Ros was approaching Dolby's office, in the same way that she would an illegal dog fight. Determined that by the time she left, it would be him who was licking his wounds as he contemplated what was left of his over inflated ego.

'Miss Myers, how lovely to see you, I was expecting Harry but I suppose under the circumstances -' was a pause that Ros chose not to fill. Because not only had it hardened her resolve, as she took the chair opposite the man who according to Harry had broken every rule in the book to reach the dizzying heights of the third floor, but by the look on his face, suggested he thought he was holding all the cards. Cards which when she was done with him, she intended to play elsewhere and with maximum effect.

Besides, even she hadn't been in possession of Harry's information, she had no intension of replying to anything that Dolby said, or give him a chance to suggest that Harry was anything other than busy. When in truth, Harry had been running on empty since the huge plume of smoke had filled the London skyline. The sound of Big Ben striking like some ghastly death nell, adding one more to the untold number of souls who had made the ultimate sacrifice that others might live. Never to be forgotten by those who had loved them and none greater than the loss of Adam which had brought the entire grid to an emotional standstill.

'I'm not here to discuss Harry, or to do his bidding. I'm here to discuss what you're prepared to do to support Wes Carter?' she told Dolby.

'And what makes you think that I'll do anything Miss Myers?' Was as predictable as it was heartless.

Resisting the urge to hit him, Ros sat back in her chair and computed the consequences if she did or if she didn't. What Dolby would look like with blood pouring from a broken nose and with a rapidly forming black eye, which would see her facing a disciplinary at best, or to maintain the appearance of someone who was in control of her emotions, which in this case although not as satisfying, was a much more effective way of getting what she wanted? Besides she had sins of her own to atone for where Harry was concerned.

In the standoff that followed, never once did she take her eyes off Dolby, until it reached the moment when she could see that Dolby was about to repeat the question. At which point she picked up the envelope that she'd placed on his desk just out of his reach, extracted the batch of papers and slid them towards him. Papers that were copy of the document which Adam's solicitor had drawn up when Fiona had been killed, confirming Harry as Wes's legal guardian. With an added clause that Dolby's predecessor had signed. Guaranteeing that if Adam died before Wes was eighteen, that the service would provide an income which would allow Harry to look after Wes as he saw fit, without prejudicing his own position within the service, or bring to an end his career ahead of the due date.

Whether Dolby had seen this before, wasn't obvious by his expression, or did it matter. Because there was no doubt that the document was authentic and not something that Malcolm had cooked up in his spare time. Not that he wouldn't have been willing to do so had she asked it of him, she knew that. Malcolm who had described Adam as admirable, when he'd been reading what amounted to several pages, covering all aspects of Adam's service to his country, even after the loss of Fiona. None of which Dolby could dispute, despite the fact that he seemed disinclined to comment.

'I've got a meeting with the Home Secretary, about something which is equally vital to this happening,' she hoped would leave Dolby wondering just how much influence she actually had as she stood up.

A short walk along the embankment to Whitehall and with some fresh air in her lungs, Ros was ready for what she saw as only round two of what was going to be a lengthy battle, during which the whole team were going to need to pull together. This wasn't the first time that she'd had a face to face with Blake, but it was the first time that Harry hadn't been with her.

'Yes please, milk with no sugar,' she told his secretary, when she was offered a cup of coffee because The Home Secretary was with the PM and she had ten minutes to wait. Ten minutes which gave her time to prepare herself for what she imagined was going to be an equally difficult exchange. One that if she was successful, would see the reincarnation of the woman that Harry had loved and lost. Partly if not entirely due to her misguided loyalty to her father, she put to the back of her mind for the moment.

Surprise being her overriding emotion when Blake shook her hand at the end of what had been a very brief one to one.

One during which she'd received the much more positive response of, 'providing that Harry doesn't leave the country and is available at all times should you need to speak to him, then yes, Harry has my permission to do whatever is necessary to help Wes. As for Miss. Evershed, come back to me in a couple of days and I'll have the paperwork that you require.'

Boyed by her success and the fact that she'd managed to restrain herself from kissing Blake on the cheek, she turned her attention to her stomach which was telling her it was lunchtime. A lunchtime that she intended to spend with Malcolm. The only person who she could guarantee to find out where Ruth was, presuming of course that he didn't already know?

.

'Grab your coat and bring your laptop. I need your help and I need you to be honest with me,' she told him, as she skirted around Lucas and Jo who were busy discussing the best way to bring Katchimov down. Harry having been told in no uncertain terms that he was to leave the man who had been responsible for Adam's death alone.

Waiting until she was out of earshot, before asking Malcolm, the only question that she didn't have the answer to, 'do you know where Ruth is?'

'Ruth. Am I allowed to ask why?' Was Malcolm being Malcolm nothing more and was why she chose to answer him a way she knew he'd respond to.

'Because Harry needs her.'

'Harrys always needed her. What's so different this time?'

Once we're out of here,' she told him as her stomach rumbled again.

'This is all highly irregular and I can't promise anything,' said Malcolm once he'd logged on. With the sandwiches and a decent cup of coffee that Ros had paid for, in a small coffee bar that Ros frequented more often than she risked the Thames House canteen offerings, temptingly close.

'Crashing the Kremlin's mainframe is irregular and I'm sure you'd do that if it was this vital Malcolm. Whereas this you can do from home if you want to. Just as long as it's today.'

'No pressure then, but can I finish my lunch first?' Ros appreciated for what it was. Malcolm way of saying it wasn't as easy as she thought it was, but he'd be as quick as her could.

.

Away from the glare of the grid, Harry was relieved that he'd gone home to change into something that made him feel marginally better than he had the first time that he'd walked the length of the same corridor to the Head Teachers office. The day when he left the grid wearing a black tie, dark suit and a coat to match. To be pointed in the direction of the playing field, where it should have been Adam not him that Wes had looked up and seen. A child who had known straight away why he was there. His face the image of Adams buried against his coat, the game of rugby continuing in front of them. How cold it had been. How final it had all felt.

Here now, without possibly one of the worst I'm sorry conversations that he'd ever had to deliver, he still felt totally ill equipped to take on the responsibility that he'd promised Adam he would. Never thinking that it would be necessary and yet here he was.

'Harry it's very good of you to do this. Wes won't be a moment,' suggested that Mr. Watts agreed with him, as he took the seat that was being offered. The luggage that amounted to Wes's entire personal belongings in a bag beside the desk. Minus his school uniform and what Harry could remember from his own time at school, far exceeded what his own parents had had to purchase, in order that Wes could attend a school where he'd receive the education that Adam and Fiona had both wanted for their son. Locked in a cupboard somewhere, in case Wes at some stage wanted to return, Harry believed was unlikely, given that Wes had been inconsolable and consigned to the sick bay for the past couple of weeks. The school not having the resources to supply the counselling that he needed and his grandparents who were well into their eighties unable to take him on.

His thoughts interrupted when the door opened and Wes walked in. Recognition that was no less poignant than it had been the first time for either of them, which in Harry's case was coupled with the speed by which he'd had to come to terms with what the next few years would mean for him. After what had been a difficult time with his staff at sixes and sevens and with a memorial service that he still had to organise. All of which meant that he hadn't had time to transform his house to be the warm and welcoming place that Wes would easily take to. Apart from having a TV, and who knew what ten -year-old children watched these days? Certainly not him.

Despite Malcolm saying, 'you're not on your own in this,' having enlisted Jo's help to fill his fridge to ensure that Wes wouldn't be fed on takeaways. That and dispatching his whisky decanter to the cupboard under the stairs, which made it look less like a house where a man on his own, did little other than to eat and to sleep.

So why did he feel as though he was on his own? Was the one question that he did have the answer to. Ruth of course. How different he'd have felt, had she'd been there waiting for them. How she'd have known what to say and what to do.

Where she was, was another question entirely. One that was reinforced and only added to his misery, when Wes started to cry.

We're both alone in our own different ways, felt selfish and wasn't helping.

'Come on Wes, let's get your things inside,' he told the child who believed that he was strong and capable. 'I bet you're as hungry as I am,' was at least a start.