Thanks for the reviews for chapter one. I know it's tragic, but I think your feedback is quite possibly the highlight of my day at the moment :')

"Anyone would think you hadn't eaten in weeks!" Harry chuckled, watching Wes in amazement as he scoffed down his third helping of ice cream after already making his way through a sizeable starter and main course too.

Thank God they'd decided against The Ritz and taken the child's advice on this Pizza Hut place. True, the food was a little too junk-like for Harry's liking, but the salad bar was handy, and he had to admit he'd rather enjoyed his onion rings.

"Oh, let him be. He's a growing lad," Ruth reprimanded gently, finishing off the remains of a strawberry sundae, "He deserves a treat once in a while."

"Indeed."

"It's very kind of you, Uncle Harry. And...and Ruth."

"You're welcome," Ruth smiled delicately. The boy reminded her so much of Adam; it was difficult to look him in the eye without remembering his father. But he also brought back so many memories of her time in Cyprus – Nico would be around the same age as Wes now. In a different world, she was sure they'd have made great friends.

"So," Harry gathered up the plates and piled them in the middle of the table, mopping at the corners of his mouth and turning to Wes, "How about we take a stroll in the park?"

Wes had already enjoyed several hours of stories about his parents, but both Harry and Ruth had avoided discussing the actual purpose of these missions, and the details of their jobs. One could never be too careful, even in a tacky restaurant overflowing with excitable kids. The park would provide a little cover for the true revelations.

Harry paid for the meal efficiently as Ruth and Wes turned to converse about something or other. He tipped the staff healthily, too; he still recalled the trying times in junior years when he'd been paid so badly, and empathised with the society here.

Wes, for a teenager, was incredibly child-like; chattering away to Ruth as if she were a long lost aunt, and pretty much begging Harry to buy a loaf of bread to feed the ducklings when they reached the park. He'd missed out on his childhood, really, though; however hard his parents had tried, his life was never going to be normal. All the normal family experiences had passed him by – it was really rather tragic.

"What subjects do you like at school, then, Wes?" Ruth questioned as they approached the park, resisting the urge to wrap her arm around the boy. He wouldn't have minded, she was sure. But something held her back. He wasn't her son; she barely knew him. She hoped that would come. But for now she needed to go easy on him.

"They're all okay, really. I like history, and geography. And French; my teacher says I should do it at GCSE." Wes shrugged, oblivious to the knowing glance exchanged between Harry and Ruth. This child, unwittingly, was an absolutely ideal candidate for MI5. It remained to be seen how he'd take that suggestion. "PE is the best, though; I still love rugby, and football's good too."

"Sport was my worst nightmare at school," she chuckled, taking Harry's hand as they wandered across the lush grass towards the water, Wes scrambling in front brandishing bread.

It had taken them a long while to admit their feelings for each other; the problem with spies was that they fell into the habit of lying to themselves as well as everyone else. Both shared the love of literature, and had regularly quoted famous writers in their first few years of working together. Now, they used that as a form of fond banter as opposed to tension. Where there was a will, there was generally a way.

"Do you think he'll be okay with it, then? It's a big revelation; he's only just begun to talk about his parents, and now we're going to tell him about the secrets kept from the world? Are you sure he's ready?"

"You worry so, Ruth," Harry sighed, squeezing her hand tenderly, "I know you just want to protect him, but he's been protected for far too long now – it isn't doing any good shielding him from the truth when the lies are worse. His parents would want him to know."

"Yes, I suppose." they followed him across to the water's edge. He was down on his knees, reaching down with handfuls of bread and dropping it neatly in front of the ducks. He was gentle with them, though, moving slowly so as not to frighten them, and making sure every creature got a helping.

Fiona's influence, Ruth supposed – Wes's mother may sometimes have been steely or aloof, but deep down she was a wonderful person; calm and collected, yet warm and considerate. She fitted perfectly together with Adam's traits and emotions – they complimented each other so well, and so supportively. Wes was a perfect mixture of the two, with a little individuality thrown in.

Harry glanced around subconsciously; the park was mercifully quiet, "I'm not sure anyone's been entirely honest with you. There are certain things children shouldn't be subjected to. But I...we...feel that you're ready for the truth now. That it'll help you to understand your life better."

Wes didn't reply, continuing to feed the ducks. He was so used to guarding his emotions now, he wasn't sure who he really was any more. For a moment, he'd felt he could truly trust these people; as if he could be himself around them. But now...now he wasn't so sure. What were they gearing up to reveal? Did he really want to know?

"Wes...Wes, have you heard of an organisation called MI5? The security services?" Harry continued at the lack of response, speaking slowly and clearly, "Your mum and dad worked for them. For me."

"Like...like James Bond? Like spies? With guns, and drugs, and murder? Lying all their lives?" Harry provoked a reaction this time, definitely, but not of the kind he'd wished for. Wes threw the rest of the bread to the birds and spun around, eyeing Ruth now. She had the kind of eyes you could trust. "They didn't die like I was told, then? They were murdered? And I just was thrown away?"

"No, Wes. It was never like that. Both your parents were incredibly heroic in th..."

"They were spies?"

"Yes, they were spies, but..."

"I thought they were nice people! I thought they loved me!" Wes yelled suddenly, jumping up and throwing the bread packet at Harry angrily, "When all they ever did is lie and kill and lie some more and...and leave me!"

"Wes!" Harry pleaded, his eyes wide in horror as the boy hurried away from them, throwing tearful glances back over his shoulder. Ruth stood too, moving as if to follow him, but Harry grabbed her sleeve. "No, Ruth. Let him go now. He needs time to think; he'll come round."

"He's thirteen, Harry – he can't be left alone to run around the streets of London! What would his father say now? I told you it was too early; I told you! How would you take it if your entire life was suddenly tipped upside down?"

"Ruth, it's not going to help anyone if y..."

"Well done, Harry. Another great job," she flounced away, her coat flying out behind her as she set off after Wes.

Harry sank down onto the bench beside him, his heart sinking. Why was it that, when he set out to do good – to compensate his mistakes - he did even more harm?

XxXxX