'I'd like to think that if something happened to Catherine, that there would be someone who would answer my questions and not in a way that were designed to make me feel better,' Harry told Ruth, after he'd told Caroline that although he couldn't tell her who it was that had ordered the bombing of the hotel, that he would personally guarantee they'd be dealt with. Would rather than had, because Caroline like her daughter wasn't a fool. She'd seen the news coverage and if he'd tried to fob her off, she'd have quite possibly gone over his head to the JIC and he couldn't let that happen. Only to find himself saved from telling her anymore part truths, when she'd excused herself and headed back into the kitchen. But not before telling them to help themselves to a drink before lunch and if they felt like a breath of fresh air, they were welcome to walk around her garden.

The first of which they gratefully accepted, but declined the second. Because unlike the previous day, the clouds, almost as if they knew what Harry was going say next were building.

'It was when Caroline said that Jocelyn had groomed Ros – well and you know what I was thinking.'

Ruth did, in fact she'd put a steadying hand on his arm to prevent him from responding. Because locked away or not, Harry could work any system and the thought that he might somehow conceive a way that Jocelyn would meet the same fate as Nicholas Blake, was too terrifying to contemplate. Especially now when she was still worried that something or someone was going come along to tear them apart again, irrational as that might sound.

.

Lunch when it was served at least saw a a break in conversation. Although it wasn't until it was close to five and because Caroline seemed reluctant to let them go, that Harry suggested, if she wanted to speak to them again, or to see them either here or in London, she only had to call him, that they made their escape.

Only for him to return to the same subject in a roundabout way when they were back in the warmth of their hotel. Telling Ruth how on the evening after Adam had been killed he'd turned up at Ros's door with a bottle of wine in his hand. How he and Ros had gone down to the bar and how she'd eventually told him that they weren't doing themselves any good. That he should go to bed. And when he had, how his thoughts had turned to her as they always did when his emotions were at rock bottom. The greatest loss of all was how he described their time apart. Made worse because he'd just had to tell the then ten year old Wes that his father was dead.

The positive to be gained, if that was the right word, having seen Ros's mother together and heard what Harry had said about the day when Adam had died, was that Ruth was reminded of the toll that this sort of interaction had on Harry. That when or if he had to do it again, which was an inevitability in her eyes, at least he wouldn't be able to pretend that it was just part of his job. Added to which after what had been a very good lunch, neither of them felt like more than a cup of tea and when bed beckoned it was to sleep. Something which Harry succumbed too almost immediately. Unlike Ruth who was lying beside him watching his chest rising and falling and based on what he'd said, was recalling the far too many nights when they'd gone their separate ways after losing a colleague. Nights when they could and should have comforted each other.

'Not anymore,' she whispered, compelled to move closer until she could feel his heart beating under her hand, before closing her own eyes.

.

What the future held and where, eventually became the distraction that they needed during the drive back to London. Time off work such as the weekend they'd had, or even longer, minus the stress, they both agreed was absolutely necessary. Harry would have gone as far as to say that he they thought to buy somewhere small so that they didn't have to pack each time, but so soon after losing Ros, it didn't feel appropriate. The once talked about Grand Tour they rejected, for the simple reason that it would be turning the clock back. Besides there were plenty of places to stay that didn't involve a channel crossing or a flight. More important was their need to be together outside of work on a regular basis, and after a short discussion it became obvious that there more pluses than there were minuses if he were to stay at hers. For one thing, her house was in a quieter street than his and they wouldn't be interrupted, if that was the right word, by the sudden arrival of his daughter. It also came with the added advantage as a smiling Harry was quick to point out, that he already knew where her cutlery was. That he'd made Ruth laugh, lifted his spirits even further.

Stayed rather than moved in permanently, wasn't something they discussed, other than providing they could cope with separating work from home which meant that when they left the grid, talk of work stayed behind until the next morning. Combined with what were each other's daily routines, they'd be fine they decided.

That was the theory, but not known for his patience and because theories needed to be tested, 'I might just pop over to mine now and collect a few things,' Harry told her, after he'd carried her bag inside and she was making a pot of tea. The suggestion being that there would be more times when he stayed than when he didn't and when he left, had Ruth pondering what he'd meant by things and what if anything she had in her fridge to feed him on. Only to remember when she was assembling the contents for a pasta bake, that they hadn't read Ros's letter.

.

A letter which once they'd eaten and decamped to the sofa, they found was not only straight to the point when it came to her talking about them, but for someone who had kept her personal feelings well guarded, was not only poignant but unnervingly accurate.

Harry and Ruth,

If you're reading this, I'd like to think that as unlikely as it might be, if I'm going to be reunited with Adam, my demise has been as quick and painless as his was. Because whatever I might have implied about my feelings about friends and colleagues, I did love him and I know he loved me. Which given my tendency to speak my mind, rather than tell people what they want to hear and especially at the time of his death, I want you to know that it was you Harry who gave me the strength to carry on. And please trust me when I say that Ruth will understand what I mean, even if you don't.

Now If that makes either of you feel uncomfortable, bearing in mind what happened when Ruth came home, then my advice would be to bury those demons you both have and do something about it. Who knows you might even enjoy it. That was a joke by the way.

Whereas this isn't, far from it and will require both of you to do me one last favour. My mother isn't as tough as she tries to appear,. In fact now that you've met her, I'd like to think that you realised that. More importantly I'd hate her to spend the rest her life thinking that I thought less of her than I did my father, because it simply isn't true. Which means that if you haven't already told her, then I beg you to find find time to do it.

Your friend and colleague.

Rosalind.

.

'The many sides of Ros,' said Harry, who was seeing not just one but two explosions. The enormity as well as the similarity of both their sacrifices, here in a letter he had never expected to receive.

'With a clear message to us,' said Ruth, pausing before adding, ' I need you to promise me that you won't put yourself in a similar situation.' Because she was visualising how Ros must have felt when she'd heard the car explode. Knowing that she'd lost the man that she loved.