Acknowledgements: thanks to Em who was beta for this chapter and a huge thanks to Lynn who was beta for the first eleven. That really does make her one of the senior pros.

Chapter Twelve: All The Time In The World

'Did they even talk to each other?'

'Who?'

'Who do you think?'

Zaf scrubbed at his eyes. He had made it to the lounge and collapsed into a chair. The stench of smoke still clung to his clothes and hair. He'd take a shower. Soon. Jo was curled on the sofa opposite, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. Zaf was nursing a large whisky right out of existence.

'I don't know. Don't think so.'

'Do you know what Ros was on about?' she continued a moment later. 'Something about glass slippers?'

'The day I know what Ros Myers is on about,' he declared, 'I'll shoot myself.'

They had all arrived at the warehouse, smoke billowing out of its broken windows. Adam, Ros, Jo. And when she first saw Ruth, it didn't quite register at first. Acceptance and then the realisation that she shouldn't be seeing what she was seeing. Ruth had laughed.

Jo wasn't sure when Harry had arrived. He had appeared - suddenly, as always - and he and Ruth had looked at each other across the waste ground; and what passed between them-

'Sorry, what was that?'

Zaf smiled slightly. He looked exhausted - hair tousled, eyes bruised with lack of sleep, unshaven. Something about him just then made her heart hurt.

'I said, are you going to tell me what happened with you and Mike? How did he end up at the warehouse?'

'Oh, that.' She cradled the mug between her hands; the contents were almost cold now. 'I'm not sure exactly what happened, but from what I understand Harry rang your friends and wanted one of them down by the docks. The other one - Selim?' Zaf nodded. 'Selim went down. Mike was trying to get hold of you but couldn't.'

'The signals were scrambled.'

'They weren't messing about, were they?'

In the end three bodies had been pulled from the warehouse, faces blackened by smoke. Mia had gone by then - leaving as quietly as Harry had arrived. Zaf wondered if they'd ever see her again and decided probably not.

'So, Mike rang me. He was starting to get a bit panicked, I think. Apparently him and Selim had already seen what he called the Heavy Mob meeting with Mace in Camden before they got Harry's call.'

'Okay, but that still doesn't explain how you got Mike to find me.'

Her eyes, heavy-lidded, were sparkling. 'Collar of your jacket, Zaf.'

He frowned, stretched across to get it. He ran his fingers around the collar and found the tiny metal stud.

'I only activated it when Mike rang. And there you were in the middle of Chiswick.'

'You and your bloody trackers.'

'I got it from Malcolm's secret stash.'

'Not-so-secret stash, you mean.' Zaf watched her for a moment. 'Thank you. That might have saved our lives.'

'Any time.'

Silence for a moment. He could feel his eyes closing.

'They're nice, your friends,' Jo said.

Zaf started. 'Yeah. Yeah, they're good blokes.' He shifted in his chair and then heard himself say, 'Mike wants to know if you'll go out with him.'

She choked on her chocolate, coughed. 'Really? Well, that's sweet of him - and he seems great, don't get me wrong, but he's not my type.'

'Oh?' She was looking at him and everything changed slightly. His voice was soft. 'Oh.'

ooOoo

'You wrongly identified a corpse, Mr Pearce. You misled a police investigation.'

'I made a mistake,' Harry replied smoothly. 'The face was badly disfigured, but the clothes, her hair... They were very similar. And we had reason to believe that Miss Evershed would attempt suicide.'

Juliet smiled pleasantly. It didn't reach her eyes. 'Well, Superintendent, I don't think that we can help you any further.'

A muscle in his cheek twitched. 'May I remind you, Ms Shaw, that I agreed to conduct this interview in your office as a gesture of goodwill?'

She folded her hands on the leather blotter. 'And it is greatly appreciated. But I don't think that there is anything more to be said.'

He looked between the pair - barely concealed hostility on both sides of Juliet's impressive desk. They thought they could get away with anything, this lot... He ground his teeth. No-one was going to convince him that Ruth Evershed had got away without anyone's help - and she had sworn that she never had any intention of making anyone think she was dead. She had simply gone.

'Fine. But if I get even the slightest shred of proof that you deliberately obstructed justice...' Harry Pearce simply tilted his head back and stared down at him. The Superintendent stood. 'I can see myself out.'

When the door closed behind him, Juliet blew out a breath. 'Congratulations. You actually managed to behave yourself.'

'Would have thought the bloody man would have better things to do,' Harry retorted. He got up, paced around her office. 'Doesn't he have some murderers to catch?'

Juliet smiled. 'Maybe he feels slightly aggrieved because you did that for him.'

Harry paused, sighed. 'It will probably never even come to trial. Mace was right about one thing - that evidence is severely compromised. Even with DNA.'

'You can't have everything, Harry. And this is a bloody mess you've dumped in my lap, by the way.' She glared at him. 'Half the JIC either under investigation or forced to resign, the other half at each other's throats.'

'And I thought you liked sorting out other people's messes.'

'Shut up.'

He almost laughed at her. Harry walked back to her side of the desk. 'Thank you, Juliet.'

'Please don't. The last thing I want is your gratitude.'

He smiled. 'You have it anyway.'

She looked up at him and her face lost the rigid mask she always wore, even in private most of the time. Moments like this were all too rare. 'I'm glad for you, Harry. I really am.'

Her hair felt soft against his face when he stooped to kiss her cheek.

ooOoo

'What are you going to do now?'

'Sleep for a week, I think.' She smothered a yawn, stretched out. More than ever she reminded him of a cat: lithe, green-eyed and impossible to read. 'And then a holiday is definitely in order,' Mia continued. 'Somewhere exotic. I'll drink piña coladas, get caught in the rain.' She offered him a dazzling smile, her head tilting provocatively. 'I would invite you to join me, Harry, but I get the feeling that you'll be rather, um, preoccupied over the next few weeks.'

'Mia...'

She laughed and then broke off in a yawn. 'Sorry. God, I feel about a thousand years old.'

Harry put a bundle of papers on the dashboard.

Mia eyed them lazily. 'Is that the official resurrection of Ruth Evershed?'

He nodded. Her life, only hers again when put in stark black and white. He had held her life in his hands - and he laughed at himself for the inanity of his own thoughts.

'So, shall I drop you at the hotel?'

'Not now, thanks. There's one more thing I need you to do, Mia. Make sure that Ruth gets those.'

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. 'You're not going to give them to her yourself?'

'No.'

Mia leant her elbow against the window, cushioning the back of her head with her hand. 'Just out of interest, Harry, do you actually intend to see Ruth in person at any point? Ever?'

He returned her gaze coldly. 'Why do you ask?'

'I'm emotionally invested. I want to know how it ends.'

'Mia, just deliver the papers. You don't have to say anything to Ruth or anyone else - just make sure that she'll get them safely. Can you do that?'

Her lips compressed. 'Of course I can do that. But I still want to know why. Indulge me,' she said, over his objection.

Harry let out a heavy breath. The sun through the windshield was blinding. 'If Ruth chooses to come back - back to the Service - it has to be her choice.'

'Obviously.'

'Her choice because she wants to, not because she feels she has to out of loyalty or-or gratitude.'

'And you think that one look at you and she'll fall weeping at your feet?'

His eyes flashed. 'I promised her that I'd sort it out. I failed her then. All I've done is keep a promise. And I don't want to put any additional pressure on her, Mia, it's as simple as that. Ruth has already sacrificed enough and I do not want to be responsible for her doing something that she may later regret.'

'You're not being noble, Harry, you're being an idiot.'

'Thanks a lot.'

'I mean it! Harry, she needs to see you! You need to see her. You two have got to talk to each other, for the love of-'

'Mia!'

She started. He lowered his voice.

'Mia. Please, just do what I have asked.'

She watched him, chewing the inside of her lip. Then shrugged. 'Fine. Whatever you want, Harry.'

'Thank you.'

Her fingers drummed against the seat.

'It's time I paid you,' he said after a while. 'God knows, all the money in the world isn't enough for what you did.'

She stopped beating her tattoo. 'Flatterer.'

'How much do I owe you?'

Mia waved a hand. 'Oh, keep it.'

'What?'

'I know. I'm a great operative, but I'm a lousy businesswoman.'

'Mia, I can't give you nothing.'

'It's my birthday soon.' She added pensively, 'No-one gives me chocolates anymore.'

He smiled. 'I'll buy you some.'

'From that little Belgian place-'

'Around the corner,' he finished.

They shared a smile and too many memories to utter. Mia leant across and took his face between her hands. One thumb stroked his cheek.

'Harry. Next time you need a job doing, do me a favour - ask someone else.'

ooOoo

The hotel was discreet and luxurious. One of her favourites. Ruth deserved a little luxury after everything, she thought. Mia crossed the foyer. They knew her here. She could quite happily deliver the wad of papers to the concierge and know that they would reach Ruth. She was halfway to the desk when she stopped.

She turned and headed for the lifts.

Harry Pearce was the most impossible human being she had ever known.

The corridor was quiet, the air expensively scented. Low hums from behind assorted doors. She had discharged her duties, she was no longer under any obligations - what she chose to do now was her own choice.

Mia knocked and waited. Only a few seconds and the door opened.

'Hi, Ruth. Have you got a minute? I need to talk to you.'

ooOoo

The late autumn garden looked sadly neglected. It was the one area of domesticity that Livia drew the line at. Drooping flower heads, long since turned to the colour of rust, stood in silent accusation. He had been meaning to sort it out for weeks, but time always seemed to get away from him. And there had been too many other things to worry about lately. Maybe now. It was therapeutic, or so he was told.

George had squeezed through the door as soon as it was opened a crack. He was snuffling happily in the undergrowth.

And somewhere in the city, only a few minutes away, was where she was.

He wouldn't let himself think about that. She was safe. No-one could touch her now. That was all he had wanted.

George, muddied and slightly damp, trotted back, circling Harry's feet before flinging himself down with a heavy sigh, chin resting on his paws. Harry nudged him gently with his toe. 'I don't know what you're complaining about. Sleep, eat, go for a walk, have Livia spoil you rotten – not such a bad life.'

No response.

She had looked exquisite. Even with her clothes creased and her hair escaping its band, she had looked like a gift from God. To his eyes, at least. And her name and her life were her own again. If nothing else, he had given her that. Perhaps that would be enough.

George sat up, ears pricked, glancing back at the house. Harry looked down at him. 'What?' A whine. Harry tilted his head. From inside the house, through the open door, he could hear the telephone ringing.

Fin