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Hospital

4.00 am

To the watchers gathered around Harry's bed it was only the inevitability of night eventually fading into dawn that held out any realistic prospect of change during the next few hours. Not that they would actually be able to observe the sunrise, confined as they were in a small sideward, with the intimidating presence of two burly officers stationed just outside the door as an extra precaution. Erin had been insistent, and Malcolm recalling the fate of Sarah Caulfield as narrated by Harry had, once again, been reluctantly forced to endorse her decision, against the vehement protests of Jane.

"Really Erin you've caught the culprits."

"We hope, so but I'm not taking the chance."

The balance of battle between strong minded woman v strong minded woman was tipped by a further intervention from Graham, "Anyone tries anything I'll sort them."

At which point Jane had stopped arguing with Erin and turned on her son, "Oh no you won't. That would nice for your father, coming too and finding you'd been killed."

"I doubt it would bother him much."

At this lack of conviction Catherine had finally lost patience. "And Dad thought I was the stupid one – he was there for me even when I hated him, and I'll bet he's been there for you. You've just been too idiotic to realise it."

Before these amiable statements could erupt into a full blown family row Erin had declared, "That's decided then. Malcolm I rely on you to keep me informed." Then she'd beaten a retreat back the calm and peaceful Grid leaving Malcolm stuck with the thankless task of escorting a sullen Graham, furious Catherine and resigned Jane to Harry's bedside.

Now, after about three hours of staring hypnotically at the shallow rise and fall of Harry's chest, for Jane the quietness that in the Chapel had seemed so soothing was becoming oppressive. Harry lay silent and virtually unmoving, in itself unnatural for one who so usually exuded energy, while the sensate foursome seemed to be emulating breathing statues as they sat equally still. The sole entertainment on offer being a close quarter viewing of the pictorial rhythm produced by the monitors registering Harry's vital functions. A few hours ago they had feared for his life and now, somewhat ungratefully, they were becoming impatient for an indication that he would shortly be restored to them in a more vibrant form.

Jane, dripping with tiredness, was prevented from dozing not due to worries about Harry, the reassuring lines and bleeps on display from the various machines was sufficient confirmation of his survival - the problems in that respect would really start when he came round and began to indulge in an endless array of vigorous activities incompatible with convalescence. From experience she knew he'd need a firm hand, and had an unpleasant feeling that once again they'd be backtracking by thirty years since she couldn't see anyone else volunteering for that particular bed of nails. Arguably Harry had no claim on her services as nurse, and given their history she knew she'd be a fool to offer them. But since he'd nearly been killed saving her life she didn't think walking away was an option. No, what was at the forefront of her mind were the more immediate concerns centring upon her children, Catherine looking pale and exhausted, not amazing considering her recent experiences, and more significantly Graham.

Sitting opposite her she could see his face, so very like Harry's at the same age, set in a mould that was wavering between his habitual scowl and an expression that she could only characterise as a brooding confusion. She recognised it from many a classroom, the look of a pupil puzzling over some knotty problem, and then not quite believing the probable solution. Staring at his father's recumbent body Graham finally lifted his eyes to met hers before saying hesitantly,

"Mum," in a tone that was a question.

"Yes Graham."

"That solicitor chap, the one who suddenly turned up and stopped the police charging me with possession."

"I remember, but what about it?"

"I'd always assumed it was Robin – but with that letter he sent me afterwards it doesn't make sense unless..." Graham was almost squeezing the words out as he voiced his unbelievable and unpleasant theory, "Was it Dad who sent him?"

Jane, not sure how Graham was going to take the truth played for time, "What brings this on Graham?"

"What Catherine said earlier about Dad being around even when she didn't want to know him. It made me think."

From the voice in which he completed that final sentence Graham was almost implying that thought was an obscene activity. While Jane was considering how best to phrase her answer to avoid an explosion of temper that in her drained state she didn't feel capable of coping with, Catherine came to her rescue, courtesy of a semi jeer at her baby brother,

"Did it hurt? Honestly Graham I've told you for years you've been an idiot over Dad."

A not entirely chastened Graham retaliated.

"So says the girl didn't have a good word to say about him for years, and Mum's only just changed her mind since she's now decided that compared to bloody Robin even Dad looks decent."

Malcolm really wondered if Harry and his family would ever manage to overcome their Mount Everest of differences. It was the sort of messy dispute that made him thankful to have remained a bachelor. Would Harry have been amused or appalled by the family feud being fought out over his unconscious body? Horrified by the depth of misjudgements now being revealed, or just thankful that at long last his family were finally beginning to tip toe along the thorny road to enlightenment, particularly his estranged son.

Jane wearily exercising her maternal skills, currently ebbing along with her energy, called her offspring to order.

"Catherine, Graham is right we also misjudged your father, and yes Graham it was your father who came to your rescue. Robin and I were out of the country – he sent us a message via his solicitor explaining what had happened. He virtually apologised for interfering and hoped we'd understand."

Graham still in full throttle wasn't even remotely appeased, "So why the bloody hell didn't you tell me, or the solicitor chap for that matter."

"Come on Graham – if the solicitor had mentioned who'd sent him would you have accepted the help? I would have told you but you never contacted us." As she recalled the reason for that she reminded her son, "I didn't know about Robin's letter at the time and when you did get in touch about Robin's...well I just wasn't in the mood... "

This discussion reviving the memories of past hurts and present disasters, on top of a harrowing night, was pushing Jane onto the verge of tears. Graham, feeling guilt stricken tried to soothe her,

"It's okay Mum. Dad told me the other day that you'd been worried about Aunt Becca." Looking at his father, the unconscious centre of interest in the room he smirked, "So we are all finally agreed he's just about okay, and he's not with us to hear it."

Malcolm, in his not unaccustomed role of observer, privately reflected that this was about typical of Harry's lousy timing. Even if Malcolm had been inclined to intervene, he believed it best if the family resolved their issues without his becoming involved. A resolution torpedoed by Graham's next words when, having chewed over the various implications of the recent interactions with his father, added, "And just when he's about to be of some use in getting you your divorce he's kaput for the foreseeable future."

Malcolm in his response wasn't sure if he was attempting to reassure or to humble the argumentative trio, as he enlightened them further regarding the care Harry was lavishing on his adorable family.

"Harry left me instructions about that, just in case Coaver succeeded in killing him."

As the words flew from his mouth it occurred to Malcolm that this may have been an unwise move, Harry had been adamant that Jane was to know as little about the details as possible, and he could see a range of questions now trembling on three sets of lips. As Colin the sci-fic fanatic might have misquoted from something never said,' Beam me up Scotty.'

Star Trek might not have been appropriate: Star Wars possibly might have been. The force seemingly with Malcolm as the gentle opening of the door revealed Nat standing there, wearing a look of irritation at variance with his quiet hospital bedside murmur.

"Sorry to disturb you but..."

Jane blanched as she asked, "Harry..."

"No need to alarm yourself Jane, it's Catherine I need to check." His annoyance explained with the words, "I've just had copies of her discharge papers sent to me, but with the rush to get her here a couple of checks were missed." He followed up this admission with a further apology, "The night staff are a little pushed and I need her to be chaperoned so Jane could you..."

He didn't get a chance to finish before Jane said, "Of course, now I assume." Standing up she threw her eyes over towards Harry, "Er..."

Nat after a quick survey of the latest readings reassured her, "He's doing fine but not quite ready yet to wake up."

"Very well, Catherine..."

Catherine extracted from her chair followed her mother and Nat out of the room displaying a body language that bespoke unwillingness. A reluctance that didn't even go a quarter way towards plumbing the depths of Malcolm's horror at the prospect of being closeted alone with Graham the Gracious. Anticipating a vicious diatribe on the issue of Harry's familial failings, real and imagined, the instant the door closed, Malcolm was therefore somewhat taken aback when, having allowed a lapse of about twenty seconds after the two women had departed, Graham strode energetically across the room and halted as he cautiously, even tentatively, stuck his head into the corridor and then just as swiftly withdrew it. Carefully snecking the door catch he then plonked himself into the chair just vacated by Jane, fixed Malcolm with an all too familiar inherited stare before demanding without preamble in a no nonsense voice,

"Right, now tell me what Dad has planned." Accurately assessing Malcolm's expression of doubt he abandoned the peremptory tone in favour of persuasion. "I promise I'm not about to interfere in anything that gets Robin out of Mum's life, but I may need to be around in the aftermath, so it would help to be prepared."

Malcolm eyed the boy appraisingly, Graham sensing his diffidence added, "I did provide some of the evidence remember. So before the women come back..."

Malcolm made a conscious decision to unbend a trifle. Graham's attitude to his father was utterly appalling, but crucially he'd given Malcolm no reason to believe that this loathing extended to Jane.

"Very well. The first stage is to discredit Robin without implicating your mother, that is already been organised. The next part is being worked on..." Noting that Graham did not look very satisfied he explained, "We've not quite worked out all the details, we're still running a few checks and tweaking the final details but the basic plan is to..."

About five minutes later Graham, bubbling with laughter while wiping his eyes was asking, "Who thought that up?" His glance towards the still unconscious Harry indicating that this was a rhetorical question. – "I can guess...it's brilliant and wicked in more than one sense of the word." After a couple of seconds contemplation of his still recumbent parent he added, "He really is a piece of work isn't he."

The last part of that statement didn't surprise Malcolm, the admiration with which it was uttered did. For about the first time since he'd become compulsorily acquainted with Graham the boy sounded normal. Seeing the mischief in Graham's face Malcolm was reminded once more of Harry. It also forcibly occurred to him that for a boy who had lost his way and felt he'd achieved little, the self assured, intelligent Harry, the ultimate alpha male, was a hard, nearly impossible act to live up to. Even under happy domestic circumstances Graham would have encountered difficulties when measuring himself against a father who, by the time he was Graham's age, was already being regarded as one of MI5's most outstanding operatives. Throw in the intervention of the divorce, the hostile communication between the two biological parents, stir in the stepfather with his own agenda and bingo the recipe had created, not the son he could have been but an individual who had somehow gone adrift, drowning in a whirlpool of defensive anger, hiding his hurts behind a savage hostility. Before he could say anything Graham, giving evidence of a mercurial temperament was saying gravely,

"I'll not mention these plans to Mum at all. Catherine gets her habit of defending the underdog from her."

Reckoning that Malcolm might not have quite processed the logical juxtaposition of those two statements Graham proceeded to expound the relevance.

"Mum might just start to feel sorry for the git, even if it isn't her fault that the pervy sod decided to stuff himself with Viagra and then shag himself stupid with a teenager."

This time Malcolm was definitely drawing his brows together in puzzlement, "Viagra - I've not found any evidence of that." The inflection in his voice implying that he didn't appreciate the slur on his professionalism.

Graham let out a hollow laugh, "It's a guess, but how else is a bloke of his age going to keep it up, in, and going all night."

Malcolm, despite years of viewing endless examples of sexual congress in permutations that had, on occasions, made the Kumara Sutra look staid, could have managed quite nicely without Graham's crudity of expression. Despite which the smutty assumption did spur him into making a mental note to enquire of Tom Quinn whether he'd discovered anything to support that theory while bugging Robin's hotel room. A task delegated to the ex spook when he'd undertaken to plant the purge that had necessitated Robin's absence from the vicinity of the Reception.

Malcolm had just managed to thank Graham for his cooperation when the downturn of the door handle announced the return of Jane and Catherine, thus blocking any further discussion.

Sitting down Jane announced, "That's Catherine discharged properly but it does give us a problem."

It was Catherine who asked, "Which is..."

"You are not supposed to be on your own for the next week and with your father being like this..."

"Mum I can't afford to sit at home all day. I've got contracts to meet and..."

"For God's sake Catherine, you're as bad as your father..."

Malcolm was once again beginning to contemplate the possiblity of commandering the fictional Mr Scott as his new best friend when surprisingly Graham, usually the harbinger of discord, attempted to pour the oil. "It's very simple Mum, I can stay at Catherine's over night and in my spare time. If she agrees to ring in once an hour to someone when I'm at work it should okay."

"And if she collapses?"

"I suggest that I give her the tracker that Dad made me wear and then she can be found quickly."

Jane was nearly plunging her head in her hands – Graham was so like Harry it was unbelievable, just like Harry he'd formulated a plan and left no room for argument. If they'd ever managed a proper father son bonding the world would have had to watch out.

"And I suggest you are more like your father than you know."

Graham may mellowed a trifle as regarded his father but that was a thought to far. "Mum this is real life not Harry bleeding Potter." Leaving his mother and Catherine aside Graham turned towards Malcolm, "So Geekman speak, what do you think? I assume it's okay to use a tracker, or do you need the majestic permission of Miss Hairdo and Heels. "

Malcolm, not relishing his enforced nickname, was rethinking the resemblances to Harry. In one respect Graham was nothing like Harry, Harry had manners. That aside he was forced to admit that it was a viable plan, although he did have an amendment.

"That should work, but I suggest that when I get back to Thames House I send you a tracker that has an alarm button, then if Catherine feels ill she can press it at once and we'll send out the troops."

Troops, or rather the surveillance team that Harry had secretly commissioned to ensure that if either the Coaver, or Rancid Robin, attempted to approach either of the women they would receive a very nasty surprise. Measures that would be justifiable to the taxpayer on the entirely reasonable grounds that Catherine was a key witness to both Coaver's villainy, and Uncle Sam's hamfisted efforts to conceal, bamboozle, and generally shaft their British allies.

"There you are then – problem sorted. Catherine just has to decide on her rescuer." With a grin he asked his sister, "So which one do you have the hots for? The Good Looking One, the Mouthy One or the potential toyboy with the knackered dinnersuit."

Malcolm remembering the trouble Danny Hunter had narrowly avoided when interpreting his protection duties a little too intimately spared Catherine the task of answering, although his reply wasn't directed at her, but rather to her mother who was once again glaring at Graham.

"Don't worry Jane none of them will risk Harry decommissioning them – after he's eviscerated them of course."

And with that excitement over they all settled back to the watch. A silence that wasn't golden but definitely - with this set of amiable personalities banged up in a limited space - a necessity. Jane not sure if her children were agreed or indulging in sibling warring, Catherine determined to start work, Graham struggling to come to terms with his confused views about his father, and Malcolm planning the extra 'Snuggle Bunny' revenge details to run past Tom Quinn at their next scheduled meeting.

It proved to be a long night. Despite their best intentions everyone was half asleep when at around seven the various monitors sprang into noisy life encouraged by Harry's beginning to mumble. The syllables lacking in clarity as he gradually began to surface from unconsciousness, an act that was just as suddenly responsible for Graham pulling on his coat and heading towards the door. Surprised Jane jumped up to block his intended exit.

"What are you doing Graham?"

"Sorry Mum but ...well I just can't stay...can't face it..."

Shamefaced but determined, Jane reading his face thought she understood. Harry was no longer the uncaring father of Graham's construction, but the rift went too deep to be healed in an instant. Graham satisfied that his father was recovering, needed time alone to process the new born vision that threatened to undermine the prolonged sense of grievance and anger that had previously sustained his interchanges with Harry. Recognising this Jane stood aside, "As you wish." It might have been as Graham wished but Catherine was not so easily mollified, pursuing her brother out of the door, as she shouted, "Graham for God's sake grow up."

Jane needing to be with her children and Harry simultaneously threw Malcolm an imploring look. He nodded, "I'll go, you stay."

Left alone with him she watched with relief as Harry slowly came too, muttering slowly forming disconnected words and sentences. Taking his hand Jane twisted her head to allow one of her ears to hover over his lips as she struggled to distinguish a few words. "No go back... don't...move."

She hastily reassured him, "It's okay Harry, you saved my life so don't worry I'm here and safe."

Was that a flicker of recognition in the eyes that briefly opened? She couldn't be sure. He seemed to be searching for someone or something. Then on a breath of a whisper she managed to distinguish a sentence that made her heart contract.

"Couldn't let it happen again."

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