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Hospital

2.00pm

After the endlessly traumatic events of the past few days, let alone his life for the previous thirty years plus, it made a pleasant change for Harry to enter a hospital ward without anticipating the worst. Sure enough, Catherine was partly sitting up, her back, head and shoulders supported by the upwards tilt of the bedhead. Still pale and exhausted she looked positively animated compared to his recent viewings of her. Striding across the room he reached the bed, leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Good to have you back with us Catherine."

Tears began to well up in Catherine's eyes as she managed to whisper, "Thanks Dad. I'm sorry."

Seeing that all was well between the pair of them Jane coughed to remind them of her existence, a sound that made Harry whirl around while uttering an apologetic, "Sorry Jane it's just..." he broke off at the unusual sight of her smiling at him without reservation.

"Harry, it's only right that Catherine should be the centre of your attention."

"That's no excuse for ignoring you." Seeing her face shining with happiness he continued, "And it's lovely to see you smiling like that – it really takes me back to..."

"More years than either of us care to remember I suspect. Back to when you had hair and I didn't have to dye mine." Laughing at his answering grimace, rooted in the nostalgia her words had conjured up, she finished up with, "Now that you're here I'll try to find a nurse. I need to ask what we should bring in for Catherine." With that utterance she disappeared.

Turning back to his daughter Harry commented ruefully, "And that Catherine is your Mum's way of leaving us alone for a father daughter chat." Seeing his daughter's slight air of puzzlement he added, "Catherine after living with your mother for several years I remember how she works."

Catherine managed a wan smile as she enquired, "Even after all this time apart?"

With a wry quirk of the lips Harry replied, "As your mother never tires of reminding me leopards don't change their spots."

The vague sparkle that Catherine had displayed a few seconds ago was extinguished as she said quietly, "Mum says she's been staying with you. Dad when you both hate each other why are you..."

She faltered at the slight sigh from her father. Noting her hesitation he completed the half finished hesitant sentence for her, "Giving her house room."

As his daughter attempted a nod he tried to explain, hampered by not knowing himself exactly how he felt about her mother. Nor, of course, did he know precisely what Jane may or may not have told Catherine. Making his best effort to steer his way through choppy currents he asked, "Catherine. Do you really think that I'd leave your mother on her own, injured and worried sick about your fate? Even my legendary lack of consideration would draw a line in that particular sand."

"Yes but..."

Harry recalled a conversation years ago in which he'd received the distinct impression that Catherine wanted her parents back together as a couple. Not wishing to upset her, especially in her current fragile condition, he adopted a different approach. "If you ever have children Catherine you will discover two things, firstly they can walk away from you but you can't do likewise, or shouldn't, and also that you will have an inescapable bond with their father."

With a quick flicker of impatience, Catherine, who no more than her father accepted being treated as an idiot, replied "I understand that, but even so Dad why are you helping her to dump Robin?"

"That Catherine is between myself and your Mum. I know you were fond of him but..." His floundering explanation was suddenly halted by the sight of an expression of acute distaste passing across his daughter's face. "Catherine..."

The various drugs were giving Catherine difficulty in speaking. As she tried to articulate though a dry throat Harry, realising the problem, picked up the water jug conveniently placed on the bedside table, and having poured some liquid into the accompanying cup, eased his arm around her as he helped her to drink. Throat soothed as she sank back against her pillows Catherine sighed, her voice a little less hoarse,

"That's better. Thanks and Dad I'd be very happy if you did help Mum out with that." At his frown the caring parent had suddenly transformed into the MI5 tough nut. Catherine, with a sudden sense of fright, had just received a visual insight into why her father was so brilliant at interrogation. He was terrifying, and she knew he would never harm her. "He was making me feel uncomfortable, that's all."

"That my girl is not all." Harry, in shock, had spoken more loudly than he'd realised. Seeing Catherine jump, and then wince, he moderated his tone, "I think I know what's coming next. I'll spare you saying it, so just nod if I've guessed correctly." Despite a lifetime of exposure to endless depravities when it came to his own family Harry felt a wave of utter revulsion, one that not all his years at the helm of Section D had prepared him for. Swallowing down the bile surging in his throat he attempted to ask as casually as he could, "So Robin tried a little in house seduction."

Exasperatingly Catherine nodded and then shook her head before croaking, "Not quite, he just kept making the odd comment about my looking good and joking that it wouldn't be incest." Taking a shallow breath before Harry, whose sense of humour had just packed its bags for a prolonged holiday, could interject she added, "He occasionally held my hand just a shade longer than necessary, that kind of thing. Nothing overt, nothing I could say I really objected to, I just felt uncomfortable."

Exhausted by the effort she sank back into her pillow nervously watching her father's utterly inscrutable face. Harry's customary guise of impassivity was serving him well in its concealment of the various thoughts and desires jostling for prime place. If Catherine been able to penetrate behind the mask she would have found herself trapped in a tsunami of hatred swirling Robinwards. 'Made Catherine feel uncomfortable that's nothing to what I'd like to do him,' Had Robin been standing in front of him, Harry, with no quarter given to the likely consequences, would without hesitation have blasted Snuggle Bunny into his component atoms. As anger with the perfidious Robin continued to flood through Harry's psyche a further unpleasant thought, like a toxic worm, began to penetrate his brain. Had Jane been so mesmerised by Robin's dubious charms that she'd brushed away Catherine's complaints as trifling?

Loath to distress his daughter, who was watching him with an uneasy eye, he forced himself to speak through the teeth he was ungritting with difficulty, "One more question Catherine, does your Mum know about this?"

Catherine shook her head and then gave a small gasp of discomfort. Instantly contrite for what he was putting her though Harry hastily asked, "What is it Catherine?"

"Nothing Dad, just shaking my head makes it swim a little. You won't tell Mum or..." Catherine wondered if she should say it, but keen to exonerate her mother continued uncertainly, "You won't blame her will you. I know she married Robin, so you might think she's at fault but... well I couldn't tell her because really there was nothing to tell, and he'd have claimed it was my imagination." A little nervously, worried that she'd said too much, she faltered," and really it might have been. I mean he didn't push it."

Despite her final tremulous disclaimer Harry had little doubt that Catherine's assessment was correct, Robin would have been subtle enough to ensure that any complaint on her part could have been attributed to the disturbed fantasies of an adolescent girl fixating on a recently acquired father figure. Even as his stomach heaved at that notion a simultaneous wave of relief went some way towards restraining the anger he'd been directing at Jane. According to Catherine the worst she could be accused of was ignorance. She had not complicity turned an active blind eye, although the whole revelation was once again reinforcing his long standing irritation centred around her sheer stupidity in tumbling into bed with the pervy git in the first place.

In his fury Harry was seriously considering the possibility of abandoning his current plans to nullify Robin; preferably in favour of something shot through with mild violence. Castration, facial rearrangement, or an accidental conversation with a blunt instrument, any or all of those would inadequately suffice. As he tossed these luscious alternatives around in his stormy mind, a degree of rationality began to emerge from within the red hot depths of his anger. Not only had Jane very definitely embargoed murdering Robin, she'd also loathed from the outset the dark acts that Harry's job entailed. That in itself wouldn't have stopped the younger Harry from acting on his impulses; what was halting the older Harry was not the mellowness that reputedly came with age, - he wasn't ready for pipe and slipperdom quite yet - no, what was staying his orchestration of a physical retribution on Robin's appendages, one in particular and this time it wasn't his nose – was the regretful consideration that the unreasonably tender hearted Catherine and Jane would instantly, and accurately, attribute any unfortunate encounters that happened to befall the Robin in a dank deserted alleyway to Harry's backroom machinations. Harry had owed much of his career success to an unswerving ability to remain focused on his operational objectives, whatever the distractions that threatened to derail him. Jane had unjustly accused him of many faults, but in her statement that he always worked to his own agenda she had judged correctly. Harry desperately wanted his family back, with all the concomitant angst and arguments that might involve. Robin had, unaided by interference from Harry, managed to alienate them all, Graham, Catherine and finally Jane. Decision time beckoned. Was he really going to be reward Robin's stupidity by allowing an ill judged revenge destroy a genuine chance restore amicable relations with his long estranged family? Little though they may relish it they needed him, and deep down Harry was beginning to realise that he, lonely, isolated and bereaved, needed them. Given that his primary aim in banishing Robin from their lives was to convert the truce with Jane into a lasting peace, Harry regretfully concluded he'd have to stick with plan A. It wasn't a bad option. He could at least bask in the consolation that, even in the absence of any oh so satisfactory fist related contact, Robin's personal and professional reputation was about to be comprehensively trashed. Publicly, irrevocably, and more or less truthfully. Once that objective had been achieved Robin would be lucky to obtain employment cleaning the toilet that Harry was itching to stick the bastard's head down, preferably one brimming with unflushed number twos. As to whether, in that hypothetical situation, Harry would allow him to come up for air – well the jury was out on that one.

The future could take care of itself, for now his distressed daughter, looking at him with pleading eyes, round and tearful, needed reassurance. Harry taking a deep breath set about assuaging her uppermost anxiety.

"But nothing Catherine. She's not responsible for Robin's actions, so no, I'm not blaming your mother, Although I do think you should tell her about this." Lurking at the back of Harry's mind was the consideration that while Jane would be deeply upset she might suspect that Harry had let his dislike of Robin inform his imagination. Whereas she'd have to believe their daughter. What to say – that had to Catherine's call. With that decision he shifted the topic slightly.

"I did blame her for the divorce which I never wanted, until I finally realised that I'd expected far more from her than was reasonable." Watching his daughter mulling over this statement he pressed on, "Can we at least use the events of the last few days to debunk one family myth. I've never hated your mother, any more than I've ever regretted marrying her. How we ended up is a different matter entirely."

Before Catherine could attempt any further excavation of her father's well hidden emotional depths – like Tutankhamun's tomb you suspected something existed deep down below, but had to dig to confirm the matter- the room door swung open signalling the return of Jane. Harry's relief, - forthright expression of emotion really was not his forte - became short lived when she rounded on her daughter in an almost demand, "I hope you got round to thanking your father." Catherine's shamefaced expression making her exclaim, "Honestly Catherine if you must put yourself in danger."

Her recriminations were halted temporarily as Harry leapt to Catherine's defence. "I'm the last person to be a position to rebuke her, beside which Jane you're forgetting Catherine might just have been instrumental in saving the entire British Security Service from being neutered." 'Pity I can't hand Robin to the CIA for a similar operation'

Before Jane could argue further, he knew that mutinous expression of old, he kissed Catherine, "You just concentrate on getting better. And remember what I said - all of it."

"I will and thanks Dad." Grateful for his forbearance and his silence – Catherine suspecting that her mother was about to return to the attack, asked a question that had been troubling her "Er what's happened to Franklin?"

"Being kept in MI5 protective custody." His daughter's flash of scepticism forcing him to elucidate further, "No really we're preparing an identity and legend for him." Since the less Catherine knew the better for everyone he turned his attention back to Jane. Concealing his barely cooled fury at what he was now privy to, he was struggling to avoid being overly brusque, as he informed her, "I'll return later to collect you –since neither of us have had an opportunity to trudge around the supermarket I thought we'd eat out tonight. Will the Italian near me be acceptable? "

Puzzled by his somewhat remote stance, and its contrast to the warmth he'd displayed just a few minutes earlier, she responded with, "Do I have a choice?" before conceding, "It sounds more appetising than baked beans on toast, so yes."

Not answering Harry left with a simple, 'Bye for now'. As he pulled the door close behind him a melancholy grimace momentarily twitched across his lips as he overheard Catherine plaintively asking a question he'd love the answer to himself." Mum what is it with you and Dad?" The unfortunate presence of the Security guards prevented him from dallying with ears wagging in an effort to overhear Jane's answer.

Italian Restaurant

7.30pm approx.

Jane hadn't known what to expect from Harry's chosen eatery, other than the food would be excellent. The restaurant's ambience, intimate with well spaced tables carried the air of an establishment in which couples dined with the intention of sizing one another up, prior to deciding how the evening might end. Jane wasn't foolish enough, or sufficiently conceited enough, to think that seduction was uppermost in Harry's mind this evening. She knew from the state of the larder that his given reason for eating out was the truth. Even so she couldn't prevent herself from wondering if he'd ever brought the mysterious Ruth here. Discreet, with shaded ceiling lights supplemented by candlelit tables, the air redolent with the rich aromas of various foods, Jane couldn't help comparing the atmosphere with that of the tatty coffee shop where she'd last sat with Harry in public. With an uncommendable sagacity Harry had seemingly read her mind as he said, "Compensation for that awful cafe."

Looking across at Harry, dressed down in a light blue open necked shirt, chinos, tieless with a casual jacket slung over his chair back he seemed relaxed and surprisingly calm, the lines in his almost perpetually furrowed brow a little less in evidence as he studied the menu. Not for the first time she envied him the aplomb, for herself she was wondering if dining out with Harry was tantamount to making a public statement about their relationship, which was exactly what? That thought however was being succeeded by a more pertinent dread. Ever since Catherine's appalling revelations, after Harry's departure from the hospital, Jane had felt as if a particularly large stone was lodging in the pit of her stomach. She now understood the reason for his air of detachment from her. What she was puzzling over was his silence on an issue he had every right to lambast her for, as a precursor to summarily ejecting her from his home.

The clouding of her face as she contemplated this conundrum caused Harry, whose casual demeanour was a feint belying his own apprehensions, to wonder if Catherine was wrong. Had Jane turned a blind eye to Robin's unacceptable behaviour, she had after all done so re his known adulteries, a tolerance she'd not extended to Harry. Quietly he posed the question.

"What's troubling you Jane?"

"Nothing really, I'm, just being silly."

With anyone who didn't know her she might have got away with that statement. Harry, suspecting that Catherine had followed his advice, but not wanting to raise the subject directly, just commented in the same low pitched voice,

"That I do doubt. This is meant to be a mild celebration of our daughter's recovery, so will you please spit out whatever is eating you as an aid to our mutual digestion." He'd given her an opening, now to see what, if anything, she'd admit to.

However neutral the voice it was clear to Jane, well versed in Harry's undertones, that any answering obfuscation would receive short shrift. Hesitantly she tried to reply, "It's just..." She halted, "Well considering our post divorce past..." She faltered to a stop again as she fumbled for words, God she was sounding like Laura.

Harry helpfully filled the conversational gap, "Not to mention the end game of our marriage."

Grateful for his understanding she managed to articulate, "It's just I'm so confused about how I really feel about you and with that, why you're taking so much trouble to help me without asking." She paused for a moment before adding humbly, "Especially ...- with what Catherine told me this afternoon about Robin I can't understand why you are still prepared to talk to me, let alone be seen with me in public." Articulating her misery out loud, addressing herself as much as Harry "I've spent every minute since asking myself how I missed it, I'd even noticed that she rarely came home once she went to university"

As she faltered Harry interjected at little more aggressively that intended, "So what exactly did you think?"

Jane flinched at the barely hidden hostility as she tried to explain, "I thought she'd got involved in university life, and - it's no excuse – but by then Graham was causing all sorts of problems. I was just happy that she was living her own life." Shuddering she was almost crying, "I'm supposed to be trained in child protection, and I never once considered..never ever suspected even when she never asked about Robin or displayed his photo...When I saw that film of him with ...well I suppose I should have realised then. When I think about what might have happened..." She broke off unable to find words to describe her emotions.

As her face crumpled with shame, the very real misery in her voice and the biting of her lip made Harry reach across the table. Robin and his works had wrought enough havoc. He really didn't want her bursting into tears at all, and most definitely not in public. He'd been right to think that Catherine's revelations would devastate her. Seeing her so contrite and confused, the remnants of blame that he'd still been attributing to her dissolved in his overwhelming need to comfort her.

"Blood curdling thoughts about what might have happened are best avoided." Putting his hand over hers he said very gently, "Plausibility is the stock in trade of the liar and I should know given the number of legends and personas I've had to adopt." Seeing her nod slowly as the tears receded he felt vindicated in his decision not to allow the ancient history of Robin's lecherous intent on their daughter spoil his own ambitions. "As for me, I'm asking nothing of you. Although I'd like to think that when the current dust settles we could remain on civil terms."

His reasoning struck Jane as all too sensible, but also something of an impossible dream as, in a voice still broken with sorrow, she responded, "That is very generous of you Harry. When I consider how unforgiving I've been over the years, saying you were the bad influence when all the time..." The slight wave of his hand indicated that for him the issue was exhausted. Even so her misgivings had to be voiced, "Somehow I find it difficult to envisage us all playing a form of happy divorced families together. I think we've had too much damage inflicted over the years. It's like you having to be friendly with the Russians. Don't tell me you enjoyed that."

In struggling for an answer she'd forgotten her suspicion that somehow the partnership agreement featured in the background of whatever it was that kept sending Harry into a form of emotional hiatus. This time was no exception, a shadow instantly passed through the back of his eyes as he gave a short shake that a less acute observer would have entirely missed. His recovery was swift.

"At the moment Jane I'm probably on better terms with the FSB than the CIA." 'Certainly with Ilya Gavrik – I wonder if he keeps suffering from flashbacks as well. And who am I to lambast Jane for not seeing through Robin, I completely misread Elena. At least Jane's errors didn't kill anyone '

Jane was spared finding an immediate answer to this statement by the approach of the waiter. Harry, having disposed of their order, that seemingly, despite their duel prescription of painkillers, included a bottle of wine, sat back awaiting her response.

Jane although hesitant about stirring the coals, disturbing sleeping dogs, or any other metaphor appropriate to their tangled past finally admitted,

"I know, I wasn't deliberately eavesdropping but I heard what you said to Catherine." Seeing him frown she clarified, "The bit about not wanting the divorce."

Harry was frankly puzzled, "So why ask if I'm expecting anything?"

"I'd like to believe the rest, it's just." She halted, looking at Harry, he'd resisted the urge to castigate her, it would be appropriate to return the compliment, "Never mind. It's long past."

"And still casting its long shadow. After everything you've said over the years perhaps you should tell me." 'Please Jane let's just clear the decks for once and for all'

"I've said a lot of things – many of which I'd prefer not remember, or repeat if I do."

"I'm equally guilty of that one. One more sharp sentence is not going to be a deal breaker from my point of view."

"Very well. It's simply that I find it difficult to trust a man who didn't trust me sufficiently to tell me what he did for a living before I married him."

Harry gulped, this was a crux statement that needed an answer. The festering sore that had virtually destroyed their marriage even as it began.

"The truth Jane. Why I didn't tell you. I was afraid you'd pull out. After everything that came afterwards I know you might find this difficult to believe but I really loved you and was terrified you'd run if you knew the truth."

He was greeted with a stare of total incredulity, "Harry you've got to be joking. You were being trained to kill people, face all types of dangerous situations, and you were afraid of being jilted!"

"I know how unlikely that sounds, but tell me honestly if I had told you..."

That was an unanswerable question. "The point is you didn't give me the choice and with the hindsight of what happened I can't tell you what I'd have done at the time. I know you wanted us to continue but I just couldn't take it any longer. There I was the good little wife at home providing a front while you were cantering around Europe having affairs for excitement – you had it made." Even with the understanding she'd recently been the recipient of Jane found it impossible to lie. "While I was stuck at home with two kids and a developing depression. Although I wish I could, I can't take back that you were a nightmare."

Unpalatable as her words were they represented a bedrock of honesty that Harry hoped augured well for the future, failure to talk frankly and fairly having bedevilled their shared past. "The CIA would probably agree with you there and I'm not going to argue with your description of me thirty years ago either. I do want to remain on good terms though. In a few years time it is just possible that one of our offspring might provide us with grandchildren, do we really want to be inflicting family trauma further down the line."

"I find the possibility of grandchildren a little unlikely, neither shows any signs of finding a partner that's a keeper."

Preferring to concentrate on the present, and the matter in hand he continued, "But just think Jane, last week you'd have found it impossible to believe that we'd be sitting in this restaurant having this conversation while awaiting the arrival of a rather good cannelloni."

Seeing that this thought had struck home he pushed his luck a little further, with his current forbearance she might just agree, "Which reminds me Jane." Liar Pearce once you knew Catherine would recover you've had every intention of asking this one.' "I've been ordered to attend the Reception and I seem to remember that you were also invited I was wondering if you could bring yourself to hike a lift with me." As her head jerked up with shock he appealed to practicality. "It seems a little silly to take two cars from the same address."

"You mean go together." Jane thought for a moment, her apprehensions about the public interpretation of their relationship resurfacing. Harry guessing at the cause of her reluctance added, "I didn't mean as partners, or even as one other's plus one. We can tell the current truth - that we were at university together and recently ran into one another."

"I can't Harry. I haven't anything to wear. My evening dress went up in the bomb."

Harry's disappointment – he wasn't about to analyse why he felt just a little upset - made him exclaim firmly. "If you don't want to be seen with me at a public event fine, but don't lie about it Jane."

Jane's answer was just as sharp, with a soupcon of hurt. "I'm not."

She wasn't getting away with that one, "Come on. I overheard Laura say that she'd packed you an evening dress."

Jane's reaction was as unexpected as it was unanticipated. He watched in shock as she sat back in her chair and began to smile broadly, "Harry to be more exact she'd packed what she thought was an evening dress."

The disappointment vanished as curiosity overwhelmed him. "And?"

"If you must know she packed a black lace negligee. I can't wear that – especially not when I've been campaigning with Gawain on the issue of nudity."

Harry began shaking with laughter. "Oh dear I misjudged you. Sorry."

Matching his mirth with her own Jane giggled, "That's what Laura will say if I mention it.

Still spluttering Harry had a further question. "Any chance of a private viewing to judge its acceptability?"

"Harry." Jane's shock at what she'd half thought was a proposition vanished the instant she saw the mischief twinkling in his eyes. Typically, she'd fallen for it.

Wiping his streaming eyes, it was ages since he'd enjoyed such a good joke, Harry sobering up, got down to brass tacks,

"I still don't see why you can't go. London is full of shops and I'm sure Erin would advise you."

"That isn't the problem. Access to my bank account is."

He could fell that objection instantly. "Thanks for reminding me. I've got your new chequebook and credit card at home. You'll find your account has been credited with a consultation fee for the Reception."

Touched but alarmed, Jane had some concerns. "Harry – won't that get you into trouble. I mean nepotism and ..."

Harry in the tone of one used to overriding daily pettifogging objections remained unworried. "I needed an advisor at the last minute, you were already security cleared and we'll produce your credentials if anyone has the nerve to ask. They won't."

Jane, cornered, was glaring at him with a fulminating eye. "I'm not being given a choice am I?"

'Not really' would have been the straight but inadvisable answer. Appealing to the career woman might be more successful, "Jane you've worked hard to make this a success, you deserve any praise that comes your way. Only my team and Towers will know you are my ex wife, to the rest of the world we are old university friends. I'm hoping that might turn out to be the truth.

And when he smiled at her like that she could feel herself weakening as she backtracked wistfully by over thirty years. Seeing the approach of the waiter with their meal she gave in with a caveat.

"As long as I can find a suitable dress."

His point won Harry smirked at her.

"You can always fall back on the negligee, or if that's too revealing Gawain's idea of a bin bag. I'm sure you'd look fetching if you accessorised it with a few fish bones."

Jane wasn't sure whether to laugh or fume as she replied, "Any more comments of that nature and you'll be accessorised with pasta."

"That's okay, I'm so hungry a double helping would be acceptable?"

With that, the ex spouses, ex adversaries, joint parents, tentative friends, fell onto their food. Each privately acknowledging with relief one certainty; that for now their truce remained firmly cemented in place.

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