Malcolm ended up driving them to the other safe house, where they were greeted by a concerned Gray and Jane. Catherine practically hurled herself into Gray's arms, whilst Jane made a beeline for Harry.

"What's happened? Are you alright? Malcolm just went off without a word."

"We're fine," Harry said, glancing uncertainly at Ruth, who was still clutching their distressed child. "Alive, at least."

Perhaps the shock hadn't quite worn off, but he could see the telltale cracks in Ruth's façade: the way her eyes glazed over, then became teary without warning; the way her fingers trembled, her knee jiggled, and most of all, the way she clung to her child with no real inclination to let go. As always, his brilliant Ruth had hit the ground running in a crisis, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off, it was touch and go whether or not she would shatter.

He was so immersed in his worry that he was caught off guard by thin arms slithering around his middle.

"I'm glad you're safe," a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

Jane.

"So am I," Harry smiled politely, before extricating himself and going to Ruth, who was swaying alarmingly on the spot. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the sofa, where she sat, dazed, with Lottie in her lap. The little girl clung to her mother, her tiny body pressed up so close, it was as if she was trying to burrow all the way inside Ruth. She had finally stopped crying, but with it came a horrifying, deadened stillness that just wasn't Lottie. They may have gotten out with their lives, Harry realised, but it was clear this attack had done untold damage.

Within minutes, Malcolm had made them all sweet tea and encouraged Lottie to take a couple of biscuits. Only then did their saviour reveal the extent of the day's tragedy.

"Thames House received a call from the National Gallery at 16:20," Malcolm began. "An alarm had been triggered and the gallery evacuated, but there was no sign of a fire."

"The news said – ." Catherine frowned.

"The news reported what the DG wanted them to report. There was, in fact, no fire."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with us?"

"The security team at the National Gallery didn't find a fire," Malcolm repeated seriously. "What they did find were bodies."

"Bodies?" Ruth spoke up for the first time since leaving the scene of the attack. Her voice was shaky and hoarse from disuse.

"Zack Brindle and Liv Lowton."

Ruth froze, "W-What?"

"And…" Malcolm hesitated, taking a sip of tea as he gathered the courage to continue.

"Malcolm?" Harry prompted sharply.

"And Calum was found too."

Ruth pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with unbidden tears. Catherine gasped, looking equally distraught.

"No!" She cried. "That's not… He's not…"

Malcolm's eyes widened, and he was quick to hold out a placating hand, "No! No! Calum's not dead. He was found at the scene, but he's… he's not dead."

Ruth pressed a hand to her mouth to smother a gut-wrenching sob, and Harry was powerless to do anything but hold her. Even Lottie snuggled further into her mother's embrace in a bid to comfort her.

"Then what do you mean, 'He's been found'?" Catherine demanded.

"It looks like he was clubbed over the head with a fire extinguisher. He suffered a serious fracture to the skull and is currently in surgery."

"Oh my God," Ruth whispered, tears trailing helplessly down her cheeks.

Harry knew immediately what she was thinking. He could practically see the cogs of guilt whirring in her brain, screaming the question, 'What if I'd been there? What if I could've stopped this?'. He squeezed her shoulder, willing her not to blame herself for something that was absolutely not her fault. No one – no one could've seen this coming.

"But he's going to be okay?" Catherine pleaded.

Malcolm looked far too grave for the answer to be positive. Harry had seen that expression numerous times over the years, usually when officers were either dead or at death's door, "I really hope so, Catherine. I do. He's a good lad."

Ruth shook her head, visibly trying to make sense of all this, "And Zack and Liv? What happened to them? How…? How did this happen?"

"This is where it gets… complicated," Malcolm admitted. "Finding Zack, Liv and Calum was a complete surprise. No one called anything in. Dimitri wasn't made aware. It was just those three agents in the field alone."

"Liv was tailing Rafiq," Ruth recalled faintly. "Maybe he got wind of her, and she called Zack and Calum for back-up."

"I think it might be even more complicated than that," Malcolm intoned regretfully.

"What do you mean?"

"A preview of the ballistics report shows that Liv was killed with Zack's gun, and Zack was killed with Calum's."

There was a long, stony silence.

"How…" Ruth cleared her throat, trying to find her voice. "How's that possible?"

"I don't know. We can only hazard a guess unless Calum pulls through."

"He will," Catherine declared fiercely. "He will pull through."

"He has to," Ruth added.

"Maybe someone else was operating their guns?" Harry suggested.

"The only fingerprints on each firearm were their own."

"I don't believe Calum would willingly kill Zack," Ruth stated.

"What about Zack? Could he kill Liv?" Harry asked.

"I don't know Zack. Not really. But there's something more going on here… We were ambushed on two fronts. How… how did the Horsemen know?"

"Somehow they lured Calum and the others to the Gallery, possibly for the introduction of the Second Horseman. Given that Calum was directly by the alarm button, I think we have him to thank for the evacuation," Malcolm acknowledged with the ghost of a smile.

"And then someone clubbed him over the head with a fire extinguisher for his troubles," Harry growled.

"The same fire extinguisher that was unloaded onto Zack Brindle, it seems," Malcolm added.

There was another shocked pause. Just what had gone on in that room?

"So can we assume Rafiq was involved?" Harry suggested. "Bearing in mind Liv was following him?"

"That seems the most logical explanation," Ruth sniffed, trying to offer Lottie a reassuring smile as the little girl reached up to pat her damp cheeks.

"And what's the explanation for the attack on our safe house?" Harry demanded of Malcolm, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't still Section Head.

"Did someone follow me yesterday?" Catherine asked, horrified. "Did I cause all this?"

"We can't know for certain. What we can be thankful for now is that you're all safe." Malcolm said gently, though his expression was dulled with immeasurable sadness. "Darius and Leo weren't so lucky."

Ruth tensed under Harry's touch, "Not them too…"

"I had confirmation as we arrived. They were downstairs at your flat, but it seems they were overpowered. They stayed in their posts, sent out the SOS, and fought to protect you till the end."

Ruth shook her head, tears continuing to roll silently down her face. Harry himself felt too shocked to comment. He had had the luxury of spending over thirty years in the job, but he had never known Section D casualties to come so heavily in one day. Four losses. Four good officers. And Calum… their friend was in a bad way, possibly soon be the fifth fatality etched into that glass wall in the basement of Thames House.

"Did they arrest the assailants?" He asked finally. "I think I may have taken down one or two, but there were more. I counted at least five inside that flat."

"Two were already found dead at the scene," Malcolm confirmed quietly. "One escaped, and armed response were forced to open fire on the other two."

"How the hell did one escape?! There was only one way in and out."

"There was chaos at the scene, and armed response were preoccupied with your safety and the civilians in the adjoining buildings. It appears one escaped by jumping onto the balcony of the next flat along."

Harry exhaled irritably, "So we're no closer to the Horsemen."

"The ones who were shot at the scene," Catherine murmured tentatively. "What did they look like?"

"They weren't Ollie Kinkaid," Malcolm told her softly. "I passed his photo along to armed response. He wasn't identified."

Catherine's expression held neither relief nor sorrow. Instead, her face was a blank mask, with barely any distinguishable emotion at all. Still, her knee continued to jiggle up and down, a sign of her rapid internal tempo, "So he's still out there."

"It seems so."

"Do these people not care how many lives they sacrifice?" Ruth suddenly thought aloud into the silence.

Harry squeezed her shoulder gently, "People like these never do. They have an agenda and –."

"– And they won't stop until they achieve that agenda," Ruth finished dully, knowing the score. It just shredded his heart see the lifeless grey overpowering her ocean blue orbs once more. How much more hurt, how much more carnage would she have to experience? He'd never missed the Caravan Park more; their safe little haven away from the brutality of MI5 life. There, she'd healed. Here… well, he was watching old gaping wounds reopen one by one, and he hated that he was powerless to stop them.

"So what happens now?" Gray piped up softly.

Malcolm sighed, taking yet another soothing sip of tea. Harry was struck suddenly by how much older and world-weary the former techie looked. This was so much more than he'd signed up for; than they had any right to expect of him. Like Darius and Leo, he had put his life on the line to protect their family, and Harry was damned if he was going to let his old friend go the same way as those two young officers.

"We sit tight until Dimitri can get here," Malcolm explained quietly. "We'll need to get you to another safe house, of course…"

"No," Harry said suddenly. "No more safe houses."

"What?"

"I think we've proven that safe houses aren't really safer than any other accommodation. And I don't like the thought of anyone else risking their life for ours. Unless…?" He faltered, realising that he hadn't actually consulted Ruth.

Fortunately, she seemed to be on the same page and was nodding vehemently, "I agree. No one else dies for us."

"If they don't have to stay in a safe house, does that mean we can go home?" Jane asked hopefully. "Mikey's funeral is the day after tomorrow and –."

"These are matters we'll have to put to Dimitri."

"Right now, I'm not sure I'd trust Dimitri with much," Harry couldn't help but mutter.

"He's trying his best," Ruth reasoned.

Catherine swung around to stare at her incredulously, "He fired you!"

"He's stressed. And he's just lost four of his officers. Regardless of how he's behaved, he deserves a little patience and understanding."

"After what he did…?"

"I pushed him. It was my fault," Ruth peered around at them all, a steely determination overriding her sorrow. "We've just lost four allies… four friends… we can't afford to be turning on each other."

"Ruth Evershed and her eternally big heart," Harry marvelled quietly, unable to help the small smile curving his lips.

But his love was in no mood to be complimented. She simply shook her head and turned to Malcolm, "When can we see Calum?"

"If he makes it through the surgery, he should be out later this evening."

"Then that's when we'll see him."

"Dimitri might not –."

"Dimitri might not like it. But that boy has no one else, and I'm not going to let him wake up in a hospital alone."

Time passed, and the night drew in. Still, there was no sign of Dimitri. Trying to make the best of a bad situation, Malcolm assigned them all sleeping quarters with the promise of finding them alternative accommodation tomorrow. Catherine was to share Gray's room, Ruth and Lottie would take Malcolm's bed, Malcolm would take the sofa, and Harry would sleep on the floor. Malcolm had, of course, volunteered to take the floor, but Harry wouldn't hear of it. The former techie had already done so much for them, he could at least insist the other man slept in semi-comfort.

Catherine had retired for the night, visibly shaken. Jane had retreated too, with a remarkably sympathetic glance at Harry and an offer of a shoulder to lean on, if he needed it.

"You've been there for me," she'd shrugged.

He hadn't known how to respond. He wasn't used to Jane being… cordial… nice.

Malcolm had granted Ruth's request to visit Calum. An hour ago, they'd received the most relieving news that he was out of surgery and resting in the ICU. The bad news was that mid-surgery, they'd discovered a bleed to the brain, and he'd subsequently slipped into a coma. Whether he woke or not, Ruth was adamant that he shouldn't be alone.

Thus, they were due to set off any minute. But his love was struggling with the idea of leaving their daughter behind. The day had left them all battling a deep-seated sense of panic. Indeed, Harry had been forced to confront his own mortality for the first time in six years when facing down five gunmen on the other side of that door. A bullet. had whizzed past his shoulder, inches from skin and bone, and he'd realised that he might well die in that stupid safe house, without ever watching Lottie grow up and without ever marrying the woman he loved. It was a terrifying prospect.

But, as scared as he'd been, his fear blurred into insignificance when compared with Ruth's. Her face had been positively ghost-like, translucent and streaming with tears, when he finally made it down that rope. She was the bravest person he knew; as valiant as any knight and as courageous as any lion. God knows, she must have had more strength than either of them knew to carry both herself and Lottie down that rope. But she wasn't a soldier. She wasn't trained to look danger in the face and shrug it off with straight-faced aplomb. And no matter how much she tried to hide it, the potential loss of her family had rocked her to her core. She wouldn't leave Lottie's side. Even now, she was holding their sleeping daughter in her arms; rocking her just as she did when she was a baby.

It was as if Ruth sensed his concern, because she suddenly glanced up at him, a weary plea in her grey eyes.

"Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm fragile… broken."

"Of course you're not fragile – or broken," Harry soothed, sitting beside her and slipping an arm around her stiff shoulders. "But today's been difficult for all of us. And I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

Ruth was not fine. Her skin was still bleached white, and Harry could tell from the tense set of her jaw that she was struggling not to cry.

"I should ban you from saying that word," he said lightly, in a vain attempt at getting her to smile. She didn't. She merely held their daughter tighter.

"I'm not leaving her here. Not after today."

"There are officers here. She'll be perfectly safe."

"We had half of Dimitri's team with us, and we barely escaped with our lives," Ruth reminded him. "They didn't."

"Ruth…"

"Please, Harry," Ruth looked at him then, and Harry's breath caught in his throat to see the tears welling in her eyes; the haunted, battle-weary desolation – the plea of a woman who was nearing the end of her rope, and just needed this small comfort to cling onto for fear of plummeting once more into the deep, dark abyss.

He traced his thumb over her cheek and caught the solitary tears that fell, "Alright, sweetheart. Alright."

He guided her gently towards his chest, and just as he did with each soul-crushing nightmare, pressed her ear against his heart so she could hear its reassuring beat. It took a few seconds, but some of the tension ebbed from her frame, and her trembling breaths eased slightly as she listened.

"I can't lose her," she whispered like a secret into the quiet. "Or you. I can't. I'm not strong enough."

"Ruth… my Ruth, you're stronger than you've ever given yourself credit for," Harry told her, caressing her temple with his lips. "But that's one battle you're not going to have to face. You're not going to lose us. Either of us."

Ruth said nothing, instead burrowing further into his embrace. Harry simply held the woman he loved, squeezing her ever tighter, as if he could somehow transfer some of his strength by the sheer power of osmosis. And there they stayed, huddled together on the sofa, until Malcolm came to take them to Guy's Hospital.

It was shockingly late when they arrived, stretching into the early hours of the morning. They were all shattered, but nevertheless persistent in their desire to see Calum. Visiting hours had long since ended, however Malcolm had somehow managed to wangle them special privileges. Hand in hand, Harry and Ruth followed the former techie, who led them down endless, winding corridors until they finally passed a sign reading 'Intensive Care Unit'.

With his other arm, Harry hefted a sleeping Lottie further onto his shoulder. Ruth glanced up and read the weariness in his face.

"Do you want me to take her?"

Harry shook his head, offering a tired smile, "It's fine. We can lay her down soon."

Ruth nodded and squeezed his hand.

They all came to an abrupt halt as they turned into the hall outside the ICU. An unexpected visitor awaited them. Sitting on an uncomfortable blue plastic chair, just outside the double doors, was Dimitri Levendis. His jacket was rumpled, his cropped, greying hair sticking up at all ends. He sat hunched over in his seat, his hands clasped as if in silent prayer as he stared distantly at the opposite wall.

Malcolm hesitated, unsure how to proceed, whilst Harry seemed torn between sympathy for his old friend and indignation at the way he had treated Ruth that afternoon. He started towards the younger man, but Ruth stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"You go on. I'll be there in a minute."

Dimitri turned, startled out of his reverie by the familiar voice. His numb face flitted through various indistinguishable emotions, before finally settling on what appeared to be a combination of both hope and regret.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ruth, as if to say, 'Are you sure?'

Ruth nodded, so, after one more squeeze, Harry reluctantly relinquished his grip on her hand and walked with Malcolm towards the ICU. Ruth didn't fail to miss the, 'Hurt her and I'll end you' glare he shot at his former subordinate. The younger man swallowed, curling in on himself and staring pitifully at the floor. He looked like he just wanted it to swallow him up. Whatever lingering resentment Ruth had been harbouring towards Dimitri disappeared there and then.

She took a deep breath and sat down beside her friend, just as Harry, Malcolm and Lottie disappeared through the double doors.

A long, tense silence ate away at the hall. Then –

"Ruth –."

"Dimitri –."

They both paused.

"Sorry – you go," Dimitri mumbled.

"No, you," Ruth insisted.

He hesitated, "Thank you… for coming."

"Calum's my friend. He deserves to have someone here."

Dimitri nodded, a fractional gesture, but one filled with desperation and regret.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Ruth added,

Dimitri shrugged despondently.

"I think Calum would be grateful," Ruth continued, softer now. "To know that you are."

"Calum would crack some joke about me crying over his lifeless body," Dimitri corrected her dully.

"He's not the Fool you think he is."

Dimitri sucked in an unsteady breath and dragged his hands down his gaunt face. He hadn't looked at her once throughout their entire conversation. He was notably distraught, and Ruth wished dearly that he'd just let her in. Just once.

"I won't be so crass as to ask how you're doing…" she murmured.

That much was obvious. Dimitri Levendis was in crisis. He had been for years, but now, under the bright laser lights of the hospital, it was all too clear that Dimitri had never looked less healthy. On the contrary, any fat he'd once stored in his lean body had withered away, leaving an alarming skeletal shell. His ribs and cheekbones stuck out at sharp angles, his eyes were sunken in, and haunted grey irises seemed to signal the verge of some kind of breakdown. How much loss could one man face?

"Most of my team are dead," Dimitri croaked. "Zack, Liv, Darius, Leo… and now… Calum..."

His voice broke slightly and he bowed his head towards his knees so that she couldn't see the tears gathering in his eyes.

"Calum's not going anywhere," Ruth said firmly, only to be met by silence. Preparing herself to be thrown off, Ruth reached out and rested her hand tentatively on Dimitri's knee. It had been jiggling up and down, in much the same way Catherine's did when she was agitated. She wasn't thrown off, but the knee went stone cold still at her touch. His heaving breaths stopped. In fact, for a split second, he seemed to cease breathing altogether.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his gaze to meet hers. Pain lanced through her heart as she noticed his red-rimmed lids and the damp, glassy sheen around his eyes.

"He'll fight, Dimitri," she assured him, praying with all her heart that her words would prove true. "He will."

He blinked back at her, tears building once more, "They were my responsibility, all of them. And I let them down."

"You did nothing of the sort. No one could've seen this coming."

The Section Head huffed out a humourless laugh, "You could. If I'd listened to you. If I hadn't told you to…" He suddenly collapsed in on himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and shielding his eyes once more from view, "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry," he choked out. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."

"There are worse things in life than hurt feelings, Dimitri."

"My selfishness, my hurt feelings cost my team their lives."

"You seem to think I'm some kind of savant. I'm not always right."

"But you are in this," Dimitri affirmed, meeting her eyes once more. There was a clearness; a grounded determination in those grey orbs that hadn't been there before; hadn't been there for a long time. It was as if the Section Head had finally been spurred from the fog and was beginning to see clearly for the first time. "I've been so pig-headed, so arrogant to believe that I'm the only one who's right. But I should've listened to Harry. He warned me… when I don't listen to you, things usually go wrong. People end up getting hurt."

Ruth recoiled, her cheeks heating. Harry had said he'd spoken to Dimitri, but he hadn't shared his exact words. It was both heartening and devastating the amount of faith her love had in her. He tended to put her on a pedestal. And whilst it made her smile to know that he'd always be on her side, she also knew that it stemmed from a root of deep regret: Harry had never forgiven himself for the times she'd been hurt in the line of duty; for the instances his bullish stubbornness had led to her pain.

Flashes of being bound and gagged and injected with poison assailed her senses; of being wrestled to the floor by four hefty men, clothes torn, blood spilled, invaded, impaled, torn asunder with a savage insatiable glee…

No.

Don't think about that.

"I believe you," Dimitri continued defiantly. "About Bart. And Jodie. I'll find out the truth, whatever it takes."

There was a wildness in his eyes that was most unlike either the light-hearted young man she'd left behind, or the cold, calculating Section Head she'd returned to.

"I knew you and Calum were up to something; following some kind of lead. I think the Horsemen must've known too and that's why they launched an attack on the pair of you. You were getting too close."

"You think they were after me and Calum?" Ruth repeated faintly.

Of all the reasons for the attack, it hadn't occurred to her that it might actually be because of her dogged determination to prove Bart's innocence.

"I do," Dimitri nodded grimly, scrubbing at his face.

"But why the Art Gallery? And why was Liv there?"

"Liv was tailing Rafiq, so if she was there, so was he."

"You put Zack in charge of communication with Liv. I wondered if Zack and Calum went to her aid against Rafiq," Ruth admitted.

"Without calling it in?"

"Maybe there wasn't time."

Dimitri thought it through, "Capturing Liv would've been the perfect Honeytrap. Zack and Calum wouldn't have hesitated to help her."

Ruth fidgeted with her sore palms, her shredded fingers. They were aching something fierce from the burn of the rope. She hadn't noticed the pain at the time; she'd been so focused on getting Lottie out. But now… the burn had awoken with a vengeance.

"Calum will be able to tell us what happened when he wakes."

"If he wakes."

"When," Ruth corrected him firmly.

"Ruth… the doctors are talking about a possible TBI. Even if he does wake, he may not be able to remember anything. He may not be able to do a lot of things."

It was Ruth's turn to hold back tears now. Boisterous, boyish, brilliant Calum, whose wits and intellect were his world. Was the Universe really so cruel as to take that from him, just as it had taken Erin's legs?

The shock of Dimitri's words didn't register for a moment, then all at once the tears came spilling out, one after the other, and she hadn't the energy to smother a low, guttural sob. Dimitri turned, alarmed. For an instant, he just observed her through wide, uncomfortable eyes. Then, his features softened and slowly, gently, with all the hesitance of a man who hadn't initiated human contact in several, long years, he reached out and gripped Ruth's hand. Ruth couldn't help the second sob that tore its way from her burning throat then, and she turned her face away, dashing at her cheeks.

"I've been such an arse," Dimitri reflected quietly, and Ruth didn't dare face him for fear of seeing the pity in his eyes. "For so long, I've numbed myself to others' suffering, believing no one could feel it the way I have. I've been selfish and sanctimonious and… proud."

He swung around to face her fully, enclosing his other hand around Ruth's smaller one.

"I'm sorry, Ruth. The way I've treated you has been… abysmal. You're my friend – my good friend – and I… I pushed you away. I hurt you. I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself for that, so I'm not going to ask you to. But I promise you," he vowed solemnly. "I will do everything in my power to make it up to you."

Blue found grey as Ruth met his gaze. She offered him a small, unhappy smile and patted his hand, "I already forgive you, Dimitri. I just hate seeing you hurt. All I ever wanted to do was help you."

"I think some people are beyond help, Evershed," Dimitri confessed sadly, and Ruth's heart wept to hear him sound so broken.

"Never," she declared. "I'm not giving up on you."

Dimitri offered the bare ghost of a smile, "Has anyone ever told you you're as stubborn as you are nosy?"

Ruth bit her lip, turning to him in earnest, "About that. About my nosiness… "

"You don't have to –."

"I do. I'm sorry too, Dimitri. For what I did – going to Erin. I went too far."

"You wanted me to listen."

"Yes, but I should never have interfered –."

"No, you shouldn't. But I forgive you. Or at least… I will once my pride's recovered."

"Once upon a time, I'd never have done such a thing," Ruth lamented. "I believed that there were lines we shouldn't cross; areas we shouldn't touch, even in our line of work." She started to fidget again with the rope burns, pressing against the harsh red sores; a fitting punishment for her transgression. "I don't know what happened to me to change that."

Dimitri caught hold of both her hands and held them apart, effectively ending her self-flagellation, "It happens to all of us at some point. We have to make the choice between what is right and what is good." His fingers hovered over the aching sores, "You should put a bandage on these."

"It's not really my top priority."

"Get. Them. Bandaged," he ordered in his best Section Head voice, though his underlying fondness shone through.

"Will do, Admiral," Ruth saluted, then her face fell as she remembered the man who had coined that particular nickname.

The rejuvenated determination in Dimitri face faded slightly too. He sighed heavily, and patted Ruth's hand.

"Will you please keep me up to date with Calum? I've got to get back and brief the DG. He's been trying to get hold of me for the last hour."

Ruth nodded, "Of course."

Dimitri cracked a limp smile, "'Night, Evershed."

There was no 'good night', for how could it ever be construed as a good night with so many comrades lost.

"'Night."

She watched her friend rise and walk a little way, before it hit her what she had to do.

"Dimitri!"

Her call echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the clear, white walls and the Section Head turned, bewildered.

"I'll be back at work tomorrow afternoon."

Dimitri's eyes widened, his mouth hanging agape, "What?"

"Harry and I will need some sleep later, and we'll need to look for a place to stay after the flat was compromised, but I can be –."

"There's Harry's house," Dimitri suggested suddenly, hurrying back to meet her.

It took a second for Ruth's sleep-addled brain to catch up, "Wait – what?"

"Harry's old house. We kept it on as a safe house because it had a state-of-the-art security system."

"No. No more safehouses. Harry and I agreed."

"That's ridicul –."

"No one else dies for us."

"Ruth –."

"I mean it."

Dimitri's shoulders slumped in defeat. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked distinctly unhappy, but he didn't try to press her. For that, she was extremely grateful.

"Alright then," he muttered. "No safe houses. But still… Harry's old house is a good option. It's not currently being used, and I'm convinced no one would find you there. It's registered under a Gladys Mayfield. It has no connections to Harry anymore. No one could track you. We'll just make sure no one else at Five knows where you are."

Ruth was still trying to comprehend the irony that Harry's house, of all places, was empty and available. It was as if the house had been waiting for its old master all these years.

"And if – and I mean if, because it won't – but if something was to happen… there's no house Harry knows better," Dimitri continued. "You'd have the upper hand against any assailant."

Ruth had to admit, he had a point.

"No officers?"

Dimitri huffed out a grudging sigh, "Not if you're dead set against it. But I still think –."

"I'll… have to put it to Harry," Ruth said quickly, keen to quell any impending argument.

The Section Head's jaw twitched, like he wanted to say more, but respected her enough to accept her stance – albeit very reluctantly, "Of course."

There was a long silence. When Dimitri next spoke, there was an edge of childish hope to his voice, "You… You'd really come back?"

"I want to get these bastards more than ever. For Calum. For everyone we've just lost. The quicker the better, and if I can help speed up the process..."

"You can. You always do. Thank you."

"As long as I… 'fit'," she quoted slyly.

Dimitri blanched, "I didn't mean what I said. You fit – you've always fitted at Section D. I was just being –."

"An arse?"

He swallowed, "Yes."

"Talk to me like that again and I won't forgive you so easily."

"Understood."

"And I won't betray your trust again. No more going behind your back with Erin."

"Thank you. I… I know I'll be grateful of a… a friend."

They smiled at each other, a tiny gesture of understanding.

"Shall we say three o'clock?" Ruth asked.

The Section Head nodded, his once cold gaze thawing into something warmer, softer – more… Dimitri, "I'll see you then."

A.N. Happy New Year to one and all! Wishing you a wonderful 2024.