Come home

Next chapter will be the last. Thanks to all those who've been reading and reviewing from the beginning.

30/12/98

"Do you ever sleep?" Fiona said blearily to her son, knowing he could hear her, doubting he'd pay any attention. "Every time I get half way off..." She sighed, glancing at the clock. "Where's your father got to?" Another bout of kicking was the only response she got. She sighed. "Two more weeks, then you get a bit more space." She shifted slightly on the sofa and closed her eyes.

Phone. Fiona jerked awake and made a grab for it. Ten, and still no word from Adam.

"Hello?"

"Fi."

"Adam." She smiled. He was still alive then. "Where are you? What happened?"

"I'm sorry Fiona. Something came up. We-" He stopped abruptly.

"Adam?" She said quietly. No reply. "Adam, what's wrong?"

"Fi, we did a raid on this big old house in Kent, and-" He stopped again, breathing audible.

"Adam, what was it? What did you see?"

"Sam's dead." Fiona froze, mouth hanging slightly open. "He was shot. There were only two shots fired in the whole- and one of them just had to-" Sam. Sam, who laughed everything off, who'd perfected winding Chris up, who took no sugar in tea, two in coffee, who wrote in green ink wherever possible, who'd once broken in to Adam's computer account and set all his sound files to REM `Losing my religion` to persuade him to pick a more obscure password, who'd take on anyone in a fight, but froze at sight of a mouse. Fiona's breath caught in her throat. For a while, she and Adam were silent, still reeling in shock.

"Fiona, you know how... usually after... we, the rest of the unit-" Fiona nodded pointlessly. After a death, and MI6 unit came together, to mourn, to remember. They were the only ones who'd really known Sam; his family had thought he worked for DEFRA. "Usually, it's the section head, but-" Fiona nodded again. It was the section head who hosted. Another unwritten rule. But it was the section head they were mourning.

"You're senior field."

"I know."

"OK." That was her consent. The rest of the unit could come over. She didn't want to be left on her own.

"Thanks."

"How long?"

"Forty minutes?"

"OK. See you then."

"Love you."

"Love you too." Adam hung up.

Fiona had made a decent attempt at tidying up by the time she heard the key in the lock. Adam, Sarah, Zaf and Tash walked in. Tash's eyes were red rimmed, Sarah was white as a sheet and not looking at anyone, Zaf was pale, his jaw set. Adam? There was a deliberateness to his movements, a reluctance to meet her gaze and a fine spray of blood across the left side of his head. He and Zaf were each carrying a six pack of beer. Fiona started taking people's coats automatically.

"Sit anywhere." She instructed the group, taking Adam's beer from him. " Adam, go and wash your face." Adam looked at her confusedly. "Just go." He went. Fiona set the beer down on a low table in the living room and pulled the plastic binding off. Tash, Sarah and Zaf settled on the sofas. Fiona threw a beer to each of them, then sat down herself.

"You not drinking?" Tash asked. Fiona shook her head, glancing down at herself. "I'd never have the willpower." Adam returned, with a wet face, looking shakier than he had when he'd got home, and carrying a glass of the blood orange juice she drank instead of alcohol.

"I'm sorry," She said, taking it. "I have to ask. How long did-" Adam shook his head.

"Before he hit the floor. He probably didn't even feel it." Zaf shifted, head down, elbows on his knees. "It's the worst one to see though, isn't it?" Adam asked him. Zaf nodded.

"Where?" Fiona asked tentatively.

"Left eye." Adam said shortly. Fiona closed her eyes and drew a breath. That was a horrible one to see. Zaf shook his head and shifted again.

"My head wasn't eight inches from his. It could so easily-"

"I know." Adam cut Zaf off. "So was mine. It could have just as easily have been either of us." Fiona's breath caught in her throat. Thank God it hadn't been Adam. Oh thank God. Thank God.

"Who shot the guy who did it?" Tash asked.

"Adam." Zaf said quietly, not looking up. "I froze."

"No you didn't." Adam replied gently. "You responded when I told you to get down in case there were more."

"I didn't have the sense to shoot back though."

"I didn't realise Sam was dead." Adam said. "Not for a moment. Not till I'd shot the other guy."

"He didn't yell." Zaf said. "The section head in Epsilon, Bartoschz, used to say that if someone takes a bullet and doesn't yell, they're dead or dying."

"Not always." Adam said quietly. Sarah gave a choking laugh.

"D'you remember at those docks in Nigeria?" Adam smiled and nodded.

"What?" Fiona asked.

"You were elsewhere." Adam said. "Sarah, Sam and I were hiding in bushes by a dock, eavesdropping. One guy checked for eavesdroppers by firing a few rounds in to said bushes."

"Sam took one in the elbow. We'd all have been in big trouble if he'd yelled, he kind of... reverse yelled. He did this weird gasp, pulled faces but they didn't hear him."

"He didn't take it `in` the elbow as such." Adam corrected. "It clipped him. It still bled a lot, and presumably hurt a lot, but it wasn't a dangerous wound. Actually, knowing Sam, that wouldn't have made any difference."

"He'd have tried to carry on with a fence post through his guts." Tash said quietly, eyes still down. Fiona nodded.

"Tenacious to the point of fanatical, brave to the point of reckless." Adam nodded.

"OK, finest hour?"

"Sierra Leon that time." Sarah said after a moment. "When he bluffed his way in to the mercenary briefing, bugged, and recorded all the orders." A few half-laughs chased each other round the room, then died out.

"Recruiting me." Tash said, smiling sarcastically. Adam sighed.

"Well, I suppose we all make mistakes." Tash almost laughed.

"You were a private detective, weren't you?" Zaf asked. Tash nodded.

"Our investigations got caught up and we kept running in to each other. One time, I followed him for more than half an hour, with two wigs, a coat and a hoodie. Eventually, he turned round, grabbed me, I pretended to be a hooker, he didn't buy it, and told me to get lost or I'd get killed."

"But you didn't?" Zaf asked.

"No, I kept following him, offered him an intel swap, gave him intel he really needed, he gave me bull, then came back a week later, apologised and offered me a job." Adam laughed.

"Sam always insisted that hand-picked Spooks are better than applicants."

"He was one, of course." Fiona said quietly. "I'd say dropping his tracker and mic in to a shipment of guns in Kazakhstan, while under fire. We all thought he was dead, but we found the terrorists, then he walked in to the embassy, barefoot and limping, two days later." Everyone smiled fleetingly, then looked at Zaf, who shrugged.

"I didn't know him that long, but from what I saw, it was working out which one of the South African spooks was genuine." Fiona remembered that. Four South Africans, all claiming to be Baras Norman, a spook they were meant to be working with, all with iron-clad legends. Sam had done it in less time than it took to get through to the real Baras Norman's superior for a codeword.

"Taking Caroline Verna alive." Adam said. "An Argentinean spymaster, we needed her to hostage swap one of our guys out. She kept trying to kill herself, put a poisoned barb through Sam's trousers, but he'd worn enough padding to save himself. I do not know how he did it. He'd never say."

It went on, the battery of anecdotes; worst mistake, time he made you laugh the most, time you most wanted to hit him... It was gone midnight before Fiona and Adam were alone. Adam sighed deeply as he locked the door. Fiona was beside him in a moment. He turned to her and pulled her in to his arms. She kissed his neck. He reciprocated.

"Thank God it wasn't you." She breathed. "Thank God it wasn't you." Adam didn't reply. He was shaking.

"You don't think of someone like Sam..."

"I know. I know. It's alright."

"I've still got you."

"I know. Let's get you to bed." Adam nodded and let her lead him away. He'd be alright. Tonight would be hard, but he'd survive. He always did.