Set during 7.2.

"We're not doing each other any good". He let her leave, taking another sip of his drink. He waits two minutes, allowing her a head start back up to her room before following. Harry knows Ros, and he knows her composure isn't going to last much longer.

On the Grid they call her the 'Ice Queen' and joke about her lack of emotion but Harry knows better. They joke too about how alike the two of them are – which is true, though, he wishes for her sake it wasn't. He knows her reticence is not because of a lack of emotion, but due to an excess of it. He knows what its like to be so terrified of all the feeling inside of you that you push it deep down. And he knows how dangerous it can be when its forced to the surface by something as painful as this, as painful as loosing Adam, as painful as it was to loose her.

When he reaches the door of her room, he hears her screaming. Even though it's what he expected to hear, and even though Harry Pearce has heard much worse things in his life, he's still shocked by it. People often describe cries of pain and anguish as animalistic, but Ros's screams are terrifyingly and hauntingly human. A part of Harry wants to turn away, to walk out of the hotel and not have to face it all. Suddenly the sound stops, there's no more smashing just silence. Harry takes the key card that he slipped from her pocket back in the bar and slides it in to the door.

She's sat in the corner, next to an arm chair with the debris of her outburst all around her. She doesn't look up at him as he opens the door and walks slowly in. For a second he thinks she hasn't heard him but then he remembers this is Ros Myers and he's sure she knew he'd taken her spare key card. And for a second his confidence falters as he stands in the middle of the room.

She looks so small and lost, sat surveying the damage she's done and although she isn't screaming anymore, there's something even more unsettling in her uneven breathing. Harry's waiting for her to say something, to even acknowledge his presence but she doesn't and he turns to leave. As he nears the door, he realises her breathing is getting worse; it's heavily laboured and shallow all at once. All his breath seems to leave him too.

In a moment, he's kneeling amongst the broken glass next to her. His hands grip her shoulders tightly, shaking her.

"Ros? What have you done?"

She's touching her chest, and her eyes are glistening. "P-panic… attack." He loosens his grip on her with a simple "Oh." It's relief. Then he realises she's shaking and hyper ventilating and he remembers Catherine when she was fifteen, and how Jane held her. He looks at Ros for a second to see if she can calm herself but she's worsening and he can see her getting dizzy and disorientated as her body battles with itself. So he takes off his coat and moves himself behind her before wrapping his arms around her.

Ros tries to push him off. She doesn't want to be touched and his tight grip on her makes it worse. Her body feels like its on fire and she can't manage to stop breathing long enough to catch her breath. She tries to push Harry off but his voice is low and commanding behind her. "I know it feels worse Ros. I know. Stop, stop it. Stop fighting" His strong arms wrap themselves further around her small, shaking frame which is pushing against him still. "Shh, shh. It will calm your parasympathetic nervous system. It will slow everything down. Ros. Stop now." And despite her fighting, he feels her slow in her arms, feels some of the tension leave her shoulders. Harry loosens his grip a little.

It takes some minutes for her breathing to finally find some balance. Harry's arms are still around her. They both sit silent and still not knowing quite what to do or say.

"I swear, Harry, if you even try to pack me off in a white van to Tring, I'll…" She's trying to clamour back to normality with a snarky comment but she's exhausted. He lets out a breathy laugh, close to her ear. Suddenly, they're aware of how close their bodies are. Then she moves herself around to face him, breaking from his hold.

"You asked what I'd done. Did you think I'd…" Harry is covering rubbing his forehead with his hand. He looks tired, he is tired. "Fuck Harry, no wonder you wouldn't make me Section chief, if you thought I was going to pull a bloody Sylvia Plath on you." She sounds a bit more like her but when Harry looks up, she's looking at him, scared.

"Ros?"

"It's my fault Harry. He saw me and stopped, and if he's got in to that car without seeing me... It's my fault he's dead. It's my fault Adam's dead." She's looking up at him from her dark eyes; so scared and full of so much feeling. She's telling him because she knows that he knows. He knows what its like to loose someone you never really had the chance to love. He understands what it's like to feel so much guilt and anger and to want to stop it all. She's so fragile before him, exactly as he feels. He's so angry about Adam, so angry it makes him feel like he can't breathe too. And he wants to make it better, he wants her to be okay, he wants her to know that there are other feelings.

So Harry leans forward and gently brushes her fine blonde hair from her face, and with his hand on her cheek, he kisses her on the lips softly. Ros moves her lips from his, his face still close to hers. "Harry?" He isn't sure if it's a question or an accusation.

"It's not that kind of kiss, Ros" he says into her hair, gently. She waits for a second, to see if he's going to tell her exactly what kind of kiss it is, but he doesn't know and before he can think of a reply, she's kissing him hard.

They're standing and kissing quickly and inexpertly. And now it is that kind of a kiss. They're becoming lost in each other. And it becomes that kind of a touch as she pushes his suit from him, and he pushes her jacket of her and his hands are inside her white shirt. They're pressing against each other and her hair is loose and his top button is undone and their breath is ragged and close.

Then almost as quickly as they began, they stop. One of them must have stopped first but neither is sure which and they're stood there looking at each other. They should be embarrassed, it should be awkward but it's not because they understand each other. They know it was about comfort and grief and a moment that doesn't need to and won't happen again. They're silent for a moment more before they both seem to laugh at the same time.

"Christ Harry, is that what you do every time a team member dies. No wonder Adam coped so well about Zaf." He smiles back at her. Wordlessly they begin to re-assemble the room together. Harry picking up the shards of mirror as Ros returning the smashed TV to its place. It takes them twenty minutes in which they are mostly silent. When they are done the room looks nearly normal, with only a few markers of the trauma it had experienced. Harry picks up his jacket and coat and puts them on before turning to face her.

"It wasn't your fault Ros. You know that really. And when you realise, you'll be able to move past this. Be able to get back to your usual, delightful self… But if it takes you too long to realise, it'll be a whole week at TRING. Understood?" She nods her head slightly. He looks around the almost tidy hotel room and back at her. With a slight inclination of his head he asks if she's going to be okay. Her folded arms answer 'of course'. They smile at each other again and he turns to leave. When he's by the door, he hears her call to him.

"If you don't make me Section Head, Harry, I'm filing for sexual harassment." He lets out a dry laugh as he closes the door. He knows that by tomorrow she'll be perfectly composed and that with in a couple of weeks, she'll be Ros again.

-x-x-x

"One more thing, as of today, Ros assumes the position of Section Chief."

I don't feel like there's nearly enough Ros fic out there. I'm not sure I've done her justice but I just wanted to do something with her and Harry. I don't ship them romantically, as I hope this makes clear but I think there is something special about their relationship. (Don't worry, Ruth is still my Harry OTP, my spirit animal and my favourite forever.) But yes.

Thanks for reading.