A/N: I hope you won't mind me updating two stories in one day; I have the first six chapters of this particular fic complete, and I'm quite anxious to get number 5 up and posted, as it's my favorite so far, and lays out the direction we're taking quite clearly. I have to set the stage before we get there, however, and so I present the third chapter now. Will likely post 4 and 5 in rapid succession, and then get back to one or two updates a week moving forward. Thank you for your patience, and all your kind words of support.


Ruth rose the next morning at half-five, and padded down the hallway to clamber into the shower, her limbs aching from the night she'd spent tossing and turning, wide awake and miserable. As if it wasn't bad enough, seeing Harry again so soon after their disastrous conversation on the roof, on top of everything he'd seemed so God damned sad that it had broken something deep inside her, some well of emotion that had gone untapped since the day George died. For nearly an hour after he'd left she simply sat on the floor, propped up against the front door, and wept, wept for Harry, for George, for herself. She'd cried until she couldn't breathe, until her head ached, until she thought there were no tears left, and then she'd gone to make herself a cup of tea. In the kitchen she had been confronted by Harry's half-empty mug and his words had echoed in her mind, a stark reminder of just how much had passed between them, of just how hopeful they had been, back before Cotterdam, when he'd been gently trying to win her round and she'd been slowly giving in to him. The tears had started afresh, then, and it was all she could do to stumble into her bedroom, blinded by her grief.

Today was a new day, and her tears were spent. We move on from this.

So she showered, and dried her hair, donned a skirt and her favorite navy cardigan, and made her way towards the kitchen. It was bloody early, but there was nothing in this house for her, nothing except the phantom scent of Harry's cologne on the air and the memory of his devastated face as he sat at her kitchen table. At least she could work, on the Grid, could distract herself with facts and figures and translations. And when she thought of Harry, she could lift her gaze from her computer and see him, know for a certainty that he was still there, with her. It was enough. It had to be enough.

To her surprise, Beth was already up, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea cupped in her hands, her blonde hair tousled and sticking up in all directions. She was so young, Ruth thought, offering her a half-hearted smile. Beth was young, and cocky, and almost certainly doomed, if she chose to continue in this profession, and Ruth wasn't prepared to open up her heart to this girl, to make room in her life for another friend, only to be devastated by loss once more.

"I made tea," Beth told her in a cheerful voice, motioning towards the kettle. "If you'd like a cup?" she reached for the cabinet behind her, but Ruth waved her off and went to retrieve her travel mug. She'd take her tea with her, a little something to keep her occupied on the commute.

"That's lovely, thank you," Ruth said, giving her a small smile. "We're not due on the Grid until nine, and the commute is less than an hour, if you take the tube. Don't feel the need to rush on my account."

Beth's shoulders slumped slightly.

"If you can wait, maybe thirty minutes, I'd like to go in with you, if that's ok," she said.

Ruth fought the urge to sigh. She didn't want to wait, didn't want to linger here in this empty flat with a bright young spook and bitter memories for company. Ruth wanted to work, she wanted to see Harry, she wanted to get on with her bloody life and stop feeling trapped beneath the weight of sorrow that threatened to drown her. But Beth was young, and this was her first day on the job. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing, to offer her this kindness, to befriend her if possible. If in the process of getting to know Beth she could uncover the other woman's intentions and put Lucas's fears to rest, so much the better.

"That's fine," she said, trying and failing to sound casual about it. Beth flashed her a brilliant smile and then trundled off to have her own shower, leaving Ruth alone to her thoughts.

This was going to be an unbearable day.


As they waited for their train Ruth gave her a quick rundown of the best routes from the flat to Thames House, and the conversation continued quite naturally as they took their seats.

"How long have you worked for Five?" Beth asked curiously, keeping her voice down despite the fact that they were sitting well away from their fellow passengers. Now seemed as good a time as any, to try to get to know the dark-haired woman a little better, and Beth had been wondering what exactly it was she'd signed up for. Was Section D a place where people stayed for years, forming a sort of happy little work family, or was the turnover so high that they never got particularly close to one another?

Ruth bit her lip, her brow furrowing for a moment before answering. "Five of the last seven years," she said finally. "I took a…hiatus, in the middle."

"A hiatus?" Beth asked. There were all sort of reasons one might take time off from work, she supposed, but considering the fact that Ruth had neither a husband nor a child, the only possibilities that came to mind were deeply unpleasant. Had she been wounded, in the field? Had someone close to her died? Beth's natural curiosity spun in to full gear, and she listened closely to Ruth as she spoke again.

"It wasn't my choice," Ruth answered coolly, staring straight ahead. She had tensed up, in the moments since Beth asked her first question, her eyes staring straight ahead and her hands clasped together firmly in her lap. Her shoulders were tight and she carried a certain look of the trapped animal about her, as if at any moment she might spring up and run. Things had begun to thaw between them, and Beth was mentally kicking herself for putting her foot in it so early in their acquaintance.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she said contritely. She wasn't sorry for asking, not really; she was only sorry that she had asked in such a blunt way. Ruth struck her as the sort of person she'd need to tread lightly around; Ruth was clever and quick, but prickly as a rosebush, and Beth would have to work hard to stay on her good side –and in her spare bedroom. Flat-hunting in London was not an adventure she was particularly looking forward to.

Ruth sighed and began to twist her hands together in her lap. Beth had known her for less than twenty-four hours, and already she had identified this as one of Ruth's little tells. Ruth played with her hands when she felt uncertain or uneasy.

"It's ok, really." She took a deep breath. "Listen, Beth, Five is like a lot any other office environment. A lot of gossiping goes on, behind closed doors. You're bound to hear something about it, eventually, and I just ask that you remember that the only people who know the truth about what happened are me and Harry, because we were there. I won't ask you not to talk to your colleagues; in fact, I encourage it. I'm just asking you to take what you hear with a grain of salt."

Following this statement she shot Beth a little sideways glance, her gaze open but still unsure. Beth got the feeling that Ruth had more secrets than friends, and in the moment, Beth couldn't help but consider how similar they were in that regard, and she wondered if she and this sad, lovely woman could ever learn to trust one another. Friends or not, Beth wasn't sure she'd be able to put aside her memories of Harry's late night visit, and the way Ruth's voice cracked, just a little, when she said his name. Having Ruth on her side, a champion in her corner, would be a huge help to her as she started out, but she still felt a burning desire to find the answers to all her questions. That need to know had always been her biggest downfall, had brought her no end to trouble, but still she pressed on.

"I never put much stock in gossip, anyway," Beth said with a little toss of her head. It was a lie if she'd ever told one; Beth had found that loose lips do sink ships, and that if she were listening to the right people at the right time and played her cards right, she could make a fortune. She had done, on several occasions, but that was what the intelligence business was all about in the end. Gossip was her stock and trade, really.

They both stared out the window for a time, watching London fly by, the city coming alive as the sun rose and burned away the shadows of the night.

"Still, seven years is a long time," Beth said eventually, returning to her original line of questioning. She would press more gently now, give Ruth's tree a little shake and see what fell out. "Do people usually last that long, in this business?"

Ruth gave a small sigh. "No, actually. It's a hard job, between the secrets and the terrible hours and the crap pay. The only person in our Section who's been with Five longer than me is Harry. And Lucas, I suppose. He took a hiatus of his own."

There was that word again. It was clearly a euphemism for something, and based on the expression on Ruth's face, it wasn't anything good. Still, they'd lived through it, Lucas and Ruth, and they were both willing to come into work each day, so maybe the job wasn't all bad. Yesterday's assignment had been downright invigorating, and Beth was eager to sink her teeth into another assignment.

When they arrived at Thames House Ruth greeted the security guards by name and took care of getting Beth checked in, since she didn't have an ID card yet.

"You'll be spending today in training, I'm afraid," Ruth told her as they made their way towards the Grid. "It's still a bit early, so you can spend some time with us this morning, but you'll need to be upstairs with HR by nine."

Beth groaned, and for the very first time, she heard her flatmate laugh.

"It won't be so bad. I heard a rumor that your training will be truncated, given your experience and our desperate need of a new team member."

Based on what Beth knew of Ruth's relationship with her new boss, she supposed that this rumor was more fact than fiction, and reminded herself to be thankful for small mercies.

As they stepped onto the Grid together, Beth noticed that the very first thing Ruth did was glance at Harry's office. The man himself was sitting behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear and pen in hand. He seemed once more to be utterly in control, and Beth could see no evidence of the sadness or uncertainty that had plagued him the night before. Satisfied that all was as it should be, Ruth made her way towards her desk and started getting herself ready for the day.

"That will be your desk," she said, pointing vaguely towards one of two empty workstations nearby. "I think it will be two weeks or so before you're cleared to work down here, but there's no reason you shouldn't get a feel for how things will be, once you are. " Ruth had glanced over at Harry's office again and her eyes had caught there; Beth looked that way just in time to see Harry give a little jerk of his head. Ruth was on her feet immediately. So that was how it was between them at work then; last night in her kitchen Ruth had called the shots, but here on the Grid she deferred to Harry. Good to know.

"Duty calls," Ruth said softly, before she marched off toward his office. Beth just shook her head and gazed around her new office. There were a few other people milling about, analysts for the most part it seemed, chatting softly. She could hear the sounds of someone arguing on the phone in the French, and the clacking of fingers on keyboards. As she took it all in Beth realized that, for the first time in her entire life, she had a desk. In an office. This was going to take some getting used to.


"How's it going, with Beth?" Harry asked her.

So it's going to be like that is it? Ruth wondered. There was no sign of the man who'd shown up on her doorstep, miserable and half-drunk the night before. This was Harry in full work mode, on the hunt for traitors in their midst. He was on high alert, after the Nightingale fiasco, not that Ruth could blame him. So far she hadn't formed much of an opinion on Beth, as it was; the girl seemed friendly enough, but there was something calculating behind her innocent-seeming questions, and Ruth still couldn't be sure what her new flatmate's endgame was. They would have to wait and see.

"So far so good," she said aloud, absently running her fingers along the edge of Harry's desk. "She hasn't made a mess of my kitchen or tried to sneak anyone in through her bedroom window, but it's early days."

Harry grunted, a sound that might have been a chuckle, if they'd been having this conversation a month ago. "Is everything set, with her training?"

Ruth nodded. "I made the arrangements late last night. She'll get started today, and HR should be finished with her in about two weeks." When she'd been speaking to Beth about training, Ruth had deliberately left out her own involvement; she'd let Beth think her no more than an analyst, let Beth think her harmless and without power, and perhaps the girl might be more likely to open up.

"That's good," he said quietly. He always said that, when he didn't know what else to say. When she agreed to go to dinner with him, when he asked how she was and she said "fine", in all those little moments between them when, for once, things were going well, Harry would say that's good. He had never been the most effusive of men, but Ruth had learned how to read between the lines, to decipher the meaning in the most innocuous turn of phrase. Harry said that's good, and what he meant was thank you for being someone I can count on, and Ruth gave him a small, sad smile in return, a smile that said of course, always.