1. End of May, 2011. St Katharine Docks, London, England.

The sun was just beginning to make its presence felt on the darkened city as he walked the length of the pier. After the last few days of unremitting greyness and damp, the warmth of the pale pinks and golds that were starting to stain the sky to the east were a welcome change. He stopped and leaned against the railings, gazing up-stream at a view that he'd seen a million times before but, shortly, would never be able to enjoy again, or not for a very, very long time which, at his age, added up to almost the same thing. Gauzy clouds floated, pastel, in the sky above, bright against their dark, faintly star-dusted backdrop; a silvery mist, apricot and pink, lightly shrouded the lamps and early-morning traffic on Tower Bridge, looming above him to his right while the shapes of the buildings on the opposite bank of the river were becoming less amorphous, the twinkle of their lights dimming against the approach of daylight. Then there was the river itself, eternal, sliding by on its endless journey to the sea, moss green and brown, swift and silent with its serried ranks of working boats moored on both banks and the dim bulk of HMS Belfast looming out of the darkness on the upstream side of the Bridge. Vehicular traffic on the latter was slowly increasing as he stood there and the first of the early morning joggers were appearing as well. Not that he was really aware of any of it, lost in contemplation of the river as he processed the results of the past few days and weeks. It wasn't that he hadn't been expecting something of the sort to happen but he'd been foolish enough to start to hope, towards the end of the enquiry, that he might be able to get away with at least staying in the country, albeit out of a job. Then the bloody Gavriks had turned up, like the bad pennies they were, and here he was. Although he had to admit it was better than the alternative – it might still be a life sentence but there would be freedom of a sort... It was an odd feeling, and now he understood much better the reactions of other staffers who had been given the same – the only – option.

He knew Dimitri was up on the Bridge above him, armed to the teeth and keeping an eagle eye out for potential trouble from the roads and the river, while Tariq – still recuperating from the poisoning and not officially back at work but insisting on being involved this morning – was hiding in an obbo van parked in the car-park just above the dock, monitoring the feeds from every CCTV camera within a mile of their location as well as the flight paths of everything mechanical within a 25 nautical mile radius, and Calum was pacing the street and footpath outside the van, masquerading as a member of the Metropolitan Police and ready to take whatever action was needed to prevent anyone unauthorised from getting any closer to the pier itself. The man on that pier deeply regretted involving any of them this one last time but recognised the necessity and silently blessed them for being willing to bother. Even at this, the end of his career and his life as he knew it, he still had no real idea that they actually did it for one reason and one reason only: because they all adored him. He had spent most of his life protecting them, their predecessors and their country; affording him a little protection in return at this point in time was the least they could do.

Soft footsteps sounded on the gangway behind him but he didn't turn, engrossed in the view and his thoughts. The person moved quietly to lean on the railing next to him, arm just touching his. The slight hint of that subtle, classic perfume that she favoured caused his heart to contract more quickly, as it always did. Lifting his face from his watery contemplation he turned his head slightly to look at his wife, still silently amazed that she was here. That they were both here. Porcelain skin, soft as silk. Those clear, opalescent blue eyes that could see straight through anything and into the depths of your soul. The luminous smile that had been so infrequent for so long but that had so recently returned… Momentarily facing the possibility of that loss on the river foreshore in Essex three days ago was worse than almost everything else he could contemplate: material things could be replaced, he'd long since ceased to care about status, his job or any of the other ephemera of human society and the children were well and truly grown and living their own lives, with varying degrees of success, and had been doing so without him for years. But having to go on alone, after she had just invited him to do the opposite… Although that threat had passed in an instant the possibility still sent a chill down his spine. Now, here they were, ironically standing on the very same pier where, not so long ago, he had been desperately bartering with John bloody Bateman as the latter had reneged on his part of the Albany deal, staring down the barrel of starting a new life in a way that neither of them had exactly planned. Smiling gently he asked,

"Everything ready, then?"

She smiled back and nodded as a voice crackled in his ear-piece.

"Affirmative. The barge has just come into view downstream, Harry."

Dimitri. On the ball as ever. He murmured the news to his companion and they both leaned forward but still couldn't see their exit vehicle, despite the mist starting to clear as a light breeze sprang up. Straightening up again, Harry returned to his contemplation of the view, although with a focus on the downstream end, while his wife gazed at him for a little longer, drinking in the sight of this man who had had a strangle-hold on her heart for so very long. He looked immensely weary but there was also a calm acceptance of their fate and even, below the well of exhaustion, a spark of excitement in his dark eyes. Still, he wouldn't be the man he was if he didn't enjoy taking on challenges that would cripple others and come out the other end, more often than not, on the up-side. Whereas she had been absolutely furious, the day afterwards, at the fate that had been thrust upon them, and the unfairness of it all.

"You've spent your life in the service of the State and this is how they thank you?" was what she had said over morning tea in his office when, after they had spent the morning creating their new legends with Erin and Calum, reality had suddenly hit. He had looked across at her, steady eyes disguising his real thoughts ('God, but she was magnificent when she was angry!'), smiled at her briefly and said gently,

"It's okay, Ruth. I've been waiting for this axe to fall for a very long time and it's more justified for me than it ever was for you. I'm just sorry you have to go through it once more."

"Don't be because I'm buggered if I'm letting anyone tear us apart again, Harry. I can't, and I won't, repeat going through that experience." Dismissing the memory with a silent sigh she, too, turned back to the view.

Traffic had increased slightly on the water as well as on the Bridge. It was mostly working boats that were passing, heading down-stream, although a private craft motored out of the lock behind them that led to the interior of the Dock and the police cruised by, heading up-river, passing a barge towing garbage that had just hove into view beyond Tower Bridge. Two sets of eyes fixed on that barge, in lieu of their own, remembering another morning, significantly colder and clearer than this, five years before, that had signalled half a decade of loss and suffering, of one form or another, for them both. Well, that was then; today was almost an opportunity to re-set history and they were both intent on making it work this time.

"You should be able to see the boat now, Harry." Dimitri's voice murmured in his ear again and he turned to look down-stream again, catching sight of their transport. Touching his wife's hand to get her attention he said,

"Our lift is here, Ruth."

It was her turn to tear her vision away from one barge and the memories it held to the other and the potential it represented. Turning slightly towards Harry she said, quietly,

"It's not going to be easy."

Their eyes met, and he twined his fingers through hers.

"No. We both know that, you far better than me, but we will manage."

She smiled at him again and kissed him gently on the cheek, carefully avoiding the bruise, a bilious mix of green, yellow and brown, which marred the creamy skin of his jaw, a fading sign of the life they were leaving behind. Out on the river, their own barge was now opposite and slowing, preparing to make the large turn that would bring it in to the pier so they could depart the city for one last time. As it began to come around Tariq's voice said,

"Visitors arriving. They'll be here in a minute."

The couple looked at each other, puzzled. As far as they knew the only person apart from their immediate work circle and Harry's children who was aware of what was happening was Malcolm and they had caught up with him at the wedding; no-one else was meant to even know they were still in the city, let alone be arriving to see them off. They heard the sound of the car at the same time as the pale shadow of headlights swept over their heads. As the engine stopped Ruth turned to look upwards towards the car park while Harry continued to sweep their surrounds, suddenly unsettled and half expecting a CIA goon-squad, until, to his great surprise, Erin murmured in his ear,

"It's just me, Harry. Your visitor wouldn't take no for an answer so I told him he could only get here under my direct escort."

"You had better be quick, then," he muttered in return. "You can see that our transport is here." As indeed it was. The barge was almost through its circle and idling towards the edge of the pier as he spoke. Through the rumble of the engines and noise of the water two sets of footsteps could be heard and then Erin and the visitor appeared at the top of the gangway. To his great surprise, but not so much Ruth's, it was the Home Secretary. The young brunette was, for once, not her usual immaculate self: no makeup, her hair pulled up in an untidy, somewhat frizzy, pony-tail and dressed in jeans and an over-size sweat-shirt and runners, she looked about 20, not the mid-thirties that she was, but despite the early hour (now just before 04:00) she was wide awake and as watchful as her subordinates on the Bridge and in the car park. The same couldn't quite be said for Towers: also dressed casually (and almost unrecognisable because of it) he was awake but distinctly bleary as he followed Erin down the gang-plank.

"Did I not tell you to not tell anyone else?" Erin's erstwhile boss asked, gently but reprovingly. She sighed and smiled.

"I didn't but he—" she gestured to the Home Secretary with her thumb "—said he would sack me if I didn't tell him." She wondered why the couple in front of her exchanged startled glances and then secret smiles as they had a sudden, intense, momentary time-shift to that previous occasion half a decade ago, not knowing that his comment and her response were almost word-for-word what had passed between them on that other dock on that freezing morning. Towers stepped forward.

"Don't blame Ms Watts, Harry. I put her in a position where she couldn't refuse! Not that she told me anything: just rang me half an hour ago and told me to be ready to be picked up in five minutes, with no indication of the destination or anything else! She's getting to be as bad as you are for keeping her cards close to her chest!"

"She will need to be because she has to deal with wily buggers like you, William!"

The two men grinned at each other for a minute. Despite their low-point when Harry had been handed over by the Home Secretary to the CIA for extradition he had actually understood why that had happened and, now, was oddly touched that Towers had made the effort to be here, especially on top of everything else he had done for them over the past few days. There were very few politicians that Harry had ever had any time for and the man standing in front of him was one; he was also about the only one he might consider keeping in touch with. The man himself turned his attention to Ruth and there was distinct sadness in his blue eyes as he spoke again.

"I couldn't let you go without saying good-bye and good luck. I will miss both of you but particularly you, Ruth. I knew I had no hope of keeping you, not against Harry, but it was a nice thought while it lasted."

"I think events conspired against all of us, William. We all had plans but fate seems to have had different ones—"

The barge bumped against the pier, interrupting the conversation. Harry caught the rope thrown to him by the skipper and moved forward to loosely tie it off on a bollard; while he was otherwise engaged, Towers moved to stand next to his former security advisor and slipped a small, flat envelope into her pocket. She gave him a questioning look but he just smiled and said,

"A small farewell bonus for you both. Access will be immediate, if you need it, although I would leave it for a few months if I were you. Just to be safe!" Thinking she was about to object he glanced towards the other man, who was returning to join them, and added quietly and quickly, "You've both earned it and, even if you think you haven't, Ruth, you have to admit that he certainly has. So please accept it. Not that you can give it back, anyway!"

Suspecting what was in the envelope she would normally have demurred, trying to find a way to refuse his assistance, but she recognised the truth in his words and knew, deep down, that they were probably going to need whatever finances the envelope contained so she swallowed her resistance and, instead, smiled back at him and briefly laid her free hand on his arm.

"Thank you, William. There was no need but thank you, anyway."

"What did you just slip into my wife's pocket, William?" Harry asked, still wary, as he rejoined them.

"Nothing dangerous, Harry, just a little goodbye gift and some contact details, should you wish to stay in touch in the long term, when it might be a little safer. You don't have to utilise either but I would appreciate it if you would use both, one day."

Harry, more pragmatic than his wife, understood immediately and was humbled.

"Thank you. We will. Although the initial contact may have to be vetted by my replacement here first!"

They all turned to look at Erin, who had been standing a discrete distance away at the bottom of the gangway but could still hear, courtesy of Harry's tiny comms unit. She grinned and responded,

"Yes, so you had better behave yourself!"

"We should be going, Sir, Madam. It's getting lighter by the minute." The boat's skipper, not very many years senior to Harry but looking like the archetypal old man of the sea with his neatly trimmed, thick grey beard, ruddy, weathered skin, beanie and thick jacket over heavy sweater, had opened up the companionway and stood by it, awaiting his two passengers, his voice rumbling across to the group at a pitch only a tone or two above the note of his idling engine. He remembered this pair. He'd been at sea for 51 years, 40 of those as a ferryman to the intelligence services, and he'd had his fair share of forced runaways over that time but none quite like these two. He remembered how they had delayed the previous departure by being so unwilling to let each other go, how the woman had stood, immovable, in his wheel-house until she could take it no longer and turned, tears streaming down her face, watching the man and the city grow smaller and smaller, and how the man had been frozen to the spot on the dock, his breaking heart written all over his face. Well, this time it looked like they were going together and good luck to them. He was himself retiring at the end of the month so this would probably be his last run for the spooks – it would be nice to finish on a happy note. But he had to hurry them along, otherwise they would completely lose the advantage of night.

Recognising reality, Harry picked up their two bags, slung them on board and turned back to the others.

"The gentleman speaks the truth. Time to depart." He exchanged a firm hand-shake with Towers while Ruth shared a brief, heart-felt embrace with Erin, both suddenly teary, then positions were reversed as Ruth and Towers embraced while Harry and Erin faced each other for the last time.

"Good luck, you two."

"And you. Although you won't need it."

The young woman's eyes suddenly filled with tears and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest for a moment. He hugged her in return; she stood back and looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Sorry. Reality just hit and it scares the daylight out of me! Look after yourselves and I'll be in touch if and when it's needed."

He smiled gently as Ruth joined him.

"We will. Just promise us that you will get out before the job destroys you as well. And that applies to the rest of you, too." He knew they probably wouldn't, not until something forced them to – as it had him – but nonetheless Erin nodded in agreement as he looked up towards the Bridge, where a figure, faintly visible now against the lightening sky, raised a hand and three voices spoke simultaneous affirmation in his ear

"Sir." The skipper spoke again, gently trying to move things along while keeping one eye on the increasing daylight. Without a further word the couple stepped through onto the deck and the captain closed up the companionway, went forward to loose off the rope and had returned to the wheelhouse by the time the pair had taken up a position near the stern from where they could watch the city disappear into the distance. Ruth caught her breath in a slight sob as reality sheeted home to her, too; looking up at her husband, she realised that the reason why he had moved them onto the boat so fast at the end was because his own eyes were full of tears. Taking his hand, she turned back to face the waterfront and realised with a shock that they were already moving out into the centre of the river. The slight sob became a full one; Harry took a deep breath to steady his voice and murmured, apparently to the wind,

"Going off comms for the last time. Thank you and good luck."

Ruth stretched up and whispered in his ear,

"Good-bye, everyone. Please take care."

A chorus of goodbyes and good-lucks returned as whispers to his ear before he removed the tiny device and ceremoniously tossed it over the side of the barge. Dimitri waved again from the Bridge, as did Erin and Towers from the pier, while both Calum and Tariq appeared at the railings of the car park above her, sending a dual salute. Ruth dissolved into tears; Harry wrapped his arms around her, carefully avoiding her injuries, from behind and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. She couldn't see it but she knew he was suffering as well, possibly more than she. They remained as they were, motionless, until the last of the glittering towers of the city had disappeared.