Next day – Friday, 4th November

She feels like death. She'd barely slept a wink last night, spending what seemed like half the night crying and the other half having dark nightmares that woke her up trembling in fear. In fact, she'd felt so bad this morning that she'd almost called in sick. But in the end, she'd been unable to break the habit of a lifetime and skip work for anything short of a really emergency, so she'd dragged herself into the shower, and after two cups of coffee and some toast, she'd finally made it out the door to the bus stop, the cold November chill doing wonders in forcing her fully awake and blowing away the cobwebs. She sits at her desk now, her eyelids beginning to droop in fatigue and she knows it's time for another coffee. She thinks it'll be her fourth cup today and it's only eleven.

Harry's in a foul mood this morning, and she's already overheard Adam and Zaf complaining about it and speculating on what's made him so irascible. Thankfully, her name hadn't come up in their conversation and they seem to have decided that it's work related, probably something to do with his early morning meeting with Juliet Shaw.

Fiona and Adam had been very concerned for her when they'd seen her face this morning, and when she'd been to the bathroom shortly after she'd arrived and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she hadn't been surprised by their reaction. They had assumed, however, that her tired, drawn face was a result of nightmares because of her ordeal, and it had been the first time that she'd been almost grateful for what had happened; it would have been too much to hope that they wouldn't have made the connection between Harry's bad temper and her exhausted face otherwise.

She rubs her eyes and lifts her head to look around, her gaze inevitably drawn to Harry's office, but the blinds are closed today – they have been since she got in this morning. In fact, apart from a glimpse of him when he'd arrived on the Grid at half-nine, she hasn't seen him at all today. Does he feel as bad, as devastated, as she does, she wonders for a moment, or is his male pride just hurt because she was the one to end it? It had been so hard to resist the temptation to call him last night, to beg his forgiveness and take it all back, and she's not quiet sure how she'd done it, managed to remain strong; the heartbreak is almost unbearable.

She gets up quickly, pushing thoughts of him aside lest she start crying again, already feeling the tell tale prickling at the back of her eyelids; her grip on her emotions is tenuous at best today. In the bathroom, she's surprised to find Amanda leaning against the wall, trying to stop the flow of her own tears, and when she finds out the reason for them, she's absolutely livid.

"You can't fire Amanda, Harry," she protests as she barges into his office. "She's a good officer. If you're angry with me, send me away, but don't take it out on her. That's not fair."

He looks up from the report he's skimming, his gaze dark and unreadable, and she feels her heart constrict at the sight of his face. It's the first good look she's had of him today and he looks exhausted, like he hasn't slept a wink, and she can't help feeling guilty and so sorry that she might be the cause of his suffering.

"Close the door, Ruth," is all he says after studying her for a moment. So she turns around and slides the door shut before coming forward and taking the seat that he indicates, on the other side of his desk. "I confess that, despite everything, I had thought she would have the decency to leave you out of this," he says, his eyes flashing in anger and contempt.

"She didn't come to me, Harry," she replies, her anger rising to match his. "I found her in the bathroom, crying her eyes out. She was almost hysterical. It took me ages to get her to tell me what was wrong, and then all she could do was apologise over and over again. What the hell did you say to her, Harry?" she demands. "She's a good officer. She doesn't deserve this."

"She's untrustworthy," he growls, getting up and moving towards the cabinet where he keeps the whisky. She's tempted to say something about that as it's not even lunch time yet, but she thinks better of it.

"Oh, and I suppose you've never divulged something to someone that you shouldn't have, Harry," she fumes, rising from her seat too, the momentary pause in his movements and sudden tension in his shoulders telling her that she's hit a nerve. "And besides, it's hardly a national secret, just a bit of harmless gossip."

"Harmless?!" he exclaims incredulously, turning his head sharply towards her, his gaze accusing and furious.

"You know what I mean," she answers back, refusing to back down though she regrets her poor choice of words; her brain's definitely not firing on all cylinders today. "It's not as if she's a mole or something... like I was," she adds. "You gave me a second chance."

"I didn't," he replies, looking away again and pouring himself a drink despite the early hour.

"What do you mean?" she frowns now, surprised by his response.

"I let Tom deal with it," he murmurs, taking a large gulp of whisky before turning to face her again. "I never knew it was you. I asked him not to tell me who it was, just to assure me that he'd fixed the leak."

She's surprised by this, and she can't help staring at him and, rather annoyingly, wondering if and how far she has now fallen in his esteem. "But you suspected," she states, recovering quickly, realising that perhaps that's why he hadn't wanted Tom to tell him in the first place, though that would mean that he'd been attracted to her even then, something she's not entirely confident is true. He doesn't reply, neither confirming, nor denying it. "What about Danny then? He was practically stealing. Are you going to tell me that you didn't give him a second chance either?"

His gaze is still steely and unfathomable as he regards her steadily, his jaw set, his facial expression giving nothing away. "What do you want, Ruth?" he asks finally.

"I want you to let her stay, to give her another chance," she replies. "She's my junior officer and I want you to give me the same courtesy you gave Tom and let me keep her... on probation."

"Fine," he says curtly.

"Thank you," she nods, all the fight suddenly going out of her. She drops her gaze to her hands that begin toying nervously with the hem of her top, feeling suddenly acutely uncomfortable and vulnerable in his presence.

"I'm not an ogre, Ruth," he says softly, the change in his tone of voice, making her lift her eyes to his in surprise. "I was trying to spare you the unnecessary embarrassment of dealing with the person whose actions have made you so uncomfortable." He looks away, adding, "She saw us... on the street, the other day, on our way back to the car."

"I know," she nods, dropping her gaze to her hands again, fearing to look at him lest she see the heartbreak she's feeling reflected in his gaze and fighting to maintain her self-control. "She told me. She said you warned her not to tell anyone, but she'd already told someone, just one other person, Harry, who then probably only told one more and so on and so on. It's unfair to punish her for something everyone else is guilty of too. It's not as if she single-handedly told everyone on the Grid... And besides, I actually heard her doing it, telling John, though I had no idea she was talking about..." she swallows, unable to finish the sentence. "She wasn't mean or unkind. She was... respectful," she adds quietly, lifting her eyes to his. "I don't want other people to suffer because of my... because of me, Harry."

She sees him clench his jaw at her words before he turns away, carefully and slowly putting down his empty glass on his desk and picking up his mobile before turning to face her again. He looks angry and she thinks he's going to stride straight past her, but he seems to change his mind at the last minute, pausing in front of her and slightly to her right as he turns his head to look into her eyes and murmurs, "And what am I, Ruth? Am I not a person too?" his eyes dark pools of a pain so deep that she feels herself unable to breathe, drowning in their depths.

"Harry," she whispers, her own eyes filling with tears.

But before she can reach out to him, he's walked past her, saying, "I hope she proves worthy of the trust you're placing in her." And with that, he's gone.