A/N: Only one more chapter to go after this one! Thanks again to readers and particularly to reviewers who I always love to hear from.
They had filed out of Adam's flat silently, exchanging glances of equal parts sympathy and awkwardness. Harry had headed off, shoulders sagging, but Ruth had squeezed his hand and Zaf had patted his shoulder and suddenly he couldn't bear the sight of them leaving.
Malcolm went back to the Grid.
It was at an hour so late that he was rather dubious as to whether security would even let him in, but he found himself at his desk a few minutes over twenty after pacing the distance through the almost empty streets to Thames House, his coat tugged by the cold wind that antagonised the leaves and left them strewn about the pavement.
The heating had snapped off but the forgery suite was relatively small and snug anyway so Malcolm removed his coat and folded it carefully, placing it on the back of his chair and glancing around, feeling a lump form in his throat.
Colin's territory. Pens, post-it notes, papers, books, pieces of wire and other odds and ends that he was using for whatever project he had been working on. Half-assembled bugs, a little radio and three different staplers. A couple of empty crisp packets and a box of orange and lime Tic-Tacs.
Malcolm shuffled a little closer, his gaze moving over a notebook which upon closer inspection he deduced to be some form of diary. Feeling horribly intrusive he tried to peel his eyes away, but not before he caught his name.
Still trying to get this bloody bug to work. No luck so far. I think I'm out of my depth with this new model – I'll ask Malcolm. He'll know what to do. He always does!
Colin had never got the chance to ask him.
But tonight, Malcolm could answer.
It had taken several hours and a couple of muttered expletives which felt out of character, but Malcolm was expressing anger at this ridiculously difficult piece of technology but also anger at not being able to turn to his friend for help. Finally, as the heater started sighing at 6am, Malcolm placed the bug down triumphantly which was now fully assembled and fully operational.
There was only one thing left to do.
Turns out, I did know what to do. But you underestimated yourself – you'd done most of the hard work with the wiring already! I consider this to have been a team effort, and I am eternally regretful that it will have been the last chance we had to collaborate. Every day was a pleasure to share the crossword or invent a new gadget with you, Colin, and we're all going to miss you so very much, you kind-hearted, brave, brilliant man.
His hand ached as he scrawled with the biro he found on Colin's desk and after he wiped away a couple of warm tears that had sneaked down his face, there was something rather satisfying about clicking the lid back on, smoothing the page on which both of their handwriting now resided and gently closing the notebook, placing it in the centre of Colin's desk.
No-one enquired as to how Malcolm was feeling after they had all met in Adam's flat or how he had spent the rest of that sad day, and he felt rather glad to remain in his own company for now. But if they had, his answer would have been simple – he was helping out a dear friend with the last opportunity he could.