Ros had always prided herself in that she didn't panic, no matter how serious the situation. But one quick glance at her watch, told her that far too much time had elapsed and Harry still hadn't twisted the ring. That on balance she had no option other than to make her move, so drawing her gun and taking steady steps with her back pressed closely against the house wall, she edged herself forward until she met the cornerstone. Redefine panic, as she stumbled and nearly fell over his prostrate body. A miscalculation on her part of gigantic proportions as the front door swung on its hinges and even before she took a quick look around, she knew that Lucas had gone. Her only priority now, to get Harry into the warm. Something that even with her, what had often been described as super human strength, she couldn't manage on her own. Letting go several expletives, each one more expressive than the last, she took off her own jacket and covered him up as best she could. Running with no thought, other than she had to get help, until she finally reached the rectory.
It was the sheer force of the hammering on the door that caused Jo to leave Ruth and Catherine where they were and dash out into the hall. Warm and safe and in Catherine's case, dozing in front of a blazing fire after they'd both had a warm drink and something to eat. Time during which, a calm and protective Ruth had talked to Catherine about her Dad. Totally open and so unlike the usually buttoned up person that Jo had seen at the safe house, despite her obviously knowing that Harry should have been here with them long before now, Ruth had done what they were all trained to do in such circumstances, she'd buried her own feelings. Something that couldn't have been easy, given how worried she must have been about Harry. All of which was about to change when she opened the door to be faced by a wide- eyed Ros, shouting at Dimitri that she needed his help and to bring his gun. Vague in that she wasn't saying why, wasn't the wisest of things to be doing, as Ruth who having finally seen Catherine settled, had been imagining her own reunion with Harry and thought that this was him. Lucas having supposedly gone, didn't stop Ruth from asking where and what if he came back? As well as forcing Ros to admit that Harry had been hurt. A statement that finally saw the other Ruth. The one who they all knew was in love with Harry, launching herself into Ros, after she added rather unwisely, that the bump on Harry's head wasn't serious.
'Connie, headaches, dizziness, you've got a bloody short memory,' hung in the air between them until Dimitri appeared. The new boy, who up until then had assumed that when Ros had been talking about the power of love, that she'd been referring to Harry and Catherine. Not the brave and feisty little analyst, who had wanted to hang back when they'd left the cottage.
.
It was a full hour later, before Ros announced that she and Dimitri were going to head back to the pub. That they'd come back late-morning with the luggage and after everyone, especially Harry, had got some rest. Taking Jo's car, but not before checking that the rectory was a secure as they could make it, she closed the door on the walking wounded and dragged herself outside again. Bridges partially rebuilt she wondered not for the first time, why she felt this responsibility towards Harry.
Inside the house, prepped ready for the guests who were due to arrive for Easter, in two of the three bedrooms the beds had been made up. In one of them Catherine was asleep again, although Jo who was having a last look around was about to join her. In the other, Harry, still insisting that there was nothing that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure, was wandering around in one of the vicar's less than fetching dressing gowns, whilst waiting for Ruth to come back from the bathroom. Having stubbornly refused to let them call for a doctor, his head and his shoulder still hurt. In truth most of him did, but he was buggered if he was going to leave Ruth and Catherine again, he'd told a relieved Ros when they'd been crossing what they were now calling the great divide. Not before thanking them for coming back for him and with a wry smile, when Ros who had been looking into his eyes, asked him how many fingers she was holding up.
His reunion with Catherine had been a brief but poignant one, with very little said. Other than her acceptance that once this was nightmare was over and they were back in London, that they'd spend more time together. Time that would start by her moving into the safe house with him and Ruth, he hadn't yet suggested. Mostly because he hadn't had the courage, or the energy, to start a conversation that began with the words 'I'm in a relationship with Ruth.' That and because Catherine was inclined to dig her toes in if he tried to push her.
His reunion with Ruth had been on barely contained hold while the others had been around, until now when the moment that both of them had been waiting for had arrived. The rain had finally stopped falling, the sun was about to come up and they were at last on their own. The fact that she'd had to borrow some of Jo's clothes whilst her own were drying out, in no way took the edge off how he felt when she climbed into bed beside him. In fact it was an amusing distraction from the reality of why they were here. Sufficient to stop them discussing what had happened during the course of the last twenty-four hours, and instead just fall into each other's arms. Without going into details, both Catherine and Jo had told him how strong she'd been and in Catherine's case she'd called her lovely. Not enough for him to realise that this was her seal of approval. Because playing him at his own game, she was after all his daughter and what she hadn't told him, was that even with the sitting room door closed she'd heard Ruth laying into Ros. Although when it came to Ruth being lovely he was more than in agreement, and there were several more adjectives that in his mind described Ruth. One of which was being applied now, as she gently moved her hands, up and down his aching back. Above all else, Ruth cared and given the chance to prove it, she had a way with her that he'd never experienced in anyone else. The ability to make him feel as though nothing else mattered when they were together. His head hurt, his back hurt. She'd been tied up, soaked to the skin and no doubt scared to death, but in this moment and as the seconds advanced into minutes, he could almost imagine spending the rest of his life like this.
Had it not been for a knock on the door several hours later and Jo's voice telling them that Ros and Dimitri were on their way back, despite him feeling as though he'd gone ten rounds with a prize fighter, there would have been a fair chance that he'd have told her. Now though, the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of his daughter's voice from somewhere downstairs, were reasons enough to get up. Faced with the prospect of wearing other people's clothes for a second time, until Jo added that their own had been washed and dried and were outside the door. Usually fiercely independent, on this occasion being in a house and surrounded by women, did have its advantages he concluded, as he climbed out of bed and padded towards the door. To hell with their cover, his and Ruth's. If ever it had even existed, Jo had made it clear that it had been blown wide open as far as their colleagues were concerned. But as Catherine had gone to bed long before they had, she wouldn't have known that he and Ruth had shared a room.
'Please tell me that you haven't been out shopping?' He asked Jo, when they arrived downstairs, to find her and Catherine chatting happily and eating bacon sandwiches. Being the last person to arrive at the house, he still had no idea how Jo had managed to commandeered the place, or the story that she'd spun the vicar.
Given that Ros was on her way back, Jo resisted the temptation to tell Harry that she'd been to the nearest supermarket, and instead slipped back into her role as one of his staff. Explaining how they were supposed to be friends who had been walking on the marshes and when the weather had taken hold, had got separated. How the vicar had arrived about an hour ago with a food parcel, but not that she'd promised him a sizeable donation to his roof restoration fund. Just for once in her life and she suspected Harry's as well, it was nice to be doing something as simple and sitting around a table and eating breakfast, albeit it was now lunchtime. Besides which, both she and Catherine had already been up for more than an hour and she had deliberately avoided talking about what had happened and why. That was Harry's job. More importantly she liked Catherine, so had been more than happy to let her talk about her job as a journalist and her latest visit to Israel, rather than the last two days when she'd been Lucas's hostage. The sound of both hers and Harry's cars pulling up outside and the arrival of their colleagues, breaking up the moment and bringing her back down to earth. Although not until both Ros and Dimitri had been fed, did they touch on work.
Still convinced that Lucas would come back in some shape or form, because as a wanted man who had unfinished business what else would he do, they decided that they should go back to London. That and Harry having received a call from the Home Secretary, asking him why his office was being staffed by his technical team? To be told that Miss Myers would be with him in a couple of hours, only going part way to placate him.
Malcolm having warned Harry in advance, that Towers, had in Malcolm's words, 'popped in for a chat' and found the place deserted, hadn't told the Home Secretary, that his Section Head wouldn't be making any visits to Whitehall any time soon. Or that he was moving back to the safe house, not only with his analyst but his daughter. A combination that in Malcolm's imagination might prove interesting.
.
'Miss Myers.'
'Home Secretary.'
'I'd had hoped to see Harry today. After all he has been away for some time,' was delivered with an eyebrow raised and with the offer of a cup of tea.'
Accepting graciously, but refusing a cake worthy of inducing a coronary, 'I'm afraid Harry's in the wars again,' she told him, watching as his face softened briefly. 'An overnight coming together with a heavy door, so he'll have to stay put I'm afraid. I trust that it won't be a problem if I continue to sit in the hot seat?'
'Is there anything that you're not telling me Miss Myers?' Was delivered with one eye on the cakes that she'd refused.
'Nothing worthy of taking up more your valuable time Home Secretary,' she lied.
'I'm very pleased to hear it. But make sure that you keep me updated on Harry's progress. Not that it isn't always a pleasure to see you,' he told her in such a way that made Ros think that in this case, the cakes were just an inducement and that Towers wasn't quite the goon that he appeared to be.
But goon or not, she had a job to do and that last thing that Towers needed to know, was that one of their officers was running about the countryside with a gun in his hand and that they had absolutely no idea where he was.