Decided this is set mid series 5, post Havensworth but before any silliness with Cotterdam!
Harry put down the glass of scotch. It was empty. But that wasn't the point.
The point was Ruth.
Wasn't it always.
She was trying to say something. Who knew what?
Was she okay? Was there a problem? What if that second date was something she now wanted.
Stop it. Imagination running away.
What had she actually said?...Nothing really.
It had been a conversation with Ruth … what did they ever say that made sense?
But still.
It wasn't easy maintaining boiling point on a bus.
With every stop that moved her closer to him the cells fuelled with the alcoholic verve that had energised her, began to slowly seep; a gentle but noticeable waning of enthusiasm and determination.
The regular rocking of the bus, the soothing sway of its journey, the soft music of traffic and buzz of conversation: all were conducive not to boiling, not to simmering, but to something altogether much less stressful.
Harry paced across the office, something altogether less sharp about him than usual. Ruffled, creased blue shirt, no tie, sleeves pushed up. His hand slid up to rub at tired, worried eyes.
Adam appeared at the door.
Harry's gaze flew to him.
"Nothing."
A hand slammed down against the desk.
"Jo's staying at the house," Adam continued, "Ros is on her way in, Malcolm's rechecking all the chatter."
"Ros is here," said Ros stepping through the door with her usual impeccable timing. She glanced at Adam and Harry's bent, taut back.
"Have we got no trace on her phone?" she asked.
Harry turned, in his raised hand a mobile.
"Oh," said Ros.
"It was on her living room floor."
"Last call?"
"To me," said Harry.
"About?"
Harry quirked his head but said nothing. Ros looked back to Adam who shrugged slightly. "It's not very clear."
"Well, it is Ruth," scoffed Ros.
"She said something along the lines of 'Harry, could you…would you?'"
"'Could you, would you'…what?"
"I don't know," Harry said rather loudly.
"That's conclusive," Ros's voice dripped with sarcasm, "No wonder you've been here all night searching for her," She turned away.
A hand suddenly blocked the doorway and a voice hissed close in her ear.
"Front door unlocked, signs of a struggle, phone abandoned." She glanced up at the intense, passionate, angry face of her boss. "One of my officers has vanished in unexplained circumstances, do you want to wait until we find a body before you deem it fit to act?"
"Besides which," chimed in Adam, "she had a copy of all the transcripts from Havensworth!"
Harry slowly removed his arm, anger fading, worry rushing in once more to replace it.
"She was trying to tell me something, Ros."
"Then we better find her," she replied with as soft a smile as Ros Myers was capable of, "…so that we can find out what."
"Love…?"
"Mmmm."
She felt his hand upon her arm, the delicate squeeze of his fingers.
"Love…?"
"Harry…"
His other hand sliding up her shoulder.
"Come on, love."
Ruth's eyes opened fully. This was no Harry before her, no hazel eyes, no gentle smile, no sharp suit.
"Time to get off."
"Wh …where …?" she murmured confused.
"The depot. They must have missed seeing you curled up back here."
"Oh." Ruth sat up glancing around at the empty seats around her, the regimented rows of double deckers formed up in parade outside the window.
Her eyes shifted groggily back to the overalled man, mop and bucket propped behind him.
"Time is it?" she asked rubbing her eyes.
"Well, I'm running a bit behind myself this morning," he glanced at his watch, shaking his head, "better get on, quarter to seven already."
"What!"
Vision no longer fogged with sleep and with a head that suddenly discovered itself to be properly pounding Ruth stood up. Rather too quickly. She grasped the top of the nearest seat and vowed never to touch rioja again.
"I … I need to …" sentences appeared to be more of a problem than standing.
"Get to work?" ventured the cleaner, smiling in the rather irritating way of one with a clear head.
She managed a barely perceptible nod.
"Well, you're in the right place for a bus!"
Ruth didn't laugh.