Disclaimer: Spooks and all its characters belong to Kudos and the BBC.

Author's Note: This is the first chapter of the follow up to White Night Fantasy, so if you haven't read that I suggest that you do so at once.
I'm not sure I've done this justice, but I'll leave that up to you, please read and review! (Edited on the 6th of July 2006 to make it easier to read)

Aftermath – Chapter One

Her station had been empty all morning. The grid was disturbingly vacant of the trace of vanilla that seemed to follow her around, an almost edible scent. Any other morning he might have been happy not having such a distraction. But her absence was nothing more than a bitter reminder of the mistake that had been made last night.

Harry had spent most of the morning staring at her desk from the safety of his office. Lost in thought. Wondering when everything had taken such a disastrous turn. He could remember a time when personal feelings were better off buried, locked away in some dark corner of the Thames House basement. But this remorseless emotion that he felt for her wouldn't be suppressed any longer. There wasn't a minute of the day that he didn't think about her.

They were bound to notice, if they hadn't all ready. They all worked so closely together that it would be impossible not to. More than once he had walked blindly into a hushed conversation. It hadn't taken a genius to work out what was the hot topic.

He had been so distant. Surveillance reports were going unsigned, housekeeping was going unchecked. There was a mound of reports that needed his signature that he hadn't even looked at. Not to mention the New Year's budget that needed his approval. He didn't engage with any of it.

The sleepless night had taken its toll, and what little he got of it hadn't prepared him for the chaos of the grid. He found himself using the friendly faces of the admin staff for shouting practise. The few officers that dared to approach him to ask about their colleagues' absence had only been met with cold looks.

Things had gotten worse once Juliet Shaw had made an appearance. Her presence on the grid sent the stress levels through the roof. Harry ushered her into his office with a sweep of hands and a less than friendly look.

"Why hasn't any progress been made with Price?" Her fangs were out and going for the jugular before the door was even closed.

Harry stopped for just a moment and took a deep breath. He had to count to ten to stop himself from saying something scathing. He walked around his desk and sat down. He took great care in rearranging certain objects, moving a pen from one side of the blotter to the other. Just like he knew she would, she started stamping her foot, impatiently.

At long last he said, "We're working on it."

"Not good enough." She folded her arms over her rather expensive suit. Her expression frosty. "No where near good enough. Put another team on him."

Harry had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from saying something that he would later regret. He never had to watch himself more than he did around Juliet. She was one of those people that only brought out his bad side. "I only have what's available."

"Which is what?"

He looked up, dropping his pen on the paper that was still void of his signature. "Officers that aren't currently following four suspected Iranian terrorists and a gun for hire threatening the life of the PM." His voice was bordering on sardonic and he didn't care.

She frowned. Deep, dark lines marking her face. "You don't seem entirely committed to this Harry." He wondered if she realised that she was stating the bleeding obvious. "If Robin Price's band of merry moron's commit an act of terror on British soil, it'll be your head on the block." She seemed to take great pleasure in reminding him.

He slammed his hand down with such force that the desk shook. The effect was ruined by him having the steady the computer. "If they commit an act of terrorism, if they do, then I'll have Ruth redecorate this office to whatever colour and format that you and my replacement deems fit and you can personally escort me from the building." He took a shallow breath. "But until then, will you kindly leave us to get on with what we are paid to do."

Juliet's eyes burned with an intense heat that would have liquefied the spines of some politicians. Never before had he seen a look that could kill, or one more terrifying. Once that stare had unnerved him, once.

She started to say something but thought better of it. She turned her back on him and looked out onto the grid. She uncrossed her arms and flexed her fingers. He waited for a comeback, equally as venomous as her glare. But it didn't come. The Juliet he used to know would never have let someone speak to her like that. But that Juliet had been young and foolish. How things change.

"Where's Ruth?" She asked with her back still to him.

He sucked in a breath, it sounded harsh like breaking glass. He could have tried avoiding the question, pretending that he hadn't noticed her absence, but Juliet would never have bought that. Even he had to give her a little credit. "She's…at home, too sick to come in." He was glad she had her back to him, so she wouldn't see the look on his face. "Poor girl," he almost muttered under his breath.

She turned just enough to study him. Her eyes narrowed. He imagined that look on a police officer as they eyed up a suspected murderer that had be found with a body, a weapon, covered in blood and that had pleaded innocent. It was the kind of look that weighed a person up and down, working out whether they were lying or telling the truth.

There was a movement at the door. Zaf stood practically hugging the door frame. His eyes flicked from one to the other and back again. It was clear just how uncomfortable he was. "There's a phone call for you." His voice shook with the effort not to run for cover.

"I have had them before; they've been known to wait." Harry was less than thrilled at the interruption. He spoke without taking his eyes off of Juliet. He always treated meetings with her like a boxing match. Never take your eyes off the opponent unless you want to risk being driven into the ground.

It was a dismissal, and Zaf should have taken it as such. She hadn't wanted to speak to him anyway. She'd been quite adamant that Zaf was just to take a message and leave it at that. But there was a chance, however small, that she might be able to get Harry out of the vile mood that he'd been in all morning. "It's Ruth," he added after a long pause.

Just for a minute, a single minute it had felt like a normal day, or as normal as they got working for MI5. Only for a minute had he forgotten all about last night, the party, the drink, the smell of her perfume, how close they'd been. A small but heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Thank you Zaf."

The young man fled, rubbing the muscle in his jaw. The underlying level of tension was enough to set anyone's teeth on edge.

Harry folded his hands on the blotter and sent a glance at Juliet. With a roll of her eyes, she got the hint. She straightened her suit jacket and headed for the door. "This department is a mess," she said, sternly and full of feeling as she closed the door behind her.

He waited until she was just stepping into the pods before he picked up the phone. For a brief moment he held the receiver to his shoulder, and took a deep breath. "Yes?"

Exasperation was not the term to describe the noise she made. It was a cross between a groan and a sob. Harsh, heavy and achingly sombre. "I told Zaf not to disturb you. It would have been easier to take a message." If you ignored the subtle tone of disappointment, she sounded almost pleasant.

"I assure you, you're not disturbing me." It was worrying just how happy he was to hear her voice. "What can I do for you, Ruth?"

It was far to tempting to say something contemptuous, something that would have made him feel even worse than he already did. But that wasn't why she called; she didn't want to say something hurtful. She sighed; this wasn't going to be easy. "The reason I called….." the words faltered and gathered on the tip of her tongue. She cursed herself. She'd had this conversation planned out for hours, yet as soon as she heard his voice she had forgotten it all. "What I mean is……"

Harry could picture her sat in her living room, cat beside her, its white fur standing out against the dark of her sofa. Rolling her eyes as she groped for the right phrasing. "Ruth," he said her name softly, almost smiling. He was glad he wasn't the only one having problems today.

Over the sound of her sigh, there was a click. Almost as if someone had put their conversation on speakerphone. Thank god for cordless phones.

"Harry, I'm not feeling so good. It…it might be a bug or…something, I don't want it spreading through the grid." Her voice wavered far too much for what she was saying to be the truth. She usually lied a lot better than this.

Harry stopped for just a second to listen to the uncertainty in her voice. He hated hearing her like this. "Ruth," he started but heard yet another click. He parted the blinds just enough to confirm his suspicions. A small cluster of people, no more than five in number, were grouped around Zaf's station. They appeared to be huddled around the phone. Harry felt his jaw clench. "Zaf hang up the bloody phone!" He practically growled into the headset.

A tremor ran through the group as Zaf jerked back from his desk. His hands were slightly shaking, his face as white as a sheet. He hesitated a moment before looking towards the office. Harry glared at the younger man and snapped the blinds shut.

He ran a hand across his temple, a thought ran through his mind. He was getting too old to be dealing with this. "Ruth?"

"I'm still here," though she didn't sound too happy about it.

He nodded, and leaned back in his chair. "Right, are you ill or are you just refusing to come in because of…well." Maybe he shouldn't have said it so bluntly, he could have phrased it a little better, but it wouldn't change the meaning of the words, wouldn't change what he needed to know.

After a long moment she said, "Harry this is so hard for me. I mean last night…"

"Nothing happened last night." He cut her off before she said it. The evening was already on reply, he didn't need her version of things to add to it. "Did it, Ruth?"

There was a soft, wet sound on the line, almost as though she's licked her lips. She exhaled gently. He couldn't even begin to imagine the look on her face. "No," she said at long last. "No nothing happened."

The what if it had, remained unsaid.

He nodded to an empty office. It took him a minute to realise that she couldn't see him. "Well then pull yourself together and get in here." His voice was thick, almost choked. After a small pause, he added, "I need you."

"Harry…"

"Work's piling up and, well…I'll send a car." He hung up before he gave her a chance to answer. He stared at the receiver for a minute before returning it to its cradle. He buried his head in his hands, glad that the blinds were closed, and let out a sigh of frustration.

To Be Continued...