Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC

Dedication: For the POGs, especially Linda and Nat.

A/N: This is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes.

Always Something There to Remind Me

Familiar acts are beautiful through love.

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 'Prometheus Unbound'

Chapter 1

The comms link crackled and there was the sound of gun shots and swearing. A lot of swearing.

"Alpha 3, this is Alpha 1, come in." There was a slight tremor in Malcolm's voice. "Alpha 2, Alpha 3, status report please."

The only reply was the incessant hiss of static.

"Alpha 1 to Delta Charlie 9, urgent sit-rep please."

The Special Forces officer's voice boomed round the Grid. "Alpha 1, this is Delta Charlie 9. Location is secure; six suspects detained. Standby for status report on Alphas 2 and 3."

Ruth's gaze hadn't left the digital map on her computer screen. Her eyes were locked on two yellow markers: the trackers belonging to Harry and Adam – Alphas 2 and 3. They were stationary.

"Alpha 1, Delta Charlie 9. Alphas 2 and 3 are safe and well. Repeat: Alphas 2 and 3 are safe and well. They've lost their comms. Message from Alpha 2: good work, see you in one hour. Message ends."

It wasn't until Malcolm gently squeezed her shoulder that Ruth finally looked away from her screen.

"Safe and well, Ruth. Safe and well."

Ruth was certain she must have counted every second of the next hour. When the pods finally opened, she was on the phone to a contact in GCHQ. She watched Harry and Adam walk across the Grid. Both of them looked tired and dishevelled. She felt her chest constrict when she saw blood on Harry's face. Her reaction must have been noticeable, at least to him, and he smiled softly at her before going into his office.

"Are you still there Ruth?" The voice at the end of the phone sounded faintly irritated.

"What? Sorry, yes. Sorry."

When she returned from the registry, Ruth was disappointed to see that Harry's office was empty. She hadn't spoken to him properly since he'd come back to the Grid. They had talked during the debriefing but that didn't count, not in her mind anyway, as there had been other people present. The rest of the time he'd either been on the phone or deep in conversation with Adam.

She placed some files on his desk and hesitated, wondering if she should just wait there until he returned. She was still trying to think up a convincing excuse for hanging around in his office when she was startled by a soft voice behind her.

"You should go home; you've had a long day."

"Harry… No, it's fine, I just h-have a couple more things-"

"Don't you ever do as you're told?" He didn't sound angry, just mildly amused.

She shrugged. "Sometimes. It depends who's doing the telling."

It was good to see him laugh; somehow, it made things seem less…fraught.

He moved nearer to her and she could see the cut on his jaw line had started to ooze blood again. "You're bleeding."

He ran his fingers over the wound. "Don't worry; it'll stop."

"Let me get you something for it."

He tried to tell her that it didn't matter but she had hurried out of his office before he finished talking. She returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit and made him sit on the sofa so she could tend to him.

Harry was certain that if their situation had been reversed, his hands would be shaking far more than Ruth's were. As it was, she seemed remarkably in control as she held his face still and cleaned the cut with an antiseptic wipe.

"It'll probably leave a scar."

He was unconcerned. "One more for the collection."

Her thumb gently brushed over a faded mark on his chin, discernable only in bright light or close proximity.

"Souvenir of Northern Ireland. Fight in a pub."

Their eyes met as he spoke and she wondered what other mementos he'd been left with. For a moment she considered asking him but then rejected the idea. She might be his confidante in matters of the Grid, but he kept most other things to himself.

Harry was disappointed when she removed her hand from his face and busied herself with finding a dressing. He'd thought she was going to question him about the fight in Ireland; he would have told her, too. It wasn't much of a story but it would have done as an excuse to keep her sitting next to him for a few more minutes.

Ruth had finished applying some steri-strips to the wound. "That should be OK." She eyed her handiwork critically. "I don't think I'm much of a loss to the nursing profession though."

"I wouldn't say that."

She made a 'hmm' noise and started to tidy up, fiddling about with the first aid box, trying to cram everything back into it as Harry watched her.

"Seeing as you've patched me up, the least I can do is give you a lift home."

"No, there's no need." She'd finally won the battle with the plastic container.

"Yes there is. Don't argue." He stood up and walked slowly across his office.

"You're not seriously contemplating driving are you?"

"I'm fine." The struggle he was having to put his jacket on belied the assertion.

"Give me your keys." She stood in front of him, her hand held out and a determined look on her face.

"I'm perfectly capable-"

"It seems I'm not the only one who doesn't do as they're told."

He opened his mouth then closed it again, deciding that arguing with her was a waste of time.

Ruth neatly parked the car outside Harry's house and switched off the engine.

"There's a bus stop round the corner, isn't there?"

"Yes, why?" Harry questioned.

"So that I can get a bus home."

He shook his head. "You're not getting the bus, not at this time of night. Borrow my car. I'll pick it up tomorrow."

"Harry, I use the bus late at night all the-"

"For God's sake, Ruth!" He spoke more harshly than he intended and quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry. It's…I'd feel happier if you took the car."

Her gaze remained fixed on the steering wheel and she didn't reply.

"Please? Or get a taxi. I'll pay."

"OK, I'll get a taxi," she said, quietly. "But I'll pay."

"Fine." He paused. "Will you come in and have a drink before you go home?"

She nodded.

"I thought it was Friday nights you couldn't get a cab," Harry mused as he put the phone down on the kitchen table. "They're saying it'll be at least an hour as well."

"It's OK Harry, I'll-" He looked like he was going to interrupt so she held her hand up. "I'll borrow your car, so long as you're sure you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind." He smiled, relieved she'd finally agreed to his suggestion. "You were telling me the truth then."

She looked puzzled. "About what?"

"That sometimes you do as you're told."

"Don't push your luck," she admonished, although there was humour in her voice.

"Sorry." As he leant back in his chair and stretched his legs out, Ruth saw him wince.

"I still don't understand how you ended up cut, bruised and," she reached across the table and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, "covered in oil."

"Well I had fifteen stone of Special Forces soldier squashing me into the tarmac at one stage."

"Lucky you."

"Please tell me you don't harbour a secret fantasy of being pinned down by some sweaty bloke in combat gear."

She laughed throatily. "It would depend on who the sweaty bloke was."

"Is that so?" He held her gaze, his eyes glittering mischievously, until she looked away. He knew their conversation was getting close to dangerous territory but it was still the right side of harmless flirting. Just.

Ruth put her coffee mug down and frowned. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was the Special Forces soldier squashing you into the tarmac?"

She saw him hesitate for a second before he replied. "He was being a bit overzealous."

"Harry." There was a note of warning in her voice.

"One of the suspects started shooting and my friendly squaddie seemed to think that I was the target. He rugby-tackled me and," he tentatively pressed his fingers against his side, "nearly broke my ribs in the process."

She was completely still and Harry watched her, closely, waiting for her to say something.

"You didn't go to see the duty doctor did you?"

Her response wasn't quite what he expected. "I, well…there wasn't…"

"What? Time? Need?" she challenged. "Look at the state of you!"

"I'm fine, really."

"You don't look fine."

"Thanks," he muttered, not entirely sure why Ruth was so worked up about the state of his health.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just…I don't know…worried you might have been hit on the head or have internal injuries or something…" She fell silent, unable to articulate how frightened she'd been by the morning's events.

He watched as her fingers fiddled nervously with the tablemat. "So does my behaviour give you reason to believe I've had a blow to the head?"

"No more than usual." She risked a quick look at him and was relieved to see he was smiling.

"Now who's pushing their luck?" he teased.

She blushed and hastily changed the subject. "Will you be alright on your own? Tonight, I mean."

"I'm not on my own." His gaze had shifted across the kitchen. "I have Scarlett."

The dog stirred at the mention of her name and trotted over to Harry.

"You won't let me die in my bed, will you girl?" He fussed over the animal, scratching her affectionately behind the ears.

"Maybe I should stay…" The idea that had seemed perfectly innocent as it entered Ruth's brain had somehow mutated into a proposition as the words left her mouth. She started to babble. "F-for a while longer I mean. Just to make sure you're alright."

"I, er, well I suppose… It's up to you." Harry's less than articulate reply was directed at the table as he seemed unable, or unwilling, to look her in the eye.

"Right."

He wasn't entirely sure if she was agreeing with what he'd said or confirming she was definitely staying. He stood up, slowly, aware of his aching muscles and another, usually suppressed, feeling that was being fed by Ruth's presence.

"I'm going to have a bath."

"OK." Ruth picked up their empty mugs and headed towards the sink. "Is there anything you need me to do?"

Harry could think of several responses to her question but opted for an innocuous one. "Can you just let Scarlett have a quick run round the garden?"

TBC