"Honestly, Dave," Henry commented as he entered the cigar lounge. "You need to calm down a bit," he advised. "You look as if you're ready to murder someone with your bare hands."

Dave remained silent as his eyes were hard and cold. "My Hounslow faction in exchange for information on Davros."

Henry sighed before he took the empty seat in front of his friend. "I know," he said. "Why do you think I'm here?" he added before reaching into the pocket of his suit and producing a thumb drive. "It took me a great deal to get this, so Hounslow is more than fair."

Dave nodded.

"How is your daughter?"

"Shaken, as you might imagine, though from what I've been told, it's more due to her husband being shot."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "He's not seriously injured, I hope."

"No, just a bullet graze."

Henry set the USB device on the table before pushing it forward. "Here's my part of the deal."

"Hounslow is yours."

"I think I know how he was able to get your identity and unfortunately, the rest of us too."

Dave reached for the thumb drive, surprised that the rest of the members were possibly also compromised. "What makes you say that?"

"Davros paid a visit two nights ago and offered me several of your factions in exchange for my cooperation," Henry revealed. "He knew who we were since the very beginning."

"He's after me because he knows I'm retiring."

"And wants the rest of us to follow suit."

Dave pursed his lips. As much as he trusted Henry, he had to be cautious of his old friend now. "You mentioned something about him discovering our identity earlier."

Henry nodded. "He used to be a computer genius – hacked every website he could get his hands on, but MI5 caught on to him when he tried to hack their database, hence how I got his credentials."

"Thank you."

Henry then stood up. "I said no."

"Sorry?"

"When he offered to work together, I said no."

Dave smirked. "I dread to think what would happen if you had agreed to his terms."

"Boss, it's getting late," Aidan commented as he stood in the corridor of his superior's office. He and Rena had debated whether they should remind their boss to return home and since neither of them wanted to face their superior when he was cross, they flipped a coin and he had come out as the loser.

"You're the third person to say that," John muttered as he perused through the report from earlier in the morning.

"You do realise that we can handle it from here, right?" Rena added from her desk. "We're searching for the car, we have CCTV footage and a partial number plate," she assured. "You should go home and rest."

John paused and considered his options. He could stay in the office all night and get to nowhere or he could go back to the safehouse to his wife. He wanted nothing more than to do that but the news that she broke to him made him question everything about them, especially their relationship and marriage.

Was she ever going to tell him the truth had this never happened? Why had she waited so long?

"I will."

An hour before midnight, John finally reached the safehouse. He was greeted by two officers who were sitting in the living room.

"How is she?"

The officers exchanged looks before one of them spoke. "She hasn't left the room, sir."

Surprised, he pressed further. "You mean she never left the room after I was gone?"

Both officers shook their heads. "She even refused to eat, so we left some snacks by the door."

At the mention of this, he felt as if his heart sink. "Thank you."

"Sir."

Without another word, John headed upstairs and stood outside the bedroom, contemplating on what he should say or do. To hell with it. He pushed the door as quietly as he could and was greeted by a dimly lit room, his wife sleeping on the bed, or at least it looked that way. At second glance, he could tell she was still awake. Her body was far too tensed to be asleep.

Suddenly, he had lost the ability to speak, the morning's conversation playing in his head over and over again. The pain was still fresh and raw.

John took off his coat and tossed it on the armchair before emptying his pockets and placing the items on the drawer next to him. He glanced at Clara every now and then.

A quick shower would do the trick to get him to reflect and think clearly and he entered the en-suite.

Clara wasn't sure what kept her from speaking to John. She concluded that it was mostly due to shame. He had every right to be angry with her, but she wanted nothing more than for him to assure her that everything was going to be alright.

After some time, she heard the door open and shifted a bit, wondering if her husband was ever going to speak to her.

She felt the mattress dip as he took his side of the bed before hearing a click and the lamp switched off, blanketing the room in darkness.

"John?"

"Yes."

"Please say something, anything," she said.

He was silent for a moment. "I honestly do not know what to say."

"I'm sorry," she apologised, looking over her shoulder. "I know I betrayed your trust."

Silence.

"John-"

"You betrayed my trust, you betrayed our relationship and you betrayed everything I've ever stood for," he spat only realising after that he had raised his voice. He could have sworn he heard her flinch.

A sniff was heard, and he wanted to kick himself for getting her into such a state. He remained where he was. Half of him wanted to let her cry while the other half wanted to comfort her.

"Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?" John murmured, tone gentle and calmer.

"What?" she gasped, rolling around to face him.

John let out a tired sigh. He was glad that it was dark, otherwise, he would have faltered seeing those eyes of hers. "I told you before that I love you, criminal or not and that includes being the daughter of a drug lord," he reminded his wife. "I meant every single word."

Clara was still hesitant to move closer and remained where she was. "I don't deserve a husband like you."

John shook his head. "Clara, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm exactly what you deserve."

He assumed that that was the end of the conversation and searched for her hand under the covers.

"What happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

She felt him caress the back of her hand. "To us, to… everything."

"I'm not leaving you if that's what you're worried about, Clara," he assured her. "I suppose it will take some getting used to the truth," he added.

"I understand."

"I just have a question for you and please be honest."

She had a feeling that she knew what it was but decided to wait until he spoke.

"Were you ever going to tell me the truth?"

She paused for a moment to think of her answer thoroughly. "I wanted to tell you so many times," she confessed. "I was so close... so many times, but I… just couldn't."

"Why?"

"I was afraid you'd leave."

John shook his head. "I do believe it's the other way around," he murmured. "Why get stuck with an old man like me and for the record, I don't think I could leave you if I wanted to."

"For the last time, stop calling yourself an old man," Clara grumbled. "You're slightly older than me- big deal."

Her husband hummed in response.

There was still one more thing she needed to tell him to clear her conscience. No more secrets between them after this. "Theirs is one more thing you should know."

"What's that?"

"One of my father's men works for you."

"Dylan?" he guessed.

"How did you-"

John shifted before settling into a more comfortable position. "He was acting strange this morning and looked very concerned for you – thought it was because you used to babysit his son."

"He's like the big brother I've never had, so please don't go too hard on him," she requested. "As far as I know, his only job is to supply information to my dad, nothing more."

"That's something we'll have to discuss another time," he replied, too tired to think about it deeply.

She felt him move his other hand to her stomach. "They told me you haven't eaten anything all day."

"I just didn't have the appetite and I know it's selfish, but I just couldn't," she told him, remembering the nauseating feeling she had when she tried eating the pastry the policeman gave her.

"Could you do it for your sake and the baby's?" he asked. "You can tell them to get whatever you want."

"I think I can manage that."

He scooted closer but kept some distance between them. "Thank you," he whispered. "For being honest and for giving me the chance to become a father… I never got to say that to you yesterday."

She wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in his chest. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "How did you manage today?"

"Partial number plate and CCTV are the main lead," he revealed. "I will find Davros."

"I know you will and I'm sure dad can help you."

"Did you manage to call him?" John asked, changing the subject.

Clara pursed her lips. She had phoned her father thrice and all she got back was a text message from him asking if she was alright and that he was searching for Davros. "No, but I did receive a text from him, a very long one– said he'll call me as soon as he can."

Her husband grunted in response, eyes drooping. He could feel exhaustion finally catching up to him.

"How's your arm?" she inquired, gently caressing the white gauze with her fingers.

"Slightly sore but nothing serious."

She stopped what she was doing and rested her arm over his.

Clara let out a sigh of relief. She knew that John was still slightly cross, and she didn't mind. He deserves to be cross, but she hopes that he will eventually forgive her at some point. For now, they needed to focus on the baby and get Davros out of their lives for good.