'Malcolm, I hope you're the bearer of some good news, I've had one hell of a morning,' Harry told him all too predictably, as his techie stepped forward and waylaid him the second that he emerged through the pods. One hell of a morning was barely scraping the surface as to how he was really feeling. After two bloody awful days when he been forced to stay in a hospital bed, where he'd had blood tests, urine tests and had his temperature taken more times than he considered necessary, he'd ignored the warning signs and the advice in an effort to get discharged ahead of time. To what end, he had a worse than ever headache, which if Connie James had anything to do with it, meant that he was probably dying a slow and painful death anyway.

'Make that two, please,' he asked Jo, who was passing them on her way to the kitchen, with the offer of a cup of coffee. He'd been told that he should drink water, gallons of it apparently, but to hell with that. It was bad enough that he had to keep away from the alcohol for the next two weeks. Where was it anyway? Probably Ros had that squirrelled that away as well?

'Come on then,' he told Malcolm, who was certainly the lesser of several approaching evils. If he had to be badgered by someone, he'd rather it was Malcolm. At least he'd speak in a calm and quiet voice. Loosening his tie in an effort to release the tension and what he hoped wasn't a relapse that had been building since he'd left the JIC, he settled himself behind his desk and waited.

'Well?' he asked him again when Malcolm just sat there. Not knowing that Malcolm was summoning up the courage to ask him if he remembered Ruth.

'Ruth, Ruth Evershed? Long dark hair, beautiful blue eyes and inclined to break things, yes of course I remember her. My faith in human nature might be diminishing faster than the hair on my head, but there's nothing wrong with my memory,' he told him, wondering where this was going. Years had gone by. Years during which up until Connie's fall from grace, something that he was still struggling to come to terms with, he'd barely given Ruth a thought.

'Spit it out Malcolm,' he demanded and wished he hadn't, as another sharp pain shot behind his eyes. Where was his bloody coffee?

Despite the seriousness of the conversation and the fact that he could see that Harry was struggling, he'd fetch him some pain killers after this, Malcolm couldn't help but inwardly smile. Harry certainly had a better memory than he did and he was right. Ruth had either dropped things, broken them or stuttered her way through her findings. But here, now, wherever they were and whatever else was happening around them, you could always rely on Harry's memory and his ability to ease the tension when it was needed.

'That's good,' he told him, 'because she's back.'

'Back where?' Coincided with Jo arriving with their coffee and the need for a brief interlude, as they both watched Jo put their mugs down and then slide Harry's door closed behind her on the way out. All the while, with Harry's fingers tapping impatiently on the top of his desk whilst at the same time, resisting the urge to ask Jo what had taken her so long.

'Well she's currently at my house and watching Countdown with Mum, although that obviously isn't the reason that she came to see me.'

'I wasn't imagining that it was, so what is?' Although said with one of Harry's 'get on with it' expressions on his face, Malcolm noticed had been said with a tinge of curiosity. That's good he's interested Malcolm thought to himself, now with a glimmer of hope, that breaking the ice on what he'd presumed would be a tricky subject, wasn't going to be as difficult as he'd imagined it to be.

'I have no idea, other than she said that it was something that she couldn't discuss over the phone and that she needed see you in person.'

'Which begs the obvious question Malcolm. Why isn't it her that's sitting in front of me now?'

'I'm not sure I know the answer to that. Other than four years is a long time Harry and I'm guessing that she imagines you felt the same way about her as Tom did. Either that or she's scared. She certainly looked very scared last night.'

'Scared of me. Why would she be scared of me? Or am I missing the point?'

Both probably, Malcolm wanted to say, but wasn't given the opportunity as Harry continued.

'Tom was in a really fragile state and I felt obliged to back his decision. We all did if you remember. Time moved on quickly as it always does and by the time that Tom left, we'd already appointed another analyst. Ruth was naive, she made a mistake, but there was no doubting that she had real potential and I for one was sorry to see her go. Unlike the conniving and down-right deceitful Connie. Can you believe that she actually told me to my face, less than twenty - four hours before I was dragged out of my house and pumped with Christ knows what, that she didn't deserve to be treated as though she was a criminal.'

'And Ruth?'

'Call her Malcolm. Tell her that, well just tell her that I'll be happy to hear what she has to say, if that's what you think she wants?' But with no guarantees, was implied if not said.

'It can't be at Thames House she'll never agree to that. Too many eyes and ears were her exact words.'

'Then providing I can get rid of this god-awful headache, I'll come to your place tonight, let's say about eight.'

.

Back in his office and surrounded by what he knew the field agents referred to as his toys, Malcolm breathed evenly for the first time in several days. Taking stock of the current situation and his life in general, didn't take him very long, because in recent years, his life had become small and even more insular. Of all the people he knew, there was only Harry that he could count on as a real friend. One that was alive that was. The others, few though they'd been, he still missed.

Outside of work, their shared interests in cricket, classical music and a shared joke from time to time, bound them together. That and the fact that they'd worked together for the best part of twenty years. For all his bluster, Harry was a fine and principled section head. One who always put his work ahead of his own personal happiness. As they all did. Which was ridiculous. Because when the end came, by whatever means and let's face it in their line of work, it was always hauntingly there, they'd all probably regret that they'd held back from forming any meaningful relationships.

Now if Ruth did come back, not only would she be able to ramp up the quality of the analysis, but she would add a bit of brightness to the place and a sense of humanity. A gentleness that was seriously lacking on the grid. Something that the field officers had to shy away from in order to survive. Fingers crossed, that once Harry saw her again, that he'd agree with him.

First things first, he could now message Ruth with the good news.

.

Despite it having been an interminably long day, she'd stuck to her task. Now when it was late afternoon, she was pitting her wits against the contestant on countdown, while Malcolm's mum dozed in her chair and then woke up again and called her Margaret. Why Margaret, Malcolm had no idea, but that's what she was stuck with and had been, from for the moment that she'd been introduced as one of Malcolm's friends from work. It was a far cry from Ruth, or Rachel which was what she'd planned, but so be it. Now though she had something far more difficult on her mind than a few quiz questions or a name that wasn't hers. The reality, that Harry was actually going to arrive in a few hours time.

It was one thing for her to have imagined seeing Harry again and of course what she'd brought with her made it vital that she did, but the reality of seeing her one-time boss who she'd let down big time, was another thing entirely.

'I'll make us a nice cup of tea, I won't be a moment,' she told Mrs Wynn Jones, or Edith as she'd been invited to call her.

Having left Cheltenham in the early hours the previous day, she'd timed her departure so that her neighbours wouldn't see her piling as much as she could into her small car. The long drive to London hadn't been too bad, other than when she'd had to stop at a motorway services, to stretch her legs and grab something to eat. Sharing the facilities at night when the place had been virtually deserted, other than by a sprinkling of truck drivers who'd barely looked at her as she'd clung to the shadows, she'd just about survived. Now though after a long day, the emotion and the feeling of tiredness was really catching up with her. A combination of the journey and the hours that she'd sat in her car, parked outside his house until Malcolm had arrived home. That and having to sleep in the small box room and sharing a bathroom, with a bachelor and his mum, wasn't something that she could allow to continue. No matter how kind Malcolm was, or insisted that she could stay as long as she liked. Which meant that for however long she was here, she needed to find somewhere else to stay.

For the moment though, she needed to occupy her fidgety hands until Malcolm came home, or more crucially before Harry arrived. Putting the kettle on and making Edith the nice cup of tea that she'd promised, took her all of five minutes, which included her putting some biscuits on a plate. Why did time go so slowly when you wanted it to go quickly or vice versa? Malcolm had told her that he'd made a casserole and if she had the time, would she prepare the veggies. Which was laughable, because time was the one thing that she did have plenty of.

Whether she'd have a job at the end of this, rather depended on how Harry dealt with her news. She knew he could pull strings, lengthy ones, but whether he could poach her from GCHQ or if he'd even want too, she had no idea. She looked at her watch again, she had at least two more hours to kill. Maybe she'd go and have another shower and change. But why? She looked quite respectable as she was didn't she?