Training took two long weeks to complete. They put Beth through her paces, sending her away on exercises to test her firearms competency and her covert skills before drilling her over and over on procedure manuals until she felt she could recite them word for word. She spent ten long hours in the company of a frumpy psychologist, answering questions about her family and her relationship history. She took a drug test and a polygraph test and swore her loyalty to queen and country. At the end of it all, she found herself rather glad to be heading back to Ruth's flat –their flat – the night before her first day as a full-fledged member of the team.

She dragged herself up the front walk and through the door, and found Ruth, as ever, sitting at the kitchen table in front of her laptop.

"Hi," Beth said as she waltzed into the kitchen, going straight for the bottle of wine she'd left in the fridge; Ruth had said, make yourself at home, and Beth had done just that, fitting in her wine and her ready meals between Ruth's piles of fresh vegetables and homemade jams. "Fancy a drink?" she asked as she poured one for herself.

Ruth shook her head. "I've been feeling a bit off, lately. Best not to push it."

Beth just nodded and put the bottle back in the fridge before sitting down at the table with Ruth. She was exhausted, and tired of feeling like she was back at school, studying for exams and trying to make friends with the popular kids. Training was grueling, and deeply unsatisfying for a woman who was so used to living by her own rules.

"Excited for your first day?" Ruth asked kindly.

"I can't wait, honestly," Beth answered. "After the fortnight I've had, hunting down terrorists will seem like a holiday."

Ruth laughed a little at that. "Yes, I suppose it would by comparison. They don't make analysts do the full field training, thankfully, but I've heard stories."

"So you don't get into the field much, then?"

Ruth shook her head. "I have a bad habit of getting into trouble, every time I set foot outside Thames House. I do little things, here and there, but Harry knows better than to send me out on an op unless it's absolutely necessary." Beth studied Ruth while she spoke; over the last few weeks their tenuous friendship had grown somewhat, as on the nights that they were both in the flat and awake at the same time they'd spoken briefly, exchanged harmless stories from their pasts and discussed mundane details like emptying the bin and washing the dishes. Beth's initial impression of Ruth had been that she was kind but reserved, brilliant but compassionate, and so far their interactions had only solidified this perception.

"Is Harry a good boss?" Beth asked impulsively, taking a sip of her wine. In the beginning, she'd promised herself she wouldn't press Ruth for details about their Section Head, but the question seemed natural, under the circumstances, and she genuinely wanted to know.

Ruth's eyes grew strangely soft and far away as she formulated her answer. "Harry is the best boss," she said finally. "He believes whole-heartedly in what we're doing, and he would do anything for any member of his team. He's a good man."

If they were better friends this would be the moment when Beth would pretend to gag and make some comment about how sickly sweet the sentiment was, about how obviously in love with him Ruth was, but they were nowhere near that point yet and so she held her tongue. She'd spent most of her time over the last two weeks with new recruits and their trainers, and so had not heard much of the gossip Ruth had warned her about. As it stood, though, she was actually looking forward to that bit. Any new information on this situation would be welcome.

"That's good," she said, instead of voicing her opinion on the matter. "I'd hate to work for some bureaucratic bastard."

Ruth snorted a little, at that. "So would Harry. He hates politicians and everything that goes along with them." She glanced at the clock, and gave a little sigh. "Time for bed, I think."

Beth nodded. "Sleep well."

Ruth rose from the table and collected her laptop. "You, too."


In her room Ruth all but collapsed onto her bed. She'd been exhausted and out of sorts for days now. While she often went all day without more than a bite of toast in the morning and a small, home-cooked meal after work, she found her usual routine no longer worked. She was starving half the time, and the other half she was nauseous. On Wednesday she'd even rushed off the Grid, only barely making it to the ladies' before she was rather shockingly ill. Tonight she was dizzy and completely knackered, despite the fact that it had only just gone nine o'clock.

Perhaps a visit to the in-house doctor was in order, but Ruth wasn't sure where she'd find the time; between the research she'd been doing for the Westhouse op and the four different potential A-Q cells Harry had her watching, she barely had time for a cup of tea in the morning, let alone a trip to the doctor. But she'd been having trouble focusing, and this dizziness really was worrying; perhaps she'd just need to make the time.

In the morning, she decided. If she still felt ill in the morning, she would do something about it.


The next morning, Ruth was up at half five, as usual. Beth went to make the tea, as usual. They passed in the kitchen, Ruth murmuring something about how she was planning to stay so they could ride into work together. It was a nice sentiment, and Beth was grateful for it. There was no point going in separately, after all, and Beth liked having company on the tube.

She was just stepping out of the shower when she heard Ruth knock frantically on the bathroom door. Wrapping herself tightly in a towel, she hurried to open it, and saw her flatmate on the other side, looking slightly green.

"I'm so sorry, Beth, it's just…I think I'm going to be…" Ruth held her hand over her mouth and Beth all but jumped to get out of her way.

"Go, go, it's no problem," Beth told her in a rush. She had only just got the door closed when she heard the sound of Ruth retching and shuddered. If there was one thing Beth Bailey couldn't handle, it was dealing with people who were ill. She decided she'd done everything she needed to in the bathroom, and headed back to her bedroom to get ready for the day, dripping as she went.

In her room Beth stood for a time and stared at her closet in dismay; its contents left a lot to be desired. She'd only had the one bag to start off with, and with training and everything she hadn't had a chance to buy anything new, or bring anything up from storage. That would need to be dealt with quickly, she decided as she tugged on her clothes and dragged a brush through her damp hair. She applied her makeup, using the camera function on her mobile as a mirror, and sighed in a resigned sort of way once she was finished. There was no way she was going back in that bathroom after whatever Ruth had done in there; her hair would just have to air dry on the train. She could put it up when she got to work.

Thus prepared to face the day, she ventured back out, and found Ruth sitting at the table with her head in her hands.

"You feeling all right?" Beth asked her, touching her gingerly on the shoulder in a comforting sort of way. She might hate being around sick people, but that didn't mean she couldn't be sympathetic when the moment called for it.

"I'll be fine," Ruth said from between her fingers. "I think it's passed, whatever it was."

"I can tell Harry you're feeling ill, if you need to go back to sleep."

Ruth shook her head and dragged herself to her feet, looking around for her boots. "No need for that," she said absently.

Perhaps in addition to being the sort of person who went into work three hours early Ruth was also the sort of person who never took a sick day, Beth realized as she watched her flatmate fumble around for her shoes. That sort of dedication to a job had never held any attraction for Beth, who quite enjoyed her free time, thank you very much.

Having located her shoes, Ruth started to make her way towards the door, and Beth fell into step behind her. All thoughts of Ruth's illness disappeared as excitement took hold of Beth. Today was her first day as a proper spook, and she couldn't wait to get going.


As they rode along Ruth found she could not focus on any of Beth's polite attempts at conversation. An hour ago, she'd felt bloody terrible, and had resolved to go down to see the in-house doctor first thing when they arrived at work. Now, though, she'd managed to eat a bit of toast and was sipping gingerly on her tea, and she felt, well, fine. Fine enough that she managed to talk herself out of going to the doctor just yet. When she got to work she would need to get Beth settled and then bring her up to speed on Westhouse, she'd need to sort out the arrangements at the hotel and work with Tariq on getting everyone kitted out for the upcoming meeting, she had six different translations still waiting and God only knows what fresh hell Harry would have uncovered overnight; yes, the doctor could wait.

Besides, it was Beth's first day as a proper spook, and Ruth was curious to see how it would all pan out.