Felicity spent the next seven days working off-Grid. Harry knew from the phone calls he received from her at all hours of the day and night that she was working all the hours she could, and only stopping to sleep when exhaustion forced her to. He was astute enough to see that she imagined that in `saving' Ruth and the others, she was somehow also saving Anthony. The loss of a loved one did strange things to people. It brought up more than just questions of what is life, what is death, and why not me? It brought one to the very brink of existence, so that standing at the very boundary between life and death and gazing into the abyss was welcomed when despair threatened to overwhelm. Harry was aware that Felicity needed a purpose, and she needed to keep busy. Malcolm had enthusiastically jumped on board, eager for a new project to occupy himself since he'd had found it necessary to put his mother in a nursing home.

Part way through the second week after Felicity had shared her findings with Harry, she and Malcolm visited the Grid, smiles on their faces. It was late afternoon, and Alec White was the only field operative still on the Grid. Both Erin and Dimitri were out on assignment, Calum, citing nausea, had gone home early, and the remaining clerical staff were packing up in preparation for leaving for the day.

"Meeting room, I think," said Harry, after he shook hands with Malcolm. "I think Alec should join us. What do you think, Felicity?"

"I'm happy with that."

So, Harry and Alec sat on opposite sides of the table in the meeting room, while Felicity and Malcolm set up the laptop she'd been using over the past ten days.

"Before I begin," Felicity said, "I need to emphasise that time is critical, and the sooner we act on this the better chance there is for an outcome which satisfies."

"Whoa, whoa," said Alec. "What is this about? Are you going to tell me?"

"You'll get the picture as we go along, Alec," Malcolm said. "As Felicity mentioned, time is of the essence, as there are precious lives at stake here."

"When isn't there?" Alec commented, his frustration barely in check.

"Alec," Harry interrupted. "Just drop it, OK? Let them speak. All will become clear in due course."

"Fine," Alec said, slipping down into his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

"So," began Felicity. "the clinics being used are just outside Oxford, and another on the outskirts of Bristol. Both clinics have been used by the military, but are now privately owned. The research, as far as we can gather, is being funded by a consortium of investors, both in the UK, as well as France and the Middle East. There are a number of staff members of Indian heritage, but that may just be a statistical anomaly, rather than a connection to India itself. The only clear connection we have found between the security services and the research project is a series of permission forms, which have been signed by ….." Felicity clicked a new page, and magnified on the screen above the table was a form, signed by no other than -

"Towers!" Harry said, his voice incredulous.

"Except that's not his signature," Malcolm added. "William Towers always signs his name as Wm Towers. That signature, while it looks almost exactly like his, omits the `m'."

"Is that dumb oversight, or do you think it's deliberate?" Harry asked.

"It's hard to say," replied Malcolm. "Closer examination of the signature shows it to be an almost exact copy, so I'm not sure why they'd leave out something as important as the `m'."

"So, who is the real security services connection then?" asked Harry.

"The only one I can think who would be capable of this," said Felicity, "is Paul Middlemass, and he was decommissioned over a year ago."

"Middlemass has a medical degree as well as a law degree," added Malcolm. "But we have nothing to connect him directly to this. Having said that, anyone who had engineered this little plot would want to keep themselves and their name at a distance, but their bank account close by."

"Next," said Felicity, moving on, "is the pharmaceutical side of this. Because this is what it's all about, and the reason they've used security personnel as their guinea pigs may just be accidental, although I find that hard to believe. There are two drugs being trialled, neither of which could be trialled openly by the big pharmaceutical companies, thus this covert operation. Genesis 1197 restarts the body's metabolic processes, provided it is administered within an hour of the heart having stopped, and the earlier the better. It is injected directly into the heart in the first instance, and thereafter it is injected into the bloodstream. Depending on the condition of the patient, it may need to be administered for anything from three weeks to six months. My brother, Jeremy, is a medical researcher, and he says that Genesis 1197 has been talked about for over a decade, but most researchers believed it to be an urban myth. Apparently not so. There are nine security personnel on which Genesis 1197 is being trialled. All met their deaths during the past 6 months, and all had minimal body trauma."

"Wait." interrupted Alec, sitting up straight in his chair. "Ruth? Is this what this is about?"

The was a deafening silence in the room as they all waited for someone to answer Alec.

"Yes," Harry said at last. "Ruth is alive and has been treated with the Genesis drug."

"Jesus, Harry," Alec continued. "How can you just sit there? Why aren't you in your car right now, on your way to rescuing her?"

"Because," interrupted Malcolm, always the voice of reason, "how and when that is done is to be part of a very delicate operation. Chances are the person to sweep in and rescue Ruth and the others will have to be you or Dimitri, or even Erin. Harry is too close to this, too emotionally involved. Besides, there is a slight complication in this research project. The chief drug on trial is the Genesis drug. It can never see the light of day."

"Why ever not?" Alec almost shouted, his frustration evident. "Whoever owns it stands to make a fortune."

"Perhaps, but it's complicated also," continued Malcolm. "Who gets it and who doesn't is a task too hard. Should it be confined to the military, to ensure we always have people available to fight? Should it be for those who can afford it, such as the very wealthy? What do we do when the population of the earth outstrips food supplies? It's an ethical minefield. Besides, there's another drug on trial, and this is where things get complicated. Felicity?"

"The second drug is called Forseti 12, after the Norse God of truth and peace. Except this drug is used to change a person's perception of the truth, so it's more of a liar's drug than a truth drug. It's used to induce states of hypnosis, during which the patient's sense of what is true can be altered. The positive thing about this is that it appears to be short acting, and so needs to be administered, if not daily, then every other day. The research notes indicate that the patients used have needed it every day."

"Why are they using that drug?" Alec asked. "The truth drug, or the lying drug? Why use that?"

"To control them," Felicity said. "The patients to whom they have successfully administered Genesis 1197 are all free to come and go as they please. Many have jobs. Ruth is working in the archive section of the Bristol Central Library. She got the job under her own steam, and three days a week she goes to work, and back to the medical facility without being watched or followed. That's part of the way they test the effectiveness of the treatment. Do you think she'd be doing that if she knew Harry was here waiting for her? That her life here is waiting for her?"

"So," mused Alec, "they've lied to her about us, about Harry."

"Most likely," replied Felicity. "It would be easy to change her perception of the truth. Were she to have asked after us, or more specifically after Harry, it's likely they told her that he's moved on, that he's found someone else, that he's married, that someone else is doing her job at the Home Office. You get the picture. If you're reminded every day of how you've been replaced, then that works far better as a control mechanism than minders and locks on doors."

"Jesus," breathed Alec. "That's so evil. But it's brilliant, also. I still don't see why you don't just sweep in and bring her home, Harry."

"Alec," replied Harry, "as much as I really want to do that, because more than anything right now I want to see her, were she to struggle, or in any way resist coming with me, that could create a disturbance, police could be called, and it could become a disaster, rather than a happy reunion. I want this to work, so I'm prepared to be patient. And there are eight other patients in this trial. Their loved ones have been grieving also, and they'll be relying on us to get each of them back in one piece."

"Which is where the rescue operation comes into play," added Malcolm. "Most of Section D will be involved in this, so a coordinated approach is required."

"When are we planning on swooping in, then?" asked Alec.

"Two days from now," replied Malcolm. "It will have to happen in Ruth's lunch hour, because she's our first priority. CO19 will be on standby. Technically, these people are being held hostage. It's a chemical kidnapping, rather than physical, but it's still a hostage situation. The fact that this research team has been able to give these people another chance at life should not excuse them from the darker sides of their intent. They are not doing Ruth and the others any favours. They are using them in order to make money. It's that simple."

.

Two days later, Harry was ensconced in an upstairs bedroom in a small country hotel east of Bristol. This particular hotel had been chosen due to its owner being a former military associate of Harry's, and so likely to remain discreet. Harry lay on his back on the broad expanse of the bed, wondering what lay ahead for he and Ruth. In some ways, it could not be any worse than what they'd already endured – their on again, off again relationship, their continued enforced celibacy, her sudden death just as he'd agreed to leave the service to be with her. The last eight or so months had brought all kinds of hell for Harry. He was excited at the prospect of seeing her again, but Felicity had also warned him that Ruth would most likely be changed by her experiences, and so he should not hold his hopes too high. He had been warned that there was even a possibility that she would no longer have feelings for him. The effects of the drugs which had been used on her were largely unknown.

Suddenly his phone rang, it's ringtone seeming louder and more insistent than usual. "Yes," he said, despite almost holding his breath.

"It's done, Harry," Dimitri's voice came through the earpiece. "One of the patients was shot and killed during the takeover of the facility at Oxford, but now both facilities are under CO19 guard until the security services do a thorough investigation. All other patients – all eight of them – are safe."

"And Ruth?"

"Look outside your window."

He did. Dimitri's car had just pulled up, and he was helping a small figure in blue jeans and pale blue jumper out of the passenger side seat. Suddenly she looked up, and seeing him standing at the window, she smiled and waved. Without thinking, he waved back. Her hair was a little longer, but she looked the same as she had last time he'd seen her.

Suddenly Harry was nervous. He'd brought with him to this hotel her pillow, some of her clothes, including pyjamas and a dressing gown, underwear, and a few of her books. And her perfume, because it is her perfume which he associates with her, the scent left in a room after she has left it.

There was a gentle knocking at his hotel room door. "Coming," he called out. He opened the door, and there she was. It had been fifteen and a half weeks since she'd died in his arms, and all he wanted to do was to put his arms around her again, to hold her close so that no-one on earth could again take her from him.

"Come in," he said, standing back to let both she and Dimitri into the room.

"I'll just stay out here for now, Harry," Dimitri said, embarrassment clear on his face. "I don't want to – you know – get in your way."

"Thank you, Dimitri. Get yourself a coffee or a drink from the bar. You've earned it."

Harry closed the door, and turned to see that Ruth had made her way into the room, and was going through her books. "Harry, you know me so well," she said, turning to him and smiling, the Ovid in her hands.

"I'm glad you like what I chose," he said. I brought some of your clothes, too. And your pillow," he said, pointing to the bed. He stood awkwardly just inside the closed door, wanting to hold her, but not wanting to frighten her away.

"They told me you'd moved on," she said, her voice and her face suddenly serious.

"No, Ruth, I haven't moved on. I'm still -"

"So why are you standing all the way over there?"

He stood facing her, not moving, too afraid to move, while she walked towards him, never taking her eyes from his. When she'd almost reached him, she stopped, a question in her eyes. He stepped the distance to her and suddenly grabbed her, holding her against him, while he buried his face in her hair. He felt a sob emerge from deep within him, but he suppressed it. This was a moment for joy, not pain. They had endured enough pain. He heard Ruth laughing, her face against his chest, so he pulled her closer. "I've missed you so much," was all he managed to say.