A/N: Hello people! Here, finally, is the next chapter of my Hour fanfic! Aren't you lucky peoples! This has been festering on my computer for ages, but unfortunately, it broke and only got repaired and returned a couple of weeks back. Then I was busy (with Christmas and revision and my other fanfic) and this still needed finishing up. Anyway, did that tonight, and so here is your next chapter! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, they really do make me ECSTATICALLY happy xD The next chapter is already written (wrote it AGES ago) and just needs to be typed up, so you should be getting it soonish (probably whenever I can manage to get on the laptop for a longish period of time). So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own The Hour or any of its characters. Although I did get the DVD for Christmas! :D

Bel awoke and arose with a groan when the phone rang at 6 am. Four hours sleep. Bloody great. On the sofa, Freddie had been woken by Bel's movement, and propped himself up on one elbow, blinking sleepily as Bel answered the phone.

"It's your dad," said Bel, turning towards Freddie, eyes widening slightly.

Suddenly wide awake, Freddie leapt off the sofa and grabbed the phone from Bel. "Dad?" said Freddie, running a hand wildly through his hair. "Dad, what's wrong?" Bel sat on the arm of the sofa smiling worriedly. Poor Freddie. He was so sweet and protective like this, she just wanted to go and give him a hug. Still, there was no time for that as Freddie ended the call with "Okay, I'll be there soon," and hung up. "I've got to go," he explained, slightly apologetically as he took in the war-torn state of the apartment, complete with unconscious body on the floor. "I'll call you later, we have to sort out all this," he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "You don't mind being left with all the mess, do you?"

"It'll be alright," she said, standing up and kissing him on the cheek to emphasise her point. "Just go." Freddie grinned, and did as she said, only stopping to pick up his coat and cast a cursory "See you later, Moneypenny," over his shoulder as he rushed out the door.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning (although really it was only the third), the phone rang and Bel picked it up.

"Bel? Can you meet me in the BBC cafe at about half past ten?"

"Of course, Freddie," she said, checking her watch. It was still only half 8.

"Good. Oh, and, er, is our friend still sleeping?"

It took a minute for Bel to realise he was referring to the man in black, talking in code because her phone was bugged.

"Yes, still out for the count, I reckon he'll be dormant for at least another...oh, I don't know...8 hours?"

Freddie nodded his head distractedly, forgetting she couldn't see it down the line. "OK. See you later, then."

"Alright, but...Freddie, why so much later?"

"I've just got to go downstairs and ask Mrs B to keep an eye on Dad for me," he said, a little too breezily for someone who knew him like Bel did. "It's fine," he smiled weakly, neglecting to mention that his father had answered the door and, not recognising Freddie, proceeded to try and hit him with a rolled up newspaper. Once Freddie had finally convinced him he was his son, Malcolm Lyon had given him an earful about how 'his mother had been worried sick wondering where he was.'

"Freddie, what's wrong?" asked Bel.

Freddie sighed. There was no hiding things from Bel, it seemed. "He was asking after my mother," he answered shortly.

"Oh." Bel's face fell. She knew as well as anyone that Freddie's mother May had been dead for two years, and his father hadn't been quite right since. "Freddie, are you sure you want to do this today? Wouldn't you rather stay home and -"

"It's fine," said Freddie between gritted teeth, cutting her off. In truth, the idea had crossed his mind – what if his father forgot him again? Was he a bad son if he went off chasing news stories whilst his father was slowly losing it at home? However, his father was in no immediate danger of losing his life – his sanity, perhaps, but not his life – whereas Freddie was growing more and more fearful for Bel with every minute they spent apart. He closed his eyes, committing to his decision. "10.30. BBC cafe. See you then." And he hung up.

Bel arrived at the cafe five minutes late, only to see Freddie laughing and joking with Hector and Lix. Humph. If he was worried about his father and their current predicament, he certainly wasn't showing it.

Actually, Freddie was worried. He was very worried. But, in spite of him being a proprietor of truth at all costs, he could lie very well if need be. However, when he looked up and saw Bel arrive (looking somewhat disgruntled, but nevertheless), the relief in his eyes was real. When she hadn't been there at 10.30 on the dot, he had started to worry that something might have happened.

"Sorry I'm late," said Bel, sitting down, pushing her annoyance to the side.

"You should be," said Freddie reproachfully, smiling in spite of himself.

"Well, you certainly don't seem to have been missing me," she said pointedly.

Lix and Hector exchanged a look, before Lix said "We were just discussing ways in which we could get you back as producer. It's a travesty you were fired, undermines the whole concept of freedom of speech."

"Oh," said Bel. Freddie looked almost smug, the little–

"So what do you think, Bel, shall we go to Douglas, demand our jobs back?"

"Freddie..." she pulled up and away from the table, whispering in his ear, "what are you doing, aren't we -?"

"Of course we are, but we have to have a platform to broadcast it from," he whispered back. "I'll go to the newspapers if I have to, but The Hour's proved itself as an arena for integrity and truth," they shared a smile "and besides, what's more hard-hitting than having the show he was in charge of reveal it?"

"You have to make everything so much harder for yourself, don't you?" she said, drawing back, rolling her eyes. "Alright, I'll do it," she announced to the table at large, "but don't blame me if we're all put on the BBC's blacklist for life.

"My dear, you're already on it," said Lix, looking over her glasses at Bel.

"Right, that's sorted then," said Freddie, looking vaguely happy for the first time that morning. "Shall we go then?"

"You can't just barge in there, demand your jobs back and expect to be given them," exclaimed Hector, speaking for the first time since Bel had arrived. "They'll laugh in your faces!"

"What do you suggest, then?" said Bel frostily.

"You need some sort of plan," said Hector, ignoring her hostile tone. Freddie had to hand it to him; he could play oblivious very well.

"Hector's right," said Freddie, earning looks of shock from all at the table. "As much as I hate to admit it. What's more, we need a story. And we've got one."

"Freddie!" Bel hissed urgently, pulling him off to the other side of the cafe. Hector and Lix looked up, surprised.

"Are you sure you want to tell them? Are you sure we can trust them? I mean, Lix, yes, but Hector..."

"He's not that bad," said Freddie. Bel looked half-surprised, half-amused. "What? Look, I hate to admit it, but I was wrong about him. As much as it pains me to say it, he's a good man."

"Typical. As soon as I dump him, you two start to get on." Bel raised her eyebrows in amusement.

Maybe that's why, thought Freddie, but didn't say it out loud.

"But Freddie, are you certain?"

"Positive."

"OK. I trust you." More than anyone else, she added in her mind. Grinning in a slightly terrified way, she allowed an equally grinning Freddie to tug her back over to the table.

"Right," he said. "Here's what we've got so far..."

After they had brought Lix and Hector up-to-date (they had decided not to let Isaac or anyone else in on it, as they were taking enough risks as it was) they split up into groups. Hector and Bel went back to Bel's place to check on the man in black, while Freddie and Lix would stay put and work on a plan of action. It bothered Freddie a little that Hector and Bel were together. He tried to tell himself that it was just because he didn't trust them to make the right decision regarding the intruder, but even he wasn't big-headed enough to fool himself into thinking it was just that. Well, he was her best friend, wasn't he? It was normal to feel a little overprotective if his best friend was alone with the man she had just broken up with. But even this felt like a lie.

Lix said his name sharply, shaking him from his reverie. "What?" he asked confused.

"You were miles away, weren't you, darling? Or perhaps just a couple of miles, in an apartment where there's a man in black as a rug?"

Freddie blushed slightly. How was it that Lix always seemed to be able to read his mind?

"Absolutely no poker face, Freddie, dear," she said smoothly. Freddie jolted in surprise. Well. Clearly. He wondered if Bel could read his emotions as they passed over his face, or if she just chose to ignore them.

"Freddie! Come on!" said Lix, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Honestly, if you're that bothered about it, you should have gone with them!"

"Who?" said Freddie stupidly. Lix looked at him through narrowed, knowing eyes, while Freddie tried to avoid her piercing, hawk-like gaze. Then she gave up.

"Well, come on then, we'd better get going if we're going to get your jobs back by the end of this month!"

Freddie nodded seriously, and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand, and away from the interior of the apartment where he had spent the previous night, where he was sure the immobile man on the floor had been all but forgotten...

As Hector shut the door behind them, Bel was beginning to wish she'd returned home alone. Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She was stuck here, alone with Hector, the man she was no longer seeing, the man who she was still increasingly confused about. It didn't help her befuddlement when he said "Marnie's divorcing me."

"Oh." Well, what else could she say? What did he expect her to say, 'Oh Hector, that's so wonderful, now we can be together!'?

"We were talking about it last night," he said, not looking at her. "We decided that it just isn't going to work between us, not after everything..."

"Is that a dig?" interrupted Bel.

"No, not at all!" said Hector, raising his hands in supplication. "Bel, I-"

"Don't say it," she said, less harshly than she'd meant to. "I don't want to hear it," she said more firmly.

Hector had raised his eyebrows at her soft tone, but his eyes narrowed now (with hurt or annoyance, she couldn't tell). "Fine. I won't," he said petulantly. He stepped closer, something in her unbroken gaze hardening his resolve. "But," he said, cupping her face in his hands, "I do, you know, Bel." Without waiting for a response, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips...

"Have we got Clarence?" Lix asked suddenly. They had been going through the story he and Bel had written last night, checking for holes, for places where more evidence might be required.

"What do you mean? He gave me the say so to tell the world about it. I don't know whether I could bring myself to do it otherwise."

Lix raised her eyebrows, then said, "No, I mean, will he be interviewed? That would be a scoop and a half."

Freddie closed his eyes in regret at what his former boss, his mentor, had been driven to. "I don't know, I highly doubt it, but we have to ask him."

"Correction – you have to ask him," Lix said, leaning forward and tilting her glasses down her nose so she could look over the rims at him. "You're the one he told in the first place – he trusts you."

Freddie took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll do it." He paused. "Is there anything else we have to do now, or shall I get onto Clarence straightaway?"

"I'll be fine clearing up here," she said, waving a vague hand at the mess of paper on the table. Freddie grinned. "You go ahead." Needing no more prompting, he jumped up and headed for the door of the cafe, but before he'd even taken ten steps he turned back to the table. "Lix..." he said. She looked up. "Where does Clarence live?" She rolled her eyes, and, saying "Honestly darling," proceeded to write Clarence's address down on a spare scrap of paper.

"Thanks," grinned Freddie apologetically, then he was gone in a flash.

They broke apart, Bel pulling away first. Naturally.

"Hector-" she said, trying to sound disapproving, but ending up just sounding unsure.

"Bel..." he said, but his voice was husky with desire and need.

"Shhh..." hissed Bel, putting her finger to his lips. Bad move. Hector moaned and kissed the tip of her finger, then craned his neck round so his lips met hers again. She moaned softly, involuntarily, and opened her mouth to let him in. Hector wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss. This time she didn't resist.

Freddie got off the bus and walked the few streets to Clarence's house, shivering in the November cold, pulling his thin coat tighter around his shoulders and bending his head to the wind, debating how he would broach the subject with Clarence. It was pointless, he knew; Clarence would almost certainly have an idea what he was there for, and being Freddie, he would just go straight in and ask the question. But there was no harm in thinking about it. He shook his head. He was no good at this, persuading people, wheedling to get on people's good sides. Hector was better at that. And Bel. He needed Bel here with him. He had arrived at the house. He had never been here before; it was semi-detached, Edwardian brickwork, but otherwise nothing special. He closed his eyes, composing himself. Then he proceeded to knock on Clarence's door.

Clarence had been sitting in his armchair in front of the fire since he had returned home the previous night. His wife, Edith, had brought him some dinner and tried to get him to eat it, but he had refused. She had no luck in getting him to bed either. Since Freddie had coaxed the truth out of him yesterday night, he had simply been waiting for something to happen. After all, he had told Freddie to run it; it was just a question of what would happen first – would the news of his betrayal be broken, or would his handlers come for him? Therefore, it was with a heavy heart but an altogether unsurprised sigh that Clarence heard the doorbell and rose from his chair.

"Clarence," said Freddie as soon as he had opened the door.

"Freddie…I –" spluttered Clarence, surprised, before he was interrupted by Freddie.

"I need your help, Clarence. Well, I don't need it, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if you would help me, and it would help you too, maybe not in a literal sense, but morally, absolution is in the confession, that's what my mother always said, and it would give us so much more credibility if you would help us, especially since we've been fired and…"

"Freddie, Freddie!" exclaimed Clarence, "Freddie, stop." Freddie stopped mid-ramble and looked at Clarence questioningly. "You say you want my help – what exactly do you want my help with?"

"Sorry, sorry," said Freddie, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his face. "Can I come inside?"

"Of course, dear boy," said Clarence, stepping aside and waving him in. Freddie looked around the dark, badly decorated hall with interest; he had never been in Clarence house before. Clarence waved him into the lounge impatiently.

"Tea or coffee, Freddie?" Clarence asked.

Freddie took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and nodded. "Coffee, please, Clarence."

Once they had their hot drinks and were sitting in Clarence's sitting room (Clarence in his arm chair and Freddie perched on the edge of the sofa, a small animal ready to flee at the slightest sign of danger).

"So, what do you want my help with?" asked Clarence, pursing his lips slightly.

"I…we need you to agree to be interviewed by us. About…Brightstone."

Clarence closed his eyes, thankful Freddie had not said 'you being the Soviet Agent in the BBC' or just 'the traitor'. He was a little surprised too; Freddie was usually so direct. He could only assume that it was residual respect for him that kept Freddie from stating the truth; the same respect that had kept Freddie from revealing the secret government plans to assassinate Colonel Nasser, thus both ruining his own plan and causing Freddie to lose his job. He would have chuckled at the irony if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"Freddie…I can't," he stated simply.

"Why not?" said Freddie, unwilling to accept this unsatisfactory answer.

"You know why not! They'll kill me, Freddie!" exclaimed Clarence, laying an urgent hand on Freddie's shoulder.

A shadow passed over Freddie's face, and he scoffed. "Didn't stop me."

"They were never actually going to kill you!" said Clarence exasperatedly.

"They broke in to my father's flat and scared my father! Tom Kish tried to strangle me! They followed me everywhere, and I almost got run over by the car that was following me back from the Elms' mansion. So don't sit there and say they were never going to kill me!"

"Different people, Freddie. And I was protecting you from them. Who is there to protect me from the Soviets?"

"So," said Freddie, breathing heavily. "Not only are you a traitor, you're a coward as well. You know they'll come for you, anyway, Clarence, once the news has broken?" Despite his derisory tone, the concern in Freddie's voice told just how much he still cared about his traitorous ex-boss.

"I know that. And it is not cowardice that is stopping me from allowing you to interview me. It is shame, rather. I cannot face the shame of seeing all those people at 'The Hour' – my colleagues, my friends – and having them see me for what I really am," he paused, "which is, as you quite rightly say, a traitor."

Freddie closed his eyes in regret. He knew it was a lost cause. Clarence had made his decision, and there was no way he was going to back up on it. He made one last feeble attempt at persuading him, for Bel, if no one else. "You know, you'd be safer if you admitted to it in public; you'd be taken into custody, and…"

"And tortured for information, and killed, most likely," Clarence said matter-of-factly. "Even you, Freddie, can't stop a government from killing a traitor." He sighed and smiled, sadly. "KGB or MI6, it makes no difference to me. Men in black break into your house at night and take you away. I want to spare my Edith from the pain of that. That's why I want you to promise me something, Freddie."

"What?" he asked.

"Look after Edith for me. Promise that, before you release this story into the public, you'll take her up to her sister's in Manchester. She'll be safe there."

"Of course," said Freddie.

A melancholy silence fell over the pair, each regretting past actions or remembering past times, until Clarence broke the peace.

"What were you planning to interview me on, anyway, Freddie?"

"What? I don't understand…"

"Well, 'The Hour' is history, thanks to you…"

"Well, the details are a bit fuzzy at the moment, but I sort of assumed…" Freddie trailed off, awkwardly.

"That your revelations about me would get your job back again," Clarence finished for him. "Smart, very smart. So, you were going to use me and my nefarious misdeeds as a bargaining chip. Bravo, Freddie, I'm impressed."

"No...well, yes…but…it wasn't like that."

"Oh?" Clarence raised an eyebrow.

"It is true, yes, that Lix and I thought it would lend more credibility to our story if we were to have you on the programme, but…I want you to get the chance to have your say, as to why you did it. So people understand. So I understand. Because, despite all that you've done, I…I still respect you, Clarence. You were the one who taught me that 'you don't lead the story, the story leads you', you're the one who, as Bel is constantly reminding me, has believed in me from the start, and maybe that was all lies and manipulation to turn me, to try and make me into your Brightstone, but…I just can't quite believe you did it all without good reason, and I can't quite let you be taken away, and…and killed without at least showing your side of the argument."

"Commendable, very commendable," said Clarence, smiling slightly. "Well, I think it's about time you took your leave, don't you, dear boy?"

"Yes, of course," said Freddie, hastily gathering up his coat and tugging it on whilst walking into the hall. "Thank you for the coffee."

"It's a pleasure, Freddie. It always has been." Freddie smiled wistfully, and turned to twist the door handle. "Oh, and Freddie," Clarence said, and Freddie turned back quickly, "I will think about it."

"Really?" said Freddie, brightening. Clarence nodded. "Thank you," he said warmly, shaking his hand vigorously. "Will you let me know by Friday?" he said, backing out of the door, eager to get back and tell Lix (and hopefully Bel and Hector) the good news.

Clarence nodded. "Thank you, Freddie," he said to himself as he closed the door behind the eager, young journalist.

Bel and Hector hadn't returned when Freddie arrived back at Lime Grove. Still, he brought Lix up to speed on what had happened at Clarence's, then they decided that there was nothing more to be done today, and made their way home. (Or Freddie did, Lix staying in the office as was her custom).

As Freddie lay in bed after a dinner of sardines on toast with his now-much-better father (he would have to go and thank Mrs B for all she had done for them ), he thought about the events of the day. He hoped Clarence would come through for them, but he was pretty confident that he had convinced him. He wondered where Bel and Hector had got to. He had a niggling feeling that they had barely had time to check the man in black in amongst participating in 'other activities'. He paled as he thought about this, and tried to stop his mind from going there, but to little avail, and he did not sleep for a long time, finally falling into a troubled sleep with an image of Hector and Bel etched on his brain which was not even fit for highly censored viewing.