Gods and Monsters

by BigMamaThornton

In the time it took us to blink, we missed so many things. Fleshing out those moments when our eyes were closed. H/R, somewhat AU, I don't own them, I just play with them. All series characters owned by KUDOS, and may/may not make an appearance. Just a little something I wish they had fleshed out a bit more….

15. Chap15: Hunigsuce

A/N: Just a bit of housekeeping. I always thought it interesting that Angela Wells never intended to blow up Thames House. I think she simply wanted answers from Ruth. Had I been in Ruth's shoes, I'd have been more disturbed by having revealed things which proved entirely unnecessary. But, whatever KUDOS. I can work with it. I'm rubbish with official document language, so willing suspension is encouraged. I've chosen a format which is a bit of departure for me, and hope it doesn't prove complete folly. Please enjoy, and leave a review if you've a mind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Before I die alone

Before my time has gone

There's just one thing I have to do

Before the fire and stone

Before your world is gone

Have you some patience

Cuz I will have my vengeance

Before I die alone

Let me have vengeance

Before my time has gone

I will have vengeance"

-Vengeance, Zack Hemsley

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTS

Debriefing of R. Evershed, Senior Analyst, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5, events substantive to hours coinciding unplanned lock down occurring within Section D, Counter-Terrorism/MI5 Grid commencing at approximately 6PM, 11 November 2005, and extending until approximately 9:12AM, 12 November 2005.

Summary Notes:

***The following report contains transcripts of recorded conversation occurring between R. Evershed, Senior Analyst, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5, and A. Wells, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5, Agent, Retired.

***The following suggests clandestine activities, a.k.a. Black Op, surrounding the possible involvement of unnamed members belonging to various levels of British Security Services in the circumstances surrounding the death of PD, 31 August 1997, Paris, France, fatal car collision.

***The following confirms R. Evershed in possession of believed NO EYES document. There is further suggestion R. Evershed availed herself the contents and subject matter contained within document. While it is unclear the circumstances providing her said document, the conclusion it was unsolicited appears valid. Her actions constitute a grievous infraction of standard protocol subject to potential criminal prosecution.

***The assumption the NO EYES document in question was provided R. Evershed by A. Wells, while not confirmed in this transcript by either party, remains the most likely, and accepted theory. The means by which A. Wells came into possession of the same remains undisclosed. Her actions are subject to potential criminal prosecution under the Terrorism Act.

***The following alludes strongly to the unwarranted surveillance of R. Evershed, to include her person and present dwelling, suggesting origination of such both covert and instituted by unnamed factions with the British Security Services. Investigation is pending at the time of transcription.

***The following suggests a previously undisclosed personal relationship existing between R. Evershed and H. Pearce, Section Head, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5. It further suggests evidence contained in said unlawful surveillance supports this conclusion. It should be noted all evidence of surveillance is unavailable at the time of this transcription. In the absence of evidence confirming the aforementioned preexisting relationship, its absolute existence should be interpreted strictly as speculative in nature.

***The following includes discussion of Peter Haigh, Former Royal Guard, PD Detail, Decommissioned, Deceased, Self Inflicted. It should be noted the date of his demise coincides exactly the dates in which this incursion occurred.

***The following includes discussion of Daniel Evershed, Physician, Father of R. Evershed, Deceased, Natural Causes.

***The following includes discussion of David Haigh, Architect, Father of Peter Haigh and Elizabeth Evershed Haigh, Spouse, Mother of R. Evershed. Both alive at the time of this transcription.

***It should be noted each statement is preceeded by the name of speaker indicated as identified to transcriber, the statement appearing in italics. Any additional necessary information provided by transcriber deemed relevant and/or necessary for inclusion is provided, and designated parenthetically. All redactions are at the express direction of H. Pearce, Section Head, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5.

***This document, its contents and details, are granted the highest security level given to state secrets; Any breach of confidentiality, protocol, or misappropriation therein will be viewed an act of treason, and subject to criminal prosecution.

A. Wells: "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

R. Evershed: "I'm not the one holding a detonator, Angela." (extended pause) Why have you done this?"

A. Wells: "I should think that obvious, Ruth. I want answers. I've wanted them for a long time, now."

R. Evershed: "To what, Angela? This isn't about Harry. Or, some clandestine committee. You can't possibly have believed the services capable-" (subject interrupted, remaining statement indecipherable)

A. Wells: "But you did, didn't you? Don't deny that you thought he could do it. Don't insult us both by suggesting that the very idea of it didn't turn your blood cold; And don't pretend you don't know the reasons why it would matter so much. To you, especially you, Ruth." (subject is believed to be referring to H. Pearce)

R. Evershed: "What are-" (subject interrupted, remaining statement indecipherable)

A. Wells: "Do you believe last night was the first time I broke into your home? Do you honestly believe there isn't a reason why you were chosen? You specifically, Ruth? Go on, give it a minute, it'll come to you. There's not much left that is secret anymore, least of all that." (subject speaking appears to laugh)

R. Evershed: "Cameras?"

A. Wells: "Several."

R. Evershed: "How long?"

A. Wells: "Long enough, Ruth."

R. Evershed: "You put them there?"

A. Wells: "That, and more, if I'm honest." (nine visual surveillance devices have been confirmed present. The existence of audio devices present remains unconfirmed at the time of this transcription. Any further conformation of such existing, see addendum.)

R. Evershed: "For whom?"

A. Wells: "No. Your turn."

R. Evershed: "To what? My turn to what, Angela?"

A. Wells: "Answer my questions, of course."

(R. Evershed does not offer any response. It is assumed some manner of physical motion indicated her continued participation.)

A. Wells: "I'll take that as assent?"

R. Evershed: "Take it whatever way that suits you, Angela."

A. Wells: "Did you love him?" ( the person in question remains unnamed, but subsequent statements suggest a reference to Peter Haigh)

R. Evershed: "Why does this matter? Tell me you haven't put hundreds of lives at risk for the sake of asking this?"

A. Wells: "Oh, but I have, Ruth, for that sake and more, make no mistake. I'm curious, do you ever feel responsible for his death? Do you ever wonder the reasons he would chose to decorate the wall with his brains, Ruth?" ( subject confirms earlier statement referencing Peter Haigh as factual)

R. Evershed: "I didn't give him the gun-" (subject interrupted, remaining statement indecipherable)

A. Wells: "But you killed him just the same. Your indifference, your refusal to speak to him, help him, as potent as any gun in his hand." (subject providing clear reference to Peter Haigh, deceased, suicide, single gunshot)

R. Evershed: "No. He was sick, Angela. Had been for some time. He needed help. Help I couldn't give him, and you should have. You say you loved him and yet you did nothing-" (subject interrupted, remaining statement indecipherable)

A. Wells: "Nothing? I did nothing? Oh, that's rich, that really is. I stood by him when everyone else turned their backs. Including you. I only ever wanted him to be happy. So simple, Ruth. And you, always there in his head, I couldn't compete. Did you know I celebrated when you dropped away. I bloody thanked the heavens not to have to suffer you, watch as you continued to eat at him." (subject becoming noticeably agitated, intermittently raised voice, sounds conducive to physical movement present)

R. Evershed: "No, Angela. You can't have it both ways. Not today. I'll not be blamed for presence and absence. Try another tact. That one is too well worn to prove effective anymore." (subject alludes to previous confrontational interactions with speaker, history of such unconfirmed at time of this transcription)

A. Wells: "That so? Well, how's this? Is the guilt you feel for Peter the same or different in measure from the guilt associated with killing your father? Tell me Ruth, what does it taste like?" (subject referring to Daniel Evershed, physician, deceased, natural causes)

R. Evershed: "How could you have imagined he could ever love the creature you are? What does that taste like? What is the specific flavor of unrequited?" (subject confirms reference to Peter Haigh)

A. Wells: "Good. Very good. Sour, but one gets used to it. You will, I've no doubt on that score."

R. Evershed: "I've little desire to hurt you, Angela. Please, give me the detonator, and I'll-" (subject interrupted, remaining statement indecipherable)

A. Wells: "Do you feel that, Ruth? Do you know what that is? Its a feeling I'm quite intimately familiar with you could say. Dangerously tricky thing, surveillance. The things one picks up, the kind of tells that are present every day, and yet somehow magnified through a lens. Revealed through unsuspected intrusion. Rather like love, that. The intrusion, the assault. You understand he discards everything, always has done?" (the 'he' to whom subject refers remains undisclosed)

(R. Evershed does not respond to statement, silence for approximately two minutes, eleven-seconds)

R. Evershed: "As I've told you, he didn't take part in a planned assassination. It was worst case scenario, Angela. That's all. Peter was wrong." (it is assumed subject refers to H. Pearce, Section Head, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5)

A. Wells: "God, Ruth, open your eyes."

R. Evershed: "My eyes are open, Angela, and all I see before me is a completely preventable tragedy. I know you miss him, and I know you think I'm to blame. That's...that's fine. We can still fix this, just let us help you."

: "You can help me by telling me the truth, Ruth."

(extended silence, approximately one minute, fifteen-seconds in length)

R. Evershed: "There is something...something I need to tell you. Something that happened when he was twenty, and I was eighteen." (subject confirms reference to Peter Haigh)

A. Wells: "You...You slept with him. Is that what you're trying to tell me?" ( the existence of a sexual relationship between R. Evershed and P. Haigh remains unconfirmed at the time of this transcription)

R. Evershed: "There were rows. At home. His father wasn't getting on with my mother, Peter was attending Uni, and it was getting worse with just me at home." (subject refers to David Haigh, Architect, Father, Peter Haigh, and Elizabeth Evershed Haigh, Spouse, Mother, R. Evershed)

(interference heard over listening device characteristic of physical movement, silence, approximately forty-one seconds in length)

R. Evershed: "He came home one weekend, and we just...we left together. Ran away to Blackpool-" (subject speaking interrupted)

A. Wells: "Blackpool. You ended up in Blackpool. He told me...I remember...He took you away...He felt guilty for not being there. He wanted to save you. You're using him, even now."

R. Evershed: "No. Much as you'd like to believe, I never used him. We...We ended up staying at about the only B&B still open. It was cold, middle of winter."

A. Wells: "How long? How many days? He said he only drove around..."

R. Evershed: "Several. It was several days, Angela. Almost a full week. When we returned there were terrible rows. Strangely, it brought our parents closer. Me...I just left. I just couldn't...You see, it shouldn't have been our parents who met. It should have been Peter and Me. And he always drank, worse after that, but he was drunk almost the entire time in Blackpool. I was drunk with him. He couldn't stop, didn't want to. Neither did I, if I'm honest."

A. Wells: "He was always a dreamer-" (subject speaking interrupted)

R. Evershed: "And in love with me, Angela. Always. Never you. Not for a moment."

A. Wells: "No." (nearly inaudible)

R. Evershed: "Yes. You want to know why he drank? You think it was because he dreamed of a world that didn't exist? The truth is likely far more painful, Angela. He drank, Angela, because he couldn't bear the guilt of not loving you. Or, the guilt of loving me. Take your pick. You think I turned my back on him, but did you ever once ask yourself why he never failed to pull the overnight detail those months before he was decommissioned? The one part of his life that he was allowed to claim his own? The solitary place where you were prevented from following?"

A. Wells: "Shut up."

R. Evershed: "Because he was with me, Angela. All those times, and plenty more before, you thought him sitting sentry, guarding Diana? He was with me, in my home, in my bed, in my arms, and you the furthest thing from his mind."

A. Wells: "Stop." (nearly inaudible)

R. Evershed: "No! You wanted answers, isn't that what this entire charade is about, your answers? Hundreds of lives at risk for the sake of your bloody answers? You strapped a bomb to the wrist of my colleague, Angela; A woman whose nothing to do with this, none of them have! Its just you and me, Angela, and all the answers you could ever want to choke yourself with. Its all there, provided you can stomach it. Go on, take it, you know you want to. I know the spook inside you is screaming for you to do it. Tell me, how do you like holding a bomb designed specifically for you? You taste that? Its called irony."

(subject speaking confirmed possession of cell phone formerly belonging to Peter Haigh, *see official debrief)

A. Wells: "What is this?"

R. Evershed: "His phone. The one you didn't know about. The one we used. I've had it since I watched you dragged half mad into TRING. You remember that, don't you? When you first told me I had killed him? I've a little scar as memento I''m sure you've noticed before."

A. Wells: "You did kill him."

R. Evershed: "I think you'll find the evidence contained within that phone suggests otherwise. And to quote you, Angela, I know the spook inside you is asking 'what if.'"

A. Wells: "You've kept it? All this time?"

R. Evershed: "You want to know. I know you do. What if, Angela?"

A. Wells: "I'm to guess the password?"

R. Evershed: "4-8-6-4-4-7-8-2-3"

A. Wells: "What does it mean? A code?"

R. Evershed: "A word. Old English. Shall I provide clues? A favorite of hummingbirds. Clings to its habitat like a lover's embrace. Intoxicating in scent, thought to symbolize passion, affection, eternal in strength and tenacity. Should I go on, or have you guessed? I can tell by your face you've more than a suspicion. Go on, it'll come to you."

A. Wells: "H-U-N-I-G-S-U-C-E." (meaning and origin of word confirmed correct as described, specific relevance to interaction remains unclear)

R. Evershed: "I don't want to hurt you, Angela. Even so, I can't, will not, allow you to hurt anyone else. Do you understand?"

A. Wells: "Honeysuckle."

R. Evershed: "Yes."

A. Wells: "He...He wrote all this? The entire...He never...For you?"

R. Evershed: "Yes. All of it. Months and months, in fact. I've another, as well. A diary, really. He never intended to ever marry you, Angela. He didn't love you. Now, you've the proof you've wanted. Give me the detonator. Now. Please, Angela. Its done. We're done."

(subjects are silent for two minutes, twenty-six seconds in length.)

R. Evershed: "No, don't..."

(R. Evershed confirms A. Wells depressed hand held detonator at this time, resulting in no detonation, despite understood intention explosive device was actively armed)

***Recorded interaction concludes absent casualties, or further statements from both parties.

**ADDENDUM**

13 November 2005

***Angela Wells, Deceased, Self Inflicted*.

***Explosive device placed within Royal Bunker by A. Wells diffused without incident.

***Adam Carter, Section Chief, Active, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5, sustained gunshot wound to chest, survived, placed on leave for recuperative period of approximately six (6) weeks as recommended by treating medical physician.

***At this time, no formal charges will be brought against R. Evershed, Senior Analyst, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5.

***Visual/Audio Surveillance confirmed to exist within dwelling belonging to R. Evershed, and removed by M. Wynn-Jones, Senior Technician, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5.

***Documentation associated with illegal surveillance remains unaccounted for, but believed to exist.

***An investigation regarding the involvement of J. Wells, Security Coordinator, London Desk, UK, was instituted, results pending at time of addendum.

***All extraneous documents, materials, and minutes associated/regarding the Contingent Events Committee, including contraband No Eyes micro film, excepting this document, destroyed. Witnessed by O. Mace, H. Pearce, N. Blake, and M. Collingwood.

***Suggested relationship existing between H. Pearce and R. Evershed remains unconfirmed at time of addendum. All evidence suggesting otherwise remains undisclosed at time of addendum.

***Investigation surrounding the involvement of additional persons undisclosed as participants remains open, and ongoing at time of addendum.

***This document, its contents and details, are granted the highest security level given to state secrets; Any breach of confidentiality, protocol, or misappropriation therein will be viewed an act of treason, and subject to criminal prosecution.

EVENT DEBRIEF, Pending Official

12 November 2005.

6:00 PM

The following contains transcripts detailing official event debrief of R. Evershed, Senior Analyst, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5 conducted by H. Pearce, Section Head, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5 the events on and surrounding 11 November 2005 and 12 November 2005.

***This document, its contents and details, are granted the highest security level given to state secrets; Any breach of confidentiality, protocol, or misappropriation therein will be viewed an act of treason, and subject to criminal prosecution.

***Contents are provided verbatim. Additional notations are presented parenthetically in the event such is determined necessary.

***Participants are noted by corresponding initials, followed by statements provided.

***All redactions are at the express direction of H. Pearce, Section Head, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5.

HP: For the purposes of recording device, present are Henry James Pearce, Section Head, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5, and Ruth Elizabeth Evershed, Senior Analyst, Section D, Counter Terrorism/MI5. Debrief is being conducted at Thames House, Interrogation Room 4; The date is 12 November 2005; The time approximately 6:00 PM.

HP: Would you care for anything to drink before we begin, Ruth?

RE: I'm fine, thank you, no.

HP: All right, we'll begin then. Can you provide the details relevant to your possession of a contraband NO EYES micro dot film detailing the activities surrounding the Contingent Events Committee?

RE: It was provided by Angela Wells.

HP: Had you solicited said micro dot film, or information provided therein, at any time previous to taking possession?

RE: No, I had not.

HP: Continue, please.

RE: I feel as though I should have a solicitor.

HP: I'm sorry?

RE: If I'm to be interrogated, Harry, I want a solicitor, as is my right.

HP: This, Ruth, is a debrief. As such, it is categorically not within your rights to have a solicitor present. Please continue.

(subject remains uncommunicative. A period of silence extends for approximately two minutes, thirty-four seconds.)

HP: Ruth. You are, at this exact moment, facing substantial criminal charges, including, though not limited to, accusations of treason. Do you think it wise to choose stubborn insolence as a means to defend yourself?

RE: If I'm expected to defend myself, as you say, then it would seem I've been judged guilty, and in need of a solicitor.

HP: God dammit, Ruth! I'm trying to help you here! We've already established you were in possession of a document you had no business being in possession of! Of that, you are guilty, and no amount of argumentative semantics will alter that fact. Neither will the presence of a solicitor. Just...Please, you have to trust me. Continue.

RE: Yes I had the micro dot film. Yes, I read the contents. No, I did not in any way imaginable solicit possession from Angela Wells, or anyone else, for that matter.

HP: Good. That's good. Just stay with me, I know this is...difficult for-

RE: You've no fucking idea, Harry.

HP: All right. Describe the details surrounding the exchange of said micro dot film. Please.

RE: I came home, noticed the slip of paper wasn't where I left it in the door, and I knew someone had broken into my home. I didn't know whether they were still inside or not. I entered, and-

HP: Let me stop you there. I don't...Why...If you didn't know if they were still present...Why did you...Why didn't you call...Me? Why would you take such a stupid risk, Ruth?

RE: Because it is my home, Harry. My home...And then you would have...known. So, fine. Let's entertain this, shall we? What would you have done? What, exactly, is the first bloody thing you would have done if I had rung round? Think about it. What then?

HP: What would I have done? I would have made damn sure you were safe! I would have gotten you out of there, away, and made-

RE: -Me give up my home. You would have demanded I sacrifice it, and move to a secured MI5 flat. You know it, and I know it. I won't allow it, regardless of what we've agreed on. For the record.

HP: Ruth-

RE: No. Do you want to hear the rest, or not?

HP: Fine, but this subject is far from closed, so you understand.

RE: Of course it isn't. Not at all settled because you will force your way, whether I want it or not. You'll hardly suffer less, and leave me with little option in the end. You're exceptionally gifted at that.

(both subjects remain silent for approximately four minutes, twenty-three seconds.)

RE: I discovered Angela sitting in my front room, in the dark. She suggested that I get Malcolm to up my security system. I think she was trying to determine if Malcolm was still with the services. At a guess, with all that we know now, I imagine she was trying to fathom who would be tasked to disarm the bomb in the Royal bunker once we discovered her real intentions. Maybe, I don't know.

HP: Makes sense, yes.

RE: I set about making us tea. Silly, really. She breaks into my home and the first thing I do is offer her tea.

HP: You were caught off guard, Ruth. You shared a...history, is all.

RE: Oh, yes. A history. Cat's well and truly out of that personal bag, now isn't it?

(subject remains silent for twenty-seven seconds in length)

RE: Anyway, she was going on about nothing really, and I was...I was irritated...with her...with myself for allowing her to stay-

HP: Why did you? Allow her to stay?

RE: Curiosity, I guess? Yeah, curiosity. She'd just turned up, in the middle of the night, on my couch, and I...was suspicious, of course. But it was curiosity, really. I needed to know why, and thought if I just wait her out, she'd reveal the purpose of her visit when she was ready. I was right in that, in the end.

HP: How did the Committee come up?

RE: She was talking about...Peter.

HP: You're referring to Peter Haigh, to be clear?

RE: Yes. His anniversary. A year since...I had forgotten, if I'm honest. I don't know how, really? I had thought that day would always live within...But, truth is, I'd completely forgotten. She had this, I don't know, morbid need to relive it. Right then. Wanted to share it with me somehow. It made me want to retch. Her hand was bleeding. Her palm, I remember. She kept picking at it, but, in away that was, ummm, it was completely unconscious. Her fingers were red. Told me she had asked him to marry her, and he'd refused her. I gave the impression it was news to me, but it wasn't. Not really. I felt sorry for her, despite her unceremonious arrival. I thought she wanted to, no, needed to talk about him, so I swallowed my discomfort and suited myself to appear surprised if she decided on a lengthy recitation of all the things I already knew about him. Well, them. Both.

HP: I wish you had called me, Ruth.

RE: The truth is, I thought about it. Its not that it didn't occur to me. It did. When I was making tea, and she was nosing around my front room, I could hear her picking around, almost talking to herself. I should have...I thought, if I text him, how would she know? And I knew you would find a way in before alerting her. But, I just...its my home, Harry. And at that point, at that point I had no reason to be afraid, really. Strange as that sounds now. But then, it struck me a little too Chicken Little. I just couldn't stomach the idea that you would be given any reason to think me...weak.

HP: Never, Ruth. Not in any circumstance that I could imagine would I ever consider you weak. Not ever.

RE: You say that now. After everything that's happened, its easy to say now, maybe. But then, before it all started gathering steam, you would have only needed to look at me, and your eyes would reveal what your head and heart knew to be true. They always do, Harry. Your eyes. I can read them, even when others can't.

(subjects are silent for one minute, thirteen-seconds in length)

HP: My eyes, Ruth, would have borne out that I was relieved, is all. That you were safe and healthy. I only ever want all of you to come back safe. The only real fear I consistently experience is one associated, irrevocably, with one of you not returning to me, the Grid. I face it everyday.

RE: I don't know how. I can't imagine-

HP: Nor would I want you too. Any of you.

(subjects are silent for approximately two minutes, twelve-seconds)

RE: She said he, umm, Peter, had been murdered by the services. Covered up, made to look like a suicide She said it was because he knew too much. That's the exact phrase she used. He knew too much and required elimination. It was lunacy, really. I was...I was dumbstruck. I said as much, and that's when she produced the micro dot. Just reached her bloodied fingers into her mouth and pulled it out. I don't think she even saw the blood. She offered it to me, palm up, and said I would need to find a micro dot reader. Like it was a biscuit with tea. I should have known...Oh...

(subject is silent for approximately forty-three seconds)

HP: Ruth?

RE: I can't believe I didn't put it together. The surveillance? Of course, how else would she know I had the micro dot reader? There, I mean. Its so bloody obvious, isn't it? She had been monitoring me the entire time. How could I have missed it? I mean, yes, I had thought there was something, I don't know, off, a little, in the house. Like I could sense something had altered, but I couldn't identify it, you know? Just little things, books moved, pictures turned a bit, things only I would notice, but easily disregarded, chalked up to paranoia. But she had been sneaking in regularly, hadn't she? Admitted it, hadn't she? Not enough to record me, she had to touch me in some way, move me about, do it in such a way as to ensure I was always just left of center, off balance without understanding why.

HP: Ruth, she was the best at psychological warfare. That was not me awarding empty praise when I referred to her skills in that regard. There have been precious few who were her equal, and thankfully, they did not break the way she obviously did. What you are describing is sadly similar to every directive she ever received. You're not the first, but mercifully, you are certainly the last to suffer it. And you survived, Ruth. You survived the best she had to offer. Don't forget that.

RE: I wish I had never looked at it, Harry. But I just couldn't...I couldn't not look at it. Like refusing to do so would have been the same as admitting defeat. Bravado, I'm ashamed to admit now. So I got the micro dot reader. I can't even remember why I had the bloody thing to begin with, but I did, and so I read the dot. I did. I read it, and she sat there coaxing me through it. Knew all the things to say. She just smiled. That cold, dead smile of hers, and her voice could have melted butter.

HP: Did you ever ask how she came into possession of it? The micro dot film?

RE: She said Peter gave it to her. Which I knew couldn't have been true. He would never have given her something that...that, well, potentially explosive. He would have given it to me. I knew it the minute she said it, Harry. So, naturally, I asked where he'd gotten ahold of it, more out of curiosity than any idea she'd tell me the truth.

HP: Go on.

RE: She said Peter had been given it by Diana herself. It just got more outlandish with every statement. So, I asked how she'd gotten it, Diana, and Angela said something about her being a very clever woman. It was...surreal.

HP: Okay, so you're reading the micro dot film...

RE: Yes, and I was fine. I was. I was reading it, and asking her to verify what I was reading. I asked her if she understood that we were committing treason, more to force her to admit it aloud, like it made some measure of difference. She made some flippant remark about secreting it in her tooth, and against my better judgement...really, because all the alarms in my head were ringing off their hinges by then, daring me to stop, making it so bloody hard to think clearly. I just kept thinking this is insane, truly mad, she's completely mad. And then...And then I...

(subjects are silent for approximately fifty-six seconds)

HP: Say it, Ruth. You have to say it.

RE: I...I saw...There was your name. Your name, Harry. Harry Pearce, Chairman, it read. You were there, part of it, right there. You'd killed her, if, if the dot was to be believed. You'd had a part in killing her. I...Said your name...Out loud, I remember. She verified it. She seemed to take great pleasure in it. I didn't, couldn't understand why? Why would she relish this? And she did. She all but glowed with it. I thought, maybe, there was some history between you, something that she was seeking some kind of vengeance for? Some op gone tits up, or directive that found you at cross purposes? But then why involve me, or Peter, for that matter? It was all swirling around my head, and I couldn't make it stop, be still enough to line up, puzzle it out. So obvious now, isn't it. Not so much the why me, but more how could it not be me, right? Given the surveillance...

HP: Yes. Hindsight has a way of making idiots of us all, Ruth. You couldn't have known for sure. Not then, anyway.

RE: See? You're wrong there, Harry. Its not as though we are completely faultless, you and me. I may never have given voice to the risks, but that doesn't lessen their existence, doesn't mitigate our choosing to take them, does it? We can't hide from each other that fact, surely.

HP: No. We can't, Ruth. I'm so very sorry-

RE: Don't tell me your sorry, Harry. Please not that. Not ever. I'd never in a million years chose an alternate path. My eyes are open. Always have been. I wanted it, as much as you. It may not have always been clear...to you. But it was, to me. I can't remember a time it wasn't, to be honest.

(subjects are silent for approximately six minutes, thirty-two seconds)

HP: I'm not sorry about...it. I wouldn't change it for anything, truly. Its the circumstances, Ruth. I regret the circumstances, the loss of something so simple and, well, normal, I guess. I won't ever...it can't ever be normal. I'd hoped for...something close, but this...this situation illustrates how it will always be. Despite that, I need you to know, I want it still. That hasn't diminished. I can't imagine it ever will. I need you to know that.

RE: I do. I want...Harry, I can't, now, in a debriefing. Not now. Anyone can read-

HP: No, you're right, of course. Thoughtless of me. I'll...I'll take care of it.

RE: No. Just, now's not the time. Surely you-

HP: Okay.

RE: Okay. Good. Ummm, well, she suggested that I start investigating the circumstances of Diana's death, specifically your diary for the dates in question. She wanted to get actual proof beyond the micro dot. Wanted me to help her. Wanted to go to the press, out the greatest scandal of the age. Her words. Destroy the services altogether. I refused, of course. Told her she had quite gone mad, in fact. She said I owed it to Peter, to investigate the man who had him killed. You. At that point, I just wanted an end to it. I demanded she leave. To her credit, she did, though not before goading me on, suggesting that in my spook heart I wanted to know the truth as much as she did. I repeated the same thing back to her in the tech suite, I know you want to, what if, what if, Angela. You couldn't have known that then, but it served the same purpose. It broke her as I expected it would. Wanted it to, if I'm truly honest with myself. I wanted to hurt her, and I had the exact weapon with which to do it.

HP: The cell phone?

RE: Yes. And the truth it told. Her bloody answers. It was Peter's. I'd kept it. Couldn't even say why exactly now. Contained everything within it to break her apart. I remembered it in my desk when Malcolm was fixing the device. I'd forgotten it was there until that exact moment. He whispered he was sorry. I hadn't known when I took it that I would have future need to use it in such a way, but I could, and I did, obviously. If you had looked at me, even once, Harry, you would have...well, but you didn't, so...Honeysuckle. Only the three of us understood the multi layered meaning. Amazing, one word, the damage wrought. Just a word. There's our history, the crux, the dregs circling the bottom. Such a waste, all of it.

HP: Complicated, your history. The word, he chose it, as a password, that is?

RE: Yes. It's not relevant to this, really. Or, maybe it is, because of what I did with it? To Angela. It has a symbolic meaning, which I alluded to with Angela. But, also, it means something else, which became the proverbial straw a long, long time ago. He called me his hunigsuce, pronouncing it as it would have been years ago. It was funny, a joke we shared, the pronunciation. It was a nickname of sorts, and an emblem. He might have slipped in front of her, referred to me by nickname. He might have done, I couldn't know for certain, but it seems likely. The more he drank, the more he lost track of himself. He varied his terms of affection over the years, sometimes hunigsuce, sometimes hummingbird, his variation on my family nickname, bird. I've never told you that, have I? So, you can see why the combination was rather toxic to Angela. It confirmed something I think she had always suspected, but didn't want to know. I never called him by anything but Peter, now that I think about it, and I guess I never thought it necessary. Our history, him and me, was enough. He was a dreamer, she was right on that score. Poetic and unfeasibly sensitive, gave his heart easily. Too easily, sadly to me. And he fancied private jokes, nicknames. It had been he and I for so long it became unavoidable. He used to say he couldn't breathe with her.

HP: Had he always been in love with you?

RE: Yes. That part was true.

HP: And you?

RE: No. I think it more correct to describe it as in love with the idea of being in love. No, that's not entirely true either. Yes, I did love him, with all my heart. But I was never in love with him, if that makes any sense. I loved him for all he was to me, for all he tried to do for me, for all he wanted to be to me. I thought it a truer form of love. It sounds more obligatory than passionate, but it wasn't initially. It became..well, it didn't seem to matter in any case. He was fond of saying he'd love enough for both of us. Maybe he did. And there were other...circumstances I'd just as soon not get into presently. They aren't immediately relevant to this, umm, exercise.

HP: That's fine. Fine. So, lets go back to Angela leaving. What did you do afterwards?

RE: Afterwards? Ummm, in truth I just sat there. I could feel the walls kind of caving in on me; Or, breathing, really. It was, I'd say, maybe two hours since I had arrived home and the sudden silence was becoming uncomfortable. My mind just wouldn't shut down. You know what I mean. I kept picturing your name behind my eyes and I knew she had been right, I wanted to know the truth, I wanted to believe you couldn't have done what she had accused you of. I wanted to believe I knew you better than I did, but I don't really, do I? There's so much I will never know for a certainty.

HP: There are things of which I can never tell another soul, Ruth. Its the nature of our profession, my position requires that I'm set apart from the rest. It's for the best. The danger I pose to others magnifies exponentially were I to reveal all that I know, have seen, have done. My distance, or secrets as you call them, is one of the few avenues afforded me to ensure the safety of those I've an affection for. No one will ever know the whole of me, and the few who have dared, my children, my ex-wife, have suffered the consequences of trying. You learn to guard against it in this world of ours. You could say I've rather failed where you-

RE: It wasn't meant as criticism, Harry. Really. I'm just trying to relate to the best of my recollection the events, is all. I knew my mind wouldn't allow me to sleep, that I would just stare at the ceiling wishing for sleep, but finding none. I wanted to call you, but couldn't, wouldn't allow myself to. I thought, well, I thought if I set my mind to puzzling it all out, busying myself with something to distract me, I would eventually decide on a course of action. So, I cleaned the base of my toilet with Angela's scarf. And then the basin, and the tiles surrounding. Ruined a perfectly good toothbrush.

HP: That was inventive of you.

RE: Maybe, but it didn't work. Her scarf is rubbish, though. Not that she'd any need of it now. Perhaps I should enshrine it? God, that sounded so cruel? It did, didn't it? I'm not usually...Never mind. I ran a bath, and while that soothed my muscles to an extent, it did nothing to quiet my mind. Her unexpected visit had disturbed a number of memories, the kind I normally have control over, and they all intertwined themselves with the micro dot, and you, and I just sort of succumbed to it. I didn't have the energy left to fight it, so I just gave in. About that time I thought a drink would be a good idea. You smile, but it was really a very bad idea. Once I started, I never stopped. I thought about calling you then. Again. I wanted to hear...But I knew if I did then you would ask questions, and I would be hard pressed to outmaneuver you, even by phone, and I was good and pissed by then, so I couldn't say if I would have begged you to come over or not. But, I wanted you...to be there...with me. Just to, oh God, I don't know, make me feel better? Make me feel...something else? Tell me all the reasons she'd gotten it so fantastically wrong? And you would have, you'd have had me believing you in mere minutes. You're very good at...But I was lucid enough to stop myself.

HP: Okay. Ruth, I...well, continue. Please.

RE: Well, here's where it gets a little fuzzy. I realized that I could destroy the micro dot. And being in a somewhat compromised state, I had resolved to do it, had been moving towards the kitchen, nicked my shin on the table. I've a huge bruise, by the way, before I realized that I couldn't make myself go through with it, no matter how much I may have wanted to. That was it, really. Well, honestly, what I remember. Then, I think I just passed out, and I woke up on the floor not too much later. The sky was beginning to lighten. I heard birds. I love the birds in the morning, their tittering back and forth. I lay there in the quiet every morning and listen to them as I wake up. Something infinitely calming to me, the close early morning silence pierced by birdsong. This morning, I envied their ability to fly away. The micro dot was still in my hand. My nails had formed a frame of sorts around it. I'd never even let it go, let alone destroyed it. I did the only thing I could do, at that point; I came to work.

HP: And your trips to Registry and archives?

RE: Oh, right. Well, I thought if Angela wanted me to prove you were complicit, then I could just as easily determine to prove you were not. It made sense at the time, short of destroying it altogether. So, I began to investigate, and the more I investigated, the more it became clear that either scenario could be proven, just a matter of motive and perspective. I'll tell you, Harry, that really left me feeling rather buggered. Because it just couldn't be easy, could it? Normally, I would have relished the challenge. Always have done, but this wasn't normal, was it? This was you, and Peter, and me and Angela, and it was all so close, so suffocating, I couldn't breathe, and every angle I investigated left me more at odds with everything I had come to depend on. It left me gutted, and I was reacting, as much to myself as my objective intentions. Emotional, I was too emotionally tied to any result. Finally, I asked Adam if he'd any knowledge with the Contingent Events Committee, and he said he didn't. Ironically, he suggested I ask you, said you loved clandestine. That's a direct quote, Harry loves clandestine.

HP: Well, that's true. Although my preference is when they involve other people, not myself. So you didn't tell Adam about Angela? The micro dot, her intrusion?

RE: No. Not then. I just asked that he keep it to himself. Actually, I said that I would talk to you directly, and that he should just forget I mentioned it. They were all keen to head over to The George. Then Juliet walked in with Angela on her arm, and the world turned upside down.

HP: Had you any knowledge of what she had planned? Had she at any time alluded to the Royals, or her intention to detonate explosives, be it within Thames or the Royal Bunker?

RE: No, none at all. As far as I'd assumed, her presence had everything to do with the micro dot, and my refusal to help her. She'd upped the ante by manipulating a way to deal with it herself, on the Grid, and she was going to out me in the process. I imagine the idea was to divide us all, and conquer. I'd no idea the depths still hidden. By which I mean I'd no idea the mechanism at work orchestrating the event, which seems part of a larger whole yet to be revealed. Well, I suspected as much.

HP: I wouldn't argue against that particular suspicion. Yet, if memory serves, you remained quiet. Had you ever any intention of coming to me directly? Or, was that a fob off?

RE: I don't know, Harry. Adam was furious with me. Asking me why I didn't say anything? All I could offer was guilt. On the one hand I wanted to know the truth, and the most direct route was asking you. Well, the most direct route to announce my desire to know was to ask you. There was no way you would ever tell me the truth, even if I came to you directly. We both know that. You would have done exactly what you did, deny any knowledge, and I would have done exactly what I did, investigate it anyway.

HP: Creatures of habit. The services are rife with them.

RE: Yes. But also, I couldn't reconcile the idea that the person I thought I knew was the same person who would suborn the kind of black op described on the micro dot. So, I wanted to know, but I couldn't stomach the idea it might be true, because how could I-

HP: Ruth, I think I understand.

RE: Do you? Do you really? Because when you invited her into your office, my brain almost exploded, Harry! I had the benefit of a late night visit, one which provided ample evidence proving exactly how unhinged Angela had become after she retired. Yet here she was, on Juliet's arm no less, and everyone was fawning over her like she hadn't been asked to retire for some undisclosed manner of mental defect? But she was, wasn't she? Before I could think to say anything, you invite her into your office? I couldn't believe the number of ways in which she could kill you before any one of us could blink that rushed into my head. She believed you'd killed Peter! I mean, Jesus, Harry, she smuggled a bomb onto the Grid! Bat shit doesn't cover the half of it, and even though we didn't know that yet, what else could she have brought with her? A syringe? A knife? A box cutter for fuck's sake? All of it rang every alarm in my head and I just wanted her off the Grid, and, yes, I was, I was desperate to keep her away from you, and desperate to keep her quiet, and in that desperation I miscalculated, and Jo bore the brunt of what I have little doubt was intended for you. And me. Either. Both, who can bloody know for certain now?

HP: And you blame yourself?

RE: Of course! Have you not been listening? Who else could be to blame? If I had called you when I first discovered her, if I had called you after she left? If I had spoken to Adam earlier, if I had never admitted to the micro dot reader, if I had never looked at the damned thing in the first place? If I had asked Malcolm around to check my house when I knew, knew something was off weeks ago? If I had done anything, anything else but what I chose to do, it could have been prevented, all of it.

HP: I think that's a rather broad stroke, Ruth-

RE: Really? Do you? Well, guess what, that's not even the worst of it, Harry.

HP: Wait. Just hold on a minute. Does the worst of it pertain directly on the subject at hand, Ruth?

RE: Directly, no.

HP: Then I'd advise you to stop now. There's no immediate need to continue as far as the services, or this recorded debrief, is concerned. Given what you would offer would be speculative at best, yes?

RE: Speculative? Yes, though only in the most cursory understanding of the word.

HP: But enough to fall short of fact? Actual known, verifiable fact?

RE: All right, yes.

HP: Fine. I see no need to continue in that vein, then.

RE: Then, well you know the rest. You were there.

HP: So, to be clear, at no time did you ever solicit information regarding the Contingent Events Committee, nor promise or otherwise indicate any action on your part as a means of recompense for being provided said information, including but not limited to, the micro dot film given to you by Angela Wells?

RE: No, I did not.

HP: Furthermore, at no time did you have any prior knowledge of explosives placed in either Thames House or the Royal Bunker, nor any foreknowledge of Angela Wells' intentions towards the use or detonation of such, nor did you provide any active participation which could be viewed in any manner as collusive at any time in aiding, or furthering, Angela Wells' overall goals?

RE: No, I did not.

HP: You maintain you are innocent of wrong doing at this time as relates the events described.

RE: Yes, I do. Well, wait. I read the micro dot. So, I'm guilty, but not responsible.

HP: Exactly.

RE: I was joking, Harry.

HP: Let me assure you I'm not. You came home, you met with an intruder, you reacted under duress. You can't be held responsible for reacting while face to face with an uninvited intruder. At night. While you were alone. Without a weapon to defend yourself.

RE: A woman. The intruder was a woman. And known to me.

HP: A woman, yes. Though, clearly, not your average, everyday soccer mom. A woman who was familiar with weapons, their use and design. Made her living, one could say, by that knowledge. She didn't have a weapon, right?

RE: No, but...I had pepper spray-

HP: -Yet, you still felt threatened? At risk?

RE: Well, yes...somewhat-

HP: -You resorted to the only weapon you had available. You did what she asked because you'd been left no other viable option.

RE: I made her tea, Harry.

HP: Of course you did. What better way to appease an intruder in what could easily be regarded as potentially fatal circumstances? So, you made tea.

RE: Are you being serious right now? I. Made. A. Pot. Of. Tea. I cleaned my toilet. I consumed a bottle of bourbon, and passed out. On my floor, Harry.

HP: No, you intuited that your history hinted that she might not physically harm you, but how were you to know for sure? She had physically attacked you in the past. I'm referring here to the TRING incident."

RE: Yes. I...Harry, our history, such as it is, was, God, had been-

HP: -Was complicated, yes. But her history, which you were well aware of, suggested she was prone to erratic behavior. That's fact, Ruth. Involuntary stay at TRING? Suicidal lover? Retirement under questionable circumstances? Its all a part of record, Ruth. Given that, I see little reason to pursue any criminal penalties against you, least of all treason.

RE: You don't have to do this-

HP: Actually, I do as Adam is otherwise occupied by injuries sustained subsequent to the events described. Injuries inflicted, as it happens, by the very intruder you were in fear of. Injuries, I would hasten to add, she had hoped and intended I would share. All that supports my stated conclusion. I've little doubt he'd draw the same conclusion, in any case.

RE: But he's going to be fine, right? Adam, I mean. You've spoken-

HP: Overall, yes. He'll be out around six weeks recuperating. Doctor's orders being what they are. I suggested they tell him while he was still floating the mists of Avalon if they didn't want to have to strap him down. He'll be right as rain, Ruth. Of that I'm certain.

RE: Good. I'm glad of that. So, are we done, then? With this part?

HP: Unless there's something you wish to add? Or, ask, of course.

RE: So, if I may summarize, I'll not have charges brought against me because I was in fear of a woman who broke into my home, known to me as the longtime lover of my deceased step brother, who might or might not wish to harm me, and I assessed that the prudent course of action was to make her a pot of tea as she insisted I perform a treasonous act against the Realm in my front room, who later attempted to detonate a bomb in both Thames House and the Royal Bunker, and was, in fact, prevented from doing so, but nevertheless, shot my Section Chief, and attempted to assassinate my Section Head. Does that about cover it, or have I skipped over something?

HP: It was very powerful tea.

RE: How do we live this life?

HP: I should think carefully, Ruth. Carefully. And a bit of humor is always nice.

RE: It seems you've covered that.

HP: I'm pleased you think so. I've grown rather fond of your laugh. Doesn't happen nearly enough, in my opinion. I consider it a personal victory to watch as your nose crinkles up. Just so you know.

RE: I'll be self conscious about it now that you've mentioned it.

HP: No need. Its really quite beautiful. Rare and treasured as all infrequent things tend to be.

RE: You can be disarmingly charming when you want to be, Harry. Then, you already know that, don't you?

HP: Its been mentioned periodically, yes.

RE: Can I see him? Tonight? Adam? I'll just look through the window, just to be sure, is all.

HP: I can drive you, if you like. I need to touch base with his physician. No sense in going separately. Unless, of course, you'd prefer-

RE: I'd prefer to go together. The three of us, together. Its silly, or sentimental, I know, but I've come to regard us a team within a team. It wouldn't feel right if you weren't with me is the only way I can describe it. So, yes, together. Its what I want.

HP: Fine. I...well, let's go. We can...talk...on the way. I...let me turn this off-

Debrief concluded at approximately 8:15pm, 12 November 2005.

Submission for transcription pending approval from H. Pearce.

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A/N: Reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Next up, my version of the corridor.

A/N2: So the redacted parts are not blocked out, i.e. black squares. Basically, I intended for Angela's name to be blacked out as per Harry's instructions in keeping with the victim in the field decision. Soooo, that happened.