"What am I doing here, Beth?" Tariq asked her grumpily as she guided him inside the café. It was bloody early for a Saturday morning, and he had not been happy to receive her summons, but he had come, and brought his laptop along for the ride, just as she requested.

"Do you want some breakfast?" she asked him in a falsely cheerful voice. When she'd called him the night before Beth had explained that she needed his help drawing up the profile of a suspect, but she had given him no more information than that. He'd come, for which she was profoundly grateful, but she was still unsure just how much she could tell him. Certainly she couldn't mention Lucas, but how else was she supposed to explain this to him?

"Beth." The way he said her name was half a groan, half a sigh, and she couldn't help herself; she had to smile at him.

"I've got an asset who has some information for me, but I can't bring him onto the Grid. He can't be seen anywhere near Thames House. This place is safe, we often meet here to exchange information. I just need you to work with him for a bit, get a picture of our suspect drawn up. Then you can go home and go back to bed."

"You realize that could take hours?" Tariq pointed out glumly.

"Well, that's why I called you. You're the best, aren't you?"

Before Tariq could respond to her blatant attempt at flattery Marcus came shuffling in through the door. He was dirty and bedraggled, as always, but he seemed rather more chipper than the techie, just now.

"Breakfast, then?" he asked with a grin. He was such a nice kid, Beth thought, entirely too earnest and surprisingly trusting, given all he'd been through in his short life. He'd lost both his parents at a young age and had bounced around the system, often abused, often neglected, before he'd taken to the streets at just sixteen. There was a toughness about him; he needed it, to survive in his world, but still he was kind, and Beth appreciated that about him.

"Marcus, you can have whatever you like," Beth said expansively, and his eyes lit up. Beth flagged down the exhausted-looking waitress, and tried not to grimace as between them Tariq and Marcus ordered two of everything on the menu.

It took them nearly three hours, in the end, to draw up a composite of the man Marcus had seen talking to Lucas the night before. He had scraggly, flyaway blonde hair, thinning out on top, and a rugged, almost-handsome face.

"I've seen him at the hospital too, Miss," Marcus told her, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped comfortably around his stomach.

At this Tariq shot Beth a curious glance, and she rushed to change the subject.

"Thank you Marcus," she told him sincerely, standing up to signal that their meeting had come to an end. "You've been a great help to us." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of notes, all in small denominations, more money than she had ever given him, and still not enough, as far as she was concerned.

His eyes went wide when he saw the money. "Any time, Miss. You still want me at the hospital?"

Beth nodded. "Yes, please."

With that settled he took the money, thanked her again, and disappeared.

Tariq was still looking at her with that same faintly accusing cast to his face. "I suppose you want me to run the composite through facial recognition, then?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest, cradling his laptop protectively.

"No, I can do it," she answered defensively. If she'd been able to do the composite work herself she never would have brought him here in the first place, and she desperately didn't want him to become any more involved in her clandestine operation. Harry would be absolutely livid, if he found out about her continued surveillance; she shuddered to think about the sheer magnitude of his rage should he discover that she had roped Tariq in, as well.

"You need my composite, though, and I'm not going to give it to you until you tell me what the hell is going on."

How could someone so generally awkward and self-effacing be so damn stubborn? She wondered.

"This is on the level, Tariq, I just…I can't talk about it, right now."

"That's too bad," he said, turning as if to leave.

She had to stop him; if nothing else, she needed the composite, though now she was worried about the possibility of him running straight to Harry.

Quickly she reached out and caught him by the arm. "All right, all right, but this stays between us, yeah?"

Tariq did not immediately acquiesce, and his silence made her nervous. Oh no, oh I've buggered this up, she thought glumly.

"I can't make any promises until I know what this is about," he said slowly.

"Fine," Beth all but growled. So be it. "This is about Lucas."

Tariq nodded. "You're trying to figure out where he's been disappearing to?"

His nonchalance threw her; he hadn't said a word to her about it, but apparently she and Ruth weren't the only ones to have some suspicions where their Section Chief was concerned.

"Yes," she said, almost sighing in relief.

"I'll email the composite to you, then you can run it through the system on Monday. And I can pull his GPS logs for the last month, if you're interested."

Now was probably not the best time to mention that she already had most of those logs, and so Beth just offered him her sincerest thanks.

"Right then. I'm going back to bed. See you on Monday." Once again he started to leave, and once again, Beth pulled him back.

"One more thing, Tariq," she said, unsure of how he would respond to this request, but needing to make it anyway. "Please don't tell anyone. Not Harry, or Ruth, or anyone."

"I'm not totally insane," he told her with a lopsided grin. "Harry would bite my head off if he knew I'd been helping you."

And just like that, he left her alone at last. Doubt and hope warred within her; somehow knowing that Tariq shared her fears about Lucas made her feel better, more justified in tracking his movements, but still she worried that this little operation might have unforeseen consequences, and not just for her. There was no time to think about that, now, though; she needed to get home, needed to think of some excuse to tell Ruth to explain her absence, and she needed to come up with a plan.


"Good morning," Harry said with a smile, leaning through the doorway to kiss her cheek. She smiled back him, this casual affection still new enough to draw a blush to her cheeks. When they had spoken on the phone the night before they had agreed to meet for breakfast, and Harry had offered to take her to a café he liked, not far from her flat. Her home was quiet when she woke; Ruth could only assume that Beth, true to form, was still in bed, and likely to stay there for quite some time yet.

"Good morning," she answered, stepping through the door and locking it behind her. He led her down to the car, his hand as always pressed against the small of her back. She had grown to like the way he held her like this, gentle but insistent, proclaiming his connection to her in even this smallest of gestures.

"Are you up for a bit of shopping, after we eat?" she asked him once he'd folded himself into the driver's seat and started the car.

Harry gave a good-natured groan, at that.

"Sometimes I feel like all we bloody do is eat and shop," he grumbled. Ruth reached out on impulse and squeezed his thigh lightly, her hand lingering there for a time as she enjoyed the freedom to touch him any time she chose. I could get used to this, she thought.

"I just want to make sure we have everything we need, for when she gets here."

"We've still got almost two whole months to go, you know," he pointed out, never taking his eyes from the road. The faintest hint of a smile danced at the corner of his mouth, and Ruth watched him, mesmerized as always by that face she loved so well.

"That's not as long as you might think."

"Whatever you think is best," he said with a shrug.

It didn't take them very long to reach their destination; they settled into a booth and ordered tea and bacon and eggs and toast, and Ruth watched him all the while, thinking hard. For months now she had wanted to ask him about Jane, about Catherine and Graham, about his life before her, and for months she had resisted the urge, uncertain how best to phrase her question, uncertain how he might respond. Things were better between them now than ever before, though, and the gentle way he'd been treating her recently gave her confidence.

"Harry, can I ask you something?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this question?" he responded dryly.

She reached across the table and drew his hand into hers, their fingers locking together out of habit more than anything else.

"I've been wondering what things were like for you, when Catherine and Graham were small. I've been wondering how you feel about…doing all of this again."

For a long moment he was quiet, his soft, dark eyes boring into hers. She could not count the myriad emotions she saw flickering across his face; fear and sorrow and regret and anger all blending into one another, a cacophony of grief. In her heart she felt guilty, for wanting to ask at all, but she needed to know. She needed to know what he'd gone through, before, and she needed to know that his behavior towards her now was driven by a genuine desire to be with her, and not a desire to absolve himself of his past sins.

"This may sound…trite, but I was a different man, then. Jane isn't like you; she holds grudges, and she always felt entitled to a certain degree of attention from me. I cared for her, very much, but I was young, and what I felt for her was nothing like what I feel for you." Ruth's heart fluttered in her chest, at those words. Even now they had not yet spoken the word love to one another; they had skirted around it, made reference to feelings and desires but love had yet to factor into any of their conversations. That she loved him, that he loved her, was a foregone conclusion, but still they had not crossed that line. Harry seemed to draw nearer to it every day, though, and she waited with bated breath. Deep down she was still so anxious, about losing him, about asking for too much, and she needed to hear him say it. They'd made good progress, but they weren't quite there yet, and it rankled.

"She thought she deserved my attention, and I begrudged her that. We were always cross with one another, and I didn't know a damn thing about women or pregnancy or any of it, at the time. I had no idea what she was going through, not really." He sighed. "At your appointment, the other day, I think that was the first time I ever realized just how much this affects you. I want to be here for you, to help you if I can, and I want very much to be a part of our daughter's life." She had known this, in her heart, but it was nice to hear him say nice, to have that affirmation that he was with her because he wanted to be. "Before, I wasn't there, for either of my children's births. Both times I managed to get caught up with something at work, and Jane hated me for it. I mean really, hated me. We tried, for quite a while, to put on a good face for them, but we didn't trust one another. I was unfaithful to her, she was unfaithful to me, and the children suffered for it. When I finally…left, it seemed the best thing for both of us, at the time. I'm still not sure it was the best thing for my children, though."

The waitress came and set their food down in front of them, and for a time they were quiet as they ate and digested Harry's little speech. It was what Ruth had expected, really; she knew about Juliet, and she knew that he didn't get on with his children, but what she hadn't known was how deeply it affected him. He tried to sound detached, as he explained the situation, but she saw the hurt in his eyes. Even now, all these years later, he still felt guilty. Guilt was a feeling Ruth knew rather well, and she found that hearing these words from him only served to draw her closer to him.

"I love my children," he said when he had finished eating, picking up the thread of the conversation where he'd left off. "I always have done, and always will do. I just didn't know, when I was young, how to show it to them. I made mistakes, and they suffered for it."

Ruth offered him an encouraging little smile, at that. She knew a thing or two about how Harry could bungle an attempt to show his affection; their little chat after Ros's funeral sprang to mind. He meant well, though, and she loved him for it.

"You haven't asked about Graham specifically, and I know you must be wondering," he said with a heavy sigh, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," she told him earnestly, while inside she was practically dancing with anticipation. Most of all she had longed to know the story behind Harry's elusive son; what could possibly have tainted their relationship so, that the young man would not answer his father's phone calls?

"Graham was always too smart for his own good," Harry said ruefully. "He liked to brag, liked to tell people things just to show off, and he was forever getting into trouble. More than once he had a teacher throw him out of a classroom for being disruptive and combative. He got into fights, did a bit of petty theft; kid stuff, really, but it was worrying. Jane was convinced it was entirely my fault. And then, when he was about eighteen he…he told Jane that he was gay."

Ruth held her breath, uncertain of how to respond. Of all the many things they had discussed over the years, this particular issue had never really come up, and she had no idea how he felt about it. She dearly hoped that he wasn't about to tell her that he'd reacted negatively to the news; it would change her entire perception of him, and she wasn't ready for that kind of shock this early on a Saturday.

"I don't give a damn who he sleeps with, as long as he's safe," Harry said firmly, and Ruth breathed a sigh of relief, "but Jane went absolutely ballistic. I got all this second hand from Catherine, but she said Jane was screaming bloody murder. Apparently, it was my fault, for not being a 'strong male role model' to him, whatever that means. I never got the chance to speak with him about it, because he assumed I'd feel the same way. I've tried, over the years, to get in touch with him, but he keeps changing his mobile number, and he's never once rung me back."

"Oh Harry," she sighed, wishing that there wasn't a table separating them for this conversation. She very much wanted to slide beneath his arm and press herself against him, wanted to offer him whatever comfort she could.

"From what Catherine tells me he's doing pretty well for himself, these days; whatever troubles he had in his youth he seems to have left them behind him. I just wish I could speak to him, at least once. I'd like for him to know that I still love him, very much."

At this Ruth rose from the table. He looked up at her sharply, worry written all over his face, but that doubt disappeared as she took a seat beside him in the booth, and wrapped her arms around him. It was difficult, what with the table and the size of her baby bump, but she did it anyway.

"You're a good man, Harry Pearce," she said softly, kissing his temple. And I love you, she added silently.