about and things of which he was ashamed – just as he suspected that there were moments in Ruth's past that she wanted to keep buried. But the secrets that counted – the ones that directly affected them – would have to stop. When he had kept such secrets from Ruth in the past, it had only served to create a rift between them. And now that they had finally found their way to one another, in spite of the horrors that had been thrown their way, he found that he did not want to risk that again. Not for anything. Especially when there was a tiny new life so dependent on them being more together than ever before
"How about this?" He murmured, cupping her smaller hand with both of his. "I'll tell you what's troubling me, if you tell me what's troubling you."
Ruth blinked up at him, visibly astonished by his sudden capitulation. But her surprise quickly turned to gratitude and she nodded, uttering a soft, "That's fair."
Harry exhaled slowly, searching for the courage to tell her what he had discovered that morning.
"I spoke to Elena." He muttered. Ruth's eyebrows shot to her hairline, her piercing eyes widening with alarm and confusion. "Please. Don't ask me how. Not yet. It's a long story."
He waited to see if Ruth would grant him that small mercy. There was an unsaid 'Don't ask me how, because you don't want to know', and he could tell that the inquisitive side of her – the analyst who needed to know every minute detail to piece together the puzzle – was itching to ask how. She did not yet know the ins and outs of what had happened to the conspirators; only that it was all over. At this stage, Harry felt it would be putting far too much stress on Ruth if she knew that he had visited a high-security prison, just to speak to Elena. He would tell her in time. But not when she was still so fragile. It wasn't a secret, just an omission of certain facts to preserve the health of the woman he loved. Thankfully, Ruth did not press him. She reluctantly nodded, motioning for him to continue.
"Anyway, that long story short... Sasha is not my son."
Silence descended on the room. Harry watched the little flushes of colour in Ruth's face drain away, her mouth hanging open in shock. He could practically see the little cogs working away in her brain, trying to process what this meant for him. And, of course, for her.
"Not... your son." She repeated blankly.
"No."
"But... back at the house... she said – "
"Another lie." Harry confirmed bitterly. "A lie designed to keep me tethered to her, and to Sasha, so that they wouldn't be harmed."
Ruth swallowed heavily, tears springing to her clear blue eyes.
"I'm... I'm so sorry." She whispered, squeezing his hand.
He could only imagine how hard it was for her to say that; for her to be able to set aside her own thoughts and imagine how it must feel to lose a son. A son he never really had in the first place.
Harry shrugged, "I'm not."
And truly, he wasn't. Ruth stared at him in surprise. "But... but you..."
"He hurt you." Harry stated firmly. "He hurt you in the worst possible way. And from that moment on, whether he was my son biologically or not, he wasn't really mine."
"Harry – " Ruth began softly, sweetly, and he almost couldn't bear the tenderness he saw in her watery eyes.
"It's over, sweetheart." He smiled, reaching down to press a loving kiss to her forehead. "And I'm alright. Really, I am."
"But she let you believe for nearly thirty years. She lied to you for nearly thirty years!"
Regardless of her personal feelings on the subject, her heart was breaking for him; for the son he had lost; for the lies that had kept him baited for decades; for the indignity he had been served. And in response, she felt a well overdue anger begin to boil and pulse through her exhausted veins. She made to scramble up in bed to express her frustration, but Harry gently pushed her back down again.
"Ruth, I really am okay." Harry hushed her. "I promise you, I am."
"But she hurt you." Ruth vented furiously. "Sasha may have hurt me, but in lying to you about him being your child... and for so long... Harry, Elena hurt you too!"
"Perhaps." Harry conceded. "But I assure you that right now, I mostly feel relieved."
He noticed that in her struggle, the breathing tube had gone slightly awry, and he leant forward to ease it back into place.
"And I tell you this, Ruth." He continued quietly. "Not Elena, nor Ilya, nor Sasha, nor Mikhail bloody Levrov deserve any more of our thoughts or time. They're gone as far as I'm concerned. And I'm just glad that they're out of my life – our lives – for good."
Ruth paused, her breath heaving as she struggled to come to terms with her conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she wanted to sob at the strange sense of relief that the news brought. Yet she also felt compelled to both rage and cry for the man she loved, for the man who had already endured so much.
Feeling the tension gripping her underneath his fingers, Harry stroked a soothing hand up and down her arm in a bid to calm her. He could not possibly express how touched he was at the way she had leapt so passionately to defend his honour. It felt good to have her on his side. Though, when he really thought about it, she actually always had been. Perhaps she hadn't always approved of his actions, and had been a reluctant party in some of his harsher decisions as Section Head. But when the road was rocky and the times got tough, she stood stoutly beside him on that metaphorical wall and fought alongside, anchoring him, guiding him in defending a country that was often its own worst enemy.
"I'm still sorry." She insisted with glistening eyes.
She reached up to cradle his cheek, but it proved to be a rather bad move as the needle linking the IV to her hand jabbed uncomfortably within the vein, making her wince. Harry caught her hand and lowered it carefully back down to rest in his atop of the bedcovers.
"You certainly have no reason to be sorry." He told her.
Ruth's shoulders sagged, and she tore her eyes from his. Her face held such a picture of shame that Harry felt his heart physically stutter to a stop.
"But I do." She whispered wretchedly.
"I highly doubt that." He said, in spite of the alarm bells that were starting to resonate inside his head.
She moved to extricate her hand from his but he held on. He didn't cling to her in a way that would make her feel trapped; simply maintained a gentle grip – just enough to encourage her not to run or retreat as was so often her default when she became emotionally overwhelmed. In the end, Ruth didn't fight him on it; merely allowed him to run a light finger over her knuckle as she sought the words that were circling madly around her head.
"I... I was stupid. I thought the worst of you." She admitted sadly. "When I woke up and... and you weren't here, I thought... well, I thought..."
She trailed off, gulping and shaking her head, frustrated by her own inarticulacy. And at that moment, Harry understood. The inner struggle she was having with herself was quite discernible, for it was the same fear he had been harbouring himself. Fear at telling the truth in case she, or in this case, he, reacted badly; in case it ruined things. They would have to get better at this communication thing. Still, at least, side by side, they would get better at it together. Eventually.
"You thought I'd abandoned you." He stated softly, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.
A stray tear slid down Ruth's cheek, but she brushed it away somewhat impatiently. "No... I mean... well, yes... I... I suppose so. Either that or I thought you might have been caught and... and..." She looked away once more, unable to bear gazing into his wounded eyes.
Harry swallowed. How could he really be angry with her when the latter could so easily have occurred? How could he resent such a thought from her when, had things gone very differently, he may have been forced to abandon her? Or worse still, put her at risk. He could not bring himself to regret speaking to Elena, as he knew he could not have laid the saga to rest without knowing the truth. But at the same time, he could not deny that he had taken a reckless risk.
He sighed, trying to think of how best to respond.
"You think that I'd abandon you on purpose?" He eventually asked.
Ruth still would not look at him, but she released a vehement, "No!", before shaking her head once more. "I... I just... I thought I might have... driven you away..."
And this time, Harry properly understood. It hadn't been about her lack of trust in him, but rather her own chronic lack of self-esteem; the demons inside her own head that were battling for control. He forgave her there and then. Gently, ever so gently, he reached out and titled her chin upwards.
"Look at me, sweetheart." He pleaded softly, and the irony of saying more or less the same thing to Elena and Ruth on the same day (though in two entirely different ways) was not lost on him.
It took a few seconds, but Ruth did as he requested. He stroked a tender hand down her clammy cheek, feeling the knotted tension inside her slowly start to ebb away.
"I love you." He told her, needing her to hear those words.
"I love you too." She whispered back, and he realised that he had needed to hear them just as much.
"I would never abandon you and Charlotte. Not voluntarily."
"Even though I'm a mess?"
"You're not a mess." He negated firmly. "You've been through hell. And even the brightest and best field officers might have struggled to come back from all you've been through. But you're a tour de force, Ruth. I see you getting stronger day by day. I see a born Spook and a natural mother... and a real fighter."
"I don't feel like I am."
"Then it's a good job I'm here to remind you."
Ruth hesitated, her eagle eyes boring once more into his, as if searching for the truth in his words. "You've always thought me better than I am." She observed softly.
"Well, you've always thought the same about me. So I think we probably balance each other out."
They both turned quiet, letting that introspection sink in.
"I'm sorry I worried you." Harry said after a while. "I had to know the truth from Elena. For both our sakes."
"I get that." Ruth replied sincerely. "I do."
"But I should have told you I was leaving." He continued.
"And I shouldn't have thought the worst." Ruth added.
A small smile slid helplessly across their faces, their hands bonded together as one – a show of solidarity in the face all they had endured, but also a silent vow. A vow to keep trying, to keep fighting as they navigated this strange new road. A road of intimacy and togetherness and honesty that was still so foreign to two individuals whose lives had been built from secrets.
They sat in silence after that, happy to just be together. He continued to run the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, admiring how well their fingers slotted together; made to hold each other. Ruth gazed up at Harry, content to merely read his face, for he was by far her favourite book. He placed his free palm against her forehead, gently smoothing back the straggles of dark hair in a way that made her really rather sleepy. Now she was sure of his safety, and the intensity of their conversation dissolved, it seemed her tiredness was quickly catching up with her. It took all of her concentration not to just drift off, though from the amusement in Harry's eyes, it was clear he had noticed her eyelids growing heavier. The jig was definitely up when she failed to stifle a yawn.
"Go sleep if you need to, sweetheart." He encouraged softly. "I'll be right here."
Ruth shook her head stubbornly, blinking several times to keep herself awake. She had surely done enough sleeping. "I'm okay."
Harry tutted affectionately, "Mule."
Ruth let out a breathy laugh, "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Pouting."
And so he was. Harry rolled his eyes, but was secretly thrilled to have made Ruth laugh at all.
"Just you wait." He quipped, tucking another stray strand of hair back behind his love's ear. "In a few years, you'll have two pouting Pearce's to put up with."
It was Ruth's turn to roll her eyes. "Lucky me."
"Speaking of which, I see they brought madam up here."
Ruth nodded, her face growing a little more downcast as she glanced over at their daughter.
"Yes, the midwife came this morning to show me how to nurse her. She thought it would be better to keep Charlotte with me now that she can breathe okay. In case she needs feeding again."
The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach. Not for the first time that day, and definitely not for the first time ever, he felt like the worst partner in the world. That first feed was a momentous occasion and a big deal for both mother and child. And he hadn't been there. Again. Just like he hadn't been for Catherine and Graham's first feeds. Despite all the promises he had made himself that he wouldn't be the absentee father again; that this time would be different... he had left Ruth to deal with this on her own.
"The midwife came." He repeated faintly.
"Yes."
He was thankful that her voice held no recrimination this time. He didn't think he could bear that. Then again, he wasn't sure it was possible for Ruth to be as disappointed in him as he was himself.
"I'm... I'm so sorry." He whispered, crestfallen. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here. If I had known the midwife would come this early I would've here. I would've – "
" – Harry," Ruth cut him off, her sweet tone clashing with the bollocking he was inwardly giving himself. "It's okay."
"No, it's not." He answered, alarmingly close to tears. "It's really not."
"There'll be other feeds."
"But that doesn't discount the fact that I should have been here for you. I should have been here for both of you."
"But I get why you weren't." Ruth said sweetly, stroking her thumb gently across his.
For some reason, her kindness and understanding made him feel even worse. Perhaps it was because he still hadn't told her the whole truth. Would she be so understanding in the future once she knew all the facts? That he had put their family at risk by visiting a high security stockade, protected only by a false ID and a limited disguise?
"Harry." Ruth's voice came calling to him amidst the abyss of his torturous thoughts. "You're here now. That's what matters."
Harry sighed. Yes, that was true. And for the moment, it had to be enough. Sometime when she was a little stronger he would tell her the whole story, and would undoubtedly endure a proper rebuke. But for now, he had to make peace with his decision and move on. After all, he had a family to look after.
"Yes." He replied hoarsely. "Yes, you're right."
"There'll be other feeds." She repeated, before ducking her head. "And I'll definitely need the practice. I don't think I was very good at it. It's an... odd sensation and Charlotte didn't want to latch on at first."
He picked up on the anxiety in her voice and was quick to reassure her. "Sometimes it takes a little while. It'll come. All in good time."
"I don't know." Ruth murmured doubtfully. "She fed in the end, but it wasn't very much. The midwife clearly wasn't happy; she shot me a couple of dirty looks."
"Then she wasn't a very good midwife." Harry replied firmly, wishing more than ever that he had been there. "It's your first baby. She can't expect you to be an expert already."
"Mmm." Ruth mumbled, looking away to stare once more at little Charlotte, her mind obviously on the midwife-from-hell.
"You're going to be a great mother, Ruth. I have every faith in you."
Ruth ducked her head at the compliment, but awarded him a small smile, "And I think you're going to be a rather brilliant father."
Harry shrugged, certainly having his doubts and a wealth of experience to say otherwise, but he managed a modest smile for her sake, "Well, you know what they say. Third time lucky."
He made to lean forward and press another soft kiss to her temple but was stopped short by a sudden knock at the door. He wasn't even given the chance to say anything before the handle bent and the plump figure of Nurse Grace came hoving into view. They knew immediately that something was wrong. Rather than offering her typically warm grin or oozing her perpetual cheerfulness, her face was white and stricken. Her breath was heaving, as if she had jogged the distance from wherever she had been, to Ruth's room, and as a result, a thin sheen of sweat was amassing along her brow. Harry's stomach jolted; this could not be good.
"What's wrong?" He demanded.
Grace allowed herself only a second to gather breath before she panted:
"We've got a problem."
"Oh, for goodness' sake." Erin muttered, trying and failing for the fifth time in as many minutes to adjust the armchair in Harry's – no, Bilberry's – no, her office. Someone's office. She really wasn't sure whose office it was anymore.
She let out a roar of frustration as the chair sank down rather than launching up as she had directed.
"Stupid thing!" She cursed, very glad that the blinds were drawn otherwise she knew that all her subordinates would be gawping. No doubt, Calum especially, would be having a good cackle.
With a final tut, she gave up and resigned herself to sitting inches below desk level. It reminded her of when she used to be Rosie's age, peering up at big grown-up tables when she herself was tiny. It wasn't so very far from how she currently felt – a young woman, promoted beyond her measure and flailing in a very hard, frightening career. The office wouldn't be hers for long – of that, she was adamant. The money was good, but it really wasn't worth all the pressure and time away from Rosie. Rosie. She missed Rosie. Maybe once she was certain that this was all over, she could call her mother and get her to bring her little girl home.
Erin read the entirety of the random report in front of her before realising that she hadn't taken in a single word. She tried again, but was faced with the same problem. Groaning, she thumped her forehead down on the desk and silently willed her sleep-addled brain to work. She was still in this position when the office door flew open and Summer, an impossibly young Administrative Officer, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, came bursting into the room.
"Knock, can't you!" Erin snapped, picking herself up off the desk.
Summer's eyes widened at the rebuke, but she stood her ground and confidently delivered her message.
"Sorry Erin. But I thought you'd want to know – we've had a phone-in."
"What do you mean, a phone-in?"
"A midwife who works at St Anne's Hospital rang the police and said that she dealt with Ruth Evershed this morning – as a patient."
Erin's stomach dropped to the basement. Shit.
"Ruth Evershed." She repeated numbly. "What about Harry Pearce? Did she see Harry Pearce?"
"No. But she was absolutely sure that it was Ruth Evershed. She recognised her from the police printouts."
Trying not to show any emotion beyond sheer determination, Erin swallowed and nodded. She suddenly wasn't tired anymore. Sweet, sweet adrenaline began to course through her veins, prompting her to realise that she needed to make a split-second decision. And this decision would determine the fate of her friends.
"Call CO19." She ordered, clambering to her feet. "I'll get Dimitri and we'll go there ourselves."
"Okay, Erin." Summer replied, all-too eager to please, and she scurried off to her desk.
Erin paced over to Dimitri and Calum's adjoining workstations. She could tell from their expressions as she approached that they knew something was wrong. Perhaps her acting wasn't quite as good as she thought.
"What's happened?" Dimitri asked urgently.
Loudly enough for those in the immediate vicinity to hear, Erin announced, "We've had a tip-off. Someone's found Ruth Evershed. They think Harry Pearce must be nearby. C019 will be on their way shortly. Di, get your gun ready. We'll meet them there."
Dimitri went distinctly pale, but to his credit, he managed to avoid looking too crestfallen.
"Meet them where?" He asked.
"St Anne's Hospital. Now, come on. Get ready." She turned to Calum. He too was looking bleach white, but not nearly as convincingly indifferent. "Cal, you're coming too. I want you on comms in the Obbo van."
Dimitri and Calum didn't need telling twice. They set about collecting their necessary instruments whilst Erin fetched her jacket from the office. Within minutes they were exiting the Grid, heading past security and striding towards the garage where the OBBO Vans were stored.
"It was Elena, wasn't it?" Dimitri growled once he was sure they wouldn't be overheard. "Elena blabbed."
"No, actually. It was a midwife." Erin answered shakily, hating how much her hands were trembling. This was all becoming too close for comfort. "Di, text the asset and tell him to get Harry and Ruth out of there. Now."
"It isn't right." Dimitri muttered. "She's not well enough. The baby's not well enough."
"Well, they need to decide whether their freedom is worth the risk." Erin answered. "And they need to decide now. CO19 will be there within half an hour."
"But she could die. The baby could die."
Erin stopped walking and whirled round to face the man she loved; the man whom she knew had grown to care so much about his older friends. She cared about them too, but she also knew that someone had to be willing to stay impartial enough to rationalise what needed to be done.
"Di, when they're in the position they're in – it's a horrible choice, I know. But it's them who have to make it. Not us. You've got to give them that opportunity to run."
She could see the pain in Dimitri's eyes; the fear. For a man who had so easily concealed his triple agent status, it was astounding how much he now wore his heart on his sleeve.
"But they're only in that position because they took the rap for me." He muttered miserably.
"Yes, and they chose to do so. Give them some credit. They've been doing this job long enough. They knew what they were getting into."
Dimitri didn't reply. His jaw was set, his forehead knotted into a weary frown, making him look twice the age he really was.
"Come on, Di." Erin prompted. "We owe them this. We can help them get out, but we have to act fast. And Harry's not stupid. He'll look after Ruth and Charlotte."
There was a pause.
"Yeah." He conceded at last. "Yeah, you're right."
"Okay, then. So text the asset." Erin murmured, softer than before, squeezing his arm and offering a brief smile to show she understood his confliction. He couldn't bring himself to smile back, but he nodded gratefully.
She turned away, swiped her ID through the garage terminal and waited for it to respond. A piercing beep echoed through the facility, and a moment later, the entrance unlocked. Together, Erin and Dimitri dragged the heavy metal door across the floor, revealing one shiny white OBBO van.
Throughout all of this, Calum had been uncharacteristically quiet, typing madly away at his phone. Once they had settled in the van, Erin in the driver's seat, and Dimitri shooting off warning texts, he finally spoke up.
"I've alerted Malcolm. He's with Beth and they're ready."
Erin nodded gratefully, "Good, Cal. Tell them we'll be there within twenty minutes." She started up the engine and practically floored the van out of the parking lot. "Time to get your acting faces on, boys."
He had spent the morning negotiating transport. Renting a small aeroplane, with the condition of there being no questions asked was especially difficult. But he had done it before, and he was prepared to bet he would have to do it again. Such was the line of work he was in. What he did went even more under the radar than the security services.
He was sitting on the bonnet of his car, rewarding himself with a soggy sausage sandwich from a nearby vendor when the text came through. He felt his phone buzzing against his thigh and swiftly retrieved it.
Bravo, Bravo.
Authorities coming.
Get the package out now.
Damn it. This was sooner than he had been told. Something must have gone wrong.
Tom Quinn cast the remainder of his mushy sandwich back into its greaseproof packet, chucked it onto the dashboard and climbed into the driver's seat. Within seconds he was speeding off towards St Anne's hospital.
Thank you Wolfdrum and Gregoriana for your continued support, and thank you to anyone still reading this fic. We are nearly at an end. Merry Christmas everyone! All the best x