Plot Summary: This is an alternative version of Season 9, one that will have a much happier ending (I promise). I don't make a habit of revealing the end, but will in this case as I'm pretty sure mentioning season 9 anywhere in a summary will put people off! Anyway, Harry and Ruth have a wedding to plan; Ros has a life to save and Lucas has many threads of his own personal history to unravel. I've been planning this for months, to be honest. So I hope people enjoy it.

Author's Note: seeing as Ben was spared in my AU version of the Connie betrayal, I've sacrificed him in place of Ros at the end of Season 8 (the Nightingale business). Other than that, I've decided to keep hold of Jo. Season 9 didn't make much sense, even at its most lucid, but I've tried my best to make things a little better. Anyway, I hope people enjoy and reviews would be welcome, thank you.

Chapter One: Touching From a Distance

"We would go on as though nothing was wrong,

Touching from a distance, further all the time."

(Joy Division, "Transmission")

Dakar, Senegal, 1995.

"You scare the shit out of me, Vaughan."

The younger man laughed and stepped deeper into the shadows of the ill-lit apartment he had commandeered. An open window let in the heavy smell from the stagnant estuary waters, mercifully tempered by the blossom of the Mangrove trees. If he looked outside, he could still see the freshly dug grave in the moonlight. He had to admit, it was a nice spot for a final resting place; he would have picked it himself. As for John Bateman, he almost felt sorry for the poor bastard.

When he turned to Vaughan, the older man was looking back at him with that crooked smile on his face, the same mischievous glitter in his eye. It was all just a big game, to him. Admittedly, it was a game that paid well. After the job in Dakar the other day, his new bank balance was intimidatingly high. In the meantime, he had a suitcase containing one thousand dollars, all used banknotes to tide him over.

"You'll be pleased to know it's time to disappear then," said Vaughan. "Have you got everything you need?"

He checked his new bank cards and paperwork: visas, a new passport and a Driver's License all in the name of Dylan Hughes. "Yeah, thanks," he nodded. "Is Bateman out of the way?"

"Too shit scared to show his face in public," Vaughan replied, collecting his bag and shovel. He reeked of sweat from digging that pit outside, the younger man kept getting smacked in the face with wafts of it, mingled with the blossom from outside. "All the same, don't hang around. We're leaving in an hour. Don't contact me; I'll let you know when it's done."

He wasted no more time and collected his new identity. For now, it was all that he would need. Everything else could be bought whenever he got to where he was going to, where ever that may be. However, before he left, he turned back to Vaughan. Not for the first time, he felt a flicker of doubt about the final stages of the plan.

"Are you sure about Bateman?" he asked, brow furrowing. "I reckon he's losing it. How's he going to get on in MI5? That is, even if you do get him through the final interviews?"

Vaughan merely straightened his tie. "He thinks he's going to atone," he replied, amused. "I got it into his head that he'll be cleansed of involvement if he throws himself into all that Queen and country crap." As an afterthought, he added: "even if he does fuck up, he's completely deniable. Having someone inside MI5 is a bonus, not a necessity."

He could think of worse ways to do penance. He opened the door and prepared to say goodbye to Senegal. However, before he left for the final time, he glanced back at Vaughan over his shoulder and grinned.

"Like I said, Vaughan: you scare the shit out of me!"

London, 2010

A flotilla of small boats bobbed on the choppy waters of the Thames, a brisk wind sweeping upriver from the estuary. Ros took in the scene from the full length window of the restaurant, looking past her pallid reflection in the plate glass. She sipped at her wine and watched the decorative lights swaying in the darkness and the people strolling past, enjoying the chilly autumnal night. Before long, winter would be closing in, freezing the populace indoors and barring evenings like this one until the first signs of spring. Before turning back to Lucas, however, she briefly checked her own reflection. Not so much out of vanity, but more out of surprise. Over the last year, her hair had become more functional than styled. Now, it was swept up elegantly behind her head, long diamond earrings accentuated her slender neck and her figure was shown to full advantage in a sleek black dress that reached mid-thigh. She had almost forgotten that she could look like this.

Sitting opposite her, Lucas hadn't scrubbed up too badly either. His suit was tailored, black tie neatly knotted and shirt pressed to perfection. His hair had grown a little longer, but there was still nary a strand out of place, thanks to a liberal dose of Brylcreem. He finished the last of his meal before reaching for his wine, regarding her affectionately over the rim of the glass.

"That salmon was lovely," said Ros, raising a contented smile. "How was your steak?"

Every other blue moon, she and Lucas got to do this. A night where they could simply spend time together, free from work and the dazzling array of mind screwing complications that came with it. On these nights, they were like any other couple treating themselves to a meal in a nice restaurant. Since they last did this, Ben Kaplan had been killed and buried, Lucas had come within a gnat's arse of death on some hijacked boat off Somali waters and he'd brought back a beyond irritating creature he'd found on said ship: Beth Bailey.

"It was fine," he replied, nudging aside the decorative candles that formed the table centrepiece. "I was meant to tell you, earlier, about this apartment I saw advertised. It's by the river, close to work and within our price range. Want to arrange a viewing?"

They had known each other for two years now, and still hadn't made it past the stage of keeping a spare change of clothes and a toothbrush at each other's flats. It was time to move things to the next level and stop wasting time, as she had with Adam Carter.

"Definitely," she replied, draining her glass. ""Anything's better than shacking up in some derelict safe house."

"Speaking of which, I hear Beth Bailey's going to be homeless again soon," said Lucas, breaking the cardinal rule of no work talk.

"Oh, really," replied Ros, stiffly, bristling at the way Beth often came dangerously close to engaging in flirtation with Lucas. "Ruth wised up and thrown her out?"

Lucas raised a knowing smile. "It's just something I heard on the grapevine," he teased, before turning serious again. "I was thinking, seeing as we'll be moving in together soon, perhaps Beth could move into yours-"

"Stop!" she interjected, bringing her wine glass down hard on the table. "I don't care a fig about who takes over the lease after I'm gone. But she steps into that flat while I'm still there only over my dead body. She fancies you, you know. She'll poison me with her cheap peroxide just to get me out of the way."

"I can't help the effect I have on women!" He joked, then immediately recognised the grave error he'd made. Ros' lips compressed into a thin line, as she bit back the rebuke that could well cause a scene. Hastily, Lucas covered his tracks: "No, really that's fine. London is a city of many sofas and I'm sure there's one out there for Beth," he muttered, hurriedly. "I'll, er, settle the bill then."

While Lucas paid the bill, Ros dealt with the tip. Once their coats had been returned to them, they eagerly stepped out into the brisk London night. Arm in arm they took in the sights, even though they had seen it all before, and chatted away about everything except work. Before, that was, work bumped into them.

"Oh shit," Ros groaned, careful to keep her voice down, even though the intrusion was still some distance away. "It's them!"

"What?" asked Lucas, still unsure about what was Ros had spotted.

Ros pointed. "Look, over there by the barrier," she said. "Look who it is. I think they've bloody seen us now."

Lucas peered through the small crowds of pedestrians milling about the river walks and pavement cafes. It took a minute before recognition dawned in his expression and he groaned aloud. Quickly, he grabbed Ros' hand and pulled her closer to the wall, as though that might make them both invisible.

"You don't think they saw us, do you?" he asked, glaring out at the strangers passing by.

"They definitely saw us!"

Ruth protested as Harry firmly steered her away from the riverside walkway. Against his superior strength, she had no choice but to follow, flailing a handbag clutching hand out to keep her balance as she tottered along on her heels to keep up. Really, she had no more desire than Harry did to have colleagues interrupt their scant leisure time. But to openly bump into people, look them in the eye and simply run in the other direction was a bit much.

"I don't bloody well care, Ruth. I like Ros and Lucas, you know I do. But not tonight."

She looked back over her shoulder just as the crowds parted, briefly revealing Ros looking back at them both before being obscured up by pedestrians again. Already, she found herself rummaging for excuses to trot out for when she had to face them on the Grid in the morning. They're undercover; they had both been temporarily blinded and hadn't seen anyone; anything would do. Meanwhile, Harry was unrelenting and continued to steer her across the bridge towards a taxi rank.

"We're going on the London Eye," he declared, firmly. His demeanour brooked no argument.

"Oh! That's nice," she agreed breathlessly, but at least they were walking at a normal pace again.

They had planned on doing that, anyway. But they weren't booked for another half hour. Harry hailed a taxi and she gratefully climbed in next to him on the backseat, but she couldn't help but wonder at his strange mood. All night he had been taciturn and withdrawn, answering questions with one word, single syllable grunts. Something was clearly preying on his mind. Now, they lapsed into silence as the journey over to the London eye commenced. Even when they disembarked fifteen minutes later, they had still barely exchanged a word.

Thankfully, the London Eye itself would provide several talking points. She had been back in England for two years now, and hadn't yet had a chance to go on it. So, when they took their place and the pod closed behind them, Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. It was a clear night, affording them unimpeded panoramic views out across the whole city. An interweaving network of criss-crossing lights stretching out into the horizon. They could take in the illuminated beauty of the Tower, St Paul's, Parliament and Buckingham Palace as their ascent over London began.

"We got the perfect night for it," Harry remarked, finally having a stab at conversation.

Their earlier encounter with Ros and Lucas was all but forgotten.

"It's beautiful," she agreed, letting her gaze rest on the dark waters of the Thames far below them. "London always looks so different from up here."

His hand crept into hers, giving it a squeeze. When she turned to face him, he was looking back at her wide eyed and half-smiling. With his free hand, he fished about in the inside pocket of his jacket, but she could not see what he produced from it.

"Ruth," he said, turning to look out through glass walls of their private pod. "It looks like it's just you and me, now."

She smiled. "I guess it is," she agreed, shuffling over to sit closer to him. Harry responded by circling an arm around her waist.

"So, then," he said. "Marry me?"

The breath hitched in Ruth's throat and she didn't even think she had heard that correctly.

"What?" she asked, jerking to one side to look at him properly, to see if he was joking.

He opened a small jewellery box in the palm of his hand, revealing a delicate looking diamond ring. The small gems winked in the reflected light of the London skies. It was a simple and elegant item, its understatement a thing of beauty in itself.

"Will you, Ruth, consent to be my wife?" he asked, more fully.

For a long moment, she couldn't say anything. Her eyes welled up, making her vision swim and she was so taken aback she could barely wring any sense from herself. But, she managed a nod and a smile that reached from ear to ear.

"So, that's a yes then?" he asked, brow creasing as he implored some clarification.

"Harry!" she gasped, her voice about an octave higher than usual. "For God's sake; yes!"

It seemed to take a moment for Ruth's assent to register. Then, he drew her into a tight embrace, just as the London Eye reached its zenith. They kissed each other against the backdrop of the whole city, a position they held for the rest of their journey back to earth.

Lucas rolled his eyes as Ros kept up her stream of verbose complaint against Harry and Ruth. It didn't matter that they were as keen as their colleagues to avoid each other, it was the principal of the matter. "I just wasn't expecting the roadrunner impressions," she continued. "I quick 'hello' wouldn't have hurt any of us."

He kept his silence as they strolled on, their route unbroken by the panicked appearance of Ruth and Harry accidentally sprinting back into their path. It had still been a more than pleasant evening for both of them and he hoped the same for Harry and Ruth – whatever they were up to. However, their evening had reached a premature end as Ros was called away to collect some files from work.

"Just give me two hours to get everything sorted," she said. "Then meet me back at my flat. Will you be okay?"

"Sure," he replied. "I'll head off for a drink or something. I'll see you soon. Just don't go leaving important stuff at work in future," he laughed.

"Good, because I have a treat for you when you get there," she promised, teasingly.

It was unlike her to be forgetful. But, he thought nothing more of it as they leaned in to kiss each other before he walked off towards the nearest watering hole. However, as he drew level with the pub, he veered off across the road again. The night was too fine to spend sitting all alone in some horrible bar. Also, he was being followed and had been for some time. It was for that reason he'd made an excuse not to go with Ros to collect her things from work.

Spotting a swarm of tourists nearby, he mingled with them for a while, pretending to be interested in the nearby streets and landmarks while he got his bearings. After a few minutes of that, he moved on and crossed the same bridge that Harry and Ruth had crossed barely an hour before. However hard it was, he had to resist the temptation to look over his shoulder to see if he was still being tailed. He took another detour down a narrow street and out onto a wider avenue before trying to hail a taxi.

When that failed, he set off again down the street towards the crowds. He tried to keep his pace normal, not too hurried and not so slow that he could be easily caught up. Finally, he allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone looked suspicious. After a brief pause to decide on his next move, he swung down a flight of steps leading to a subway to cross London. But, three steps down, his tail had come up to meet him and was now looking him square in the eye. Recognition hit Lucas like a kick in the gut.

"Hello, John."

Lucas didn't think it possible, at first. He tried to back away, but he already knew it was too late. If Vaughan Edwards had tracked him down after all these years, he wasn't going to give up and go away just because he made it clear that he was not welcome. The years hadn't been kind to him, either. His hair was thinning; he had filled out a little and his clothes looked like they had been salvaged from a charity shop reject skip. Lucas felt his jaw drop as he tried to marshal his thoughts into a verbal reply, but his mouth ran dry and his stomach churned violently.

"Aren't you pleased to see me?" asked Vaughan, still a few steps down from Lucas.

He had a brief inclination to push the bastard as hard as he could down the steep, concrete steps and hope for the best. But, if the bastard lived he would be in over his head. For now, Lucas decided to try and appease him to get shot of him as soon as possible.

"Wh-what do you want?" he stammered.

Vaughan stepped into the light, revealing his full cadaverous self. The years really had been rough and, unless Lucas was mistaken, it looked as if he'd even suffered some sort of stroke. He dragged one leg as he moved, the corner of his mouth was downturned. But it didn't affect his eye. He fixed Lucas squarely with both.

"Nothing," he replied, acting the innocent. "I just wanted to give you this."

Lucas noticed the suitcase Vaughan was carrying for the first time and eyed it with disgust. He had no intention of accepting it, but those intentions failed to translate into actions as he found the case being thrust into his arms. Vaughan's hands brushing past his own made his flesh crawl.

"What we did," he said, looking Lucas up and down, "has been the making of you. But it's been the destruction of me. You're looking well, though."

Fishing for sympathy, but Lucas refused to bite. He merely watched, with revulsion etched on his face, as the other man dragged himself away. Vaughan mounted the final steps and then turn back around to look down at him. "See you around then, John."

Fifteen years ago, he had been a naïve fool. But that was then and he knew well this suitcase would not be the end of it. But whatever it was Vaughan wanted, he wouldn't be getting it. Fifteen years ago, he had nothing to lose. Bat again, that was then.