Not really sure why I wanted to write this. Spoilers for 10.5 but not 10.6. This wont happen in 10.6 and completely disregards the plot but I thought HEY why not ;)

LEO IS RUTH'S NEW CAT ;)

"Go home – rest, sleep. There's nothing you can do for him now. Believe me Ruth, if there was, I'd be helping you do it."

She has to admit, Towers' loyalty to Harry supersedes his inability to deal with anything else in his job straightforwardly, like a normal person. He'll bicker and he'll insist and he'll disapprove but one thing he will never do is condemn her for loving her ex-boss. Somehow he understands. So when he tells her that this time they wont win, she believes him at once because she trusts him. She takes her bag and her files and she goes home. They will both try to find news of Harry in the morning though she knows he knows it's futile.

It wouldn't help, even if she did find him. He kissed, he left – he even told her not to visit him or offer evidence. Indirectly he asked her to move on. And at home now, as she reaches the front door, part of her has decided she has little choice to do much else. There's no-one in this house except her and there never has been; the toaster is out where she left it this morning, the basket of washing is on the sofa and Leo's food bowl has not been refilled. There is no-one to hold her when she walks in on these cold nights. The only person that ever could be is in a cell, miles away, probably cold and probably alone.

Shoes and coat off, she pads into the hallway and switches the light on to collect the days mail – just bills, insurance junk and more Christmas magazines from companies she swears she never even subscribed to. Still, Leo is there to wind himself around her legs and demand cuddles or food – probably the latter – before trotting off in the direction of the kitchen. Pausing to open the first envelope she hears what sounds oddly like coughing, faintly, and very, very briefly. Instantly she knows something is wrong, and is surprised she didn't spot it before – there is no light coming through the gap of the sitting room door. The lamp in there is on, as it should be, but the gap between the door frame and hinges is black. Though Leo pays it no attention she feels every muscle in her frame tense. It's not as if she can fake never coming home; she's made too much noise. She can't go around the back; they'd hear her leaving though the front.

With nothing but her clenched fists, she runs into the sitting room before they step forward and clasp her from behind.

She faces them and they lurch suddenly, as does her fist.

But it falls against a firm shoulder and they find her neck before she can move away. Twisted with her back tightly pressed against their chest, their right hand – not gloved – hugs her mouth and she cannot bring herself to bite it. Instead she ruthlessly forces her right elbow backwards and meets the intruder's torso. Male; he growls at the impact. About five foot ten, heavily built, and not young or overly muscular; his stomach is soft. The blow is enough to force him one step backwards which provides the only leeway she needs to sharply spin around and go for another strike, which she does, but stops instantly as he raises his hand.

The words just can't be found. He looks so, so scared.

"Ruth..."

She strides forward, gasping, and takes him in her embrace, kissing the side of his head, oblivious – for now – to the bruising and the cuts by his eyes. She holds him there as his arms follow hers and pulls her closer than he ever has done before, head drooped her shoulder. They're panting furiously. After a long moment she releases her hold slightly and keeps one hand on his cheek.

He knows she's seen the damage as soon as that soft, familiar and gravely concerned frown settles in and takes over everything she was about to say. Her hands glides from his cheek to his eye and strokes his brown and purple skin.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he encourages, and puts one hand low under his breast, "Though I think my spleen may be a little worse for wear after that blow. You're bloody strong Ruth."

Her attention finds his smile, and she gradually smiles back.

"Sorry... you scared me."

"Yes I'm not entirely sure why I hid behind the door," he admits, "I could have made myself a cup of tea and flicked the box on. You're cat's not a great guard cat."

The feline in question watches them from the table, patiently.

"How did you get in?" she asks, glancing to the window, "Actually, no. How did you get out? Of CIA custody."

"Your ex-colleagues gave me a hand."

She opens her mouth, but pauses briefly.

"And you came... here."

The tone – unintentionally irritated – twists his face with guilt. Dipping, he swallows and she instinctively steps forward. For some reason she takes his cold hand which lifts his dark brown eyes to her own, and he stares, hopeful, if anything.

"I can't go home," he says, pained, "You're the only I can turn to. You're the only one I want to turn t..."

Her face is so close, the words dissolve in the hot space between them and before he can begin again, she closes the gap and steals one kiss. Short, impulsively. Immediately afterwards his left hand finds the small of her back and he leans in faster and meets their lips again, parting them with his tongue now, as she allows him in. Carefully to avoid the bruising she inflicted, efficiently, her hands slide between his torn blazer and his shirt and snake up his back, to hold herself against him as he unconsciously uses his weight to push her against the back of the sofa. Somewhere in her head she knows this is too dangerous. But she can't pull herself away until it's imperative – at the need for oxygen.

He looms over her, never appreciating until now how much physically bigger he is than her. One hand removes itself from his back and comes to rest against the tight cotton of his shirt on his chest. He looks down at it.

"It was always for you," he whispers and she frowns. He peers up and tucks one brunette strand of hair behind her ear. "My heart." She curls the tips of her fingers slightly at his words as that uncomfortable god-forbidden feeling of tears begins to rise. "I could never have lost it to Elena," he smiles, "I could never have lost it to my country, either, Ruth. It was always for you."

More soon, if you would like? Aiming to finish by Saturday.