Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it means a lot. Thank you. Once again, apologies for the long delay in getting this updated. Writer's block, once more. But thanks for being patient.

Chapter Thirteen: Still Life

A steady stream of visitors had left Nathan exhausted. A procession of people filing in and out of his hospital room, each asking the same questions and expecting the same answers. Answers he was too weary to give, probably because he had already given them a hundred times. People he hadn't seen in years and hadn't expected to see again, even came. Each of them taking away with them a piece of his resolve. The only constant presence was his father and mother; the only notable absence was Olly. Olly, whom he had not seen at all since regaining consciousness. For all he was worth he tried to pretend that it wasn't bothering him.

Now relocated from the bed to an armchair by the window, he looked outwards over the car park. The colour of the vehicles in the lots outside were blurred by the rain running down the glass. A sight that hardly inspired any greater will to keep living. Meanwhile, his father's voice sounded in the room behind him. It had receded to a low buzz while he thought once more of where his partner could have gotten to. But the wondering only led him farther down a path into a morass of self-pity.

"Are you listening?"

His father's question jolted him out of his reverie. "Yes, of course I am."

"What did I just say?"

He had the decency to blush. "Sorry, I missed that bit." Before his father could say anything further, he pressed on with his own train of thought. "Has Olly been here? Have you seen him?"

Inwardly, he suspected something had been said. Something was keeping him away and the reason was sat on the edge of his hospital bed, now looking agitated.

"He's gone to get something," replied the older man. "He'll be back soon. Now, did you hear what I just said to you or were you completely away with the fairies?"

"Gone where?" he asked, persistently. "He can't go back to the old house, Dad. It's too dangerous; the op's still ongoing."

He could scarcely remember what the op was about, but he knew he couldn't go back home because of it. It felt to him as though a fundamental part of his brain and personality was still deep in that coma. He was missing something, he had left something behind. Or a part of him really had died that night in the underground car park. Worse still, he couldn't articulate it. He couldn't mention any of it to any one of these endless pilgrims passing through his room. Only Olly. Now that he wasn't there, he grew angry. An anger that found no outlet so was left to simmer as his injuries prevented him even indulging in a spot of agitated pacing.

Fuck this, he thought to himself and turned back to the window. He was dimly aware of his father's continued presence in the room. However, he dearly wished for the old man to just go, now. He tried to communicate his wish by keeping his gaze directed out of the window and giving only shrugged and grunted replies to further enquiries. The rain captivated him until he felt his father's hand cupping his chin, tilting his head upwards again. Looking into his father's eyes, the older man sighed sadly and leaned down to kiss him.

"I think I'll leave you to sleep off this strange mood you're in," he said, helping Nathan to stand. "Your mother and I will come to see you this evening."

Nathan put up no resistance as he stiffly returned to bed. No longer being wired up to a myriad of machines made the process a little easier, but the injuries pained him and his joints felt like rusty hinges. He half expected his bones to creak. But now that he had shaken off his last, lingering visitor, a twinge of guilt made its presence felt. He wanted everyone gone, now they were and he felt bad about it. Unable to do right for doing wrong, he no longer knew his own mind.

"Sorry, Dad," he said, remorseful now. "I just…"

But he couldn't say just what. Giving up, he lay back down and listened to his father's footsteps receding down the ward outside. He was soon lost among the people out there, while he, Nathan, was left awake and alone. Every time he closed his eyes the attack happened all over again. So there he lay, fighting to keep his eyes open to stave off the memories for just a few more moments, losing the battle. But sleep came as easily as death, until another voice pulled him back from the brink.

"Don't tell me you're still in bed?"

Nathan screwed his eyes shut, as though eyelids made a good substitute for an iron portcullis to keep intruders at bay. Groaning aloud, he tried to roll over. Meanwhile, clipped footsteps made their way to his bedside and the woman eased herself into the seat he had just vacated. She was leaning back in the seat, slender arms draped casually along the length of the armrests. Regarding him with those keen green eyes. He didn't need to look at her to second guess her demeanour. When he did open his eyes again it was as though the Ros Myers of his imagination had simply projected herself from his brain and into the chair. The only difference was the small smile playing at her lips.

"Wakey wakey," she said, low. "A week's sleep is enough for anybody, as far as I'm concerned."

Behind her, Lucas North stood with both hands resting on the chair back. The older Spook had been so silent Nathan hadn't even guessed at his presence. Remembering that he had been on the run, the sight of him now brought with it a relief that made him lightheaded. Then, his gaze slipped from Lucas, downwards to the file in Ros' lap. Finally, it seemed, someone had come to tell him something. Maybe even show him something, if his luck was in.

"I'm awake," he assured them both as he struggled to sit back up again. Eventually, Lucas stepped forward to help him. "So, who tried to kill me?"

Evidently gratified by his cutting to the chase, Ros smiled a little broader as she opened the file on her lap. Once at the relevant page, she handed it straight to him. Several neatly arranged mugshots greeted him. "You tell me," Ros instructed.

Harry lifted a corner of the sandwich and regarded the contents with the deepest of suspicion. After a second, he lifted his gaze to meet Ruth's. He didn't look impressed. "Bacon?"

Ruth beamed. "Well, it had to be really, didn't it?"

"Hmmm…" he replied, darkly. "Should all pigs suffer for the actions of a few?"

Ruth had already tucked into her own feast. They were sat in a café not far from Thames House. A discreet little place set off the main street. More fundamentally, it was sheltered from the rain and warm inside. The windows had become clouded with steam from the open kitchen area, so not even passers-by could see in. Harry was half-tempted to write random swear words in the condensation just for the childish fun of it. But before the temptation could grow too strong to resist, Ruth's voice jolted him out of his reverie.

"You shouldn't take it to heart, Harry. You just heard something shuffling around out there and your spy instincts kicked in. I would have done the same, had I heard it too. You weren't to know Connie's pigs were still running amok out there."

But it wasn't that he was taking it all too seriously. It was more that it felt like a lost opportunity. It could have been something to do with the case. Instead, it was feral pigs. He dreaded to think what the DG would make of it. Or Ros. For the sake of his own sanity, he waived his concerns aside and returned to the matter at hand.

"We're now relying solely on Nathan's remembering who attacked him," he pointed out. "What if it wasn't Weston? It seems a little too convenient that the same person who tried to kill him was the same one who turned up at the hospital to finish him off."

Ruth shrugged. "But why not? And even if it isn't him, we still have Faisal Ahmed connected to John Carlton. We still have Weston himself. I mean, even if it wasn't Weston, we know that Weston is in this up to his eyeballs." She paused to finish her sandwich. "Anyway, what about the Home Secretary?"

They had met that morning. Finally, it seemed, he had gathered enough evidence to bring the deal with Securitech to a halt. So far, the official reasons were being given as ethical differences, at least within Whitehall circles. Harry didn't kid himself for a moment that Towers would be so open with the public at large. God only knew what the papers would report – if anything at all. He suspected already that the matter would be quietly dropped. While he filled Ruth in on the details, she finished their lunch and he prepared to settle the bill.

Once outside again, they set off back towards Thames House. Autumn had arrived in full force, the air carried a chilly bite and they kicked up plumes of dry, bronze leaves with every step they took. The trees looked naked and gnarled branches stooped and swayed to cover their modesty. They were in no hurry, so they joined hands and crossed the bridge in a leisurely stroll.

"Catherine called last night," he said, smiling at last.

Ruth glanced up at him. "I'm so happy that you're in regular contact with her."

"Better than that, she and Will have invited us to dinner on Sunday," he informed her. "I hope you don't think it presumptuous of me, but I agreed on your behalf."

"Of course not! If it brings you two closer together then I'll be there with bells on," she assured him. "Have they already moved in together?"

They hadn't. But Will kept a toothbrush in Catherine's bathroom cabinet and vice versa. Some old stone-aged beast within him refused to acknowledge that his daughter was sexually active, so could only ever picture them sitting on the sofa and holding hands all night. But, he would rather it was with Will than anyone else. Now that he had had time to think on it, it seemed almost natural that they should be together. It felt like the closing of one painful episode and the beginning of something almost poetic. If ever they had babies, he knew in his heart it would be via Immaculate Conception and delivered by Stork.

By the time they reached Milbank, it was gone two pm. The entrance to Thames House itself was made all the colder by the autumnal air blowing through the old limestone structure. An ornate, picturesque building in its own right, it could be bloody cold for all that when the winter started to set in.

Once through the pods, they were greeted by Tariq who deigned to look up from his computer just long enough to wave his whereabouts. Not bothering to dispose of their coats, they crossed the Grid and looked over the young techie's shoulder. A sound file was playing that only Tariq could hear, through the headphones. But subtitles were flashing up at the bottom of the screen.

"It's Jo," he said, glancing up again and lifting one earpiece. "She's talking to Weston now and this is her feed."

Harry and Ruth's gaze met, exchanging a glance only they knew the meaning too. Already she was reaching for the spare set. He stepped backwards, toward his office. "I'm calling a backup team."

Nathan sat up in bed with the photos open on his knee. Studying them intently, he ruled them out one by one. It was a white man, he was sure of that. He ruled out the man of Middle Eastern appearance for starters, then studied those who remained. While he scrutinised each face, he replayed the events once more. The arm around his shoulders, he had been a strong man steering him firmly toward the underground car park. Nor was he young. Older than him. Maybe Lucas' age. Dark hair, he remembered that. It was the sound of the man's voice he recalled most clearly.

Meanwhile, Ros and Lucas were picking through the box of chocolates his sister had bought for him. The box suddenly appeared under his nose, blocking his view of the photos.

"Do you want one?" Lucas asked.

Nathan glanced up at him. "You're too generous."

After picking one at random the box was withdrawn and he continued studying the faces. He fixed on one as he bit into the bitterness of a coffee cream and grimaced.

"God, that's fucking disgusting!" he complained, eyes watering. But once his vision cleared, he was back at the same face. "This one. This one, I'm certain of it. Who is he?"

He turned to Ros and Lucas in time to see them swap a smile, a glimmer of triumph in Ros' eye.

"Joseph Weston," she said. "Business associate of our friend John Carlton. He also popped in to visit you while you were unconscious."

Despite the chill that suddenly troubled him, Nathan raised a smile. "That was awfully considerate of him."

He remembered his father telling him about it; about him telling the nursing staff to keep the then unknown man away at all costs. Colour stole into his face, almost coyly, at the thought of his estranged father protecting him while he slept on oblivious. Meanwhile, Ros reached out to take back the pictures and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Get some rest," she instructed him. "And we'll have you back on the Grid in no time."

The thought of returning to work thrilled him. A ray of light piercing the endless tedium of being bedridden in hospital. As they rose to leave, Lucas clapped a hand on his shoulder. "By the way, someone's waiting outside for you."

Nathan got up, trying to disentangle himself from the sheets. "Where?"

"He can't come in, so you'll have to open a window," explained Lucas. He winked, like an enigmatic bastard, and left him lying there.

Curious, Nathan got up and carefully guided himself to the window and drew back the blinds his father had closed an hour earlier. He was greeted, once more, by a wet car park. One the first floor, his view was good. But there was no one out there. Only cars being rained on. After a good few minutes of glaring out of that window, the waver caught his eye. A blue blur at first, his broke into a wide smile as he recognised Olly. A visit at last, but Nathan wasn't about to brook any nonsense about him staying out there.

Carefully, he inched the window open. "I'm alone, you can come in."

But Olly only got back in their car and drove it over to one of the disabled parking spaces beneath his window. An illegal move Nathan decided to ignore.

"What are you doing?" he asked, once Olly was out again. "Just come in; I need you. The nurse will kill me herself if she catches me here."

But Olly was grinning from ear to ear. "I can't, but I got you a present from Wales."

Nathan frowned as his partner opened the passenger door and fussed with something on the backseat. "Thanks, Olly, but I'd rather have you here with me. That's a nice present too, and you don't have to go all the way to Wales for-"

He cut off abruptly as Olly turned around and held up a tiny, ginger and white fluff ball of a kitten in a Lion King-esque moment of revelation. In accordance with the universal laws of nature, the kitten brought instant happiness. Nathan could just make out its little fuzzy tail curling round Olly's hands.

"For you," Olly called up to the window. "Your Dad knew someone in Wales who was selling them!"

It took Nathan a moment to regain the power of speech. "Just wait there," he eventually managed to choke out. "Don't move; I'm on my way."

It was only a kitten, but it was still life. He backed away from the window and threw a dressing down over his shoulders. He told the nurse he was headed for the Gents, then swung down the corridor and headed for the elevators. He felt almost giddy when he realised this was the most exercise he had had in over a week.

Harry hung up the phone and returned to Ruth and Tariq in a hurry. They were still watching over the meeting between Jo and Weston. "That was Ros," he told them both. "Nathan's given us a positive ID on Weston. It was him."

"Well that's it then, we bring him in," Ruth replied, quickly. She reached for Tariq's desk phone, ready to give the order herself.

Break through reached, Harry allowed himself the luxury of sitting down.

Thanks again for reading, reviews would be welcome if you have a minute.