Beth was sitting on the Grid with her head in her hands when the call came in. Malcolm and Tariq were busy tracking Lucas's progress; he'd made his way to a warehouse near the water, and CO-19 had been very quietly called. Unlike Lucas, Harry had seen fit to warn CO-19 about the bomb, and so at the moment they were holding back, awaiting orders. Beth still wasn't sure about that particular decision; why hadn't Harry told Lucas about the bloody bomb? Did he still think that Lucas was a traitor? Was Lucas a traitor? However it worked out in the end, Beth supposed she ought to be thankful that it was Harry who had to make these decisions, and not Beth herself. She had no idea what she'd do, if she were in his shoes.

With the techies busy behind their computer screens and Harry locked away in his office, not speaking to anyone, there was very little for Beth to do, just now. Nothing to do but sit, and wait, and fret. Harry had a number for Lucas, but he had resolved not to call it, not until he absolutely had to, which left them all in the dark. So when her mobile started ringing, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she thought as she answered.

"Beth?" Ruth's voice was breathless and terrified on the other end of the line, and all of Beth's momentary good humor vanished in an instant.

"Ruth? What's wrong?"

"Beth, it's the baby-" oh, God no, please no, not now- "I think I've gone into labor. I need an ambulance, now, but I don't know where I am."

Oh, bloody hell.

"Hang on, I'm going for help," Beth said as she leapt out of her chair and sprinted across the room. From his office Harry had seen her abrupt change of demeanor, and he came striding across the Grid with a scowl on his face.

"Malcolm, I need you to trace this call," she all but shouted as she went hurtling into the forgery suite, throwing the phone at the startled techie.

Malcolm caught it neatly in midair, and set to with a flurry of keystrokes, and not a single question.

"What's this?" Harry asked from the doorway.

"It's Ruth," Beth told him. For a moment she worried about what she ought to tell him; they were still in the middle of an op, and nothing was going to send Harry off into a panic quite like knowing that the baby was coming now, so many weeks early. Who needs him more? Beth wondered. Us, or Ruth?

"Her labor's started. We're tracing her mobile so we can get an ambulance to her."

Harry began to swear sulfurously under his breath, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

"I need to speak to her," he said sharply.

Malcolm tossed him the phone without looking away from his monitor. "Keep her on the line for another minute, and then we'll be able to lock her down and get her some help," he said brusquely.

Beth watched the scene unfold, feeling utterly helpless. There was nothing she could do to help with the trace, nothing she could do to alleviate Ruth's pain, and nothing she could say that would make Harry feel better, just now.

"Ruth, are you all right?" Harry asked softly, turning away from them as if seeking a moment's privacy for himself, despite the chaos that surrounded him.

Beth couldn't make out the words of Ruth's response, but the fact that she could hear her flatmate's voice from clear across the room told her that her friend was shouting. And who could blame her, given the circumstances?

"We've got her!" Malcolm called out after a few more seconds; beside him Tariq had already rung for an ambulance, and was spouting off the address.

"Ruth, the ambulance is on its way," Harry said in a gentle voice. "They'll get to you before I can, but I'll meet you at the hospital. It's going to be all right."

This inspired a fresh wave of shouting from Ruth.

"I'll stay on with you until the ambulance gets there," Harry said as he walked briskly from the room.

Beth leaned back against the wall, running her hands over her face in exhaustion. It was late, she was dead tired, Lucas was God only knew where, and Ruth was about to have a bloody baby. How much worse could this day get?

And then she remembered just how much worse; Lucas had told Harry that he'd been followed all day, and Harry had confirmed that he picked up a tail as he drove back to the Grid from the meeting in Battersea. How the bloody hell were they going to get him to the hospital without bringing a team of trained CSS assassins along for the ride?


"Harry, it's too soon, this can't be happening now," Ruth whispered, and Harry had to fight hard to tamp down the flutterings of fear in his chest. She was still nearly five weeks away from term, and almost ten weeks away from her due date; he didn't know much about the ins and outs of having a baby, but he did know that if the peanut was making an appearance this early, she had to be in trouble. What could he possibly say to Ruth, what comfort could he offer her when she was scared and alone and in pain, and he was utterly powerless to help her? I should be with her, I never should have sent her home, I should have kept her close. The number of missteps he'd made in the last twenty-four hours seemed to be beyond counting.

"It will be all right, Ruth. The doctors will sort it out. You have to have faith, Ruth."

"Pactum Serva," she said in a voice choked with unshed tears. Harry started a bit at those words; he hadn't thought about Doctor Kirby in months, but apparently the man had left quite a mark on Ruth.

"That's right," he said.

As he spoke to her Harry was shuffling around through the spare clothes he kept on the Grid; he needed to get out of the building, and quickly, but he needed to do it without being spotted, and somehow he thought his Saville Row suit wouldn't quite do the job. Eventually he came up with a pair of blue jeans and a heavy grey hooded jumper. He hoped it would be enough.


Everything happened very quickly, once the ambulance arrived at Ruth's location. Beth had bundled Harry out the back entrance of Thames House and into a pool car, marveling at how different he looked in blue jeans and a jumper, the hood pulled low over his face. She prayed it would be enough to get him through; whatever else happened tonight, Harry needed to be with Ruth.

To that end he had left behind instructions for Beth. She was to wait twenty more minutes, and then ring the number Lucas had given Harry. While she waited for the time to pass, she stared down at the little slip of paper on which he'd scribbled the numbers, something niggling in the back of her mind.

It isn't! Is it?

Beth fished her mobile from her pocket, and looked up the number Ruth had called from.

Damn it all to hell.

Lucas had left his phone with Ruth, and there was no way for them to contact him now. His tracker had been steady at the warehouse for nearly half an hour, now; what was Beth supposed to do now? She and Dimitri had the Grid, but she wasn't feeling particularly powerful, at the moment. She felt small, and weak, and very, very tired.

"Everything all right?" Malcolm asked kindly as he walked up beside her, offering her a cup of tea.

She shook her head as she gratefully accepted his offering. "Lucas lied, about the number. We have no way of contacting him. What do I now, Malcolm?"

"Well," he said with a sigh, "you have two options. You can order CO-19 to go in, and they might be able to subdue our Chinese friends. Of course there will almost definitely be a firefight, if that happens, and there's the bomb to worry about. Or you could do nothing, and we might lose them entirely."

That is supremely unhelpful.

"What would Harry do?" She studied his face as they spoke; this man had known Harry Pearce for decades, longer even than Ruth. Surely he had some idea of how Harry operated.

"Harry would wait," Malcolm said. "Sometimes that's the only choice we have."

Before Beth could say another word Tariq came running from the forgery suite, his face pale and his hands shaking.

"The bomb's gone off. CO-19 and bomb disposal are there, trying to figure out what's happened. No sign of Lucas."

I suppose I didn't have to wait that long, after all, Beth thought grimly.


When they wheeled her in from the ambulance bay, Ruth was screaming.

The sound of it tore at Harry's heartstrings; he had hoped to never hear such a sound pass her lips again, had hoped to keep her safe and well, wrapped in the protection of his love for her, for all the rest of his days.

"Harry!" She cried when she caught sight of him, and he bulled his way past the various nurses and doctors to jog alongside her still-moving gurney, reaching out to take her hand in his own. Ruth clutched him fiercely, so hard it almost hurt, but he would gladly have let her break every bone in his body, if it could in some way lessen her pain.

"I'm here, Ruth, I'm here," he told her, wishing the words didn't sound quite so inane. The look she shot him was grateful, though, and once they had her secured inside a delivery room, the doctors let him stay by her side.

"Christ, it hurts," Ruth moaned, her head thrashing on the pillow, her hand squeezing his ever tighter.

He was no good in these sorts of situations, he knew. Let him be the one who was in pain, and he was fine, could put on a brave face and soldier through almost anything, but hurt the one he loved, and he was reduced to nothing but trite platitudes. It looked like she was still in her pajamas, her clothes wrinkled and her whole body shaking with the force of another contraction, and he couldn't help but think how lovely she was. His lovely, brave, fiercely strong Ruth; they'd been through so much together, and he knew he had to keep the faith, had to believe that they could get through this, as well.

Harry reached out and smoothed her sweaty hair back from her brow, dropping a gentle kiss against her forehead. "I know it does. You're safe now, Ruth, you're safe, it's going to be all right."

If the doctor and the nurses thought it odd, his reassuring her that she was safe, they made no mention of it. In fact, they made no mention of anything at all; they were trying to monitor the baby's heartbeat, and every last one of them wore a worried expression on their faces.

"What is it, what's happened?" Ruth asked sharply as the sound of the fetal heart-rate monitor, frantic and strangely staccato, filled the room. It's never sounded like that before, Harry thought, panic rising in his chest.

"Ruth," the doctor said in a clipped, professional tone of voice, "your baby's in distress. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to do a C-Section, and we're going to have to do it now."

The nurses immediately started pushing Harry away from her, preparations well underway; inside he felt only turmoil, wanting to give them room to work, but not wanting to take so much as a single step away from her bedside.

"Harry? Harry!" Ruth had lost sight of him, for the nurses leaning over her.

"I'm here, I'm here," he answered, trying to catch her eye over their shoulders, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Harry, I want to call her Sophia," Ruth said between panting breaths.

He very nearly started to cry; here they were, surrounded by nurses and one very terse doctor, by tubes and machines and frenetic, electronic beeping, and Ruth wanted to call their daughter Sophia.

"Ruth-"

"Sophia Grace. Promise me, Harry, promise me if something happens to me, that's what you'll call her."

"Nothing's going to happen to-"

"I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to leave," the doctor cut in, sliding smoothly between them. Harry could have killed him, in that moment.

"Harry-"

"I have to go, Ruth," Harry told her as he was almost physically dragged from the room. "I'll be here, when you wake up. I love you."

Time seemed to grind to a halt, just then; he couldn't believe he'd done that. Blame it on his damned horrible sense of timing again, he supposed, but Harry simply couldn't bear the thought of losing her, before he had a chance to tell her.

"I love you, too," she answered, her voice thick and already groggy from the anesthesia. "I should have told you years ago…"

Those were the last words he heard, before he found himself thrust unceremoniously out into the hall, the door to the delivery room slamming in his face with a horrible clang of finality.