Many thanks for the reviews. Harry and Jane the morning after the night before (ahem). Also could be called Harry fights back.

Harry's House approx 8.30am next morning

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table staring gloomily at his breakfast which consisted of one large mug of strong black coffee accompanied by a correspondingly small bowl containing a smidgeon of cereal. It was 8.30 in the morning and without even setting foot on the Grid he had already endured two spectacularly difficult conversations.

First off had been Erin, ringing to check that his early hours text hadn't been the brain child of a drunken stupor. He had finally managed to convince her, with some difficulty that he had been perfectly sober when he had pressed the send button and that a visit from an AA crash team was surplus to requirements. Once the situation had been properly explained Erin had gracefully apologised for her misapprehensions, expressed sympathy for the position Jane found herself in, and by way of making amends offered to throw a spare bra into the package. That had been the easier of the two discussions. He was still reeling from the subsequent encounter with Jane.

Knocking on Jane's door and having to explain the provenance of the proffered smalls would live in his memory as one of their more annihilating encounters. It had taken him a good ten minutes to convince her that the envelope contents were not gift wrapped debris from his bedroom floor; the remnants of a close encounter of the intimate kind. During the subsequent exchange of views, Jane, in full Karotoa mode, had amply demonstrated her almost perfect recall of just about every one of his marital misdemeanours – including several that he had thought, until now, had evaded the wifely radar. She had finally accepted his offering with a gracious comment to the effect that her alternative option was the feminine equivalent of going commando. Thirty years ago Harry would have found that prospect positively enticing but now... Age, he had to concede, seemed to be catching up with him. More importantly Jane's response had made it clear that Harry was still in pole position on her 'Shits of the Century' list.

As he awaited her arrival downstairs Harry tried to consider dispassionately the circumstances that had lead to Jane's current tenure under his roof. Unfortunately all he really knew for certain was the little Dimitri had told him a few hours earlier, plus Jane's assertion that she'd expected Catherine to be in London. To be blunt at present he knew virtually nothing at all. Obviously his daughter was missing and much as Harry would have liked to convince himself that her absence and the bombing of her flat were purely coincidental thirty plus years as a spook made that thought risible. It was a mystery he couldn't begin to solve while seated here at the breakfast table. For the first time since Ruth's death he was anxious to get into the Grid for reasons other than the need to linger withinn her echoing presence. He could only hope that Calum and Dimitri had managed to unearth some positive leads from the CCTV and recognition software. Erin had mentioned that both men had hit the Grid early to begin working on the case. She was intending to join them once she'd dealt with Harry's request. And once she'd contacted Towers, although she hadn't mentioned that last bit.

Harry wondered if either Erin or Towers were really dense enough to believe that he hadn't realised that Towers had charged the Erin with the role of informer vis a vis Harry's mental state. The knowledge didn't make him especially angry; in Towers position he would have made the same arrangements and Erin didn't have a choice unless she wanted to commit career Hari-Kari. Harry simply regarded this as one more cross to bear in the permanent Good Friday his life had become.

His thoughts were disturbed by the most immediate of his crosses entering the kitchen clad in his shirt and joggers, both presumably underpinned by Erin's smalls. He didn't dare risk staring in an attempt to confirm the latter, he really didn't want perving added to Jane's rapidly expanding charge sheet of grievances. Her appearance also called to mind his responsibilities as a host, but in view of her earlier explosion Harry had decided to adopt an age old military tactic; the one that espoused attack as being the best form of defence.

"Morning again Jane. I'd say that you look lovely but you'll just call me a liar. I can offer you a choice of tea, coffee, juice and cereal or cereal plus painkillers."

"Ever the flatterer. The upper layers make me look like a cross dresser of uncertain age while the items you obtained make me look like a refugee from a soft porn movie. Your Section Chief certainly has a racy taste in underwear, but at least my modesty is covered ... just. Coffee and cereal then, and painkillers reluctantly."

Harry, who'd started thinking involuntarily along the lines of 'you lucky bastard Dimitri', stared a little at these last words, Jane noticed and continued: "You may remember that I was on anti depressants when we divorced." In such fated tones the early martyrs might have spoken: stoical but brave victims faced with a callous indifference to their fate. Harry's reply was to let forth an unforced groan, 'here we go again, the same old record, or these days should that be ipod?' and he just wished to God that she'd shuffle the tune – all his less than glorious yesterdays dragged up twice before breakfast! 'I need a whisky, a double.' Jane heard his moan and continued crisply, "I'm trying to explain Harry. My GP should taken me off them after I ditched you, but he didn't. In effect I became addicted and that has made me reluctant to even take an aspirin." Given Harry's lack of response she added caustically, "Don't feel obliged to apologise."

Harry had already decided not to, on the basis that life, especially for MI5 agents, was short and certainly far too short to utter every apology Jane might demand as her due. Obviously last night's vague truce had been fuelled by exhaustion. Her diatribe did, however, recall something he'd forgotten to ask the previous evening.

"That reminds me. Jane don't you need to ring my replacement? – He must be worried and ..."

Jane didn't give him time to finish before interrupting him with a dismissive wave of her hand: "No need he's away at present, visiting some old friends."

"Even so..."

"No Harry, leave it. It isn't necessary, and I don't want to worry him, this doesn't concern him."

Although she sounded commanding Harry registered the slight hesitation in her voice. Jane was concealing something. His mind began to race as he was tempted, oh was he tempted, to push and make Jane wriggle for once, but then one of them had to be an adult and at present he was more concerned to concentrate on finding their daughter. Once Catherine was safe he and Jane would be unlocked from their reluctant alliance, freed to go their separate ways once more. 'Now there was a consummation devoutly to be wished, preferably before one of them was arraigned for homicide.'

"Very well Jane, eat up, drink up and dose up as you think fit. My driver will be here in about ten minutes to take us to Thames House."

Jane, taken aback, stared at him. Although he'd mentioned going into Thames House the previous evening she'd assumed that was spook speak for being put under witness protection. During the all the years of their marriage he'd refused to allow her any significant entre into his secret world. Despite her curiosity she'd always accepted that to some extent his excuse of national security combined with the need to keep his family safe was true, even if it had also provided a convenient cover for his many infidelities. How ironical that now, years later, when it was too late to salvage their relationship, he was offering this as the most natural of suggestions. Memories of her earlier rejected pleas threaded another thought.

"Right, but won't the fragrant Juliet object to my civilian presence within the hallowed precincts". Given his past history with Juliet the viciousness in Jane's voice didn't surprise Harry, which was exactly why he wanted to prevaricate, if at all possible.

"The not so fragrant Juliet isn't around to object and if she is foolish enough to come within a mile of the place she'll find herself working at Her Majesty's Pleasure rather that at her Majesty's Service"

"Why? What did she do – lash someone to death with her tongue?"

The words 'pot' 'kettle' and 'black' floated into Harry's mind as he tried to bluster behind the protective shield of protocol.

"Sorry Official Secret."

"Yes and I've signed the Act. Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to land myself in prison on account of blabbing about that bitch? I wouldn't risk having to share a cell with her. So tell!"

Harry felt a momentary pang of hypothetical sympathy for any prison governor unfortunate enough to house the pairing of his ex-wife and ex-boss. It had definite potential as a torture technique. Reluctantly he concluded that Jane wouldn't be satisfied until she had an answer. He supposed he should try to keep on the right side of her, although exactly where that side was located remained a geometrical mystery.

"She joined an organisation dedicated to creating world peace by disabling the USA and arming Iran with nuclear triggers. She tried to recruit me but when I wouldn't agree and it was clear they were rumbled she made her excuses and left, leaving me handcuffed."

"You kinky devils."

"Not like that – I was fully clothed at the time."

Harry uttered this last with some asperity as his revelation was greeted with a look of total glee on Jane's face.

"What an utterly delicious thought. It almost makes it worthwhile having put up with the patronage I endured from that cow in Paris smiling at my supposed ignorance, remember, when the pair of you were sneaking off to hotels and screwing yourselves senseless at every opportunity." Jane's voice was slightly raised as she recalled her past betrayals. "So now she's a wanted woman and you were sleeping with the enemy - presumably it wasn't your brain you were thinking with when you fell into that particular honey trap."

'How exactly,' Harry wondered, 'was Jane managing to do it?' She knew nothing of his recent past, of Ruth and Elena, yet time after time every verbal arrow loosed from her tongue scored a bullseye on his most sensitive and secret shames. Defence was useless. Sticking to his resolve to attack he replied in a terse voice that would have signalled to even the most obtuse of his underlings that a Pearce explosion was imminent.

"Jane I really must point out that if it takes two to marry equally it takes two to stuff up a relationship. I'll plead guilty to three quarters of blame for the mess our marriage became, but if I have to listen much more of this I'll be reminding you of some of your more questionable actions."

"Such as?"

"For a start how about the insidious comments you've made for years to Catherine and Graham?"

"How dare you when you..."

Her attempt at self justification died at birth as Harry, temper in full throttle and eyes burning with anger stood up smashing his fist down onto the kitchen table. Somewhat unfortunately he accidentally hit the rim of his cereal bowl making Jane splutter when she suddenly found herself plastered with milk soaked museli. Shocked into silence she looked around for a cloth to wipe herself down with. Harry silently handed her a roll of kitchen towel before continuing in a somewhat more muted manner.

"Jane rehashing the past isn't doing either of us any good. I need you on the Grid because you are the only witness we have to last night's explosion and your input is vital. Also, much as I hate to admit it, you've probably a better idea of what Catherine may or may not have been up to and that could be important."

Jane was still recovering from the shock of being on the receiving end of Harry's temper. She fully realised that she'd provoked him but while she retained near perfect recall of all his faults as a husband she'd forgotten just how intimidating Harry could be when gripped by fury. For now silence might be a sensible idea. As she occupied herself sponging cereal off Harry's shirt and picking oat flakes out of her hair she almost missed his next words.

"Jane, I must ask you if you could possibly refrain from biting chunks out of me in front of my junior staff."

"Not good for your image?"

"That isn't what bothers me – my staff have seen and heard far worse about me than anything you can come up with, but if they are being forced to act as a buffer zone between us it might distract them from the main task."

Jane considered his words before replying in much quieter voice, "I'll try. I really am sorry Harry –and despite what I keep letting fly with I do appreciate the trouble you've taken to try and make me comfortable, truly I do. It's just that ... well last night when I was soaking in the bath I began thinking that the past should be a foreign country and I should let it go ...but then ... let's just say that I seem to be trapped in a time warp that I can't escape from."

There was a very, very long pause as Harry was swallowed into the memory of a similar conversation a few months previously. He recalled the piercing blue eyes that had looked questioningly at him as Ruth stood framed in his office doorway, suspecting the truth but desperately hoping that Elena had simply been an asset. Her look of hurt comprehension as he'd haltingly admitted the extent of their involvement which had lead to his fathering of a child, or so he had believed at the time. Little had either of them known that they were already inescapably bound up in the web of untruths and intrigue spun in Berlin decades previously. Even as Ruth was offering with resigned love to help him unpick his mistakes she was already the doomed victim of events set in motion when she was a schoolgirl. He might be considered to have received his just desserts, the deceiver deceived but Ruth, innocent, selfless, loving Ruth...he might as well have stabbed her himself...the inescapable truth was that her blood was still on his hands and always would be.

"Harry, Harry...what's wrong?" Harry started, he'd been so absorbed in his ghostly vision that it had achieved a momentary reality. As it dissolved he realised that he was looking blankly at Jane who was regarding him with a genuine expression of concern. He managed to articulate a reply; "It's nothing Jane." 'Liar Pearce the cock has just crowed three times.' "Someone else said something similar to me a while ago that's all. Believe me I understand more completely that you will ever know just how difficult it is to move on."

Jane had begun to note his momentary hesitations, 'so Harry did have someone in his life' and judging by the note of ineffable sadness in his voice it wasn't going well. For several seconds his eyes had been unfocussed as he had seemed to submerge himself into the stillness of a hinterland peopled by regrets. Had he actually found someone who could resist his charms? Jane knew better than anyone how appealing Harry could make himself, women had fallen for him in swathes at University, forcing one of his less successful friends to complain in crude exasperation that 'Harry could charm the knickers off a nun'. That implication had raised every feminist hackle she possessed. Consequently it had been with a small degree of shame that, when she in her turn had been confronted with the full barrage of the Pearce seduction technique, she'd found him impossible to resist. The real puzzle, of course, was how come they'd wound up as figurines on a shared wedding cake. She knew why she'd said yes –he'd been attractive, amusing, intelligent and, if she was completely honest, great fun in bed – At the time she'd never really paused to wonder why he'd been so desperate to marry her. Until the carapace of secrecy had heralded their downward spiral, when anything they had ever had had finally vanished into a thundercloud of recrimination, she'd never really considered that question. Now looking into his sorrow glazed eyes she began to ponder anew. 'What exactly had distinguished her from all the women he'd bedded previously? What fugitive quality had he discovered in her, firstly to make him pursue her with avidity and then later to elevate her from the status of casual girlfriend into legal wife?' During the previous evening she'd become well aware that despite his receding hair and expanding waist parts of the old Pearce charm lingered on, 'Once bitten etc'. So who was this mysterious female? Jane was generously prepared to bet Harry's shirt that she had now guessed the root cause of the recurring expression that she had privately nicknamed his 'frozen look'. One thing was certain, if she wanted to discover anything at all about Harry's Dark Lady she'd need to adopt a more subtle approach than that of simply asking him, especially given that she really wanted to avoid any awkward counter questions.

"Jane."

Harry had noticed her silence.

"Sorry Harry, I was trying to guard my tongue. I promise I'll try to avoid too much mention of our past in front of your staff."

Apprising her for sarcasm Harry concluded that she'd been shocked into sincerity, which was timely given that the caller display on his now ringing phone indicated that his driver had arrived. Further discussion would be futile. He knew Jane would try to stick to her word, whether she'd succeed was more problematical. "That's agreed then. My driver's here so let's head off to see what we can find out about our elusive child. Coat?"

As he pulled on the coat he'd loaned her the previous evening onto his own back he handed her a dark coloured three quarter length waxed jacket.

"Okay Jane ready to enter the world of James Bond?"

Glancing at the ragbag of garments now topped off by a coat closely resembling a shroud Jane grimaced, "I think my outfit's wrong. Shouldn't I be wearing black leather?"

Harry briefly contemplated offering her the gloves he'd worn when murdering of the last but one Home Secretary, but decided against. Instead he said lightly as he pulled the front door open. "And you've just accused me of kinky ideas!"

As Jane made to follow him he held up his hand saying, "Wait a moment while I check." Making sure that Jane couldn't see what he was doing Harry cast a quick professional eye over both sides of the street. He noted a nondescript youth in a grey hoodie standing some distance away, seemingly absorbed in the content of his ipod. On seeing Harry's appearance the hoodie gave the briefest of nods before wandering aimlessly away. Harry, without making any acknowledgement, waited until the young man was out of his sight line before turning back to Jane. As he took her arm to help her limp down the steps she heard him whisper reassuringly: "Your outfit may lack glamour but I do have to admit Jane that shirt looks better on you than it will on me."

"Spare the charm for someone who hasn't fallen for it before Harry, I'm innoculated remember."

"That's not charm Jane. It's basic observation."

Next up Harry and Jane hit the Grid to find out has happened to Catherine. It may be a while before I can update due to an imminent change in broadband provider and the need to write the next chapter.