Right let's see if I can spell today: Harold walked around the apartment leaning on his cake. That was supposed to say cane, sorry dyslexic and generally thick. Honestly, the day I learn to spell will be a bloody miracle ;-)

It was a crisp dawn morning. Shaw sat in her car. She sighed and her breath condensed against the cold air, she shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. She sat watching the small screen in front of her: Harold and John lay entwined on Harold's bed. They looked at peace. Shaw switched the screen to that of the main living space. Joss was half sat up on the sofa, she rubbed her tired eyes and stood up. She walked over to Harold's bedroom and opened the door slightly, she paused and closed it again. Shaw noticed the small smile on her face. She watched as she walked over to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of milk. Shaw moved again, she was frozen. Something caught her eye, she got out of the car and jogged towards the elevator door. She held her hand in-between forcing them to open again. The gentleman inside sighed and looked away from Shaw. Shaw stood next to him, glancing at him. He was your typical rich guy – suit, briefcase, smart brogues and neat hair. Shaw left his eyes on her as the elevator climbed. After a few minutes Shaw sighed, the elevator pinged and stopped the man walked out. The doors closed again.

'Sense offender.' She muttered.

The elevator continued to climb. It arrived at the penthouse suite a few moments later. Shaw got out and surveyed the hall, she ran at the wall climbing up it and holding her weight above the door.

Joss heard some tapping on the front doors. She put her glass down on the kitchen island and walked towards the front door. She opened it and walked out into the hallway. Shaw dropped herself down and clamped her hands over Joss's mouth. Joss tried to scream but no sound came out. She needed to remain in control of her emotions, she felt a blunt hit on the back of her head and everything went black.

Shaw hauled Joss's unconscious body into the elevator and out into her car. Shaw hauled Joss into the boot of the car, secured her wrists and ankles with cable ties then closed it. Shaw climbed back in the driver's seat and drove out of the tomb like car park.

John awoke first. The early morning light was harsh against his eyes but everything slowly went into focus. He down at Harold, sleeping below him. He smiled. This man had quickly become everything to him, he chuckled, he spied his collar on the bedside table. An idea flashed through his mind. He leaned over Harold and took it off the table; Harold groaned and John dropped the collar onto his jacket on the floor. Harold leaned back against John and stretched.

'Mmmm Morning John.'

'Morning Harold. Sleep well?'

'Yeah. I did, you?'

John leaned down and kissed Harold messily. 'Never better.' John planted more kisses on Harold's jaw and neck. Harold squirmed.

'Joss is still outside. We should cook breakfast.'

Harold climbed out of bed and hobbled over to the huge walk in wardrobe. He took out a shirt and put it on.

'We? Are we a couple now?'

Harold turned around and finished tying the buttons on his shirt, he smiled pleasantly. 'Yes, if you like.' Harold turned back around and collected two ties off the rack. He held them up to his neck. 'Now this one or this one?'

'The blue one, it matches your eyes.'

Harold blushed and walked back over to the bed, he leaned over and kissed John. John kissed him back and placed a large hand over Harold's cheek. He broke the kiss but kept Harold's face close, he spoke so quietly.

'We won't be able to share this.'

'I don't want to share this John. This is just between us.' Replied Harold, equally as quiet. 'This is just between, just for us. No one else. I promise.' Harold leaned up and kissed John again. 'Joss will be waiting, she's our guest, it's only fair we cook.'

Harold climbed off the bed and continued to dress himself. John stood up.

'Any arrangements for today?'

'Just a resources meeting, to keep me updated on where we are.'

'Just plain suits then.'

Harold smiled in agreement. He watched as John loquaciously stood up, stark naked and stretched. Harold chuckled, he knew John was playing this up but he loved it. As John stretched his taught, tanned muscles rippled and moved. Harold breathed out through his mouth, there were so many things he wanted to do to John, so many. He felt a familiar stirring within him. He walked towards the bedroom door and opened it. The living room was quiet. Harold smiled: he felt happy – must be John he mused. Harold walked over to the kitchen and took eggs and bacon out of the fridge; he looked up at the sofa expecting to see Joss still in the hold of sleep. The sofa was empty. Harold frowned, he put the ingredients down and walked over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door with his knuckles.

'Joss?'

No answer. Harold pushed the handle down and stepped into the empty bathroom. He returned to his bedroom and pushed the door open. John was stood in front of the mirror, flattening his shirt against his stomach.

'John, have you see Joss?' Harold asked.

'No. Why would I?'

'She's gone. She's not here.'

'What do you mean she's not here?' John asked.

'She's gone John.' Harold said raising his voice.

John looked at him through the mirror. John walked out into the room and over to the sofa. He placed a large hand on the black leather.

'It's cool. She hasn't been here for a while.'

'She's not in the bathroom and doesn't have a reason to go anywhere else.'

'Have you checked?'

'No.'

'Go and check.' John pointed towards the corridor.

Harold went to check. John walked towards the counter and looked at the glass of milk, still half full. He tapped the edge of it, the white liquid moved but John noticed how it stuck to the edge of the glass slightly. He also noticed how clear the rest of it was: a clear glass meant settled milk. This glass hadn't been touch in a while. John walked to the front door and opened it. The glittering earring on the floor caught his eye: he bent down and picked it up. He rolled it in his fingers deep in thought. John stood up as Harold returned, a panic reaching into his eyes.

'She's not there.'

'No. I found this.'

John turned around and held up the earring. He looked up at the wall above the doors. There were faint scratch marks in the paint. He reached up and tugged some fabric, caught in the wooden frame. He looked at it, his brow furrowing. He looked at Harold.

'Shaw.'

John suppressed a surge of anger and stormed back inside and into the bedroom. Harold followed. John checked his guns and loaded them, he put one in his ankle holster and the other in the back of his trousers against the small of his back. Harold walked over and grabbed John's wrist. The two men looked each other in the eye.

'What are you going to do?'

John didn't answer, he didn't need to. Harold already knew the answer.

'We'll be found out.'

'So we're just gonna let her die?'

'No, of course not. But we have to tread carefully.' Harold paused and let go of John's wrist. He ran his hand through his mousey brown hair; he turned his back to John. 'Elias has suspected me for years.'

'Suspected what?'

'That I'm an offender John.' Harold half shouted. He turned to John, clearly upset. 'He's suspected for a while, just never had any proof.'

John walked towards the balcony doors and paused, he put his hand on his chin. Harold took a few steps closer to John.

'He's been trying to bring me down for years John. He's a power mad dog John. When he was younger, he had such vivid ideas for the human race and the State. I did everything in my power to stop him achieving them.'

'We need to find Joss.' John said quietly.

Harold closed his eyes, defeated. He walked over to the wardrobe and took a small box out of the bottom. He put it on the bed and opened it. Harold stood back and relaxed his shoulders. John turned around and stood opposite to Harold, on the other side of the bed. They looked in the box. In the box lay two hand guns. Two Glock 17s. Large, lightweight and deadly. John glanced up at Harold.

'Thought you didn't like guns.'

'I don't. But every man had the capability to kill John, even the most gentle.'

Harold solemnly picked one up and loaded it. He looked straight at John, who nodded. This was war.