Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Father, father, where are you going
O, do not walk so fast.
Speak father, speak to your little boy
Or else I shall be lost,
The night was dark no father was there
The child was wet with dew.
The mire was deep, & the child did weep
And away the vapour flew.

– William Blake

Lucas sipped at his coffee, blue-grey eyes darting from table to table. This particular coffee shop had always been a favourite of Lucas’ before Russia and, while he was pleased to see that it was receiving more customers, he was also on edge about the number of people. In some ways, there was safety in numbers. It was harder to get jumped in an environment where there were plenty of witnesses. But, Lucas also knew that it was easier to sneak up on someone in a crowd. He had used a crowd to his advantage many times in the past and he had no doubt he would do so again. And he knew that anyone with… less than savoury intentions towards him could also make use of the crowd to sneak up on him.

I’ll drive myself mental if I look for enemies in every face I see, Lucas thought. Still, he took the time to thoroughly study everyone in the little coffee shop, assessing the potential threat level for each person. While he rather doubted the hipsters sitting two tables down from him were going to spring up and try to stab him any time soon, he’d rather not be taken by surprise again. So he watched and assessed each potential threat, not moving on to the next person until he was certain he had a feel for what he could expect from the last.

Lucas could explain the hyper vigilance. He understood that he was being irrational. Hell, he rather doubted that the FSB would swoop in and bundle him off to Russia when, ostensibly, as far as they were aware, he was working for them. If Kachimov suspected duplicity when they spoke earlier, he hadn't said as much. He hadn't provided any information about Lucas' new handler, but Lucas supposed that was to be expected rather than any sign of suspicion. Kachimov never had been particularly forthcoming when it came to his plans. Still, Lucas figured it couldn’t hurt to hone his skills, especially after being out of the game for eight years. Knock off the rust, so to speak, especially when he had to meet with Harry in a few hours. His entire plan was contingent on Harry not throwing him into a cell, which meant he had to tread cautiously.

Of course, there was the ulterior motive for hyper vigilance, one that was directly related to the hollow feeling in his stomach. Seeing Vyeta with a child…. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course she would have moved on. It had been eight years since he had been home. It was only natural that she had moved on, that she found someone who could give her what she wanted, and who was there. Still, seeing her… seeing the proof that she had moved on…. It was bittersweet, recalling Harry telling him that Vyeta was well and happy. It had been silly of him to think that she would wait for him. Vyeta had moved on, evidently. He should too, and that meant proving his worth to Harry so that he could get access to the Grid again.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling the little sleep he had gotten last night. Lucas wasn’t sure he could handle another night in the safe house. Fortunately, Malcolm had called him earlier this morning to tell him that the Service had gotten him accommodations in Battersea. Lucas was familiar enough with the area. It was a good neighbourhood, had a nice park nearby, and decent enough shopping. There were a lot worse areas he could have ended up. And, best of all, it meant he wouldn’t have to spend another night in the safe house. Thank God for small mercies.

It was as Lucas was distracting himself from thoughts of Vyeta by once again thoroughly examining the occupants of the coffee shop that he noticed the reason he was currently sitting at a table instead of working on implementing his plan to earn Harry’s trust and get back on the Grid. Tom Quinn looked… surprisingly good after eight years, Lucas thought. Time had no doubt been kinder to Tom than it had to Lucas, if the wedding band on Tom’s left hand was anything to go by. Still, Lucas wasn’t a fool. He knew that there was more to the story about Tom’s… early retirement. It surprised Lucas all the same to hear that Tom was no longer with MI-5. When they were younger, both of them lived and breathed work. And now he is living the married life away from MI-5.

“You look chipper,” Tom Quinn said as he took a seat opposite Lucas.

Lucas smiled thinly. “Just got back from holiday.”

Tom snorted, an eloquent commentary on Lucas’ description of prison. “It’s good to see you, Lucas.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said, putting his cup down. “You look good.”

Tom shrugged. “Tried out your job. Didn’t work out. Got married and then formed a new private security firm with Christine. If you’re looking for work, we could always use good employees,” he said carefully.

It was Lucas’ turn to shrug. He had never imagined what he’d do when he got back home. Every day in prison, he had always just… hoped he would simply get to come home in something other than a body bag. On the rare occasion that he allowed himself to feel that small, glimmer of hope that maybe one day he’d get to go home, he’d always seen himself returning to the Grid, to MI-5. To Vyeta. But she was gone. MI-5 didn’t trust him. He didn’t know what to do with himself, beyond trying to prove to Harry that he hadn’t broken in prison. I stayed loyal. And look what it got me, he thought bitterly.

“Sorry, mate,” Lucas said. “But Malcolm just went through the trouble of getting me a flat. He’d be upset with me if I up and left work. And Christine… As in the Christine I know or a different Christine?”

Tom coughed and looked away. “The one you know.”

Lucas lifted an eyebrow. While he wasn’t exactly surprised to hear that Tom was married now, last he knew, Tom was less than receptive to Christine. Granted, that was largely because of her position in the CIA. Lucas fondly remembered deliberately sending Tom to deal with Christine, entirely because Lucas didn’t care for dealing with the CIA. Besides, it had irked Christine every time Lucas had sent Tom instead of going to the meet himself. They both knew that Tom didn’t have the authorization to make any deals with Christine. Tom was the middleman and they all knew it and it irritated Christine that Lucas kept doing it, which suited him just fine. Let her be annoyed with him and possibly slip up. Let her call him and complain for ten minutes that he had, once again, bailed on the meet and sent Tom in his stead.

Still, Lucas was happy for Tom. He deserved some happiness. Christine had been a formidable CIA liaison, probably one of the better ones Lucas had encountered, and she had been tenacious when she thought MI-5 was holding out on her. It was one of the things he had hated about her, but also admired. Tom and Christine, though… Who would have thought? “Congratulations. Welcome to life with the ball and chain,” he said, smiling bitterly.

Tom hesitated for a moment. “Have you seen her?”

Lucas didn’t need to be a mind reader to know who Tom was referring to. He stared hard at his coffee before carefully saying, “Yeah.”

“And?”

He forced himself to shrug, to act like his world hadn’t shattered seeing Vyeta with a child. “If she’s happy, I’m happy for her.”

“She gave me your stuff to store,” Tom said. “If you want it. Harry find you a place yet?”

Well, at least she didn’t toss it. If he had been her, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have tossed it. Lucas hadn’t exactly left for Moscow on good terms with her and, really, how could he blame her? She only knew he was missing a lot of dinners and breaking a lot of promises. He would have been surprised if she hadn’t thought he was having an affair. He had promised they would talk when he got back and that he’d call when he got to Moscow. At least he had kept one of those promises. Still, it was a relief to know that at least Vyeta had given his stuff to Tom. “Yeah, in Battersea.”

“Need help moving in?”

“Just getting my stuff there,” Lucas said. He’d rather do his own unpacking, largely because he didn’t particularly want anyone to see him be disappointed at what Vyeta had chosen to keep and what she had chosen to give to Tom.

Tom studied Lucas’ face for a long moment before saying, “All right. If you need anything….”

“I’ll be sure to call,” Lucas promised.

Tom nodded and gave an order to the waitress that had sauntered over. Neither of them said anything while they waited for Tom’s coffee to arrive. Lucas looked over the crowd once again. The hipsters were still doing whatever it was hipsters do these days. Two teenage girls had claimed a spot in the corner. Every now and then, Lucas could hear the peal of laughter from them. All around him, sounds of life echoed, as if nothing had changed for anyone. It was… reassuring, in a way, Lucas supposed. The world may have turned on its head for him, but it continued to turn for everyone else. Maybe, one day, it’ll turn for me too.

The waitress brought Tom’s coffee over and asked Lucas if he wanted another coffee, which he accepted. They continued to sit in silence as she left to make Lucas’ coffee. That was the nice thing about Tom, Lucas thought. They didn’t have to talk to take comfort in each other’s presence. Tom had joined MI-5 a year after Lucas and the two had become inseparable shortly thereafter. In many ways, Tom eased the pang of loss Lucas felt every time he had walked onto the Grid. He had given up his old life when he joined MI-5. Tom had been the first to tacitly suggest that maybe he could make a new life with MI-5. Lucas and Tom had bonded over being new and a certain… proclivity for reckless antics that ignored the conventional rules. Certainly, there were times that they could talk for hours. More times than not, though, they both had been content with companionable silence. At least some things never change.

The waitress came back with Lucas’ coffee. When she left again, Tom said, “What are your plans?”

“For today?” Lucas asked. He leaned back in his chair. “Move in. Unpack.”

“You know they’ll bug your flat,” Tom said.

Lucas smile was brittle. He knew. When Malcolm had told him that they found a place in Battersea, he had said that Lucas wouldn’t be able to move in until after midday. Lucas was almost certain that Malcolm hadn’t intended to tell him, without telling him outright, that MI-5 needed the morning to get some bugs in the walls before Lucas moved in. He had a feeling that, at some point in the next week or so, he’d be undoubtedly called out to meet with Harry or would have to go do errands where he would undoubtedly be held up by an old friend or colleague and MI-5 would come in and finish planting bugs when there was furniture in the flat.

“Counting on it,” Lucas said, shrugging. And he was. Harry would never believe Lucas if he said that he was loyal to MI-5. Hell, Lucas had told him in the car that he had agreed to spy for Kachimov so that he could come home. Whether Harry had believed him or not… Lucas wasn’t sure. He hoped Harry didn’t. If Harry had believed me, I’d be sitting in a cell right now, not sipping coffee. Still, the bugs were a means to prove Lucas wasn’t up to anything suspicious. They would show him acting normal, not making any phone calls to the FSB or meeting strange Russians. And, of course, they’ll show Harry I’m not sleeping. Lucas wasn’t so sure he liked that part, but he couldn’t see a way around it without telling Harry he knew about the bugs and wanted them gone, which would only further Harry’s suspicion of Lucas.

Tom nodded. “If you want the flat cleaned….”

The corner of Lucas’ mouth twitched upwards. “Nah,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

Tom studied Lucas. Lucas tensed under the scrutiny. He folded his hands in his lap and stared hard at the table, trying to ignore the discomforting feeling of being studied. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Polecat, would it?” Tom asked, finally breaking the silence.

Lucas flinched. He knew that it wasn’t much of a stretch. How could it be? Tom had been just as good as Lucas back in the day, and he had been on the London side of the operation when Lucas had been captured in Moscow. It wasn’t that far of a stretch for any spook worth his or her salt to think Lucas wanted the bugs in place because of Polecat and that he wanted to use the bugs to prove his loyalty to Harry after Polecat. An ugly thought taunted Lucas, that he just wanted the bugs in place to make sure he didn’t get snatched out of his damn flat again, and he had to close his eyes for a second and take a few steadying deep breaths to force the memories back.

When Lucas didn’t answer, Tom sighed and took a deep drink from his coffee. When he put the mug down, he said, “You planning on looking into it?”

“I don’t have access to any of the files,” Lucas said, cautiously. Which was true. He didn’t. But he could remember the day, crystal clear, that he had been captured. And, no matter how distressing it was for him to remember it, he planned to go over the day until he could figure out something that would give him some kind of hint as to what led to his capture. Had it been him being sloppy? Was Kachimov right and someone in MI-5 burnt him? Was it Harry? Lucas ruthlessly shoved that thought back. He knew it wasn’t Harry. It couldn’t have been. Could it? The ugly voice, the one that kept him company more weeks than not in prison, whispered that all the evidence thus far suggested it very well could have been Harry.

“I’ll look into it for you,” Tom offered, oblivious to Lucas’ internal struggle. “We don’t have the resources Harry has, but I might be able to kick some trees and see what falls out.”

“Thanks,” Lucas said.

“They tell you anything?” Tom asked.

It didn’t take a whole lot of mental gymnastics for Lucas to figure out who Tom was referring to. Of course they bloody well did. The FSB had told him, multiple times in fact, that someone had betrayed him to the FSB. When Lucas hadn’t reacted, the FSB tried a new angle and had said that Harry wasn’t in much of a hurry to get him back. They had let Lucas’ imagination do the rest of the work. He didn’t want to believe that Harry had betrayed him… but he couldn’t deny that they were right, that Harry sure as hell hadn’t tried too hard to get Lucas back.

Lucas took another sip of his coffee, letting the heat of it warm his suddenly chilled body. “Nothing substantial,” Lucas said finally. “Someone blew me.”

Tom blinked, and Lucas knew that he was as surprised about the news as Lucas had been when the FSB had told him. “They didn’t say who?”

"No,” Lucas lied. Some part of him was surprised at how easy it was to lie to Tom. They’d been best mates since Tom joined MI-5. Hell, Tom had been Lucas’ best man when he was married. They had each other’s backs in any given operation. And now, Lucas found himself lying to Tom because he wasn’t sure he could trust him. He took another sip of coffee to rid the sudden, bitter taste in his mouth.

“Who do you think it was?” Tom asked.

Lucas frowned at his coffee cup. During some of his long periods of solitary confinement, he had chewed over who might have been responsible for his capture. He didn’t want to think it was anyone in Section D, but the fact remained that it had been an in-house operation. Someone from his section, someone he had thought he could trust, had spoken to the Russians and had told them he was in Moscow. They had told the FSB where to find Lucas, what safe house he was using, who his asset was. The FSB had known the alias Lucas was using, as well as his real name. Hell, the traitor had even given the FSB details about Polecat. Whoever it was that had burned him had to be well connected in order to have access to that level of information. But it could have been anyone in Section D. They all had access to the operation details. Zoe, Danny, and Tom had all known what alias Lucas was using. Hell, Lucas was to call Zoe every night to confirm that he was safe and that his cover was intact. Right, because we all saw how well that went.

“I’m not sure,” Lucas said, hesitatingly. It wasn’t a complete lie. He genuinely didn’t know who had betrayed him. He didn’t want to believe that Tom or Zoe or Danny would have betrayed him. He didn’t want to think that maybe Malcolm or Collin had let something slip. He didn’t want to believe that Harry leaving him to rot in prison might mean something more than a section head deciding the cost to save his officer was too high. But what he wanted and what the facts were remained two separate things. Someone had betrayed him, someone he thought he could trust, and he had suffered for it. God, did I suffer.

Tom nodded. “I’ll look into it and keep you updated. Be careful, Lucas,” he said as he got up.

Lucas got to his feet as well and left money on the table to pay for the coffee. After a moment’s hesitation, Tom gave Lucas a hug, which Lucas returned tensely. It wasn’t a long hug, enough to say what neither of them wanted to voice, that they had missed the other’s company and, for eight years, each thought they would never see the other man again. When they broke apart, Tom gave Lucas’ bicep a squeeze.

“You got a phone yet?”

“Of course,” Lucas said, smiling.

“Legally or otherwise?” Tom teased.

“At risk of incriminating myself, I’m electing to not answer that.”

Tom laughed and Lucas grinned. At least some things never changed. Shaking his head as he did so, Tom leaned down to pick up a napkin. Taking a pen from his pocket, he scribbled his number on the napkin and handed it to Lucas. “Text me your address and I’ll bring your stuff over. When’d they tell you that you can move in?”

“Some time after midday,” Lucas said. “I’m thinking around one.”

“I’ll be there with your stuff.”

“Thanks, mate,” Lucas said.

Tom nodded farewell and disappeared into the crowd. Lucas lingered for a moment. He had that uneasy feeling that he was being watched. It took a fair bit of willpower, but Lucas resisted the urge to look around to see if he could pinpoint the source of his unease. Instead, Lucas pulled his jacket tighter around him, pocketed Tom’s number, and started making his way through the crowd. The feeling of being watched didn’t abate, so Lucas kept walking past his car, down to the tube station.

The tube was crowded, but he supposed that wasn’t entirely uncommon, and it served his purposes. Taking the stairs two at a time, Lucas ducked down into a darkened outcropping, pressing flat against the wall. While there weren’t many people that walked past his patch of shadows, none of the people that did walk by noticed him. Good. But Lucas rather doubted it would be enough. If someone really was following him and he wasn’t just being paranoid, they’d know to check the shadows.

Lucas waited ten minutes before stepping back out. He moved towards the main portion of the station, deliberately altering his gait and hunching his shoulders. When the tube came, Lucas got on at the last second. As far as he could tell, his unwanted voyeur hadn’t followed him on, but with the tube as crowded as it was, it was difficult to say.

At the next stop, Lucas glanced down the length of the tube and decided to wait until the stop after to get off. Not enough people were getting off at this stop and he’d stand out if he got off here. The next stop was closer to the downtown area and, undoubtedly, there’d be a fair number of people trying to get off and onto the tube, which would serve Lucas’ purposes well enough.

When the tube rumbled to a stop, Lucas didn’t bother hesitating to get off. Instead, he moved with the crowd and let them push him off the tube. A quick glance around the station didn’t show anyone immediately familiar, but Lucas wasn’t exactly expecting Harry – or the FSB, Lucas thought grimly – to send someone he would recognize. Instead, Lucas merely moved towards the stairwell and hurried up the stairs. When he entered the street, he took off again, heading towards a nearby Sainsbury’s. He didn’t feel like he was being watched anymore, certainly not like he had at the coffee shop, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

Lucas walked around the store haphazardly, going down some aisles and backtracking to go up other aisles. After about five minutes of wandering, Lucas slipped out of the store and started towards Thames House. When he got to Borough High Street, Lucas made a split decision to grab some doughnuts from Krispy Kreme. Harry wanted to meet with Lucas, no doubt to interrogate him over Kachimov, and Lucas wanted to try to glean some information of his own from Malcolm. He didn’t get the sense that he was being followed anymore, so he assumed that he had lost his unwanted tail. If it was one of Harry’s, Lucas had no doubt he’d hear all about it. If it wasn’t… well, then he was pretty damn glad that he had lost them.

Twenty minutes later, Lucas was standing in front of Thames House. He took a deep breath before stepping inside the building. Show time. Maybe, he’d even convince Harry to let him come back to work. Right. And maybe Thatcher was the best thing to happen to this country. Lucas supposed, on the positive side, at least he was back in England. Things could always be worse. I could be back in Russia. He shuddered as he stepped inside.

Chapter Text

It was strange, Ros thought, being back on the Grid and knowing that Adam wasn’t going to saunter through the pods with a vapid quip about what she was doing back. Truly, it was remarkable, really, how quickly human resources had swept in and packed away Adam’s desk. Gone were the pictures of Fiona and West, the coffee mug with day old coffee inside, the endless piles of paperwork Adam was fond of avoiding. All that remained was a plain, unadorned desk with nothing but a computer, a keyboard, and a mouse on it. When Harry gave Ros Section D, he had offered her Adam’s now cleared desk. Ros turned him down.

It wasn’t the fact that Adam had died that bothered Ros. Certainly, it hurt her, but she had meant what she said to Harry when she told him that she had used the time away to move on, to give herself distance. She didn’t exactly want to pick up where they left off. Too much had happened between then and now for that to happen. But, Ros would be lying if she said that she had completely moved on. Some part of her still cared about Adam. No matter how unsuited they were for each other, no matter how broken they were from the beginning, a part of her still loved Adam.

She wanted the Russians to pay for what they did. She wanted vengeance. She wanted to make Kachimov hurt the way he had made her hurt. Maybe it’d happen soon. Maybe it’d happen years from now. But Ros would get her revenge. She would make Kachimov pay for Adam’s death.

Ros slammed the bin containing her things on the desk slightly harder than necessary. Ben glanced up from across the Grid, but Ros ignored his questioning look. Let him look. Let him wonder what Harry was thinking bringing her back and giving her Section D. Ros knew she was the best choice. Really, who else could Harry give the section to? Ben, who had only been a spook for six months? Jo, who, if Ros had read the reports right, still let her emotions get in the way of operations and was currently on stress leave? Lucas, who wasn’t even cleared to be on the Grid and, frankly, was far more untrustworthy than she was? At least she had a reason for working with Yalta and had come clean about not only that reason, but her involvement with Yalta, with Harry.

No, unless Harry wanted to pull in another outside officer to fill the void, Ros was the logical choice. She was skilled, she had worked with the team before, and, whether Harry liked it or not, she was the best option. Bringing in an outsider wasn’t the right play, not when they wouldn’t understand both her and Harry’s desire for revenge against the Russians. Ros knew her colleagues well enough to know how to unite them in spite of their grief and to focus their anger on the Russians. If Harry gave Section D to an outsider, he’d never see his desire for revenge sated.

Stiffly, Ros began arranging her new desk. With Jo and Ben following up on other leads, Harry had suggested she start getting her new desk in order. She wasn’t like Adam, though, and didn’t have a whole lot of personal effects to make the desk hers. It was a place to work, nothing more, nothing less. This particular desk had the added bonus of the desk pressed against it being empty. May it stay that way, she thought as she put a succulent next to the computer. It was the only personal touch she added to the desk. She knew it was silly, having an attachment to a ridiculous little plant, but it had been one of the few things she had brought with her to Russia and it was one of the even fewer things she had brought back. Adam had given it to her the morning before her involvement with Yalta was discovered. Ros couldn’t bring herself to throw it out, no matter how impractical travelling with a small plant was.

Her fingers lingered against the cool ceramic pot. Closing her eyes, Ros could remember the way Adam had paused yesterday before telling her where Tranquility had gone. She knew, as soon as he had hesitated, as soon as he had swallowed hard and told her where to go when she stepped towards him, that Adam didn’t expect to survive. It was poetic, really. In the wake of Fiona’s death, Adam had always been more reckless than normal. Anyone could tell it was only a matter of time before his recklessness got him killed. Except none of us thought it’d be because of Kachimov’s machinations.

Ros pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. Adam was dead. He wasn’t going to come through the pods, he wasn’t going to make a joke that she had kept the plant, and he certainly wasn’t going to continue a relationship with her.

“Ros, my office please,” Harry said, cutting through her reverie. Ros glanced up at Harry and nodded once. She took another look at the plant before sliding it into the rubbish. It’s time to let Adam go.

Following Harry into his office, she shut the door behind her and took a seat. Harry looked agitated as he sat down. Folding her hands in her lap, Ros waited. She had worked with Harry long enough to know that, if he was agitated, it was for good reason. Or Ruth broke a nail. Either one. But Ruth isn’t here anymore for him to worry about.

Finally, Harry looked up at her. “To foil the cyber attack, we have to use the asset we have who’s closest to the Russians.”

Ros had expected that the impromptu meeting would be about the operation. She hadn’t expected it’d be about using Section D’s latest damaged goods. How desperate are you that you’re going to take someone fresh from prison and put him up against someone like Kachimov? “You want to use Lucas?” she asked with no small amount of incredulity.

“He has a relationship with Kachimov,” Harry said, as if that justified everything.

“Kachimov was responsible for Adam’s death, Harry,” Ros said. And, if what Lucas had said about Kachimov earlier was anything to go by, then they’d be making a mistake putting him against the FSB officer. Lucas’ assertion that Kachimov was the only company he had was worrisome. The fact that he further distinguished between interrogators and Kachimov left Ros convinced that Lucas couldn’t be trusted, not where Kachimov was concerned.

“And I said we will have revenge,” Harry said. Ros looked away. “This is the start.”

Ros pursed her lips. This wasn’t a start. This was a bloody mistake. She shook her head once before looking back up at Harry again. If the revenge angle wouldn’t work, then she’d go right to the heart of her concern. “Lucas is damaged goods. You want to put him up against a man like Kachimov?”

“I said before -“ Harry started, but Ros cut him off, “Yeah, he was one of the best. Was.”

“If this submarine attack takes place, it’s not just the economy that will scream. There will be civilian casualties. We’ve only got two hours and I’m running short of options, Ros.”

Clearly, she thought. This plan of Harry’s was a risk. Even if Lucas still was half as good as Harry thought he was, there was still the fact that Kachimov wasn’t some rookie spook that would be easily manipulated into giving up damning information. Kachimov had been in the business for a long time and was cunning. He knew how to play the espionage game. He’d see MI-5 using Lucas to get the codes for what it was - a desperate ploy by desperate people. Not to mention there was the question of Lucas’ loyalty. Eight years was a long time. At best, Lucas was damaged. At worst….  We can’t trust him. Not with the fate of the United Kingdom on our hands.

Finally, Ros asked, “Do you trust him?”

Harry pursed his lips and stood up. He walked towards the wall, keeping his back to her. Ros leaned back in her chair. Whatever Harry’s thoughts were on the matter, he evidently didn’t want her to know. After a few seconds, Harry said, “Bring him in. Let’s talk.” He turned around to face her and checked his watch. “He left his house ten minutes ago.”

Ros lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward in her seat. “You’ve had the place under surveillance?” You didn’t tell me that you had Lucas under surveillance? That was… discomfiting.

“Of course,” Harry said, as if it should have been obvious.

She pursed her lips, wondering if Harry had kept things like this from Adam. “Do you know where he is now?” If she had said anything else, she might let slip the anger that threatened to bubble over.

“No. Try his ex-wife, Elizabeta Starkova.”

Ros thought it unlikely Lucas would be at his ex-wife’s home, attempting to woo her back. Still, she pulled out her phone and said, “I’ll get Jo onto it. I’ll go around to Lucas’ flat, see what he’s done with the place.” If nothing else, she could trash it the way she had rampaged through her hotel room, maybe get rid of some of her anger.

Without waiting to be dismissed, Ros got to her feet and swept out of the room. She’d deal with Harry keeping secrets from her later. For now, she had a job to do and a submarine attack to foil.

Chapter Text

Ros gripped the steering wheel tightly enough that her knuckles were turning white. Not even a day on the job and Harry was already withholding information from her. It would have been one thing if it had been something trivial that he had neglected to tell her. But this? The fact that he had Lucas under surveillance and didn’t tell her? This wasn’t just some minor detail that Harry neglected to tell her. It was Ros’ job, now, to oversee the team. If Harry really did want to bring Lucas back to the Grid one day and back onto the team, then she deserved to know that he was running surveillance on Lucas.

Harry had given her Section D, but Ros was starting to think that it was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else. He didn’t trust her, evidently. Harry had always kept secrets from the Grid, but this went beyond merely keeping secrets. She found herself wondering if he would have withheld this information from Adam of if Harry keeping important decisions regarding potential and current officers from section chiefs was a new development.

Part of Ros, a part that she didn’t like to listen to very often, questioned if it was because of her role in the coup or because of Yalta that lead to Harry not trusting her with this information. While Ros had never agreed to go as far as her father or Collingwood were willing to go to ensure that the interests of the British people were protected, she… didn’t exactly disagree with their motivations. She’d helped them until it became clear that they had lost sight of what they had initially set out to do. Did Harry hold her father’s sins against her? Or was it her involvement with Yalta?

More likely, Ros thought, it had to do with Ruth. She had never apologized for her role in Ruth’s departure, nor would she. As far as Ros was concerned, she didn’t do anything that warranted apologizing. Harry had been the one to overlook the rules because it was Ruth. Still, Ruth had always been Harry’s weak spot. She supposed it was possible that, even after all this time, he was still angry with her and still blamed her for Ruth having to flee the country.

No matter Harry’s motivations, having him withhold information from her was frustrating to say the least. She had been willing to die for Harry. If Adam hadn’t switched the poison, she would have died for Harry. And now he was keeping her in the dark? She didn’t like it.

Parking the car, Ros closed her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to be angry with Harry. He wasn’t wrong. They only had a little under two hours to stop the attack. She could be angry at Harry later, could even voice her displeasure at being kept in the dark. But, for now, she needed to present a unified front with Harry. She needed Jo and Ben to find Lucas and she needed to get ahead of Kachimov before he launched the attack.

Before she had left, Malcolm had given her a copy of the key to Lucas’ flat. Not only did Harry have Lucas under surveillance without her knowledge, but he’d apparently had a copy of the key made without telling her too. Still, at least this way she wouldn’t look as out of place picking the lock. Thank God for small mercies, she thought wryly.

Taking one last deep breath, Ros got out of the car and glanced both ways along the road. She’d rather not have Lucas walking in on her searching his flat and, with Harry not knowing Lucas’ exact location, she was reluctant to take unnecessary risks. The coast clear, Ros slipped inside the building and glanced up the stairs. Lucas was on the first floor in flat number one. At least he’s not up on the fifth floor. Glancing up the stairwell, Ros confirmed that the stairs were empty before making her way towards Lucas’ flat. With one last look to make sure everything was still clear, Ros slid the key into the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside the flat.

Ros wasn’t quite sure what she had expected Lucas’ flat to look like. She didn’t know him particularly well, nor did she overly want to get to know him, but she had to admit, she was… not expecting what she saw. Books, clothes, bins, and boxes were strewn across the floor. She thought she spied a few old CDs littering the hall floor as well. There was barely any clear space on the floor. Ros pursed her lips and pulled out her phone as she carefully tried to step in the clear spaces without disturbing anything.

“Harry,” Ros said as soon as Harry picked up. She hopped to the next clear space.

“Ros?”

“Either Lucas is a very mucky puppy,” Ros said as she made her way to the living room, “which is unlikely for someone who’s just spent eight years under the regime of strict prison discipline, or,” Ros paused and looked around dispassionately. “Everything in this room’s been carefully positioned. Either way, I’m not searching it.”

She thought that she heard Harry utter a swear before he said, “Fifth floor. Flat nine.”

Looks like I’m going up to the fifth floor anyway. Ros hung up and made her way carefully back to the door. She almost vindictively kicked a path, but decided not to risk it. No need to announce to Lucas that he was under surveillance or that someone had visited his flat while he was out. Especially when she had used a key.

Giving the stairs a misgiving look, Ros began climbing. She was around the third floor when her phone started to ring. She sighed, secretly hoping it was Harry, as she answered, “Yeah?”

“She’s leaving the building. No sign of Lucas,” Jo said.

Ros rubbed her forehead. She hated being right, sometimes. It would have been awfully convenient if Lucas was acting like a lovesick puppy, moaning over how his ex-wife had left him and trying to get her back. Instead, he apparently was smart enough to stay away from her. Damn. Still, they didn’t have very many options left to them. If there was a chance that Lucas might turn up around Elizabeta, she had to take that risk. She couldn’t afford to pull Jo and Ben off Elizabeta only to find out later that Elizabeta had met with her ex-husband.

“Thanks, Jo,” Ros said. “Stay on her.”

Her orders given, Ros hung up and climbed the last few steps. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she walked up to flat nine and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door swung open and a kindly elderly woman stood on the stoop, looking up at Ros. From what Ros knew of Lucas, this woman was probably the perfect person to run surveillance on him. No one would expect the elderly grandmother upstairs to be working for MI-5.

“Pest control,” Ros said neutrally. She didn’t bother with the niceties, not when time was of the essence. “Anything on the video surveillance?”

The woman sighed and pursed her lips. “They used to send a nice young man.”

Ros could have screamed. She really could not care less about who MI-5 used to send, certainly not when the Russians were about to launch a major operation. “Any movement of note?”

“There was something earlier,” the elderly woman said. “At the table. He wrote something down, but I wasn’t able to see what it was, and then he started emptying bins on the floor.”

“What did he write the note on?”

“A notepad.”

Ros lifted an eyebrow. “And where did he put this notepad?”

“Under the bin nearest to the coffee table,” the woman said.

“Thank you,” Ros said, tilting her head at the woman before hurrying back down the stairs.

When Ros returned to Lucas’ flat, she felt the urge to kick Lucas’ things out of the way and clear a path to the bin in question. Taking a deep breath to calm the urge to let her frustration show, Ros quickly made her way towards the bin the elderly woman had said to look under. Squatting down, Ros checked underneath it and, sure enough, there was the notepad. As she examined it, she hoped that Lucas wasn’t smart enough to rip off the next few pages after his little note.

Somewhere in this mess, there has to be a pencil. Ros surveyed the room quickly before thinking to check the bin. Sure enough, there were stationary and desk supplies stashed in the bin. On top of a pile of loose paper was a sharpened pencil. Ros pursed her lips. How sloppy. Evidently, prison hadn’t been as kind to Lucas’ skills as a spy as Harry thought as she started to rub the pencil against the notepad. While staging the flat was admittedly smart of Lucas, stashing the notepad under a bin of office supplies wasn’t his most brilliant idea. If she had been the one to stage the flat, she would have ripped off the next few pages, first of all, and then put the notebook farther away from office supplies.

As soon as Ros read over what Lucas had written on the previous page, her face paled. “Oh, crap.” Harry’s not going to like this. On the one hand, now they had confirmation that Kachimov was involved in the impending attack. On the other hand…. Harry had made it clear to Ros that he had a blindspot when it came to Lucas. He had given Lucas clearance over the weekend to assist with the operation and it had resulted in Adam’s death. Now, Ros was wondering how much of that was actually Lucas failing to get the code and Lucas… not trying as hard as he could to get the code from Tranquility.

Ros pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Harry’s direct line. “Ros?” he asked.

“Harry,” she hesitated for a brief moment before saying, “I’m afraid we’ve gone bobbing for a bad apple. Lucas is a double agent.” After another` second’s hesitation, Ros added, “You were right to be cautious.”

“On this occasion, I’d be happy to have been wrong,” Harry said quietly. “We’ll need to bring him in, still.”

“Of course,” Ros said. “I’ll see if Jo has anything.”

Harry hung up and Ros sat back on her heels. Damn it. First the loss of Adam, now the revelation that Lucas was a double agent. She’d have to watch Harry carefully. Ros remembered how Harry was when Ruth was forced to flee the country. While she rather doubted that Harry harboured secret feelings for Lucas, she would rather not have a repeat of Harry suffering a meltdown because his pet officer had gone rogue when Section D needed Harry.

Ros got to her feet and tossed the notepad in the bin. No matter how concerned she was for Harry, he was right. They had to bring Lucas in and find a way to get Kachimov to talk. At least now they knew Kachimov was responsible for more than just Adam’s death. “If Harry doesn’t kill Kachimov, I will,” Ros muttered as she dialled Jo’s number.

“Yeah?” Jo asked.

“Tell me you have something,” Ros said. She decided against telling Jo about Lucas’ rogue status.

“Maybe. Starkova just went into Highgate Cemetery.”

“Thanks. Keep your distance, I’ll be right there,” Ros said and hung up. Time to go bobbing for apples.

Chapter Text

Ros stewed the entire drive to Highgate Cemetery. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Really, she shouldn’t. She knew how Harry got whenever it came to people that were important to him and she could tell that there was history between Lucas and Harry. All she had to do was see the way Lucas had looked at Harry, like he was lost and desperate for Harry to throw him a life preserver, and the way Harry couldn’t look at Lucas, to know that there was something more than the typical Section Chief, Section Head relationship. Of course Harry didn’t think Lucas would turn, even after eight years of torture. Harry was so damned desperate to trust Lucas that he was willing to overlook basic facts. No one came out of eight years under strict Russian discipline the same. No one lasted eight years without breaking.

No, what infuriated Ros was that she should have guessed sooner that Lucas was rotten. There was no way someone like Kachimov, a chess player if Lucas was to be believed, would give up a bargaining chip like Harry’s pet officer, certainly not to save some face. Kachimov giving Lucas up for such a low price should have been all the clues she needed. Instead, she let Harry’s opinion override her instincts. She had thought there was something about Lucas, something off. He was far too… candid about the Russians’ attempts to turn him. He said all the right words to twist that knife of guilt in Harry’s gut and Harry fell for it hard. Now, Lucas was about to tip off the Russians that MI-5 knew about the imminent attack. Crap.

She couldn’t think of where Lucas got the information. The fact that Lucas was a field officer and not a technician said that he didn’t have the ability to hack into MI-5’s computers. The only method Lucas could have obtained that information was someone being sloppy when he had come onto the Grid earlier for questioning. Connie? No, too experienced. Jo? Wasn’t on the Grid yet. Malcolm? Maybe. He had been the one listening to the submarine. But surely he wasn’t so sloppy to let Lucas hear classified information? Either way, I’ll have to speak to him.

Ros took a turn harder than she should have and was honked at. She ignored them. National security was a touch more important to her than the delicate sensibilities of some old biddy driver. They probably follow the speed limit, too, she thought grumpily.

As she pulled up to the cemetery, Ros snatched her stun gun from the glove compartment. If she was lucky, there would be enough people there today that she could sneak up to Lucas and hit him before he could flee. Maybe, she’d even get a look at his handler and could have Jo and Ben pick them up. She only hoped that Lucas actually was at the cemetery. It was a long shot, she knew, but if Elizabeta was here, maybe, just maybe if Ros was lucky, Lucas would be hiding in some bushes and pining away for his lost love.

Or he’ll be sitting on a bench beside her, Ros thought as she finally spied Lucas and Elizabeta. Lucas had his back to Ros, thankfully, and Elizabeta was starting to walk away. When Lucas called to her and she turned towards him, Ros picked a random grave - Helen Flynn - and studied it. She bowed her head, playing the role of quiet mourner, lest Elizabeta think anything amiss, but kept Lucas in her peripherals. At this distant, she could make out what the two ex-lovebirds were saying, much to her annoyance.

“Happiness isn’t about getting what we want. It’s about appreciating what we have,” Elizabeta was saying. Ros did her best to ignore the pang of pain that shot through her. Adam. “So, yes, I’m happy. One day, you’ll be happy too.”

Elizabeta turned to walk away. Still, Lucas kept his back to her. He had stood up to watch his ex-wife depart, and Ros took full advantage of the gravel crunching beneath Elizabeta’s feet to mask her own approach. As she got closer to Lucas, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her stun gun.

Lucas spun abruptly. His eyes widened and Ros channeled every bit of rage into her words as she practically spat, “You didn’t really believe all that happiness crap, did you?” She didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, she pulled the trigger and slammed her stun gun against his shoulder. He loosed a cry and fell, unmoving, to the ground. “I hope you hit your head hard on the way down,” Ros said as she pocketed her stun gun.

Taking advantage of Lucas’ temporary disorientation, Ros jerked a zip tie from her pocket and quickly tied his wrists together. No sense making it easy for Lucas. She… may… have tightened the zip tie more than necessary, but, really, it was just a precaution. And not at all because he’s the bloody reason Adam’s dead. She had to resist the urge to kick Lucas. She may, though, have gently nudged a rock in his leg’s direction as she waited for his wits to return. As appealing as dragging Lucas to the car sounded, she would rather not expend that much effort when she could wait a few seconds for him to recover and walk him back to the car under threat of being stun gunned again.

Finally, Lucas growled, “Ouch.”

“Good,” Ros said. “Get up.”

He bared his teeth, but did as she ordered. She watched him rotate his wrists inside the zip tie. “Bit tight, don’t you think?” he said coolly.

Ros smiled thinly. “Walk.”

Chapter Text

“How’s the nervous system?” Ros asked. Lucas thought she sounded entirely too chipper about stun gunning him. How do you fucking think? Lucas thought rather uncharitably.

Still, Lucas knew better than to follow his instinct and mouth off. “Twitchy,” Lucas snapped instead. So much better. He rubbed his eyes and took a sip of water. “This is a mistake.”

“I’m glad you didn’t waste those years tying to memorize convincing excuses,” Harry said. Lucas tried not to let Harry’s words sting. It was to be expected. They had discovered his deception faster than he thought they would and of course they thought Lucas was working for Kachimov. Hell, he would think the same thing in their position.

“Maybe Kachimov should add that to his curriculum,” Ros said.

Lucas clenched his jaw, forcing his anger down before he said, “You should be following Elizabeta.”

“We are following Elizabeta,” Ros said. Lucas winced as she put emphasis on ‘beta’. Vyeta would have hated that. He almost smiled in sad, fond memory of his ex-wife exercising extreme patience, far more than he ever had, while gently correcting others’ pronunciation of her name.

“Come on, Lucas, impress me with your ability to talk your way out of this,” Harry said. He sounded… tired. Defeated.

If it had been anyone else telling Lucas that, he would have stayed resolutely silent. If he had learned anything in the past eight years, it was that silence always irritated interrogators. They couldn’t glean anything if your answer was always to be silent. Certainly, Lucas had sometimes given out-dated information or even, on a few occasions, completely false information, but that had always been more of a survival tactic than a genuine need to say something to stop the torture. The second the FSB thought he was no longer a valuable asset was the same second he would find himself actually going to an execution instead of another mock execution.

But the words weren’t coming from another FSB interrogator. Certainly, the circumstances were similar. Lucas was under no illusions. He might not be in a cell, but he was certainly being interrogated and, if he mistepped, he’d find himself back in cells and he wasn’t so sure he’d make it out again if he went back to prison. No, the words were coming from Harry Pearce. Lucas’ mouth felt dry and he wasn’t entirely certain if it was an after effect of being stun gunned or if it was because it was Harry thinking that Lucas genuinely was a Russian mole. I stayed loyal. I swear. I did.

“I agreed to be Kachimov’s agent in London, of course I did, but just to get back.” He looked away. The weight of Harry’s stare continued to bore into him, so he added, “To come home.” Lucas looked up at Harry and tried to ignore the desperate need for Harry to believe him. I’m loyal. I’ve always been loyal. They didn’t break me. Please, please believe me. When Harry’s stare didn’t waver, Lucas said, “God knows I couldn’t rely on you to do it for me.” He wasn’t entirely able to keep the bitterness he felt from colouring his words.

“And you failed to mention this earlier?” Ros asked from behind him. He resisted the urge to flinch. “Why?”

“I told you in the car,” Lucas said to Harry, ignoring Ros as he shook his head. Lucas stared resolutely at the cup of water on the table, not entirely wanting to see the expression on Harry’s face at the admission.

“You joked about it in the car.”

“You expected it anyway, you as good as told me so. If I admitted it officially, you’d have locked me in a cell and debriefed me for months on end and,” Lucas paused, forcing himself to keep his voice steady as he looked back up at Harry. He wasn’t sure how he felt that Harry had actually believed he had just been joking. It seems Kachimov was right about that, at least. Still, terror ate away at him and he felt hints of nausea at the thought that he might very well be going back to prison. “I’ve seen enough of cells.” As he spoke, Lucas wasn’t sure if he was talking to Harry or himself so he took another steadying breath. “So I decided to prove myself by bringing Kachimov to you.”

Harry pointed at him, a sarcastic smile stretching across his face. “This is actually rather good.”

“Because it has the advantage of being true,” Lucas cut in. He couldn’t let panic set in, couldn’t. As soon as he lost control, as soon as the panic took over, he’d wind up in another cell and he’d rather put a bullet in his head than go back there.

“You passed on deeply sensitive information to the head of the FSB in London in order to bring him down,” Harry said.

“Yes, I did.”

“Explain to me how that works,” Harry said, disbelief colouring his words.

Lucas leaned forward slightly. Don’t look intimidated. Don’t look weak or frightened. “Kachimov ordered me to find out about a message that you may have intercepted, something originating from the ocean.”

“And you decided to find it and tell him?”

Lucas nodded once. “I did.”

“Why?” Ros demanded.

“Because he knows what the message is, he knows where it came from, and he knows that you’ve intercepted it,” Lucas snapped. He took another breath. Losing his temper wouldn’t help him. “He’s testing me. He’s sending me out to get something that he already knows. It’s the only way he can prove my worth as an asset and Kachimov really, really needs to trust me. It’s his greatest vulnerability. He’s embarked on a major operation and, in the chaos that follows, he’s going to need a man on the inside.”

“Because that way he can stay one step ahead of any possible retaliation,” Harry said, realization dawning on his face.

“He wants you,” Lucas said as he leaned back in his chair, “he wants all of us, dancing to his tune.”

Harry scrutinized Lucas. “If you’re lying to me, you won’t get so much as a funeral.”

The threat hit Lucas harder than he expected and he swallowed hard. But it meant that Harry might trust him, might believe him when he said that he was genuinely MI-5. Lucas carefully considered his next words, acutely aware that they could be the only things keeping him from another cell. “I sent Elizabeta to meet Kachimov because I had to get him out of that embassy. I have to get him out and on his own if I’m going to turn him.” Lucas leaned forward, pushing his point, “I know you want him, Harry. So do I. This is your chance, your one chance, take it, now, right now, or let him go.”

Harry stared at Lucas. His face gave nothing away, gave no indication of his thoughts or if he believed Lucas. There was no small amount of internal elation when he saw Harry’s small nod to Ros. I did it.

“We need you to get the submarine’s remote access protocols. They’ll be inside the Russian embassy,” Ros said as she finally moved from behind him to sit at the conference table.

“How much time do we have?” Lucas asked. He didn’t let his relief show, lest it be misinterpreted. Ros and Harry already made it clear that they didn’t trust him, but if they needed those remote access protocols, then they had no choice but to trust him. If they wanted Kachimov, they needed him. It’s the after I’m worried about.

“Less than an hour,” Ros said with the barest hint of a smile.

Right then. Turn Kachimov and extract the codes, all within less than an hour. No problem, he thought. He hoped.

Chapter Text

Ros leaned back in her chair, uncertain what to think of what had just transpired. She didn’t trust Lucas. She didn’t like that Harry was trusting Lucas to turn Kachimov, and she certainly didn’t like that Harry knew Lucas had joked about agreeing to spy for Kachimov without telling her. She found herself wondering, bitterly, if Harry ever kept Adam in the dark like this, or if it was a new development reserved for her. How was she supposed to oversee the section if Harry was keeping secrets from her? Especially when those secrets put the entirety of Section D at risk? First the fact that Harry had Lucas under surveillance and now this? What else are you keeping from me?

She pursed her lips. Ros didn’t like the idea of pinning their hopes on the man that may have been more involved in Adam’s death than they had initially believed. Of course, Lucas had submitted a report stating that Tranquility had bitten down on some cyanide and that he had failed to get it out of her mouth in time. The fact that, only a few hours previous, Lucas had admitted to jokingly telling Harry he agreed to spy for Kachimov and Harry still gave Lucas clearance to assist with the case infuriated Ros all the more. Harry knew there was a risk, giving Lucas clearance and telling him to go after the Russian assassin, and he did it anyway. And Adam died because of it.

It didn’t help that Lucas knew Harry too well. If Lucas had joked about agreeing to spy for the Russians to her, Ros would have done exactly what he had said - thrown him into a cell and debriefed him until they could ascertain the extent of the damage. But because it was Harry, Lucas could manipulate him. It worried Ros that Harry didn’t seem to consider the very likely possibility that Lucas was manipulating him now. And Harry is holding information back from me.

“You know he could be playing us still,” Ros said, finally, as she stared at the door. And he could be. He was smart enough to stage his entire flat to hide the notepad, yet hadn’t thought to rip off the next few pages? He had books and clothes scattered everywhere, yet conveniently had a pencil in the bin that he was using to hide the incriminating notepad? It didn’t add up. Almost as if he wanted us to find out the truth. It was unsettling, at the very least, especially in conjunction with the doubt gnawing at her about just how hard he had tried to get the code from Tranquility. On the one hand, Lucas could very well be genuine in wanting to bring Kachimov on. On the other hand, Ros knew the value of sacrificing a pawn to protect a higher, more well positioned piece. Maybe this was the Russians’ plan all along, sacrifice Kachimov so that Harry would trust Lucas, thereby giving them the inside man they so desperately wanted in MI-5.

“He could be,” Harry agreed as he stared down the table. “But we have to take that risk. We need those protocols.”

She stared at the door. They were playing with fire. There were too many ifs for Ros to be content with the turn of events. If Lucas was telling the truth, if Lucas could turn Kachimov, maybe, just maybe, they could avert disaster. She hated the idea of depending on an unknown variable, though, even if she knew there wasn’t any other way. None of them were going to get that code from Kachimov, not without Dolby’s approval or starting a diplomatic incident. But Lucas… Lucas might just be able to get Kachimov out of the embassy and get the code from him. Assuming, of course, he wasn’t Kachimov’s. If he was… Well, he won’t get us the codes in time and we’ll have our answer.

“I hope you’re right about this,” Ros said dubiously.

“Me too,” Harry agreed. “Me too.”

--

“I’m not sure I like what you’ve done with the house,” Lucas said as he turned to face his wife – ex-wife, he reminded himself. He still held the picture that her son had drawn, but was no longer looking at it. Looking at it hurt too much, reminded him of hopes and dreams he and Elizabeta had had a lifetime ago. She had always wanted to have a kid, while he had always had reservations because of his job. At least one of us got what we wanted.

Elizabeta grabbed the picture he had been studying out of his hand and angrily put it back on the fridge. “My tastes have changed.”

“I’m sure they have,” he said softly. When she said nothing, just stared at him coldly, Lucas forced himself to ignore the pain in his heart and took a deep breath. “We have your boss, Elizabeta.”

Confusion flitted across her face. “Your boss too.”

Lucas, imperceptibly, shook his head once, considering his words carefully. You lied to me, and now your lies are coming back to haunt you. He could lie to her, could pretty up what he was about to try to pull off. But he had lied to her enough. “No,” he said finally. With an edge of certainty, he said, “You weren’t FSB when we married. When did Kachimov turn you?”

She hesitated and, in that moment, he knew that his guess had been right. If she really had been FSB, she wouldn’t have hesitated before spinning a new lie. She would have been like me, easily lying to someone she cared about once. “He approached me… a little over a year ago. Told me you’d been arrested,” she said as she stepped forward, but was almost careful to keep the counter between them, “but you were alive and that you could come home if I helped him.”

Lucas braced himself against the counter as he leaned forward. “Why did you say yes?” He needed to know. It was irrational, he knew, but some small part of him hoped that maybe… maybe they could reconcile. He knew it was irrational. He knew there was no going back to the way they had been. But, still, he found himself asking, “Why put yourself at risk?” I need to know.

“He showed me photographs of you in that place.” Lucas felt the invisible knife in his stomach twist. No. Her eyes dropped to his forearms, just below where he had rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t need to follow her gaze to know what she was looking at. “Your skin.”

Abruptly self-conscious, he quickly covered the tattoos. Lucas blinked several times, at a loss for words. She had seen him in the darkness, had seen something he would wish on no one. He wondered what, exactly she had seen. Kachimov insisted on taking a picture every year. “To send to Harry, make sure that he knows you’re still here,” Kachimov would say. Lucas could remember bitterly wondering if those pictures ever did make it to Harry, or if they were just another ploy of Kachimov’s to turn him. Now, he found himself wondering how many of them and which of them were used to turn Elizabeta.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. He wanted to say the words to her, but his throat constricted.

“He said it would be easier on you if…,” Elizabeta continued, “if you believed I had always worked for him.”

“Well, he’s a very clever man, Elizabeta.” Lucas wet his lips, finding his voice again. “But he’s not a good man.”

“So now? You arrest me?” Elizabeta demanded. It hurt that she thought he would. It hurt him even more that, if he didn’t get her to agree, he was under orders to arrest her. “I can tell you now I know nothing of value.”

“My friends want to throw you to the lions. It would be so easy to implicate you, to make it look like you and Kachimov were working together for MI-5.” Lucas paused, letting his words sink in. “Because that’s what I am. I’m MI-5. I was MI-5 when we married, MI-5 all those years in prison, and I’m MI-5 now. Whatever your reasons for working with Kachimov, you need to think about protecting your family, so let me help you.”

“How?” He could hear the fear in her voice. She knew as well as he did that her situation was precarious at best. Elizabeta had always been perceptive and, while she likely didn’t realize just how dangerous a position she was in, Lucas had no doubt that she knew that her next words could be the difference between seeing her son again or not.

I have her. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wanted to protect her. Hell, he had lied to her all those years about his work because he never wanted to put her at risk. If he did this, if he went through with his orders, there’d be no turning back, Lucas knew. For three years, he’d always had to choose between Vyeta and Harry, between being a loving husband and being a spook. And, for three years, he’d always chosen Harry. He’d always put work first and it had strained his marriage.

He almost smiled bitterly. Eight years’ of keeping his emotions away from the surface, of wearing a carefully constructed mask, kept his thoughts off his face. He could still remember that day when he went to Moscow. Elizabeta had accused him of having an affair and, honestly, he couldn’t even fault her for thinking that. How could he? All she knew was that he was routinely getting home late and having to leave at all hours of the day and night. And all he could tell her, then, was that he wasn’t, that he loved her, and that he’d talk with her when he got home. He’d promised himself, and her without saying as much, that he’d give her the truth and damn Harry and his ridiculous order not to divulge that information to someone who “potentially may have Russian ties.”

Lucas had to admit, when he had made the promise to talk to her, he never thought this would be the conversation he’d be having with her.

If I do this, if I push… He’d lose her for good, he knew. If Lucas used her the way Kachimov did, he’d be no better than the other man. Didn’t I just say that Kachimov isn’t a very good man? And now I want to put her in the same position Kachimov put her in. But what choice did he have? If he didn’t, if he refused to turn her, then Harry would take it as proof that he was colluding with the Russians, and throw him in a cell. If he did… If I do this, if I ask her to work for us, then I’ll be the one putting her at risk. He made a vow ten years ago on their wedding day that he’d never intentionally harm her. And now he was asking her to put herself at risk, all because Harry asked him to.

He didn’t miss having to make these decisions. He didn’t miss having to choose between Vyeta and MI-5.

“Work for us,” he said softly, almost gently. Don’t think about manipulating her. Don’t think about putting her at risk.

Elizabeta frowned. “Were you always this cold? Under the skin?” Lucas didn’t answer her. What could he say? That he wasn’t entirely certain she was wrong? That prison had, whether he wanted it to or not, changed him? That he wasn’t convinced all of him made it out of that cell? So he said nothing, merely watched her. “Or was that man I knew just a lie?”

“If you don’t let me do this, they will take everything away from you, this life, this happiness, it will all be gone. I know what that’s like and there are no words to describe how terrible it is.” He forced himself to stop. Saying any more than that risked delving into memories that he’d rather not share with anyone, much less with Elizabeta.

Elizabeta stared at him as Lucas let his words sink in. Neither one of them said anything, nor moved. He had meant what he had said. There were no words that could encompass the pain of losing everything, the knowledge that there was no going back to that happiness he had once had. He wouldn’t wish it on very many people, certainly not Elizabeta. Please, please let me help you. Let me help.

Suddenly, Lucas heard keys turning in the front door, shortly followed by the door opening. A man’s voice called a greeting as he stepped into the house. Elizabeta turned towards the door and, as she did, Lucas twisted around, grabbed his jacket, and started walking out the way he had come in. He could hear her say, “My husband is home,” but he was already gone by the time she had turned around.

Like a ghost.

Chapter Text

For a moment, Lucas stood in the hall and pressed his forehead to his door. Elizabeta had text him to confirm that she’d work for them, but only on the condition that Lucas kept her family safe. He hadn’t answered her text yet. Lucas wasn’t even sure what to say. He read what she hadn’t said, that he had made his choice. At least Vyeta can’t say she’s surprised, he thought bitterly.

He pressed his knuckles against the wood. She was the only thing that got him through those eight years. Every torture, every humiliation, everything, promising himself he’d see Vyeta again was what got him through it. And now he had made sure that there was no chance of ever reconciling with her. Lucas wasn’t sure what he had hoped when he got out of prison. He wanted Elizabeta to be happy, really, he did, whether that was with him or with someone else or with no one else. He wanted her to be happy. And she had said she was. But turning her, forcing her to work for MI-5 the way Kachimov had forced her to work for the FSB, and putting her at risk… there was no coming back from that.

Fuck you, Harry, he thought as his lips curled in a snarl. On the way home, Lucas had stopped at the liquor store and picked up a bottle of vodka. He was starting to think he might have a bit more to drink tonight than he had initially intended when he bought it. Maybe, if he drank enough, he might even manage to get a few hours of sleep.

With that less than cheery thought, Lucas unlocked the door to his flat and paused. Something wasn’t right. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Lucas quickly glanced over his shoulder. No one behind him. He stepped back out of his flat to look up the stairwell, just in case he had missed someone standing there while he was partaking in a brief moment of self-pity. No one. He frowned and looked back into his flat, trying to figure out what the cause of his abrupt discomfort was.

Before leaving to meet with Elizabeta earlier, Lucas had staged his flat. He wanted to confirm what he already thought, that MI-5 had him under surveillance. He was fairly certain that his neighbour, the one with the macaroons, was working for MI-5 and Harry and Ros confronting him earlier after he passed on the intel to Elizabeta only confirmed his suspicion that he was under close watch. Still, he wanted to know the extent of the surveillance. Did they have cameras or did they have audio? Did they have someone following him? The easiest way he could think of to answer one of the questions was to stage his flat. He had wanted them to find the notepad, had even left a pencil within easy reach. The fact that he barely had time to get to the cemetery and give Vyeta the information before Ros kindly stun gunned him told him more than he suspected MI-5 wanted him to know about his current surveillance situation.

The downside of carefully staging his flat, of course, was that he came home to a disaster. He hadn’t had a chance to clean up. Everything had happened so quickly - being brought back to the Grid, getting the codes from Kachimov, and then turning Elizabeta, he simply hadn’t had time to come home and clean up. The only difference between when he had left earlier in the afternoon and now was that someone had kicked a path inside. His frown deepened. Ros? No, unlikely. Unless Ros was trying to hide the fact that Lucas was under surveillance? More likely. He didn’t think Harry would be pleased to give Lucas an idea of just how much surveillance he was under and he may have ordered Ros to make the search look less… targeted.

Still, the uneasy feeling didn’t dissipate. Ros didn’t strike him as the type to take the time to kick a few things around when there was an imminent terrorist attack impending, not even to keep the surveillance secret. No, someone had come into his flat, presumably after Ros had left. Surely MI-5 would have warned him if someone unsavoury was in his flat, though? Because Harry has an excellent track record of warning me about rather unfortunate things, he thought bitterly. Fuck it. He felt like a tit, standing in the hall. At the very least, if someone was in his flat, the surveillance would pick up on who and hopefully Harry would deign to do something this time before Lucas found himself shipped back to Russia. Hopefully.

Taking a steadying breath, Lucas stepped back into his flat and shut his door behind him. Without looking away from down the hall, Lucas leaned over to pull the knife he’d stashed in the hall table out. He slowly squatted down and silently put the vodka on the floor. As he straightened, Lucas switched his grip on the knife and carefully made his way into the flat, stepping over various books and clothing articles.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but Gemma Wright, sitting on his couch, was definitely not it. Gemma had been the section chief when Lucas had first signed on. He’d argue she was probably one of the best things that happened to the section, even if the director general at the time never thought so. Then again, Albert was a pompous, arrogant, racist, asshole. Albert West never thought a black, lesbian woman could run a section. Gemma not only proved him wrong, but Lucas was fairly certain she enjoyed it the entire time.

Gemma had done a lot for him, back when he was first recruited. She… had been there for him during a time when he didn’t have a whole lot else. While she had questioned Harry’s decision to offer Lucas a job – and made no secret that she had questioned him on it – she had also taught Lucas a lot. It had been Gemma that taught Lucas to let the bosses underestimate him, let them think he couldn’t do the job, and, when the time was right, prove them wrong. While Harry had done his best to mentor Lucas and teach him the ropes, there was only so much he could do without being accused of blatant favouritism. Gemma had picked up the slack.

Even after Gemma had gotten a promotion to Section Head of Section B, Lucas had kept in touch with her. He wasn’t under any illusion – Gemma was the one that had gotten him the promotion to section chief. Lucas hadn’t applied for it and there’s no way that Albert would have agreed to promote Lucas unless he was strong-armed into it. No, Lucas’ promotion was all Gemma. In that first month, he frequently had gone to her for advice. Sometimes, she’d even give him advice. It’d been eight years since he last saw her. Christ, that long? She looked good, though. Tired, like the weight of the job was starting to catch up to her, but otherwise good.

Lucas owed a lot to Gemma. He also didn’t trust her sudden appearance in his flat.

“Hello, Lucas,” Gemma said. Only Gemma would break into his flat and look like she owned the place from a couch with a pile of books seated next to her. She looked calm, collected. Her hands were folded in her lap, under her purse.

“Gemma,” Lucas said, nodding his head at her.

Her dark brown eyes flicked to the knife in his hand. “I hope you aren’t planning on using that.”

“Because you’re completely unarmed,” Lucas said, lifting an eyebrow. He waggled the knife in his hand. “You’ve seen mine, don’t suppose you’ll show me yours?”

Gemma smiled and drew her hands from her lap, revealing the gun she had hidden beneath her purse. Lucas nodded his head. He made a show of slowly putting the knife down on the floor and nudging it away with his foot. It skittered to a stop when it connected loudly with one of the plastic bins. He didn’t look at it, instead holding Gemma’s gaze. What his old section chief was doing in his flat was a mystery, but Lucas wouldn’t find out if he ran her through with a knife. If I even get to her before she shoots me. Gemma had been the one to teach Lucas how to shoot and to force him to familiarize himself with a gun. She was a far better marksman than he was. Lucas rather doubted that his knife was much of a threat to her.

“You look well,” he said as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over one of the many bins strewn across the floor. He’d put it away properly when he wasn’t busy trying to figure out what Gemma’s sudden appearance in his flat meant. Leaning against the doorjamb, Lucas asked, “Still running Section B?”

“I am,” she said, nodding once as she set her gun aside. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah. You know me. Interior decorator extraordinaire.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I had to clear a path to the couch, I’m afraid.”

He gave Gemma a brittle smile. Lucas supposed that explained why so much of his stuff was out of place. “Not at all,” Lucas lied. Part of the appeal of having his own flat instead of living in a safe house was that he could control who came in and out of his flat. He’d had enough of unwelcome visitors in the past eight years. He wasn’t eager to establish a trend of past and current colleagues breaking into his flat.

Gemma looked around the room. When she looked back at him, she lifted an eyebrow. Lucas tilted his head, answering her unspoken question. He knew he was being watched. He knew where the bugs were. And he knew that Gemma wasn’t here for a social call.

“I’m sorry,” Gemma said after a minute. Lucas looked away. “I heard what happened.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. He swallowed hard and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly thankful that, after he had spoken with Elizabeta, he had the foresight to roll his sleeves down again. “So,” Lucas said, desperate to change the topic, “how’s your wife?”

“Good,” Gemma said. She gave Lucas a sympathetic look and Lucas internally cringed. Even fucking Gemma Wright knew about Elizabeta. Guess I’m the last one to find out my wife is now my ex-wife. “Jackie says hello.”

“Say hi back for me, would you?” Lucas asked as he pushed off the doorjamb. He made his way into the kitchen and silently made coffee for the both of them. Lucas had a feeling that whatever conversation Gemma wanted to have, he was going to need to have a lot more caffeine to deal with it. Vodka’d be better.

When the coffee was done, Lucas brought both mugs over and handed one to Gemma wordlessly. She lifted the mug towards him in thanks before taking a sip. Lucas perched precariously on the arm of the chair opposite the couch. The seat was currently occupied by another plastic bin that he could move, but, perching meant he was closer to the knife that was now just within reach, if he needed it. They drank their coffee in silence, each sizing the other up. He noted, wryly, that each of their weapons were close at hand. I’m not the only one feeling a touch distrustful.

“I’m assuming by the… interior decorating that you’re back at work, now?” Gemma asked after she glanced around the room again.

Lucas shrugged. “I said please.”

Gemma smiled. As they lulled into easy silence, Gemma’s smile faded. She took another sip of her coffee before looking back up at Lucas. “You’re going to look into Polecat.” It wasn’t a question. She knows me too well.

He nodded his head once. “I need to know,” he said. And he did. God, he needed to know who sold him out. Lucas didn’t want to believe the FSB. He didn’t want to think that Tom or Danny or Zoe or Malcolm or even Harry fucking Pearce had been the one to betray him. But someone had. Someone had given the FSB his name, his safe house, had given them everything they’d need to find him and capture him. Someone burned me. Someone’s responsible for everything I went through.

She sighed. “Lucas, listen to me. Whatever you think happened back then… Harry and I investigated on our end.” Lucas lifted an eyebrow at her. Gemma had helped Harry look into it? “Harry asked for my opinion and I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him. You did everything right. Sometimes even the best get caught.”

“The Russians said that someone burned me,” Lucas said casually, studying her face for her reaction. If she had one, if she knew something, Gemma didn’t let it show on her face.

“Maybe someone did,” Gemma said, “but Harry and I spent months going over Polecat and neither one of us found anything.”

“Then there’s nothing to lose if I give it a once over.”

Gemma fixed Lucas with a stern look that, once, would have had him fall into line. After eight years in prison, he found its effect… diluted. “Have you told Harry yet?”

“Told him what?” Lucas asked innocently.

She picked up her purse and pulled a MI-5 file from it, holding it aloft. “That you asked Tom to look into this?”

Lucas pursed his lips. He didn’t think that Tom would have been so sloppy as to leave a trail. It wasn’t that far of a stretch for Gemma to correctly assume he wanted answers, but for her to know that he’d gotten Tom involved? She’d have to have…. Shit.

“You were spying on me this morning,” Lucas said slowly.

Gemma tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Eight years and you’re as sharp as ever. Took you awhile to notice you were being watched, though.”

Damn it. Still, it made him feel a little less like he was being paranoid earlier when he thought someone had been tailing him. “I suppose you’re going to chide me for asking a civilian to look into classified intel,” Lucas said, glancing down at the floor.

“No,” Gemma said. She placed the file in the plastic bin on the coffee table. “I’m going to let you come to the same conclusion that Harry and I came to.” She got up and slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I should go, let you clean up a bit, settle in. Take care, Lucas.”

He frowned and stared at the bin. She was just… giving him the file? Harry had only just reinstated Lucas today. It would take a week, at least, for them to get his clearance through the system. Until then, he had to make buddies with Ben to get onto the Grid or use a visitor’s pass until his file in the system was reopened and reactivated, and Gemma was just… giving him the file? Something wasn’t adding up. Lucas knew Gemma. She didn’t do things just because. Maybe she understood his need for closure. Maybe she was playing a deeper game. Either way, Lucas didn’t trust her motivations.

“Gemma,” he said as she started towards the hall. She paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a moment, they stared at each other, neither one saying anything. Finally, Gemma said, “Thanks for the coffee. Good luck with the cleaning. If you need anything, I’m sure you know Tom’s number.”

Lucas snorted, but didn’t stop her from leaving. As soon as the door shut behind her, Lucas locked the door behind her and looked back at the file. Something wasn’t adding up. There was something more to Gemma’s visit and Polecat was the centre of it, Lucas was sure of it. He just couldn’t figure out what.

Frustrated, Lucas pressed his hand to his mouth. If nothing else, he had more pieces of the puzzle, but he still wasn’t any closer to the answers he needed. Harry had gone to Gemma and… then what? They reviewed the file and thought that Lucas’ best just… wasn’t good enough? That the FSB somehow not only figured out the alias Lucas was using, but knew exactly where his safe house was, exactly what his real name was, and exactly what his position in MI-5 was? He had to have been burned. There was no other possible way for the FSB to have all that information.

Unless that’s what Gemma meant when she said they hadn’t found anything. Lucas frowned. Gemma was cunning. There was a reason she was so successful as a section chief and, later, as a section head. Maybe she thought a fresh pair of eyes going over the file would reveal something. Maybe she thought that there really wasn’t anything to dig up. Maybe she really did want Lucas to come to the same conclusion that she and Harry had come to, that there was nothing to find in the file and that the FSB just somehow figured out who and what Lucas was. Lucas sighed noisily and glared at the file. If Gemma was leaving it with him, it meant Harry had signed off on it, which meant it was unlikely that Agatha would be rushing to notify MI-5 that he was looking into classified intelligence.

Of course, maybe he really was just paranoid and was overthinking things. Maybe Gemma left the file to give Lucas closure. Maybe she knew what Harry didn’t, that Lucas needed the proof that Harry wasn’t the one that betrayed him. Maybe she thought Lucas would read over the file and then just… move on. Maybe I’m going to drive myself mental and look like a bloody tit if I keep standing here, staring at the bin.

Lucas growled and jerked his coffee mug down on the coffee table harder than strictly necessary. He was almost disappointed that the mug didn’t break. Instead, he scowled about the room and started methodically cleaning up and rearranging things. Books went back onto the bookshelves. Clothes were tossed on his bed to later be put away properly. CDs went onto their own shelf. Plastic bins were filled and then shoved into closets. He hesitated before putting the vodka in the cupboard over the fridge. As much as he wanted to drink away the empty feeling his actions today elicited, he’d rather look at Polecat with sober eyes.

Soon enough, order reigned once more in his flat. He surveyed his work before glancing at his watch. He probably should start thinking about making something to eat. Still, the fate of the fish and chips he’d had a few days ago reminded him that maybe what he should eat and what he could cook did not exactly overlap. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, once more wishing things were different, that he hadn’t… that things had been different.

He looked at the file that he had moved to the table. Lucas knew he should eat, or at least try to eat something that wasn’t coffee. As much as he’d rather not have another night spent in the loo, he also knew that, if he wanted to play normal for the cameras, he had to start working on eating regularly.

Then again, Polecat.

Fuck it. Lucas moved towards the table and got to work.

Chapter Text

“You can only trust your family,” Marlin said. Clearly, he’s never met my father, Ros thought with a pang of pain. Once, she would have agreed with Marlin wholeheartedly. Now… Well, she was here, free, and her father wasn’t and Harry Pearce was partly to blame. She still hadn’t been to see her father since hearing the news that Harry had failed to keep his promise to grant her father leniency. If I hadn’t forced him to stand down… If she hadn’t, then hundreds of innocent British citizens would have been killed for her father’s coup. She agreed, the British government had to start putting British interests first, but killing innocents to achieve that goal? That was too far.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, actually,” Lucas was saying. It chilled her to the core to hear him say that and she hoped, fervently, he wasn’t thinking of MI-5. She still didn’t trust him and his little con with Kachimov, while admittedly brilliant, hadn’t convinced her of his loyalty the way it had Harry. If Lucas didn’t trust MI-5, if he really was a mole, surely he wasn’t stupid enough to try to use it to bond with an asset? I’ll have to keep an eye on him. Harry certainly wouldn’t, after all. All it took was Lucas handing Kachimov on a silver platter to MI-5 and Harry sped Lucas through the debriefing process and got him access to the Grid again. He didn’t hear a word of caution and he certainly hadn’t listened when Ros had explained her reservations. It’s Ruth all over again.

“Excellent. No faith in human nature at all,” Marlin said. “Man after my own heart.”

Ros didn’t like the connotations of that. Hopefully not too much, else Lucas may very well be the traitor he claims he’s not. Still, she let Lucas direct the conversation. She wasn’t giving him Marlin out of the kindness of her heart, after all. She needed to see how he handled assets. After Kachimov, she had made a point of reading and then rereading Lucas’ file. He had held her position before her – which, she thought, explained how he had pulled off the con that most other spies would have struggled to pull off even with Grid support – which meant that he had gone from a nuisance that she had to deal with to a threat she would have to watch carefully. Ros did not like being blindsided and Harry was useless at telling her what Lucas was capable of, beyond that he had been one of the best field officers back in his day. She wanted to see what Lucas was capable of so that she could be prepared for the eventuality that he may very well be attempting to pull off a quadruple agent con. In the best case scenario, she thought, Lucas would crack under the pressure of the job and Harry would be forced to put him on leave. And, if Harry refused to put Lucas on leave, then Ros would simply go over his head. She wasn’t about to let the Grid suffer, again, because Harry refused to see what was plainly in front of him.

“The way things are in Pakistan at the moment, I imagine you have to watch your back,” Lucas said as he stepped forward. Ros recognized the move for what it was. It looked friendly enough to an untrained eye, but she wasn’t a fool. She recognized intimidation tactics when she saw them.

“Things are certainly… interesting.” Apparently, Marlin is also aware of intimidation tactics when he sees them.

“Are things going to get interesting for us?” Lucas asked.

“I gave you Nadif Abdelrashid. He’s a big fish, Al-Qaeda’s new European coordinator.”

“We’re on Nadif,” Ros said, cutting in. As much as she was content to let Lucas demonstrate if he could actually handle an asset, she didn’t have the patience to play cat-and-mouse with Marlin. Give us something useful. “What else can you tell us?”

“It will start with a waterfall.”

“A waterfall?” Lucas asked, frowning slightly.

Marlin seemed to think for a moment. “An explosion of internet chatter. Threats of every type, noise. And, right after the noise comes the dry run, which Nadif will mastermind.”

“Okay, noise, dry run…?” Ros said. She was starting to feel the early December chill and shifted slightly to angle her face away from the wind.

“Bring in a second team for the real thing and,” Marlin snapped his fingers, “boom. You’ve dealt them some blows, so now they’ve got to get nasty. Civilian casualties of course, but also… something that undermines confidence. Banks going under, homes repossessed. People are frightened.” Marlin looked at Lucas. “Stay on Nadif, my friend. He’s the key to everything.”

“Thanks for your assistance,” Lucas said, politely offering his hand.

Marlin stared at Lucas for a moment longer before taking his hand. “Indeed, my friend. Good luck.”

--

“Sugarhorse,” Lucas said, not moving from where he was hunched over in his seat. The memories were so vivid and it took everything he had not to bolt out of Harry’s office and drink himself into a stupor so that the memories couldn’t follow. He could still hear Volkova’s voice asking what Sugarhorse was, to tell her about Sugarhorse, could still smell the smoke of her cigarette, could still feel the panic at the feeling of water slapping against his face, choking him. No, don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t let the memories take over. He couldn’t slip up, not here, not in front of Harry.

Harry glanced up at him, oblivious to Lucas’ internal struggle. “Sugarhorse?” he repeated. He looked as confused as Lucas felt. “Is that it?”

“That’s what she said. Tell me about Sugarhorse.” Lucas watched Harry look away. He tried to read the other man, tried to get a feel if Harry knew anything about Sugarhorse. Harry’s face gave nothing away, so Lucas prodded, “What is it?”

“No idea,” Harry said, with a small shake of his head. “Curveball? Control question, maybe? Nonsense probably.”

Lucas looked down, feeling… not quite stupid, but definitely overly paranoid now. Maybe it had been nothing. Maybe he was just tense and fixating on something that was actually inconsequential. And maybe the Al-Qaeda isn’t actually out there preparing to bomb the hell out of London. Whatever Sugarhorse was, Volkova had been… persistent in her attempts to extract information about it. Maybe it was a control question, but it struck him as odd that the Russians would spend so much time and effort interrogating him over a control question. “Well, it seemed pretty important to the interrogator at the time,” he said, needing to justify both to himself and to Harry why he had brought the matter forward.

“Yes, I’m sure it did,” Harry said.

Don’t fucking patronize me, he found himself thinking, feeling a flash of anger rush through him. This conversation was going nowhere. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down before quietly saying, “I’d thought you’d want to know.”

“Thank you.” He heard the dismissal in Harry’s voice and felt foolish, once again.

“Probably not the best time,” Lucas said, trying to lighten the mood as he got up to leave.

“When troubles come.”

Lucas made it to the door before he paused and turned to face Harry again. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his gut was telling him there was something Harry was keeping from him. “If it did mean something… I’d hate to think I went through all that…”

Harry nodded, not looking at him. Lucas had grown used to that, though. He hadn’t failed to notice the way that whenever something involving Lucas’ time in prison came up, Harry couldn’t look at him. Guilt, maybe? Or shame? Still, as used to it as he was, it didn’t stop him from wanting to scream in frustration. Once, he and Harry had been close. He’d looked up to Harry when Harry had first recruited him. For the first time in Lucas’ life, he’d wanted to impress someone, and it hurt seeing the way Harry looked at him now. Like he really did leave me in prison all those years.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, drawing Lucas from his thoughts.

Lucas paused for a moment longer, studying the older spy. When he couldn’t glean anything, he left. He didn’t particularly feel like going home, but staying on the Grid meant having to face the fact that he had more than likely overreacted over a control question. Maybe Volkova only insisted on Sugarhorse to throw him off. Maybe it really was nonsense. And maybe Russian prison really was a goddamn holiday camp.

In the quiet of the Grid, Lucas sighed noisily. Everyone else had gone home for the night. He should probably follow suit. The dry run was tomorrow and Ben would need him to back him up. With a final glance at Harry’s office, Lucas shoved his hands into his pockets and resolutely made his way back outside, trying very hard not to focus on the uncomfortable feeling of the rain falling over his head.

Chapter Text

Lucas splashed water on his face, grimacing. The image of Marlin holding the gun had seared itself into Lucas’ memory, as had his own reaction. Stunned, unmoving. He hadn’t reacted. Not with fear, not with boldness, not even with indecision. He had been… still. Numb. Not exactly accepting – Lucas didn’t want to die, not anymore, not now that he was home – but not exactly running, either. Marlin wouldn’t have set up the meet if he was going to kill Lucas, of that he was sure. And yet, when Marlin had pulled out the gun, Lucas froze. It was hardly the first time someone had pointed a gun at him. Hell, he faced death regularly when he was... enjoying Russian hospitality. But he did not survive Russia to be killed by a bloody asset that had played both him and MI-5.

He splashed more water on his face, watching as the droplets, stained red with Marlin’s blood, fell back into the sink. Christ. Harry would throw a fit if he knew that Lucas hadn’t reacted to the gun, would question if Lucas really was fit for duty, and would probably insist that Lucas start seeing that annoying shrink more regularly. And, really, Lucas couldn’t blame Harry. How could he? He should have noticed the damn gun. He was a bloody spy, had built his reputation on being bloody well observant. Being observant was how he got the damn job in the first place and it was what had made him stand out from the other spies. So why hadn’t he noticed the gun? Why hadn’t he considered that Mr. Big, whoever he was, had gotten to Marlin’s family, that Marlin would kill himself to protect his family? He had admitted as much when they had first met. And, yet, Lucas never put the pieces together. He never noticed the gun. He picked up that there was something Marlin wasn’t telling him, but he hadn’t once thought that Marlin was their Mr. Big.

Lucas glared into the mirror. There was still some blood on his face, giving him a fiercer look than he intended. He could still remember seeing Harry tell Connie and Adam that he thought Lucas was damaged. Harry didn’t know that Lucas had read their lips and put one and two together. Maybe Harry was right. Maybe Lucas should have taken time after getting back. Maybe he should have gone through the debriefing process. And what good would that have done? Being left alone with his thoughts, day in, day out, wasn’t an experience Lucas was eager to repeat any time soon. No, he would rather be here, on the Grid. But he had to prove himself, had to show he wasn’t damaged, that he was still him and still good at what he did, and missing the gun certainly wasn’t the way to do it.

Aggressively swiping at the blood, he finished cleaning up. Best not to scare the locals. Not that an officer coming back to the Grid in blood was entirely uncommon. Not common. But not uncommon, either. Shrugging on a spare shirt, Lucas slipped out of the gents’ and made his way to his desk. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Ros at her own desk. She struck him as the type to work long hours, much longer than Harry would approve of. Not that Lucas could throw stones. He hadn’t been – and still wasn’t – much better.

“Hey,” he said as he walked to his desk and checked his phone. He wasn’t sure what he had been hoping to see. Maybe a text from Vyeta – we’re done, we’re over. He’d made his decision, whether he liked it or not. But telling himself that and telling his heart that were two separate things, he found.

Ros glanced over at him. “Hey yourself.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, which suited Lucas just fine. Every word he said, every move he made, was being assessed. And, if there was one thing that he had noticed during this clusterfuck of an operation, it was that Ros had been assessing him. Lucas always had been rubbish at doing well on tests, albeit those were more conscious decisions on his part than anything else. Not like this operation. Not the way he had botched it. He wondered if he had rather spectacularly lived up to Ros’ low expectations of him or if she was now even more convinced that he shouldn’t be on the Grid.

“I heard you gave the politicians both barrels earlier,” he said, finally, wanting to break the silence before Ros could conclude her examination of him.

“When it comes to politicians, my only regret is only having the two to give them,” she quipped.

He smiled as he shrugged on his coat. He didn’t exactly want to go home, but he didn’t feel like being scrutinized either. At least at home, he could pretend he had some privacy. “You were right though. We have nothing to reproach ourselves for,” he said, watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, we do.” Lucas glanced up at Ros. She wasn’t the only one capable of needling, assessing. “Bastards got one past us. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always been annoyingly competitive and perfectionist and that really annoys me.”

He couldn’t help himself. “I bet that really annoys your friends as well.”

“What did you say to Marlin about friends?” He looked over at her, surprised that she recalled an offhand comment he had made to build trust. “Overrated, I think it was. Not a big one for dinner parties, myself.”

He shifted towards her. “Colleagues, then?”

“Yeah. Lovers leave, friends annoy you, families mess with your head. Colleagues are okay.”

His eyebrows lifted as he feigned a friendly half-smile. “Ah, but are they to be trusted?”

“Yes, they are.”

“All of them?” Lucas asked, not changing his expression.

“All of them,” Ros said, a note of steel entering her words.

He found it ironic, Ros saying that, given her past. “Even the most senior?”

Ros’ tilt of the head, the brief confusion on her face, spoke more than he was sure she meant to let on. “Particularly him,” she said, nodding once. “Harry sweated blood to get you back here. He’d rather die than ever let anything happen to you.”

Lucas broke eye contact as she spoke. He wasn’t sure he wanted Ros to see the fear that Ros was wrong nor did he want her to see the anger that it took eight years for Harry to decide to sweat a bit of blood to get him back. It didn’t help that it wasn’t through Harry’s own doing that Lucas was back in England now. Maybe I’m more transparent than I think. The thought frightened him. Lucas had always prided himself on being able to keep a certain distance, to be able to keep how he was feeling and his thoughts inside, where no one could see them. He had to be good at it, otherwise he would never have survived prison – although, he would admit that there were times, late at night when the nightmares came, he questioned just how much of him had survived. But Ros saw through the needling. She saw through his question, originally intended to see if Ros still felt loyalty to Yalta, to see if her loyalty really was as elastic as her past suggested, and saw it for what it was – Lucas tacitly admitting to questioning Harry.

Shit.

The silence was dragging on too long. “Yeah,” he said finally. He forced himself to look up, to give Ros a smile. “Colleagues are okay.”

He retreated before Ros could form a retort. Lucas rather doubted that she had believed that he accepted her defence of Harry. He needed space, needed to clear his head, to focus, to remind himself what was at stake, and that he had to be more careful. He already knew Ros was good. It was foolish of him to think she would fall for thinking that he was talking about her betraying Harry for Yalta.

Instead of heading for the pods, Lucas found himself going to the roof. He wasn’t sure he wanted to head back to his flat, not yet, not when he knew the nightmares that waited for him when he inevitably tried to sleep. No, right now, he wanted to prolong going back to his flat as long as he could. It was easier to pretend, on the roof, that his life was normal again, that he hadn’t truly lost everything, even Harry’s trust, when he was detained eight years ago. Going back to his flat carried the heavy knowledge that it was bugged, that his every move, every word was being recorded and analyzed. If he did anything suspicious, even if it was buy a different brand of coffee, it was suspect and reported to Harry. At least the roof didn’t make him feel like he was naked and exposed to anyone who wanted to take a look at the feed.

I’ll have to text Tom and see if he’s up for a bit of… fishing. Lucas didn’t mind the surveillance, but he was mighty curious about just how much surveillance he was under.

The door shut behind him and Lucas gripped the edge of the building, staring out at the city. Winter was approaching, the air chilly and unforgiving, and the clouds threatened snow. Down on the ground, life continued as if nothing had happened. Cars continued to rush along the road. Horns blared. Pedestrians crowded the sidewalks. It was like the city hadn’t noticed the bomb go off earlier. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and just listened. Home. He hadn’t thought he’d get to see it again and, now that he was back, he felt like he was floundering. Everything was the same, but so different at the same time.

Taking another deep breath, Lucas opened his eyes and tugged out the pack of cigarettes he kept in his back pocket. He wasn’t a regular smoker, hardly even a smoker, really, if he was honest with himself. It was just something familiar to him, something grounding. He had smoked before joining MI-5, and then had quit after he joined, only to pick it up again in prison, before quitting again while still in prison. This was probably the third or fourth cigarette he’d had since coming home.

Home. He was home. But some small voice asked bitterly if he really was home or if he had traded one prison for another. He flicked the lighter and inhaled deeply, feeling the odd comfort of nicotine enter his lungs. Lucas wasn’t stupid. He knew that Harry had him under constant surveillance and that everything he did was being watched, assessed, just like it had been in prison.

If Lucas was honest with himself, he was home, but home didn’t feel an awful lot like home.

The door opened behind him and Lucas turned his head to see who had disrupted his thoughts. Apparently, he was not the only one that sought refuge on the roof. Ros either had followed him up, or had similar thoughts, that she wasn’t ready to go home and that she needed the space to think. She was scowling, but as soon as she saw him watching, the scowl disappeared to be replaced with blank neutrality. He knew the trick well, as it was one that he was employing himself, and had employed more times than he cared to admit to in the past eight years. Better blank neutrality than admitting that their conversation had unsettled him.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ros said coolly, even as her fingers deftly removed a cigarette from her own pack. Lucas noted and filed away that her cigarettes were slightly more expensive than his.

He offered her his lighter. “I don’t.”

“I don’t either,” she said as she took the lighter. She lit her cigarette before wordlessly handing the lighter back.

He turned back towards the city, lost in his thoughts once more. Ros left him to his thoughts, smoking in silence beside him. Lucas knew that she didn’t trust him and that she definitely did not approve of Harry giving Lucas clearance to be on the Grid. Lucas thought it was awfully ironic, given her history. Not that he’d ever tell her that. No, Lucas was intimately acquainted with the power of knowledge and he had no intention of tipping his hand yet. Besides, if Ros hadn’t figured out that he had done his homework on his new colleagues, than she certainly didn’t deserve to be Section Chief.

Ros was good, though. If Lucas had to be replaced, he was glad it was Ros and not Ben or Jo. Ben and Jo seemed… too green to do the job. Hell, this had been Ben’s first undercover operation. Lucas would have walked off the Grid if Harry had given Section D to Ben. But he could appreciate the need to promote someone already in Section D. With the loss of Adam, promoting someone already in Section D instead of bringing in someone new seemed the wiser decision. At least Ros was competent and wasn’t one to back down easily, both traits that would help her get far as Section Chief. He would cut out his own tongue before he admitted to her that he didn’t blame her for being suspicious of him. Had their positions been reversed, he’d have been suspicious too. Her being suspicious of him meant that she was good, which meant that he had to be careful not to slip up again in front of her.

“You handled yourself well,” he said. Because she had and, if he was right about the source of her scowl, she could use someone telling her she did a good job. She looked up at him, one fine, blonde eyebrow arched. Whenever she had caught him watching her in briefings, Lucas had always looked away. This time, he didn’t. “Earlier,” he continued. “We had faulty intelligence and what we thought was a dry run turned out to be the real deal. You handled it well.”

“Naturally,” she said. Maybe she didn’t need someone to tell her that she did a good job then.

“No false modesty?” Lucas asked, catching himself just in time to stop a smile from breaking through.

“Never was a strong suit of mine.” She paused, and Lucas had the feeling that he was being appraised once again. “Earlier, you said we had nothing to reproach ourselves for. Why do you think that?”

Clever. Ros was too good to openly admit that she knew he had been Section Chief, that she knew he had been testing her, and that she knew he was more bothered by the fact that the bastards had gotten one past them than he was letting on. It would seem, Lucas thought, that he was not the only one acquainted with the power of knowledge and the importance of keeping one’s hand close to the chest.

“We had faulty intelligence and our man on the inside was on his first undercover operation. Harry was MIA, I was blown, and we had scant seconds to clear the blast radius. All things considered, three dead C019 officers is a win.” It was a lie, but one Lucas said easily. He couldn’t quite get Elizabeta’s voice, accusing him of becoming cold, out of his head. Maybe all of me didn’t make it out of prison.

Ros scrutinized him and Lucas wondered if he had passed her test. Truthfully, Lucas was as pissed as she was that the bastards had gotten a bomb off. He should have seen through Marlin, should have picked up that things were too easy, too neat. In his experience, cells were rarely that neat, and Mr. Bigs were rarely that easy to catch. But Lucas couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was pissed, lest Ros start looking too hard and realize what Lucas already knew, that he should have figured out what was going on and who the real Mr. Big was before the C019 officers were in a position where they had to choose between sacrificing themselves and civilian casualties. And I should have noticed the damn gun.

Were you always this cold? Under the skin? Or is that man I knew just a lie? The words rang bitterly in his head.

Finally, Ros nodded once. “They got one past us. They won’t a second time.”

“Suicide bombers usually don’t,” Lucas quipped, unable to stop himself. Ros glared at him and he gave her a cheeky grin. She didn’t deign him with a reply, but whether that was because she didn’t want to let on that she found his comment amusing or because she simply didn’t think his comment warranted a reply, Lucas wasn’t sure.

They lulled into silence. Lucas had almost finished his cigarette when Ros said, “I’m not going to apologize.”

Lucas tensed, figuring out quickly enough what she was referring to. It was fresh enough in his memory that it didn’t take much to dreg it up. He remembered her walking up to him and the stun gun stinging into his shoulder. He remembered waking up to memories of electricity burning through him, pulling screams from him, even as he tried in vain to hold them back. All he could think of, when he came to, was Oleg pulling him upright when he slumped over gasping for air and checking if he was able to handle another round before pouring water over Lucas’ head so that they could continue. It had taken everything Lucas had not to vomit when he came to. He swallowed back bile and sternly told himself that he didn’t throw up then, he wasn’t about to throw up now, and he certainly was not going to vomit in front of Ros Myers.

Ros couldn’t have known what he had gone through in prison. She couldn’t. She was just stating that she wasn’t going to apologize for taking him down with minimal injury to either of them. Hell, he would have told any female officer attempting to take down a target larger and stronger than her the same way that Ros had taken him down. Lucas forced himself to relax and give her a half-hearted shrug, not trusting himself to say anything without his voice betraying him.

He could feel the weight of her scrutinizing stare again. Lucas didn’t give her anything. He forced his features to be neutral, forced his muscles to relax, even though all he wanted to do was flee. It wasn’t hard to do. He had done it often enough in the past eight years that keeping his face neutral had become almost like a second nature. He certainly wasn’t about to let Ros, of all people, see how unsettled he was at the mere mention of her stun gunning him.

“I am sorry about your ex-wife,” Ros said after another moment when he offered her no reaction.

A rush of anger, mixed with the all too familiar pang of longing, surged through him at the mention of Vyeta. God, he had missed her, so much more than he wanted to admit to. Fuck you, Ros. Lucas knew what she was doing. Needling him, seeing if he was too in love with his ex-wife to effectively use her as an asset, trying to see what would make him tick. Assessing. Weighing. Looking for weak spots in the armour.

If Kachimov and Oleg couldn’t do it after eight years, you certainly can’t.

He did the same thing he had done in prison whenever his interrogators mentioned his ex-wife: he kept his face, his tone, even his body language neutral. Maybe Ros would see through it, maybe she wouldn’t. But he would be damned if he gave anything away that she could use against him later. “Yeah,” he said calmly, adding just enough sadness in it that it would seem plausible, but not enough to reveal the depth of how much he grieved for what he had lost.

Ros studied him, not even bothering to hide it this time. He watched her eyes study his face, study the way he leaned against the railing, the way he stared at her calmly. “Alright then,” she said briskly, evidently coming to whatever conclusion she had about his mental state. “I’m certain Harry will want to speak with you soon.”

“Yeah.” Fucking Marlin shooting himself. “I’ll be down shortly.”

“Alright,” Ros said.

Lucas stared back out at the city, listening to Ros return inside. As he heard the door swing shut, he closed his eyes against the city again and let the anger, the pain, the longing, everything wash over him. If he went downstairs as wired as he was, Harry would see the cracks and Lucas would lose everything he had worked hard to gain. He couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t.

A darker thought wormed its way into his head. He couldn’t lose Harry’s trust, not now, not when he needed to know the truth. Lucas had spent years telling himself Kachimov was wrong, that Harry hadn’t abandoned him, but everything Lucas had gleaned from Harry suggested the opposite. It wasn’t such a far stretch that…

No. Harry wouldn’t have. Ros was right. Was she? Would he, though? And, if he had, why had Harry horse-traded to get Lucas back? What if Ros was wrong? What if this was all some sort of elaborate scheme? Why did it take Harry so long to get me back?

Traded one prison for another, he thought again, bitterly. Lucas opened his eyes and stared hard at the city. At least this prison had better scenery.

Chapter Text

Using his bicep as a pillow, Lucas stared hard at the wall. He tapped his shoulder with his hand, trying to ground himself with each beat. It was a habit he had formed in prison, during the long periods of solitary confinement. With nothing but four, empty walls to entertain him and a flickering light that was sometimes on, sometimes off, and irregular meals, Lucas had quickly lost track of time and space. He didn’t know how long he spent alone with nothing but his thoughts and his imagination to keep him company. During the worst of the days, he had started tapping on his arm, his shoulder, his thigh, any part of him to reassure himself that he still existed, that he wasn’t just some ghost that was long forgotten.

It had been comforting then, and it was reassuring now. So he kept tapping against his shoulder, grounding himself a little more with each beat because the alternative was to let the darkness of the night consume him. Eight years of darkness. Vyeta wasn’t wrong. He had given MI-5 eight years of his life. Eight years of torture, eight years of darkness, and what had MI-5 given him in return? Nothing but a flat filled with goddamn bugs.

As he rolled onto his back and rested his forearm across his forehead, Lucas thought he really shouldn’t be all that surprised that Harry had bugged the flat. Harry had made it no secret that he thought Lucas should go through the debriefing process and that Lucas couldn’t be trusted. Hell, Ros thought he shouldn’t even be on the Grid, much less be free to roam about as he pleased. He supposed he should be grateful that he at least had some degree of freedom, even if it was monitored closely. Which I definitely don’t know about. It wasn’t as though Harry’s chosen voyeur was particularly subtle. If Lucas had been green, maybe he would have failed to pick up on who – and what – she was. Instead, he saw through the ruse quickly enough. He wondered if Harry even knew that his operative was blown.

If he does, he probably doesn’t care, Lucas thought bitterly. The bugs were a double-edged sword, he thought. They provided him with some level of security, especially after Moscow, but they also reminded him of Moscow. He had never truly been alone in prison. Someone had always been watching the cameras. Just like someone, likely Agatha up a few flights, was always watching him in his flat. Still, he wasn’t going to make it any easier for Harry to determine if Lucas knew about the bugs - and Agatha - or not. Which means, unfortunately, no giving two-fingered salutes to the cameras, he thought with a wry smirk. Although, he rather doubted Harry would be much surprised by any crude gestures Lucas made towards the cameras.

Thoughts of Harry had Lucas’ smile fading away. He’d gone over the file Gemma had left with him several times now and still couldn’t find anything that suggested who might have sold him out. Polecat had been a joint operation with MI-6 to investigate the Russian mafia funding terrorism in London. While MI-6 obviously had some of the details, they weren’t given any information about Lucas, specifically, being in Moscow. Lucas and Harry had agreed that it’d be best to keep the fine details in house, just in case. The fewer people who knew that Lucas was in Moscow and attempting to get in with the Russian mafia, the better, not to mention the more likely the operation would be a success. Lucas’ counterpart in Six simply didn’t have the information to burn him, which meant that the traitor had to be someone in Section D. It was an unnerving feeling, knowing that someone he had called a friend and had trusted with his life had been the one to sell him out to the FSB. Hope they bloody paid well.

Staring at the ceiling wasn’t making Lucas any sleepier, so he rolled over to his other side to stare at the door. He tried the pillow again, trying to force himself to get used to using it again. It was… too soft. He tried putting his arm under the pillow and felt his fingers brush against the cold steel of the knife he kept under his pillow. It was an empty gesture, he knew. More times than not, he’d be halfway between waking from a nightmare and full consciousness and he’d throw the knife at a hazy figure in his room, only to hear the knife thud into the wall. Looks like Dad’s insistence that I help out repairing the house paid off, he thought every time he had to do minor wall repair, lest the super give him grief over gouges in the wall.

He didn’t know how long he glared at the door before the silence started to chip away at the carefully constructed wall he had built around his memories of prison. The silence was… too much. More than he could handle, right now. It was bad enough he wasn’t sleeping much; he certainly didn’t feel increasing the likelihood of hazy, memory-fuelled nightmares by trying to ignore the discomfiting silence.

Growling, Lucas slipped out of bed and padded out to the living room. The flat was dark, but that didn’t bother him, not anymore. Years in prison had gotten him used to the darkness. Sometimes the flickering light would be on, other times it would be off and he’d be left, quite literally, in the dark. Here, in London, even with the everything turned off, there was still enough light from the street outside to illuminate the flat just enough that he wouldn’t accidentally bump into anything. Not that I would anyway. He knew where his bloody furniture was.

Grabbing the remote, he turned on the telly and changed the channel to some late night news channel. It wasn’t much, but it broke up the monotony of the silence, even if the news did nothing but annoy him. Lucas stared at the telly for a moment as he ran his hand through his hair. Turning the volume down so that it would be just loud enough in his bedroom that he would be able to hear words being spoken, but not so loud that it would keep him awake, Lucas carefully put the remote back on the telly stand before making his way back to his bedroom.

He glared at his bed, but got back into it anyway. Even with the telly on, sleep eluded Lucas. The night dragged on. Every time Lucas closed his eyes, he was in Lushanka again. He could hear the electricity buzz, could feel the cold splash of water against his face as he choked, could feel the bindings holding him to the chair cut into his wrists as he thrashed. Every time Lucas thought he had finally fallen into the oblivion of sleep, a nightmare would startle him awake. After a particularly vicious one left him throwing the knife into the wall at the phantom image of Volkova, Lucas inhaled raggedly and decided sleep was something he would simply have to forgo for the night.

Which left him with not a whole lot to do for the next few hours. He couldn’t go to work this early. Harry would flay him alive if Lucas stepped foot on the Grid at this hour. He thought about going for a run, but when he heard the rain pattering against the windowpane, thought better of it. Once, he wouldn’t have been bothered by the rain. Now, with the memories of hell so close to the surface of his mind and the last time it rained still fresh in his memory, he decided the rain might be more than he could handle right now.

Lucas forced himself to take several deep breaths. When he thought he could stand without shaking, Lucas got out of bed, pulled on a t-shirt, and made his way to the bathroom. He tried not to look at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to shave and he should probably wash up anyway. At the very least, it’ll distract me for a bit. He looked balefully at the tub. Lucas still wasn’t able to bring himself to try the shower again after the first disastrous attempt when he had first moved into the flat. Since then, he’d elected to wash himself using a glorified sponge bath, where he’d fill the tub partially full and carefully angle his head so that, when he washed his hair, the water would flow down the back of his head instead of over his face. It didn’t help much, but it was better than the alternative.

Just as Lucas started to run the water, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door squealing open. Fuck.

Chapter Text

In the early hours of the morning, far earlier than any normal person should be awake, Ros moved through the flat complex. It was still dark out, certainly early enough in the morning that most of the tenants were fast asleep. She hoped one in particular was sleeping, as it would make her job infinitely easier if he was. If not… well, she’d just have to improvise. Lucas’ conversation with Marlin had worried her and she wanted a better idea of what she was dealing with. She’d read over his file a few more times, but nothing in it really gave her any indication of what she could expect from Lucas. Not to mention, it’s as if he didn’t exist before the age of twenty, she thought with a frown. Everything from before then was either redacted or requiring a higher security clearance than her own, which struck her as odd. What are you hiding that you got Harry to sign off on redacting information and classifying the intel as LOCSEN?

Ros pursed her lips. She supposed she could try asking Lucas, but she rather doubted he would give her much, not if Harry thought whatever was in Lucas’ past was worth hiding. It was doubtful that Harry would be exceptionally forthcoming, either, if his earlier actions were anything to go by. If Harry was willing to hide the fact that he had Lucas under surveillance and that Lucas had joked about agreeing to spy for Kachimov from her, Ros rather doubted Harry would tell her anything about Lucas’ past. In any case, Ros was a spook, and a good one at that. She didn’t have to ask. She could simply break in, copy over his sim to make sure he wasn’t being a rotten apple and keeping in contact with people he shouldn’t be, and get his fingerprints to run, just to be safe. She tried hard not to think of the last time she acquired such items, and the catastrophic failure that had been.

Adam is dead. Move on. She felt a surge of anger rush through her. Ros had spent six months in Moscow without contacting Adam once. As far as Adam was concerned, Ros had packed up and disappeared from London, never to be heard from again. She had even been the one to stipulate that condition to Harry: if Harry wanted her in Moscow, then he was never to tell Adam that she was there. She could still remember the way Adam had looked at her when he had injected her with the adrenaline. He had held her, comforted her, and then he had told her that she had to leave and she could never look back. Ros hated that, for a brief moment, she had wished, had even tacitly asked, Adam to go with her. And it was for that reason that she knew that Adam could never know she was still working for Harry. Because, if he knew, if he came to Moscow to be with her, she’d never be able to move on.

She had spent those six months mourning what she had lost, but knowing she had made the right decision. When she came home, all it took was hearing his damn name for her to know that he was about to do something stupid and that he’d need her there to rescue him from his own stupidity. And I was too late. When she had seen him at the ceremony, some part of her wondered if maybe they could start anew, that maybe they could have a second chance and get it right this time. And now, with Adam dead, she’d never know.

Angrily, Ros brushed away the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks. She was not about to start crying in front of Lucas North’s flat. Not over Adam. Not anymore. Adam was right. There never is enough time, not for us.

She took a deep breath and counted to ten before sliding the key into the lock and gingerly opening the door. What Ros had not counted on was the door squealing as she pushed it open. She froze, the key still in her hand. The door had not squealed the last time she had broken into Lucas’ flat, meaning that this was a new development. She found herself wondering if it was a… natural development or if it had been helped along. Either way, she was going to bloody murder someone for not telling her that he had tampered with the door. Wasn’t this the whole point of having someone run surveillance on him? So that they could bloody well tell her when he starts doing suspicious things like making the hinges squeal loud enough that she was pretty certain her grandmother, may she rest in peace, could hear it all the way in her grave?

Despite the loud squeal, Ros could hear the shower start to run. The TV played in the living room. She released a breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Lucas apparently was not asleep, but he was in the shower, then. The squeal hadn’t been loud enough to be heard over the shower or the TV. That was something, at least. Maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t asleep, as she had no doubt the startling screech of the hinges would have been enough to wake even the heaviest sleeper. Certainly loud enough to wake a man that spent the past eight years in a Russian hospitality suite. Thank God for small mercies.

Quietly pocketing the key, Ros stepped inside and turned to try to shut the door quietly. Even trying to move the door slowly so as to minimize the squeal, she still found herself wincing as the hinges screamed once more. Still, the sounds of the shower running filled the flat. She stared at the door, mentally counting to thirty, just to make sure that the shower didn’t shut off at the sound of the hinges.

“Sorry, haven’t had a chance to fix the door yet,” Lucas said amiably from behind her.

Ros Myers most certainly did not start at the sound of his voice. She gracefully turned to face him, eyes narrowed. The shower was still running, but there was Lucas, in track pants and a dark t-shirt, and looking decidedly not wet. He was leaning against the hallway wall, holding a knife loosely in one hand. For all intents and purposes, he almost looked like a shadow in the dark flat, his pale skin the only thing giving his location away.

It was the knife that drew Ros’ attention though. The blade glinted from the low reflection of the telly. While Ros was hardly afraid of a silly little knife – she had killed a man with a fork only a week ago, she was fairly certain that she could drop Lucas before he used that knife on her – it wasn’t a pleasant sight to see. How long had Lucas been standing there? He had moved so quietly that she hadn’t even heard his approach. And how had he gotten the knife out of the kitchen without her realizing he was not in the shower? Unless that knife was never in the kitchen to begin with.

She felt uneasy, but refused to let him see that. Instead, she gave Lucas’ flat a quick scan. She said, “You’ve cleaned up I see.” And he had. Even in the darkness of the flat, she could tell that it was significantly cleaner than when she had last visited it. No longer were there books, papers, and clothes scattered across the floor. Now, it was the picture of cleanliness. Looks like someone really isn’t a mucky puppy after all.

“Yeah, you know how moving is,” he said with a shrug. He moved and Ros tensed, but he simply smiled at her and put the knife down on the counter before flicking on the kitchen light. Ros squinted at the sudden brightness as her eyes adjusted to the light. “Phone’s on the table if you were looking to copy my sim card,” Lucas said matter-of-factly. Had Ros been anyone else, her face might have even heated up at Lucas’ casualness. As much as she was loath to admit it, he was good. Adam hadn’t caught on this fast, she was fairly certain. If he had, he certainly hadn’t been so… blasé as Lucas. “Sure you can find something around here with my fingerprints too, if you want those.”

When Harry had insisted that Ros accept Lucas on the team, she hadn’t initially understood. Certainly, maybe Lucas was the best eight years ago. But she had thought that was then and this was now. Not only had he been unable to extract the code from Tranquility, but he was fresh from Russian prison. There was no way that there wasn’t any damage, at the very least. And then he had openly admitted to agreeing to spy for Kachimov and, while even she was impressed that he pulled off that triple agent con with minimal assistance from the Grid, she wouldn’t have put it past him to be playing MI-5 still. She knew the value of sacrificing a pawn to save a more powerful piece. Lucas certainly wasn’t the king… but he was in a rather ideal position thanks to Harry refusing to take the rose-tinted goggles off. And after everything with Marlin….

Now, as Lucas leaned back against the counter and watched her, she had the sudden impression that maybe Lucas really was as good as Harry had claimed. He was right; she was here for his sim card and his fingerprints. But there was only one other person who had realized she was doing that when she tried it and that had been what felt like a lifetime ago. The fact that Lucas had caught on significantly faster than Adam had made her even more wary and aware of the fact that she was alone in the flat with him. Certainly, there were bugs throughout the flat and surely Harry would have red flashed her if Lucas had tampered with the bugs? But, then again, Harry might not even realize that she was here if the bugs were tampered with. What had Harry said? That Lucas had specialized in counter-surveillance? She had a feeling that Lucas knew how to work around a bug, and that feeling did nothing to ease her discomfort.

“As invigorating as our discussion has been, I think I’m going to shut my shower off now,” Lucas said and pushed off the counter. “Feel free to pillage my flat for something with my fingerprints.”

“I will, thank you,” Ros said stiffly as she watched Lucas slip back into the bathroom. Light spilled into the hallway as he turned the light on. A moment later, she heard the water shut off. As Lucas was turning the water off, Ros moved to the kitchen to pick up his discarded knife. It wasn’t that she thought Lucas would hurt her. Surely he wasn’t that stupid. But, she didn’t like the idea of being unarmed, either. There was no hiding that she had taken the knife, though, so she didn’t bother to hide it. Instead, she moved to the table. True enough, as Lucas had said, the phone was on the table. She frowned. She could have sworn he had a different phone yesterday.

“I’m putting on a pot of coffee. Want some?” Lucas asked, re-emerging from the hallway.

“Got a new phone, did you?” Ros asked, putting the knife down on the table rather loudly. She was pleased to note that his eyes followed the movement of the knife before returning to her face. Although, she was disappointed that he didn’t react beyond to track the movement of the knife, but she supposed that would have been too easy.

Lucas smiled, but she noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes, which remained hard and unreadable. He’s assessing me, she realized. It wasn’t much of a surprise to Ros. Nor was she particularly worried with what he thought of her. He would hardly be the first to undoubtedly underestimate her, and he would hardly be the last. If he wanted to be foolish enough to underestimate her, well, all the more fool him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said and started going through the motions of preparing the coffee. She noticed wryly that he didn’t completely turn his back to her, instead angling himself so that he could still see her in his peripheral vision. To a casual observer, it wouldn’t look out of the ordinary, and that was what made her question if Lucas really was as… average at spy craft as he seemed to be. An average spook would have made the rookie mistake of either completely turning their back to her, an armed, potential opponent. A professional, or someone who was actually good at their job, would have done just as Lucas had. Or at least that’s what she would have done.

“Just some milk, please,” Ros said frostily as she removed the sim card and went through the process of copying it. Lucas already knew she was here for the card – bloody hell, he had invited her to copy the card himself – so she didn’t bother hiding the fact that she was doing it. She determined that she would, however, have to keep an eye on what phone Lucas was using. She half wished he was still in the shower or, better yet, asleep so that she could search the flat and make sure he didn’t have a second phone stashed away somewhere. As it was, she would simply have to make do. She made sure to note what type of phone this one was so that she would know, in the future, if he had a different phone that he was using.

With Lucas preoccupied and the sim card copied, Ros helped herself to a seat at the table. She took the opportunity to study Lucas, noticing the dark ink on his arms. She also noticed that his hair was decidedly not damp. The shower had been a ruse. He had heard her come in and he had turned the shower on to make her think that she had gotten in without his noticing. Bastard. Or maybe he was about to take a shower when he heard the door. Ros liked her version better. It was easier to be angry with Lucas if she thought that he had snuck into the bathroom to turn the shower on and make her think she got in without him any the wiser than to realize he was as human as her. Although, she wasn’t exceptionally keen to take a shower this early in the morning.

“I know an excellent repairman that could help with your door,” Ros said casually, eyes narrowed.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder as he finished preparing the coffee. “That’s fine. I can fix it, just haven’t had a chance.”

More like you broke it in the first place and don’t want to undo your handiwork.

“If you’re sure,” Ros said with a shrug.

Lucas placed the coffee mug in front of her, prepared exactly as she had requested, before returning to lean against the kitchen counter. Not, she noticed, near the knife block, which was missing the knife she had on the table. They drank their coffee in silence, both of them sizing the other up. In the end, Ros wasn’t sure she gathered anything of use from him, and she could only hope he felt the same.

“Well, this has been fun,” Ros said, standing up. “I don’t suppose you have something I could use to get your fingerprints?”

Lucas smiled thinly at her. Again, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and, again, Ros had an uneasy feeling. There was something deceptively disarming about his smile. Had she not been an intelligence officer and had she not been in the business as long as she had, she could easily see herself believing he was genuinely smiling at her.

I’ll have to keep an extra close eye on Jo and Ben, make sure they don’t do something stupid around him.

He drained his mug before holding it up towards her in offering. “I trust this’ll suffice?”

Ros took the hand towel that was hanging over the oven handle – how domestic of him – and took the mug from him with the towel. Carefully, she placed it into her bag. “Yes, I believe it will. Try not to be late for work.”

She turned towards the door. This time, she didn’t hesitate before opening the door, didn’t even wince when the hinges squealed again. “You really should fix the door,” she said, looking at it contemplatively. She walked out without waiting for his reply.

Chapter Text

Despite her late-night rendezvous at Lucas’ flat, Ros still found herself going to the Grid much earlier than she probably ought to. It wasn’t as though it was entirely uncommon for Ros to come to work early, especially since Adam’s… passing. She knew that they could never have lasted. She meant what she had told him, that they were broken from day one. But his loss still hurt. It was still raw, knowing that she had her position only because the man she had loved was dead. Some nights, it kept her awake. Other times, she would wake to the pang of loneliness for the love that could have been.  No. We could never have been. They had been broken from day one. Adam had never moved on from Fiona and Ros could never settle for being a replacement. Not even for Adam.

Still, she probably didn’t need to be on the Grid this early. But, when the alternative was to stare up at a ceiling that served only to remind her of everything she had lost when she had to fake her death, she figured she could be forgiven for coming to work early. Harry owed her that much. He had been the one to ask her to use her connections in Russia and go undercover in Moscow and she had. She gave him six months there, would have given him more if he hadn’t ordered her home. Ros had given up her house, her family, the possibility of seeing her father, even her cat, for Harry. He could damn well overlook her deciding to come into work early.

She walked through the pods and took a deep breath. The Grid was quiet this early. Harry was in his office with the door shut. She allowed herself a small smile at the sight. That was one thing that hadn’t changed since her abrupt departure from Section D. Harry still hated it when people came into his office without knocking. That, and Malcolm’s presence on the Grid, would never change, she suspected.

She pointedly didn’t look at where Ruth’s desk once was. Ros didn’t regret her actions and she wouldn’t apologize for doing what any other officer would have done in her situation. But that didn’t mean she was proud of what she did. Ros could pretty up the truth, but, at the end of the day, she was motivated by more than just some circumstantial evidence against the least likely murderer in the United Kingdom, and she knew it. Hell, she was fairly certain Harry knew it. Maybe that’s why he’s keeping secrets from me.

Ros sighed. She was still irked that Marlin had gotten one past her. She had meant what she had said to Dolby – if he was so displeased with her performance, he could sack her, but they both knew she had done the best with what she had available. No, not the best with what she had available. She had done admirably. She had stopped two bombs from going off. They had faulty intelligence and she still ensured that there were no civilian casualties, all without Harry Pearce ever picking up his bloody phone and responding to the red flash. That was a bloody miracle that she managed as well as she had. But it wasn’t the best.

It still rankled her, though. They should have been more prepared for any contingencies. Ben was still green at undercover operations. They shouldn’t have put him in this one as his first operation, not when it was so fraught with unknowns. Although, she supposed she didn’t have much other choice. Harry had been the one to suggest putting Ben undercover and Lucas in surveillance. She had been less than thrilled, but allowed it. Ben had to practice undercover work at some point and, as annoying as the unexpected realization that they were dealing with live bombs instead of a dry run had been, she supposed he had done adequately. But it was the principle of the fact that bothered Ros. Harry had given her Section D, yet he would disregard her concerns and make unilateral decisions without ever discussing them with her. She knew that he’d be expected to make some decisions without her, of course, but decisions about how to run the section? Decisions about who should be assigned what role in an operation? Decisions about who was in her section? Those should be her territory, and yet Harry was making them anyway, often without even consulting her.

Ros scowled. She didn’t feel like going to her desk. Not this early, anyway, and certainly not when she was growing steadily angrier the longer she looked at Harry’s closed door. Besides, even if she was inclined to go to her desk, she had already finished her paperwork from the night before, after Lucas had left. While she was sure that she could dig up some more paperwork to do, she never had been one for paperwork. And, if Harry is so fond of doing my job for me, maybe he can do the paperwork, too. Ros much preferred being in the field to being behind a desk and yesterday had only reinforced that. Although, the Home Secretary thanking her almost made up for it. Almost.

Not wanting to go to her desk and not wanting to go to the canteen and drink stale coffee, Ros elected, instead, to go to the gym. Better she work off her anger now than be cooped up all day on the Grid again. She had a feeling she was about to spend the day in never ending meetings, many of which would include discussing how Section D could improve in future operations. Step one: tell Harry Pearce to stop stepping on my toes and let me run the bloody section the way he let Adam run the bloody section.

It unnerved Ros a lot more than she cared to admit that Harry had been absent during the operation. It was unlike him to leave in the middle of an operation, even if it was supposed to simply be a dry run. Maybe if there had been someone more experienced undercover, maybe if they weren’t using damaged goods in surveillance, then she could understand Harry’s logic in leaving during the middle of an operation. But being unavailable, even when being red flashed? Being completely unreachable for hours? What had Harry been doing that was so important that he couldn’t pick up his phone? The one time Ros actually needed Harry there for guidance, he bloody well wasn’t.

This is ridiculous. Lucas’ paranoia from yesterday was bleeding into her. She may have her misgivings about Harry and some of the decisions he had made, but she stood by what she told Lucas. If they couldn’t trust Harry, then who could they trust? As it was, she wasn’t sure she could trust Lucas, so why the bloody hell was she buying into his ridiculous conspiracy theories?

I definitely need to hit something.

Finally making her way to the changing rooms, Ros changed quickly. When she exited the changing rooms, Ros was disappointed to see that she was not the only one avoiding upstairs. Lucas had earbuds in and was jogging on the treadmill. Her lip almost curled in distaste. She still didn’t trust Lucas. Their conversation yesterday hadn’t helped matters, nor had their late-night rendezvous. More than that, though, it was… Lucas that she didn’t trust. It wasn’t just that he had spent eight years in FSB custody. She couldn’t get a read on him. He was too… quiet. Every time she spoke, she could feel him assessing her. She knew he had previously held her position. Ros kept expecting him to make some sort of play for it, or maybe he was waiting for her to slip up and he’d use that as justification as to why she was unfit to be Section Chief. But he never did. He just watched her and she hated that she couldn’t get a feel for what his angle was.

Maybe through some sort of uncanny sixth sense, or maybe from too many years being observed, Lucas abruptly came to a stop and glanced over his shoulder. He tugged his earbuds out and nodded at her. “Hey.” She was pleased to hear that his breathing was slightly heavy. Maybe he isn’t as fit as both he and Harry seemed to think he is.

“Hey yourself,” Ros said coolly and breezed by him. His presence in the gym, in her space when she was here, irked her. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been here?”

Lucas shrugged. “Long enough that I’ll leave.”

“Why? Scared of little old me?” Ros said. It was a deliberate jab. She rather doubted that Lucas was afraid of much after eight years in Russian prison. The fact that he hadn’t flinched when he had seen that she had taken the knife last night had only reinforced that belief.

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Prove it,” she said. Harry’s word wasn’t good enough for Ros, not when it came to officers under her supervision, and certainly not after Adam. If Lucas was mentally or physically unfit for duty, Ros wanted to know about it so that she could take the appropriate steps. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to establish that she was the best, not him, nor did it have anything to do with her wanting to assess if Lucas was as remarkably… average as he seemed to want everyone to think. Nothing to do with those at all. “If you’re not scared, let’s do a friendly spar. See if you really are as fit as you say you are.”

Lucas lifted an eyebrow. “I just ran for over an hour on this thing and you want to see if I can beat you in a fight?”

Ros shrugged. “If you’re too scared….”

“Your ego wouldn’t survive it.”

“Big words. You going to follow up on them or leave me to my imagination?”

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Mum always told me it wasn’t nice to hit a woman.”

“You tell Tranquility that?” It was a low blow and Ros knew it, but –

She hadn’t time to finish her thought before Lucas’ shoulder connected with her stomach and he flipped her to the floor. Ros barely grunted before Lucas was straddling her, forearm across her throat, and her wrists caught in a vice grip. “Never said I listened to Mum,” he said.

In retrospect, Ros realized that maybe needling Lucas, fresh from prison, to spar wasn’t her greatest idea. But it was too late to back down. Besides, even if she could back down, she wouldn’t. She never was good at losing gracefully.

As Lucas got off her and offered her a hand up, Ros lashed out at his legs. Lucas was caught off guard and toppled. To his credit, he moved quickly and rolled before Ros could pounce on him. Both of them got up, warily eyeing the other. Lucas had a height and weight advantage over her, but Ros had received training on how to fight those taller and heavier than her when she first started undercover work for MI-6. If she could get him on his back or if she could incapacitate him, she could control the fight.

Ros struck first. Lucas took a step back at the last second, not entirely avoiding her strike, but not getting the brunt of it either. It hit him on the shoulder instead of the jaw, but it was still strong enough that it gave him pause. She pursed her lips and retreated back another step as well, eyeing him warily. He rolled his shoulder before giving her an irritating grin.“Nice right hook.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those chatty sparring partners,” Ros said.

“Will it make your day worse if I say I am?” he asked.

She scowled. “I’m not answering that.”

“You kind of already did,” he said, still giving her that annoying grin.

A lesser woman would have kicked him in the testicles for his irritating commentary. As a woman that was raised to value diplomacy and making offerings with one hand while the other moved in the shadows, Ros settled for feinting right before lunging for his unprotected left side. Lucas grunted as her foot connected with his side and fell back a step. She pressed the advantage. Lucas met her attacks defensively, blocking or side-stepping the majority of her attacks. Still, she managed to slip some hits past his defence. At one point, Lucas started to lunge at her before oddly changing his mind at the last minute. Ros gave him another right hook for it and got him solidly in the jaw.

Lucas scowled as he fell back a step from the force of her blow. He gently touched his fingers to his jaw before shaking his head once. Ros paused, cocking her head slightly. She hadn’t thought that she had hit him that hard. Unlike before, Lucas didn’t take advantage of her hesitance. Instead, Lucas silently lifted his hands in surrender.

Ros smiled thinly. I suppose that means I win. The victory felt hollow, though. “No witty commentary?” she asked as she backed off.

“Thought you didn’t like chatty sparring partners,” Lucas muttered, tentatively rubbing his jaw.

“If you’re trying to trick me into answering that, it’s not going to work,” Ros said.

“So,” Lucas said. “Do I get to keep my job or should I polish up my curriculum?”

Her eyes narrowed. It was true, she had been silently evaluating him, but she hadn’t thought she was that transparent. Still, she felt a surge of anger flash through her. Lucas had been… average at best in their impromptu spar and he had the audacity to be flippant about it? Adam was dead because Lucas couldn’t get the damn codes from Tranquility. Not for the first time, Ros wondered what Harry had been thinking sending Lucas to get the codes from Tranquility. You should have told him to drive the car and Adam to get the codes, she thought uncharitably.

Still, Adam was dead. She couldn’t change the past, no matter how much she may want to, and she was stuck with Lucas instead of Adam. Getting angry at him for not being a good fighter wouldn’t do her any good, not if she wanted him to start slipping up around her, which he wouldn’t do if she couldn’t find a way to chip at his guard. Forcing herself to give him a winning smile that she didn’t feel, Ros lied, “Not bad, I suppose.”

Lucas snorted, but gave no indication on if he believed her lie. “Careful, I might take that as a compliment.”

“I’ve fought little old ladies that gave me more challenge, though.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Ros noted the smirk didn’t quite make it to his eyes. It was disconcerting how often he did that, she decided. “I’m more concerned about the fact that you’re fighting little old ladies. What, can’t find anyone willing to fight you that might actually beat you?”

“Never was a fan of losing.”

“Evidently,” Lucas said as he turned on his heel. He lifted his hand in farewell, notably only holding up two fingers as he walked off. Bastard. She glared at his retreating back. Oh, she’d get even for that.

Chapter Text

In retrospect, sparring with Ros had not been one of Lucas’ best ideas. In fact, he would say it was about as brilliant as the time he had to – reluctantly, he remembered, very reluctantly – go undercover with Tessa. Which was to say, it was not bloody brilliant at all. At least the undercover operation had been due to an order. This morning had been sheer frustration at being glared at for daring to exist. Not to mention, the fact that she had broken into his bloody flat last night. He was still angry that she had broken into his flat. It didn’t matter that he would have done the same thing – and that he had done the same thing, just better because he knew what he was bloody well doing. He had spent eight years having interrogators enter and leave his cell. He was getting rather tired of past and present colleagues breaking into his flat. This bloody well better not become a regular occurrence. If it did, he might just take Tom up on his offer to sweep the flat. Or maybe I’ll just fucking move and not tell anyone. Because that’ll go over so well.

Still, Ros’ glares were starting to annoy him. Really, she could at least pretend that she trusted him. He hadn’t missed her glare when she had seen him in the gym and then, when he tried to do her the courtesy of leaving her to work out without his apparently offensive presence, she had started poking and prodding, trying to get a feel for him. So he gave her something, and he gained something in return.

More like I gained a few bruises, he thought irritably. Still, the sparring match had felt good, exhilarating, even if he had forced himself to hold back. It wasn’t until she had hit him soundly in the jaw that he felt old instincts, ones he worked very hard to ignore during their sparring match, rise up and threaten to take over.  Four years in general populace had taught him a lot, certainly more than any self-defence course that Harry sent his spooks to. But his entire plan hinged on making everyone underestimate him, not beat the new Section Chief to a bloody pulp because she stirred up some old memories. He knew his strengths, even if he wasn’t willing to tip his hand yet. He could not care less if Ros thought he was capable, so long as she didn’t push Harry to put him on leave.

Still, his temporary lapse into the past aside, it was… almost a relief to hit something, anything, after the nightmares caused him to spend most of the night awake and staring at the ceiling, praying that they would leave. Lucas closed his eyes and clenched his hand, forcing himself to steer away from that particular train of thought. If he went there, if he kept going down that path with the memories so close to the surface, he’d have to deal with the possibility of the cracks starting to show. He wasn’t eager to give Ros any more ammunition to get him fired than strictly necessary. Instead, he focused on the fact that, when he had given up on sleep for the night and decided to do a bastardized mix of a shower and a bath, Ros had broken into his bloody flat. Much better to focus on.

Ros came onto the Grid, looking much better off than he did. Granted, she probably actually slept last night, excluding the few hours she had spent preparing and then breaking into his flat, and hadn’t spent an hour or two running on the treadmill before their spar. She had returned to her icy ignoring of his existence, which suited him fine. He had had enough of always being measured, examined, and studied for cracks. It was almost a relief to not have to endure that same treatment here. Or at least not as often. He’d settle for that, though. It was the little things, after all.

She didn’t acknowledge him, which suited him just fine, as she walked towards Harry’s office. The door hissed shut, and Lucas turned to his doughnut. What was the point of running on a treadmill for a couple hours every day and going for a run almost every night when he found himself incapable of sleep if he couldn’t enjoy a doughnut every now and then?

Fifteen minutes later, doughnut finished, and the coffee mug on his desk half-emptied, Ros came back out of Harry’s office and dropped a file on Lucas’ desk as she breezed by. Lucas waited until Ros had sat down at her desk opposite his before he leaned over and picked up the file. He flipped through it quickly, absorbing the information with increasing levels of shock. “Al-Qaeda wants to talk?” he murmured, lifting an eyebrow. That was a surprise. He would have thought hell would have frozen over before the Al-Qaeda wanted a meet.

“We’re not sure,” she said as she eyed his coffee mug. “Which is why we’re sending you to meet with the asset and find out what they want.”

Lucas exhaled. He shouldn’t be annoyed. Really, he shouldn’t be. This was what he had wanted. It was easier to be underestimated if he was doing menial tasks that a junior case officer could do easily than it would be if he was doing what he should be doing as a senior case officer. Ben or Jo could easily collect the information from the asset, but Ros was sending him, either because he had adequately convinced her that he was not nearly as skilled as he was, or because she was challenging him and wanted to see what he would do.

If his eight-year sabbatical had taught him anything, it was patience.

“Alright,” he said as he got up and shrugged on his jacket. “Don’t drink my coffee while I’m out.”

He didn’t miss the way Ros gave him a two-fingered salute. Lucas smiled as he walked through the pods. Touché.

-x-

Well, that didn’t go as planned.

The asset was in surgery and Lucas had a cut on his hand. Ros secretly hoped there was poison on the knife that had cut him, but had a feeling she wouldn’t be rid of Lucas that easily. What irked her was that all they had to show for their efforts was a sim card and the knowledge that Mohammed Khordad wanted a meet. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This was not the news she wanted to receive a week after a bomb went off in London. Al-Qaeda’s number three was going to be in town. And there’s no possible way that can go badly. The United Kingdom couldn’t afford another terrorist attack. London would devolve into chaos if another bomb went off. The press was already tearing MI-5 apart for having a catastrophic lack of intelligence that resulted in three dead C019 officers. They wouldn’t survive a second bomb.

What did Marlin say? That the Al-Qaeda wanted an attack that would undermine confidence? Well, they sure as hell had gotten it. And now they were looking to solidify the feelings of unease. Wonderful.

Of course, there was the matter of the United Kingdom’s allies having a vested interest in Khordad’s activities. The Americans were rather single-minded in their war on terror. Ros had a feeling they not only would respond unfavourably to Khordad wanting a meet, but that they would be furious if they found out he was in London and MI-5 hadn’t told them. But, at the same time, the intelligence Khordad could give them…. If they could turn him, if they could get him to defect, he’d be one of the most valuable intelligence assets MI-5 had had in a long, long time. Of course, that was all circumstantial. They had to meet with him and see what he wanted before they could start looking at turning him, all without the Americans being any wiser to his presence in the United Kingdom.

Ros tapped a pen against her palm as she wished that she had thought to pick up a coffee instead of going to the gym. She had a feeling she was going to empty the pot on her own at this rate and she didn’t even like the coffee on the Grid. This whole mess stank. There were too many variables at play here. Khordad could be playing them. He was Al-Qaeda’s number three. He was personally responsible for the torture and death of three MI-6 officers. She wasn’t entirely certain agreeing to a meet was a wise idea. Maybe we can send Lucas to that too, she thought, glancing sidelong at him contemplatively.

“Lucas,” she said abruptly. His eyes flicked up at her from the file he was reading. “You spoke with the asset, correct?”

“Yeah. All he said was that Khordad wanted to talk,” Lucas said before returning to reading the file. She didn’t miss how quickly he flipped through the pages.

She nodded, chewing on her lip. Maybe she could salvage something out of this. She knew Lucas was good. No one could pull off a triple agent con as easily as he had and be as… remarkably average as he was. Harry kept telling her that Lucas was this amazing, brilliant field officer but, beyond the triple agent con, she had yet to see it and it frustrated her because there was something there, there had to be if he survived eight years in Russian prison. Unless he really has been a rotten apple all along. That would be unfortunate. She wondered how Harry would take the news if Lucas turned out to be a quadruple agent.

“I want you to lead the debriefing,” she said, finally.

“Me?” he asked in surprise, looking back up at her, even as his eyes narrowed as though trying to figure out her angle. Inwardly, Ros smiled. Already, he had slipped by letting her know that he thought she was up to something. You don’t know how to be average, do you? The thought warmed her insides, leading to a slight upturn of her lips. An average officer wouldn’t have thought she was up to something. A brilliant one might.

“Did I stutter?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “I want you to take point on the debrief.”

He scowled. “Isn’t that your job?”

“No, my job is to delegate and I am delegating you to debrief everyone,” Ros said smartly. She was starting to get the impression she wasn’t the only person that disliked having to debrief everyone. That just made her even more certain she was making the right decision in telling him to lead the debriefing. Forcing Lucas to step into the spotlight, instead of his preferred proverbial shadows, and making him do something he didn’t like? Plans didn’t get much better than that.

“Fine,” he said as he reached over and took the file off her desk. She studied him for a moment more before turning to her own computer. Truly, she hated paperwork, but probably the only thing she hated more than paperwork was leading debriefings. As much as Ros enjoyed being in charge and being able to delegate, she much preferred being in the field rather than cooped up on the Grid.

Besides, she had read Lucas’ file. He had been Section Chief before Operation Polecat and had gotten the job when he had only been twenty-two years old. It irked her that he more than likely held the title for youngest Section Chief… which then made her question why Harry had chosen Lucas over someone with more experience and more maturity. Ros intended to find out for herself if Lucas really was as good as Harry seemed to think he was, and if that meant she had to start delegating some of her responsibilities to him to put him in a position where he couldn’t take advantage of the fact that no one seemed to pay him and his quiet self much mind, then she would do just that.

I always did like a challenge.

Chapter Text

Lucas grimaced as he stood in the hallway. It was ridiculous, being abruptly apprehensive about seeing his cousin for the first time in eight years. He had stared down FSB interrogators, Russian inmates, and terrorists, yet here he was, worrying over the third degree Kate Acker was undoubtedly going to give him. He tried hard not to think about the fact that he was about to use his cousin the same way he used his ex-wife. Were you always this cold? Elizabeta’s words haunted him and he closed his eyes against the memory. He had a job to do. Harry’s orders were explicit and, regardless of how Lucas felt about them, he was as angry as everyone else on the Grid that the Americans had shot down Khordad’s plane.

He hesitated before knocking on the door. Kate and Lucas had been close when they were younger. Where Kate’s mum, Iris, and his dad, John, had never been close growing up, after both Iris and Margaret had difficult pregnancies, they had thought it would be good for both Kate and Lucas if they grew up together, especially where they were so close in age. For the most part, it had even worked. Lucas thought of Kate more of like a sister than a cousin and knew that the feeling was mutual. Kate had given Lucas much needed alibis on more than one occasion when they had been teenagers and he had been the one to support Kate throughout her unplanned pregnancy.

When he first joined MI-5, Lucas had thought about telling Kate. God, he wanted to. But it was for her own safety that he didn’t. That didn’t stop the guilt every time he had to bug her office for Harry or had lie to her about his job. Probably for the best that I don’t tell her what I do. Kate had inherited her father’s temper and was liable to remove Lucas’ cock if she found out he worked for MI-5. She, like many human rights lawyers, shared the opinion that MI-5 was not the greatest at respecting human rights. Well, if they didn’t plan to murder people, we wouldn’t have to infringe on their rights. Somehow, Lucas rather doubted Kate would accept that explanation.

Still, despite the lies, Lucas had made an effort to keep ties with Kate after joining MI-5. When Kate first found out she was pregnant with her daughter, Michelle, Lucas was pretty certain that she had told him first instead of her own mother. He had been the one to tell her that, no matter what she wanted to do, he’d help her through it. Kate had asked Lucas to be Michelle’s godfather and occasional babysitter while she finished her degree and, afterwards, when she had to work late. It… saddened him, he supposed, that Kate wouldn’t exactly be surprised if he told her he went to prison for stealing something and that’s why he had disappeared for eight years.

Lucas inhaled slowly and knocked on Kate’s door. Harry had been clear. The CIA had overstepped their boundaries when they had shot down Khordad’s plane. If they actually thought that there wouldn’t be any repercussions for destroying a rare chance for peace, then Lucas was pleased to think they would be sorely mistaken. Now if only it didn’t involve getting my cousin involved.

A young girl, couldn’t be more than fourteen, opened the door. “Mum! There’s a strange bloke here!” the girl called. Lucas winced. Christ, she’s grown. The last time he’d seen Michelle, she’d been just starting primary.

“Nice to see you too, Squirt,” Lucas said. He wondered if she’d even remember him. “Your mum around?”

No sooner had he spoken did Kate Acker appear. Kate was shorter than Lucas, although he supposed most people were shorter than him, and stood at a fearsome five foot three, six if she wore heels. Her brown hair was cropped short, hanging to about her jaw. That’s new, he thought. Some things had stayed the same, though. She, like Lucas, was pale enough that she would go through half a bottle of sunscreen if she ever went to the beach for more than half an hour. Unlike Lucas, she had had aspirations as a kid and went to Oxford on scholarship. She also was far more expressive than he had ever been, even before prison.

Kate’s brown eyes were wide as she stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open. “Lucas,” she sputtered finally, blinking. “You’re…”

“Feeling like a bloody tit standing in the hallway,” Lucas said.

Michelle, who looked much like her mother had when Kate had been Michelle’s age, stared at him. “Lucas?” Maybe she did remember him after all.

“That’d be me, yeah,” Lucas said, winking.

“Michelle, honey, go wash up and set an extra plate at the table for Lucas,” Kate said. Michelle stared at Lucas for a moment more before trudging off to do as Kate ordered. Poor Kate had no idea what she was in for, if Michelle was anything like Lucas when he was her age. As soon as Michelle was gone, Kate pointed at Lucas. "You, in. Now.”

Shit. He knew that tone. It was the same tone his mum had used on him anytime he was in trouble. Which, given his rather turbulent teenage years, meant he was rather acquainted with that tone and knew it brokered no argument. He was starting to think it was a mum thing, expressing very clear displeasure and authority in as few words as possible. While some on the Grid might suggest Lucas still had a long way to go in learning to pick his battles, Lucas wisely elected not to fight Kate on this one. Instead, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He could hear water running as Michelle washed her hands.

“You haven’t called,” Kate said, eyes narrowed. She planted her hands on her hips.

“Been busy,” Lucas hedged.

“So busy you can’t find time to pick up your phone in the last eight years?”

“It’s a long story,” he muttered.

“Try me.”

Lucas hesitated for a moment. He glanced down the hall to make sure that Michelle was still in the bathroom. Finally, he said, “Got caught stealing something. Went to prison. Just got out.” It was the short version and the only one he was willing to provide. Once, it might have bothered him how easily lying to his cousin – and everyone else for that matter – came to him. Instead, he felt… oddly removed from the lie. Have you always been this cold, under the skin? If he hadn’t spent eight years perfecting the art of schooling his features, Lucas would have flinched at Vyeta’s words flashing through his mind.

“You were in jail?” Kate asked, incredulously. “Shit, Lucas. I… why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you.”

Lucas smiled bitterly. “I didn’t do time here.”

“Where?”

“Russia.”

The water in the bathroom shut off and Michelle came back down the hall. She paused to squint at Lucas, studying him closely. Unconsciously, Lucas shifted his stance, clasping his hands in front of him as he looked away from Michelle. Whatever she found, whatever she thought, Michelle came to a conclusion, evidently, as she shrugged and moved into the kitchen to do as her mother had asked.

“Russia,” Kate said as soon as she was certain Michelle was out of earshot. “What the bloody hell were you doing in Russia? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. What were you thinking, stealing in Russia?”

Lucas shrugged. “That I wouldn’t get caught.”

Kate ran a hand through her hair. “Have you told your mum yet?”

He made a face. Truthfully, Lucas hadn’t even called his mum. Or his dad. Eight years ago, he had been too angry to keep up with regular communication and had only, rather pointedly, called his mum on holidays and on her birthday. He never spoke with his dad, though. Now that he was out, he felt… ashamed over his previous anger. With all the difficulties Lucas was going through, he had a newfound appreciation for his father’s coping strategies when Margaret had gotten sick. Still, Lucas’ shame kept him from calling. And what would he tell them, anyway? Kate’s disappointment that he had been in prison was almost more than he could bear. He wasn’t sure he could handle hearing his parents’ lack of surprise that he wound up in prison.

“Shit,” Kate said again. She ran her fingers through her hair. When she pulled her hand away, she said, “You’re not going to ask me to lie to them for you, are you?”

“No,” he said softly. “I’ll ring them.” Eventually. “Figured I was in the neighbourhood and I’d swing by to see how you’re doing. And see Squirt. Evidently, she doesn’t remember me.”

Kate snorted inelegantly. “No shit. You were gone for eight years.” There was a clang of cutlery from the kitchen. “Well, you might as well come in and eat.”

Lucas smiled. There was one thing that had never changed. Growing up in a small village had instilled a sense of community that meant that there was always an extra place at the table for guests. As much as Kate had been like Lucas and had hated being in Braithwaite, the values she had learned there followed her to London. It was good to see at least some things stayed the same about Kate.

Kicking off his shoes and hanging his jacket up in the closet, Lucas followed Kate into the kitchen. Where Lucas’ kitchen was more of a… bachelor’s kitchen, Kate’s was every inch a warm and inviting kitchen. Even the colours were warm. She repainted. Thank God. Whoever had lived in the flat before her thought lime green was a great colour for the kitchen. Lucas nearly shuddered in memory. He had kept offering to help her repaint, but she was always busy with work or with being a single mother and had never found the time to pick out a colour, much less repaint.

Kate picked up Michelle’s plate and, as she did, cupped Michelle’s cheek. Lucas smiled almost sadly. This was the life that Vyeta had wanted. Warm kitchen. Good food. A kid at the table. Lucas had always balked whenever Vyeta had brought up kids. He couldn’t tell her that he didn’t want to have children because of his work, where the life expectancy of field officers was… not the highest. Not to say that he was certain to die in the line of duty, just that most intelligence officers Lucas knew of didn’t leave the Service through retirement. And Lucas could never put Vyeta, or a child, through that. Certainly, he knew that Harry would make sure they were cared for, but if Lucas was going to have a kid, he wanted to be there for the kid, not constantly worry if this was the operation that would leave his wife a widow and his child fatherless.

Silently, Lucas picked up both his plate and Kate’s and followed his cousin into the kitchen. She put some rice on one side of Michelle’s plate and stir-fry beside it. When Kate looked at Lucas and almost dared him to make a comment about how Michelle clearly took after Kate when it came to a dislike of food touching, Lucas merely grinned.

“You’re lucky I don’t believe in violence in front of my daughter,” Kate muttered as she took her plate from Lucas’ hand and shoved Michelle’s into his now empty hand. “Bring that over to her, will you?”

Lucas put his plate down on the counter and put the plate in front of Michelle. She kept sneaking glances at him and he was suddenly glad that he had had the foresight to roll his sleeves down to hide the tattoos. While Lucas rather doubted Kate kept Michelle sheltered, he didn’t exactly want to have to explain to her prison tattoos, nor how they were made. Especially not over dinner. Kate might get it in her head to try testing her rule about violence in front of her daughter if he started regaling Michelle with the sordid tale of how prison tattoos were made.

Kate came into the dining room and deposited both her plate and Lucas’ on the table before going back into the kitchen. “Wine?” she called.

“Only if you don’t have beer,” Lucas said. It had been a beer kind of day and he had a feeling it was going to be a beer kind of night.

The fridge open and he heard wine slosh into a glass. Kate came into the kitchen again, this time with a can of beer, a wine glass, and a glass of milk juggled between her hands. Lucas swore it was a mum thing, being able to deftly carry more than two drinks at a time. His mum had been able to do the exact same thing and, while he had done his best to duck out of dinner with Aunt Iris growing up, the few times he had been forcibly dragged there, she had been able to juggle multiple drinks as well.

The drinks deposited, Kate finally sat down, and they started to eat. Michelle continued to sneak glances at Lucas, while Lucas focused rather hard on pushing his food around on his plate. He caught Kate sneaking a glance at him and gave her an imperceptible shrug. Eight years on a… new diet had left Lucas being very cautious about what he ate and how much. So, he took a few bites, just to appease Kate, but didn’t eat much more than that. Kate, thankfully, didn’t say anything at the table, but he had a feeling he’d hear about it later.

Finally, Kate broke the silence. “Michelle, honey, this is your godfather, Lucas. You remember me telling you about him, right?”

“Mum said you’re an arsehole,” Michelle said around a mouthful of rice.

“Michelle,” Kate said, nearly dropping her fork. “Language!”

“Well, your mum’s not wrong,” Lucas mused. “I’m pretty certain most people in our family would agree with her.”

“What’d you do?” Michelle asked, suddenly far more interested in him than she was before. He smiled again. No, some things really didn’t change.

“Don’t you dare encourage her,” Kate said, pointing her fork threateningly at Lucas. Lucas just grinned.

“I said some unflattering things about your grandmum,” Lucas said. It wasn’t a total lie, although he suspected that was the least of the reasons why he was contentedly considered the proverbial black sheep in the family.

“Like what?” Michelle asked.

“Oh, you know, usual skulky teenager things,” Lucas said, shrugging vaguely. Kate snorted. She knew exactly what he had said to her mum. He hadn’t gone to too many dinners at his aunt’s after that rather spectacular fight.

Michelle pouted when it became clear Lucas wasn’t going to elaborate more. “Oh.”

Lucas pushed a piece of beef around with his fork as Michelle and Kate finished eating. When Kate started to gather the plates, he gestured for her to sit and took everyone’s plates into the kitchen. Eight years might have passed, but Kate kept her kitchen organized the exact same way she had always kept it and he found the tupperware containers quickly enough. He could hear Kate marshalling Michelle into her room to do homework as he put the rest of dinner away. He even remembered that Kate liked to put sticky notes on the containers so as to date when it was made. He even doodled a rather impressive stick figure of a cow on the sticky note for the stir fry before putting it in the fridge.

He was just finishing up rinsing the dishes and putting them into the dishwasher when Kate came into the kitchen. She had retrieved her glass of wine and watched him for a moment before going into the fridge and getting him another beer. “Did you really draw a cow on the sticky note?”

“Could have been anyone,” Lucas quipped. He raised the beer in a mock toast before taking a sip.

Kate rolled her eyes. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

Lucas shrugged. “Thanks for the food.”

“That you didn’t eat.”

“Wasn’t hungry,” he lied.

Kate scrutinized Lucas and he tensed under her stare. After a long, drawn out silence, Kate said, “Michelle’s in her room doing homework. You want to stay for an hour or two, catch up?”

He glanced down the hall. Michelle’s door was closed and he thought he could hear music playing through the door. Good. He didn’t need her hearing what he had to tell Kate. “Well, you know me and my busy social life,” he said as he smiled. “Yeah, I can stay for a bit.”

Kate gestured towards the living room. “I need to go make sure Michelle is actually doing her homework. Meet you in the living room?”

Lucas snorted as he lifted his beer in acknowledgement and made his way to the living room. He smiled to himself as he sat down on the couch. It was just like Kate to make sure the people around her were actually doing homework instead of sloughing off. She had always been the mother hen, making sure the people around her - okay, making sure I, Lucas amended - were doing their work, eating healthy, and getting enough sleep. His world might have turned on its head in the wake of Russia, but at least Kate stayed the same. Mostly.

As he waited for Kate to come back, Lucas turned his phone over in his hands, staring hard at the window. He had to do this carefully, or she would think something was off or, worse, she’d start trying to poke holes in Lucas’ story. As far as Kate was aware, he was in private security. So far, he’d been able to sustain the lie by simply telling her that he couldn’t talk about his work due to confidentiality, something that Kate, as a lawyer, could appreciate. But, if she thought for a second that he had obtained something in a less than legal way, or if she thought that some part of his story didn’t hold up, then she’d start doing her lawyer thing and examining him and questioning him and it’d become increasingly hard to sell the story that he was in private security.

Fifteen minutes later, Kate was shutting Michelle’s door behind her and joined him on the couch. “Remember when we were that young?” Kate asked.

“You mean how we would sneak out and go hunting for monsters in the woods?” Lucas asked, smiling.

“I meant when we were that innocent, but I guess that works too,” Kate said as she drew her legs up to her chest.

Lucas glanced away. That felt like a lifetime ago. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. That was something he loved about Kate. She understood that Lucas didn’t always want to talk, that sometimes it was enough to just sit with someone and not have to say anything. He had always been a quiet kid and, around most people, just felt awkward when he didn’t want to talk. Around Kate, it was always a companionable silence.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed and looked hard at him. “How are you doing, Lucas? Really?”

Lucas stared down at his phone, unable to meet her eyes. The downside of being close with his cousin, Lucas thought, was that she had an uncanny ability to read him. As an attorney – a human rights attorney, at that – Kate was usually fairly good at reading people. She had to be. If people were selling her shit, she had to be able to see through it in order to get her job done. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t, for a second, believe that Kate would buy any of his lies, so he was always… careful about how much he shared about his work. If she tried to probe, he simply said that it was best if he didn’t give her his company’s name. Every time, her lips would press together in displeasure. She knew he was feeding her bullshit, but she knew he was stubborn enough that he wasn’t going to cave.

He wondered if, after eight years, his lying had improved at all. “Not great,” he said, deciding not to test it. Were you always so cold, underneath the skin? He nearly cringed in memory. Once, Lucas wouldn’t have even thought about lying to Kate. Once. A lifetime ago.

She nodded. “You saw Elizabeta.” Kate was quick, he’d give her that much.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Kate said, covering her hand with his.

Lucas stared hard at the wall opposite the couch. They stayed like that for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure what to say and, even if he did know what to say, he wasn’t sure he could voice those words. It was still too… raw. He had spent eight years wishing he could see Vyeta again. Eight years thinking of nothing but her. Even when… on his darker days – or nights, he wasn’t really sure – he had thought of her. When he finally came home, he wasn’t sure what he had expected. He didn’t exactly hope that she hadn’t moved on… but that didn’t change the fact that it hurt to see that she had moved on.

The minutes dragged on. Kate gave his hand a squeeze. “You look like shit,” Kate said. “You been sleeping?”

Lucas smiled wryly. No. His nights were filled with nightmares that, more often than not, would cause him to wake up from the sound of his own screams. Other times, every time he tried to sleep, the memories would be… overwhelming. With nothing to distract him, he had nothing else to think on other than prison and what it had cost him. Sometimes, he tried to focus on figuring out who burned him, but even that was a hollow attempt to distract himself. He didn’t like the implication that the people he had worked with, that someone he had considered practically family, that he would have taken a goddamn bullet for, had betrayed him.

His silence was answer enough. Kate looked at him the same way his mum used to when he’d be escorted home by the police officer on duty. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were clouded with frustration. She didn’t understand and it was written plainly across her face. Whenever he had seen his mum look at him like that, it had sent a stab of guilt through Lucas. Not enough to stop him from getting into mischief again, but enough that it was present. Kate’s look had the same effect.

“You seeing anyone for it?” Kate asked. “My firm has a therapist that’s – ”

“Yeah, I’m seeing a shrink,” Lucas said. Sometimes. More often than not, he would go to the weekly sessions to make Harry happy, but that didn’t mean he had to share anything with the damn shrink. If they knew even a fraction of what he went through in prison, he’d lose his credentials and be put on stress leave, no doubt. Not exactly what he wanted. Not when he needed access to the Grid to find whoever burned him.

Kate nodded slowly. She looked like she had bitten into a lemon or something equally sour. It wasn’t a far stretch to imagine why. Lucas wasn’t exactly known for talking about the things that bothered him, even when he was younger. Not much had changed as he had grown older and Lucas was fairly certain that Kate had come to the correct conclusion that, yes, he was seeing a shrink, but he wasn’t talking to the shrink. Or at least, if he was talking to the shrink, he wasn’t sharing anything of actual depth. He had no intention of telling the shrink, or anyone else for that matter, what kept him up at night. Still, Kate didn’t push the matter. Stubbornness ran in the family and, while he had no doubts she had opinions on his not speaking to the shrink, they both knew as soon as she started trying to tell him to speak to the shrink, he’d stop seeing the damn therapist all together.

They lulled into silence again. Kate withdrew her hand and Lucas could feel the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up as she studied him. He forced himself to stay still, to not react to her scrutiny. After a few minutes, Kate sighed. “I’m guessing you didn’t come over for a social call.”

Smiling tightly, Lucas shook his head. “My work found something. I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?”

Lucas opened the video on his phone and showed it to Kate. It was the video of the Americans abducting Khordad off the street and he knew he had Kate’s interest as he watched her expression darken. “Where was this?”

“Outside the British National Museum,” Lucas said. “We were making sure the security systems were still in place and working when we saw this.”

“I trust you’ve already identified the plate number?” she said as she rewatched the video.

“Yeah. It belongs to the CIA.”

Kate paused before looking up at Lucas. “And you brought this to me because…?”

Kate had always been sharp. She knew Lucas and she had to suspect that he wouldn’t risk giving her something for free, especially if his work was involved. Carefully, Lucas said, “Because I hate the idea that they’ll get away with this. Americans abducting British citizens from the streets? What’s next?” He paused before continuing, “I asked my boss what he thought of it and he said the same thing I did: bollocks and like hell the Americans are getting away with this.”

“Which is where I come in,” Kate said, nodding again. “You know I don’t like being used as your work’s retainer. Especially when you won’t tell me the company you work for.”

Lucas smiled enigmatically. “I know. But I also know you’re the best damn human rights lawyer this city has and, if we want to make sure that the CIA doesn’t abduct any other British citizens, we need the best.”

“Flatterer,” Kate said, pointing at him. Still, Lucas knew he had her when she asked, “Who do you go to if I say no?”

“Sam.”

“Sam? As in that oily bastard, Sam Stevens?”

Lucas would have thought that Kate and Sam would have been on the same page, given that they both had a rather ardent hatred of MI-5 and MI-5’s methods. Instead, the two had a rather fearsome rivalry. Sam was arrogant and full of himself and couldn’t see that, sometimes, working with MI-5 benefited the people. At least Kate could be reasoned with. While Lucas hadn’t been in the conference room, Harry had told him how he and Ros practically had to blackmail the fool into helping MI-5. Sam was more worried about his reputation and what he might lose if he was ever caught working with MI-5. Kate looked at the big picture and, while she may not like helping MI-5 on occasion, she would. Or at least Lucas thought she would. He had always been careful to avoid telling her he was a spook. As far as she was concerned, she was actually just helping his private security firm. May it stay that way.

“The one and only,” Lucas said. “Look, you know that you’re my first choice because you’ll do this right, but my boss was adamant. You or Sam. The CIA can’t think they can get away with this or they’ll do it more frequently.”

Kate snatched Lucas’ phone out of his hand and watched the video again. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Lucas North,” Kate said as she replayed the video once more. “Manipulating me, using my dislike of Sam to get me to do what you want.”

“Think of the people,” Lucas said sarcastically.

Without looking up from the screen, Kate reached over, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at Lucas. He caught it with a chuckle and put it on his side of the couch, safely out of Kate’s reach. “Bastard,” Kate said. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Depends. Who do you think that is?”

“Mohammed Khordad. Al-Qaeda’s number three,” Kate said. She showed Lucas the phone and he saw that she had zoomed in on Khordad’s face as he was being snatched.

“Huh,” Lucas said as if he didn’t already know who was in that video.

“Not a British citizen, then,” Kate said. “That’ll complicate things. I don’t suppose your work has done their homework on the CIA and knows who’s in charge of operations in London?”

“Lori Hanson,” Lucas said after a moment, as if he had to think of the name. “Which, of course, we don’t know.”

“Naturally,” Kate said. She tapped her lower lip as she watched the video again. “And you’re sure this happened outside the British National Museum? On the street?”

“Positive.”

She sighed. “I might be able to convince a judge to at least consider the implications of allowing the CIA to abduct anyone off British streets.”

Lucas leaned over and kissed Kate’s forehead. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, you know me. Thinking of the people,” she said, just as sarcastically as he had. “Can I get a copy of this video?”

Lucas took his phone back and emailed it to her. She ran a hand through her hair before pointing a finger at him. “You owe me for this.”

“The people owe you,” Lucas teased.

Kate snorted. “Well, the people won’t bloody well buy me a coffee, now will they? It better be the good stuff, too.”

Lucas grinned. “Fine.”

After another lull in the conversation, Kate said, “What are your plans for Easter?”

Inwardly, Lucas cringed. He was afraid Kate would ask him that. His truthful answer was that he was planning on getting blissfully drunk. The memories of not only everything he had lost, but of what happened on those days were overwhelming at the best of times. Oleg had… enjoyed… celebrating holidays with Lucas. Even now that he was out of prison, having to actually be sober for the day itself did not seem exceptionally appealing to Lucas.

Still, he couldn’t exactly tell Kate that he was planning on making a sizeable dent in his vodka. “Nothing major.”

Kate lifted an eyebrow. “You should come home with me and Michelle. Your parents would love to see you.”

And there it is. He had a feeling that’s why Kate had been asking. When Lucas had been in prison, he had spent a lot of time talking to God and one of the promises he had made was that, if he ever got out, he would try to mend fences with his father. Still, it seemed… daunting. And he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle being around his family for the holidays, not when he would be keenly missing Vyeta and the fact that she wasn’t there with him. Besides, as with most holidays, Easter in the North household was… loudly celebrated. Family from all over would congregate. Women would be in the kitchen, bustling to get dinner ready and doing baking and swatting any errant hands trying to get a taste of cookie dough with a wooden spoon. Men would be drinking and helping to set the tables and keeping the younger generations entertained. It was… busy. And Lucas wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with that kind of busy yet.

“I’m not sure that’d be a good idea,” he said quietly, staring at the floor. “Not exactly feeling the Easter spirit.”

“Will you at least consider it? You shouldn’t be alone on Easter.”

He winced. Kate wielded guilt as expertly as his mum sometimes. “I’m fine. Really.”

“At least consider it, as a favour for me. We could go up together, just for a day or two. Just… think it over. Please?”

“Fine,” Lucas said with a sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Text

Ros stared up at the ceiling. This was pointless. She was too on edge after the news broke about Khordad and sleep was not forthcoming. Ros didn’t have to look at the clock to know that it was late and that she should be asleep. And, yet, sleep continued to elude her. She draped her arm over her forehead as she glared at the ceiling. Ros hated that the cousins had gotten this one past her. It was bad enough when the Al-Qaeda successfully detonated a bomb in the marketplace, even if there had been no civilian casualties. Now the Americans had shot down an asset, a high-ranking one at that, and killed him. She couldn’t fault them for their desire to see the man dead – Ros certainly didn’t like the idea of Khordad walking about freely. But the fact remained that he was cooperating with MI-5 and could have helped to forge the path to peace talks.

And, now, those peace talks would never happen. She had no doubt that the Al-Qaeda’s revenge would be swift and decisive. Work was going to be hellishly busy soon and she was not looking forward to it. It would be one thing if it were just the Al-Qaeda that she had to worry about, but now there was this whole matter with Harry. He had been mysteriously absent during the first attacks and unreachable. She had acted as best she could and hadn’t balked at having to make decisions when she was told that the dry run was the real deal. But the fact remained that Harry should have been available and wasn’t. Add to that his mysterious meeting with Lucas after he had called everyone back to the Grid earlier, and Ros was wondering what secrets Harry was keeping from her. It really is the old boys’ club all over again, she thought with disgust. Harry might have given her the section, but his actions spoke far louder than his words.

Can we trust them? Even the most senior? Lucas’ words ran through her head. No matter what she thought about Harry’s absence, she trusted Harry. She had to. But she hadn’t missed the way he had said he needed a bit of air. Right. And she was the bloody Queen of England. There was something going on, something that she was not privy to, and she didn’t like it. And, somehow, Harry was in the centre of all of it. What if Lucas was right? What if Harry couldn’t be trusted? No. He can be. Especially him. She needed to believe he could be trusted. I was willing to die for him. If she didn’t believe in Harry, then she would have to re-examine everything, and she just… wasn’t ready to face another betrayal from someone who she respected. She certainly would not doubt Harry simply because Lucas was being paranoid and questioning Harry.

This is futile. It was getting her nowhere, except frustrated. She sat up in bed and huffed. On a whim, she texted the one person she suspected would be up at this hour still. Ros told herself sternly it was because she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. She was spinning in circles and, if she kept this up, she’d be convinced that Harry was secretly a FSB mole and was just waiting for an opportune moment to rain hell down on Section D. At least she could verbally spar with Lucas and trust that he would actually challenge her, if his sudden departure from averageness was anything to go by.

What are you best at? Real thing or faking it? She remembered his words at the restaurant with a smirk, could remember each of his quips as if they weren’t facing death in the cupboard and hoping that cooking the bomb in the microwave wouldn’t hideously backfire. Bit by bit, Ros was chipping away at the smokescreen of averageness that Lucas had built around himself. She wondered if he even realized he was starting to slip up.

Her phone chimed and she took a moment to glance at it. She didn’t ask how Lucas knew her address; his text simply said that he’d be here in fifteen. Good. She needed a drink and she wasn’t eager to drink alone. Getting up, Ros got dressed. As much as she was certain Lucas would undoubtedly appreciate seeing her in her pyjamas, Ros did not feel like parading about her home practically naked with a man she wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t a FSB mole.

She had finished getting dressed, pulled out two wine glasses and a bottle of red, and finished putting her dinner dishes away by the time Lucas knocked on her door. She took a deep, steadying breath. Ros wasn’t entirely sure why, but she felt sudden nervousness as she stared at the door. Ros had been the one to invite him here. It would be rude of her to leave him on her stoop, even if she did find him annoying and fully suspected he would leave her on the stoop after inviting her over. Ros Myers was many things, but she refused to lower herself to his level. She was a diplomat’s daughter, which meant she excelled at making nice with people she thought were beneath her.

This is ridiculous.

Ros went to the door and opened it. It had started to rain while she was getting dressed and Lucas was half twisted away from the door, staring out into the night. She noticed he had his hands shoved deep into his pockets and that he almost seemed hunched over into his jacket, as if trying to minimize the amount of water that could touch his skin. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. Rain in London at this time of year was cold and it took quite a bit to rid oneself of that chill.

At the sound of the door opening, Lucas turned to face her. “Hey.”

Wordlessly, Ros stepped aside to let him in, not missing the way that he hurried inside with a backwards, worried glance at the rain. It was a brief look, but she caught it all the same and filed it away for future examination. Right now, she wanted someone to vent to that the cousins had gotten one past her.

“Closet is over there,” she said, pointing. Lucas lifted an eyebrow, but took the hint and hung his jacket up. He kicked off his shoes and leaned against the wall, seemingly waiting. The silence was awkward, to say the least. Now that he was here, Ros wasn’t entirely certain what she had been thinking inviting him over. She could hardly start hitting him, even though she desperately wanted to hit something right now.

“So,” Lucas said, breaking the silence first. “Nice flat.”

Ros snorted. “As though you haven’t been in here before.”

He smirked. It looked genuine, full of mischief, and she tilted her head slightly at the look. It made him look… younger. Lighter. It was a look that she wouldn’t have expected on him, certainly not after his time in Russia. “Never. Perish the thought.”

“You are a liar, Lucas North,” Ros said. “Wine?”

“Only professionally.” He grimaced. “And only if you don’t have something stronger.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wine.”

“Only if you’re not Christian.”

Ros snorted again. She wasn’t exactly the religious sort, despite her mother’s best efforts. “I thought they used grape juice.”

“That’s for the kids,” Lucas said. “Wine is for the adults or rambunctious youths who happened to break into the church.”

“You broke into a church and drank their wine?” Ros asked, both eyebrows lifting. She wasn’t sure what she had expected Lucas to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Knowing what she did of him – which, admittedly, was not a whole lot, to her annoyance – she probably shouldn’t have been surprised that he had committed rather sacrilegious acts in his youth. Still, she would have thought that, if the bible shoved in his bedside drawer was anything to go by, Lucas would have some reverence for God and His holy houses.

Lucas grinned at her. “I never said I did it.”

“Right, because you just happened to hear of other rambunctious youths who broke into a church and drank the wine.”

“Exactly,” he said agreeably.

She sighed in exasperation, but still dug out the vodka that she kept for the odd occasion. “Will this do?”

Lucas took the bottle and turned it in his hands before he shrugged. She knew it was more expensive than the stuff he bought, but neither of them commented on that fact. “Sure.”

“Good. You can pour it yourself,” she said as she poured herself a generous amount of wine. If he was going to drink her vodka, he could serve himself. “Where’d you say this hypothetical church that you definitely did not break into is again?” she asked casually as she leaned back against the counter.

He had moved to the opposite side of the counter and was pouring himself some vodka when she asked her question. Lucas glanced up at her and shot her a rather annoyingly disarming smile. “I didn’t.”

“You’re right, you didn’t,” she agreed. “Tell me anyway.”

“No,” he said. All the mirth left his face, but it wasn’t the guarded look she had grown accustomed to seeing. Instead, he looked… serious, for a change. “You have your secrets. I have mine.”

“Your file doesn’t say where you’re from.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It also doesn’t list any next of kin,” she added, watching him carefully.

“Back off, Ros,” Lucas said coldly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“How’d you get Harry to agree to that anyway? I’ve been trying to convince him for years that he doesn’t need to put my whole life in a file and have yet to convince him of anything. How’d you get him to agree?” she continued, as if he hadn’t said anything. She took a sip of wine as she studied him closely. Slip up. Slip up, I dare you.

“I said please,” he said and downed his glass of vodka without even a cough. Lucas looked away as he refilled his glass.

“So did I.”

“I said it nicely,” he said. Lucas folded his arms across his chest. “So, I’m gathering you invited me over to interrogate me?” There was a hint of iron in his voice as he spoke that had Ros hesitating. In retrospect, trying to put Lucas on the defence in hoping that he’d let something slip hadn’t been one of her greatest plans. Lucas spent eight years on the defensive. If he truly hadn’t slipped up in prison, Ros rather doubted he’d slip up now. Still, he had given away more than he probably intended. There was something in his past, something about his family, that he wanted kept off the record, and he had enough clout with Harry to make sure that happened. Good to know. She’d have to watch Harry carefully, then. If she had learned anything after the whole incident with Ruth, it was that Harry wore blinders when it came to his favourites and she wasn’t eager to have a repeat performance. If Harry was going to be blind to any potential problems Lucas posited, then Ros would have to be vigilant.

She sighed. Normally, she wouldn’t so sloppy as to be caught trying to glean information, especially after she had glimpsed just what Lucas was capable of earlier. I must be angrier about the cousins than I thought. It didn’t help that Ros knew this was another failure on her part. First the explosion in the marketplace. Then the explosion in the restaurant. While it had been a faked explosion and there had been no casualties, she knew that the simple fact that they had to fake the explosion would be seen as a failure in the eyes of men like Dolby. She couldn’t afford another misstep, not if she wanted to keep her job.

“No,” she said finally as she swirled her wine in her glass. “I asked you here because of Khordad.”

“Angry that the cousins offed him?” Lucas surmised as he pressed his forearms against the counter and leaned forward. The tension hadn’t entirely eased between them. He rolled the glass between his fingers and Ros felt an eye twitch. He better not drop that glass.

“Yes.”

Lucas nodded and stared down at his vodka. “Yeah. Me too.”

She put her glass down on the counter beside him and rested her elbows against the counter. “We should have expected they would have tried to kill him.”

“Yeah, we should have. But we weren’t officially detaining Khordad, so he was free to go as he pleased. He knew the risk.”

Ros looked up at Lucas. His face, all hard lines and sharp features, was guarded once more. His eyes said what his face did not. He was as angry as she was that the Americans had killed Khordad. There would be hell to pay. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but there would be vengeance for this. The Americans had been too short sighted to see that Khordad was a chance to, if not stop, than at least slow the war on terror. And now, because they couldn’t sup with the devil, as Connie would say, MI-5 was looking at a potential retaliatory terror attack.

This was not going to be an enjoyable week.

Somewhere, between fuming thoughts about the cousins and studying Lucas’ face, Ros found herself kissing Lucas. It was awkward, both of them leaning over the counter, but no less heated. She wasn’t entirely certain who had moved first to initiate the kiss - although, she was fairly certain it was her that had moved first - just that they were kissing and the counter was digging into her middle in a way that was not exactly sexy. Making an impatient noise, Ros quickly moved around the counter and surged against Lucas again, pressing herself to him as she twined her fingers into his hair and jerked his head down to another heady kiss. Lucas responded in kind as his hands gripped her hips and pulled her hard against him. She could already feel him starting to harden and it exhilarated her. The hand not holding Lucas’ head went to his waist, tugging his shirt roughly out of his jeans and frantically trying to undo the buttons one handed.

Lucas growled. There was nothing romantic about either of their kisses. It was full of tongues and teeth, punctuated with snarls and growls. Ros abandoned her attempts to undo his shirt and cupped his face roughly, fingers pressing tightly against the pale skin. She hooked a leg over his hip, rocking against him. Lucas snarled a curse. One hand splayed against the small of her back, simultaneously pressing her tightly to him and helping to balance her, as the other traced along the side of her face before he grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head back. Ros hissed, but it lost some of its harshness as Lucas began trailing wet kisses and nips along her jaw and throat. She shivered and clawed at his shoulders. Lucas retaliated by biting with just enough force that she felt it, but not enough to bruise. Good. As much as she might like the idea of marking Lucas and had no doubt that he would return the favour, she would rather not deal with the entirety of Section D knowing they had just fucked.

Never one to be outdone, Ros shoved Lucas roughly back against the counter. He fell back with a grunt, taken by surprise. Confusion flitted across his face and his mouth opened, no doubt to offer an apology for presuming the kiss meant something more, and Ros was not interested in hearing him apologize. Not about this, anyway. Not after Khordad and another failure on her part. Not when she wanted the distraction right now and they were both wearing far too many clothes for her taste.

Not breaking eye contact, Ros slowly unbuttoned her shirt, watching Lucas’ expression shift from confusion to unabashed lust as more and more skin was revealed. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips as she tossed her shirt to the side and, for a moment, Ros thought she saw Lucas. It was something that she had noticed about Lucas, that he was always hiding behind some mask, some personality that was carefully crafted to disarm with just the right mix of friendliness and snarkiness to keep anyone from looking too closely. It annoyed Ros to no end that it worked, even on her, even when she knew that there had to be some sort of steel beneath the friendly-snarky veneer, some sort of cunning that let him survive eight years in prison. There had to be something about him that had Harry convinced he was one of the best field officers in MI-5, enough so that he would override his own caution to put Lucas back in the field. But, every time Ros thought she had Lucas figured out, he would do or say something that made her question just how well she knew him. Now, as she stood half naked before him, feeling his eyes rove over her hungrily, she wondered if this, too, was yet another façade of his or if this was what lurked beneath the various masks.

If it was, Ros wasn’t sure if she was turned on or frightened. There was a hungry look in his eyes that matched what she already knew from just looking at him – he definitely was enjoying the view, and he definitely seemed to want this as much as she did.

Just as Ros was about to reach out and start tackling his shirt again, Lucas came to the same conclusion and quickly undid and tossed his shirt to the side haphazardly. Ros surged against him again, ignoring the dark ink that stained his skin. There’d be time for that later. Now was not the time to examine the tattoos or to wonder what they meant. Her hands were going to his belt and Lucas’ hands went to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them through her bra. His thumbs swiped over her nipples. When her fingers grazed against his cock, Lucas snarled and spun them around. He lifted her easily onto the counter and, if she wasn’t so desperate to maintain contact with him, she would have loudly informed him that the counter was not for having sex. But, she knew, knew, that if she said anything, it’d break the spell over the two of them. It’d bring the world crashing down on them and the moment would pass into awkward apologies and with Lucas leaving and right now she needed this, needed to feel alive, needed to chase away the sobering thought that she had failed again.

She gasped as Lucas pulled her to the edge of the counter and pressed himself against her, pinning her in place as he started licking and sucking and nipping at her neck again and fuck he knew what he was doing with that tongue of his. His hands ran along her arms before gently ghosting up her sides. She could feel him, hard, against her, and she wanted him in her now. She tried to convey her sense of urgency by wrapping a leg around Lucas’ hip and pulling him hard against her, but all she got for her efforts was a low growl.

Ros squirmed against him as his hands went back to her breasts. His mouth was teasing its way down her throat, her collarbone, and towards her breast. She scratched her nails up his back and into his hair, jerking his head roughly. He snarled again and, unceremoniously, shoved her bra out of the way and attacked her nipple with fervour. Ros gasped and tightened her grip in his hair as she held his head against her breast. Her other hand blindly tried to find the bra’s clasp. When she appeared to be struggling with it, Lucas simply reared back and ripped it from her body. Ros’ eyes narrowed at him and he gave her a quick, almost apologetic look before bending down to start sucking on her other nipple.

“I liked that bra,” Ros muttered, even as she felt her anger starting to dim in the wake of the pleasant sensation of Lucas’ mouth on her breast. His tongue was lapping incessantly against her nipple, each swipe sending jolts of electricity through her.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Lucas growled, nipping once before dropping to his knees. Ros decided that she rather liked seeing Lucas on his knees in front of her, even more so when he made short work of her jeans. To her relief, he did not destroy her pants, opting instead to pull them down with her jeans.

“It was expensive,” she said, followed by a moan as Lucas kissed the inside of her thigh.

Careful application of teeth to her thigh was the only response Ros got from Lucas. She hissed, her hold on his hair only relaxing when he started teasing at her folds. His fingers trailed lightly along her hips, her thighs, back up to her hips, as he continued pressing teasing kisses to her labia. Finally, finally he licked at her clit. Ros nearly shot off the counter at the contact. Soon, he was licking and sucking in earnest, drawing moans from her. One finger began to circle around her entrance, never quite pushing in though. Ros hissed again and jerked his head tighter against her. “Stop teasing,” she demanded, wriggling her hips in an effort to get Lucas’ finger where she wanted it.

Lucas didn’t bother with a reply, just gave her another gentle nip to her thigh that he quickly soothed away with teasing licks. Ros made a noise of frustration and scratched at his scalp. He pulled away from her, glancing up at her quickly, and licked his finger. Ros shivered, thinking it was entirely unfair how hot he looked wetting a goddamn finger. She felt one of his hands snake around her waist, angling her to give him better access and returned to sucking on her clit. His tongue was incessant, lapping roughly, sending hot spikes of pleasure through her.

His eyes flicked up to look at her again and, without looking away from her, slowly slid his finger inside her. Ros whimpered and tossed her head back as Lucas began pumping his finger in and out in time to his tongue’s movements. She could feel herself growing wetter, could feel her pleasure mounting as she rocked against him. A second finger joined the first and soon he was fucking her with his fingers as his tongue sped up against her. Ros bit her lower lip, trying to keep the pleased moans and whimpers in check. No need to stroke his ego too much. She hooked a leg over his shoulder and started to stroke her nipple. She saw Lucas glance up and could feel him groan against her as he increased his efforts.

Ros gasped. Lucas moved his hand from the small of her back to her arse, jerking her closer to him. When he slipped a third finger inside, stretching her, Ros moaned. Christ. His fingers moved in tandem to his tongue, working her into a mindless haze of pleasure. When his fingers found just the right spot, Ros cried out and scraped her nails against his scalp again. She could almost feel Lucas grin against her as he sucked hard at her clit. His fingers began angling for that spot over and over and Ros could feel her orgasm building as Lucas’ tongue worked fervently against her. When her climax washed over her, Ros’ hand tightened hard enough in his hair that she had to have hurt him, but he didn’t say anything, just rode her out. It wasn’t until she was gasping, trying to catch her breath that Lucas slipped her leg off his shoulder and sat back on his heels looking up at her hungrily.

“Condom,” Ros said, her voice hoarse, hoping Lucas had a condom on hand. While Ros knew she had condoms somewhere in the house, she hadn’t entirely finished unpacking and wasn’t certain where the condoms were. Not to mention, she didn’t trust her legs to hold her steady, so she stayed seated on the counter.

Lucas nodded as he got to his feet, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Ros took the opportunity to stroke his erection through his jeans. Lucas made a soft noise and retrieved the condom from his wallet before practically throwing the wallet to the side. She swatted his hands away from his zip, undoing it herself and pushing the denim down his legs. Lucas kicked out of his jeans as Ros snatched the condom from his hands and she was already ripping open the packet as he was pushing down his underwear.

She reached out with one hand, stroking Lucas, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. When she swiped her thumb over his head, Lucas’ eyes fluttered shut and Ros decided she liked that so much that she did it again, and then she stroked him and ended the stroke with a firm squeeze at the head. Lucas moaned softly and leaned against her, panting softly as she worked him. After a few more strokes, Lucas snarled wordlessly and grabbed the hand holding the condom and plucked it out of her hands.

Ros glared at him and twisted her grip on his cock. Lucas uttered another curse and then he was pushing her hand out of the way to put the condom on himself. If she didn’t want him inside her as badly as he seemed to, Ros would have shoved him down to the floor and teased him more. But, right now, she wanted – needed – to feel him inside her and Lucas seemed as eager as she did.

He repositioned himself so that he was pressed against her once more and she could feel his erection against her thigh, twitching at how close she was. Her arms went around his shoulders, carding her fingers through his hair again. When she felt his cock against her folds, teasing – bastard – she tugged the short strands roughly. “Stop teasing and fuck me already,” she ordered, eyes narrowed.

“Planned on it,” Lucas muttered and Ros could have screamed at him for taking the time to snark her instead of fucking her.

Before she could say anything, Lucas shoved himself inside her, causing her to gasp. It had been awhile, long enough that, even with Lucas’ earlier ministrations, it still stung as he entered her. Lucas, for once, was considerate and was holding himself still, letting her adjust to the sudden feeling of fullness. She could feel his tension as he forced himself to stay still, to let her dictate when she felt ready for him to continue. Had she not been so tightly pressed against him, she might not have even noticed his faint tremors as he waited. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were closed, even as he pressed his forehead against hers. It occurred to her, as Lucas trembled with the need to move, that if it had been awhile for her, she could only imagine how long it had been for him.

After a few seconds, Ros used her grip on his shoulders to manoeuvre herself enough that she could wrap her legs around his waist. When she cupped his face and kissed him, it was all the encouragement Lucas needed because, with one hand clutching at her hip and the other bracing himself against the counter, he began to fuck her.

Ros wasn’t sure what sex with Lucas would be like. She thought he might be more… tender, from what she knew of his ex-wife and how sensitive Lucas seemed to be. Tender and sensitive weren’t exactly the words she would use right now. Fucking was definitely more apt and, right now, she was perfectly fine with that. It took them a few tries to match thrusts, but, once they had found their rhythm, Ros could feel pleasure starting to build up again. Both of them were panting, animalistic groans falling from their lips. Later, she would take Lucas apart and properly enjoy the soft noises he was making as he roughly shoved into her. For now, she just enjoyed the feeling of fullness, enjoyed the feeling of his skin against hers, of his mouth on her breast again, his teeth scraping against her nipples.

She returned the roughness in kind. Her nails scratched furrows down his back, her legs tightened around his hips, and her teeth sank into his shoulder to stifle her cries. He hissed in pain, even as his thrusts increased in speed and his grip on her hips turned almost bruising. When his hand moved from her hip to stroke her clit, Ros nearly screamed. She grabbed the hand on her hip and dragged it up to her breast, squeezing his hand around her. Lucas was quick, she would give him that, because he quickly started pinching and stroking her nipple, the soft, gentle strokes a sharp contrast to the hard movement of his hips.

Ros wrapped herself tighter around Lucas, feeling her orgasm approaching, and panted his name into his ear. She gripped the back of his neck, trying to keep herself steady against his hard thrusts. Lucas groaned, low and deep, and she very nearly came from the sound alone. His hand switched to her other breast and the next thing she knew she was crying his name as she came hard. Lucas snarled and sank his teeth into her shoulder hard enough that she was certain he was going to draw blood as he followed her over the edge.

For a moment, neither of them moved, each content to stay tightly wrapped around one another. The only sound in the kitchen was their laboured breathing. Lucas pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Ros didn’t move, didn’t relinquish her grip on his shoulders, nor did she lower her legs from his waist. She knew, the minute one of them moved, they would come crashing back to reality. Ros knew Lucas wasn’t over Elizabeta. Anyone who spoke to him about her could tell he was still grieving over the breakup. And Ros… she had promised herself she wasn’t going to do this again. She had promised herself, after Adam and everything that had happened, she wasn’t going to get involved with another officer. It hurt too much to know that they might die or, worse, might become suicidal like Adam had and not realize it. She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t.

“I think I like your interrogation tactics,” Lucas said, slightly breathless, breaking the silence once more.

Ros closed her eyes. She hadn’t intended to do this, hadn’t planned on jumping Lucas when he came to her flat. But she would be lying if she said that she didn’t feel better. When she reopened her eyes, she said, “Well, I’ll be sure to add it to my list of talents.”

He snorted and carefully withdrew from her. Ros nearly whimpered. He hadn’t been gentle, not even close to gentle, and her body was informing her of just how not gentle he had been. But it was a delicious feeling, one that had burned away much of her anger for the time being. She’d worry about the fact that she not only just had sex with a colleague – again, after I promised myself never again – but that she had sex with a man she didn’t entirely trust later. For now… she felt wonderfully sore and at ease and that was good enough.

Lucas started gathering his clothes and tugged on his pants and jeans in silence. After a quick scan of the kitchen, he went and retrieved his belt. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his silence because, as she had suspected, the world had come crashing down upon them both. He knew as well as she did that this, whatever it had been, didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. She didn’t trust him, and, after Adam…. She refused to go through that again. And she was under no illusion. She had seen how Lucas had reacted when she only mentioned seeing if Elizabeta could find out anything from the FSB. He was still in love with his ex-wife and Ros wasn’t content to be the replacement as he tried to move on.

Still, she found herself not wanting him to leave. It was… surprisingly painful watching him search for his shirt in silence. She didn’t pretend to know what he was thinking, nor did she pretend to understand her irrational desire for him to stay. At the very least, she reasoned with herself, she could always try to instigate another sparring match and thoroughly beat him this time. Much, much easier to do when he was here, at her flat, than her having to track him down to spar with him before work. Besides, Jo and Ben wouldn’t be much of a challenge to spar against. No, she’d simply have to keep sparring with Lucas.

And not at all because I want him to stay, or because I want to see another glimpse under that mask.

“It’s raining,” Ros said as she watched him search for his shirt. In their haste to undress, their clothes had been flung haphazardly. She marvelled that they hadn’t knocked either of the wine glasses off the counter. Still, with Lucas half-dressed, she decided now was as good as any time to dress as well. She lifted the remains of her bra with a finger and stared at it. The clasp was broken. She scowled before dropping the bra in the garbage. I liked that bra.

Lucas paused and glanced out the window. “It is,” he confirmed with an annoying smirk. “With observational skills like that, you should be a spook.” He seemed to spy his shirt because he started moving towards the living room.

As he moved by her, Ros gently placed her hand on his arm. “Stay,” she said simply.

He paused, studying her face. She looked away first, focusing instead on the Cyrillic under her fingers. Running her fingers along his arm gingerly, she translated, “See nothing, hear nothing, and say nothing to nobody.” How very Lucas. “The FSB must have loved that one.”

Lucas smirked, even as his eyes took on a far-away quality. “Yeah. They did.”

“Stay,” Ros repeated again, looking back up at him. I want to have someone to punch in the morning.

—

At some point in the night, Ros felt her bed shift enough that it stirred her from her exhausted sleep. Lucas had done as she had ordered and had elected to stay the night. They had put an impressive dent in both her wine and her vodka before Ros finally decided to find the box of condoms and they relocated to her bed. She felt deliciously languid and sore and like she might actually make it through the day without screaming about the cousins and their idiocy.

Or, at least, she would have felt that way if the bed hadn’t shifted. There was no possible way that Lucas was up for another round, and, even if he was up for another round, Ros wasn’t so sure she was. She was feeling quite content cocooned in her comforter and the rain pattering in the window only reinforced her desire to remain in bed.

She made a soft noise and felt, more than anything else, Lucas brush his lips against her temple and murmur for her to go back to sleep. “Don’t order me around,” was all Ros managed before she did just as he had suggested and slipped back asleep.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong when Ros fully woke up in the morning. The left side of the bed, the one Lucas had fallen asleep on, was empty. If it weren’t for the smell of coffee filling the house, Ros would have thought that Lucas had slipped out last night without saying goodbye. As it was, when she slid a hand over the other side of the bed, it felt cold to the touch. Maybe I didn’t dream Lucas leaving.

Frowning, Ros slipped out of bed. Her body ached and she had no doubt that there were bruises from Lucas’ fingers and mouth. She hoped he had done her the courtesy of making sure that the marks were in places that could easily be concealed. For now, though, the tantalizing scent of coffee was overpowering the need to see how much effort she would have to put in to hiding incriminating bruises.

She paused at the door long enough to fetch her housecoat off the hook and was just belting it when she walked into the kitchen. Lucas had his forearms braced against the counter and was in nothing but his jeans, sipping coffee from a mug. There was a far-away expression on his face and Ros got the distinct impression that, while Lucas might be standing there, in her kitchen, he was not entirely present.

It wasn’t often that Ros managed to sneak up on Lucas. He had an annoying ability to detect when he was being watched, and an even more annoying ability to draw attention away from himself. And, so, with Lucas distracted by his coffee or his thoughts or whatever held his attention, she took the opportunity to study him. Red welts from the previous night raked down his shoulders and back, but they weren’t enough to distract her from the tattoos or the scars that littered his back and shoulders. Ros was familiar enough with Russia that she knew there was an entire culture around prison and that the tattoos were symbolic, but she hadn’t exactly made a point of studying Russian prison culture. Some of Lucas’ tattoos were obvious enough, but others mystified her. She didn’t try to imagine what would have pushed Lucas to get the tattoos, even knowing that they would make him stand out more, thereby affecting his work. She didn’t want to think about the scars and what may have caused those.

The sound of the coffee maker, in combination with Lucas blinking, as if becoming abruptly aware of Ros’ presence, only confirmed what Ros already suspected. “Do I want to know how much coffee you’ve had?” she asked gently. She already knew that he had left her bed some time late last night. Surely he hadn’t stayed awake the entire time? An ugly thought dawned on her, one that she quickly quashed. It was one thing to see the dark circles under Lucas’ eyes and the far-away expression. It was another to muse on what might have been sufficient to keep him awake.

Lucas turned around and gave her a half-smile. “Probably not.”

She sighed. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A bit.”

“Forgot your shirt, did you?” she asked as she reached around Lucas to get herself a mug.

Lucas put his mug down and slipped his arms around Ros’ waist, pulling her to him. “No. I woke up last night and went for a walk. When I got back, I slept on the couch because I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You went for a walk in the middle of the night?” Ros asked sceptically.

“You don’t?”

“Most people sleep at night.”

“Fortunately, I am not most people.”

That was more like it. Ros could guess why Lucas had gone outside for a walk. She could even guess why he had chosen to sleep on the couch instead of returning to her bed when he got back. Hearing Lucas make quips, though, eased that knowledge somehow. It pushed away the ugly thought that maybe Lucas was more affected by what he had been through than he let on and that maybe his affable snarkiness was all an act designed to keep everyone from seeing the damage. She had said from the beginning that he was damaged goods, but, for once, Ros wasn’t happy to think that she may be right.

If it weren’t for the fact that she had expected as much, Ros would have felt disappointed that Lucas seemed to have put his walls back up, put the mask back on, and was hiding behind another façade again. And, really, what did she expect? She wasn’t about to suddenly be all chipper and warm and cuddly with him just because they had fucked last night. She didn’t trust him, plain and simple. He had been a means to an end, had been a rather enthusiastic distraction, nothing more, nothing less.

He’s not Adam.

Ros slipped out of Lucas’ embrace and went about preparing her coffee. Khordad’s death, on the heels of Al-Qaeda getting one past her, had frustrated her. She had found an outlet that didn’t involve destroying her house. But how to tell Lucas that? She wasn’t interested in forming a relationship with him, not after Adam. Ros swore she wasn’t going to go through that again. She couldn’t.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Ros said as she finished stirring her coffee.

“Hm?” Lucas hummed as he glanced at her over the rim of his coffee mug.

“Us. What happened last night. It doesn’t change anything. I don’t trust you.”

“I’d call you a fool if you did,” he said affably. He was smiling, but she thought she saw something hard, something… not quite frightening – Ros Myers was not one to frighten easily, after all, and she wasn’t about to let Lucas North, of all people, be one of the few people that successfully frightened her – but not exactly pleasant in his eyes. Whatever amusement had coloured his tone did not find its way to his eyes and it was disconcerting, to say the least. She didn’t like the idea that he very well could be as good as she was at hiding her thoughts.

Ros fixed Lucas with a look, but his walls were back up and his face remained unreadable beyond the steely glint in his eyes. “Well, then, now that that’s settled. Get out of my house.”

“And here I thought we’d go for breakfast together, maybe do a long walk around the Thames,” Lucas said as he pushed off from the counter and went to slip on his shirt.

She snorted. “More like I’d throw you into the Thames.”

“Well, at least breakfast is still on the table,” he said as he deftly finished dressing.

“Get out,” Ros said almost fondly.

He gave her a two-fingered salute and Ros nearly threw her coffee mug at him. I will not waste good coffee on that asshole.

She would, however, contemplate his rather graphic murder. Ros was still contemplating it when he slipped out the door.

As soon as Lucas was gone, Ros locked the door behind him – not that it’d do much good if he decides he wants to come back in, she thought rather crossly – and immediately went about checking her slicks. While she liked to think that Lucas wouldn’t have been creative enough to find them, she also knew that anyone who specialized in counter-surveillance knew how to find hidden places. And with Lucas’ unwillingness to talk about why MI-5 didn’t have anything on him from before 1995, she wasn’t about to take any chances. He had gotten that much right - she did have her secrets, and she’d rather not have Lucas knowing what they were.

Satisfied that her slicks were intact and undisturbed, Ros pursed her lips and stared hard at the counter as the memories of last night’s events played through her mind. She ran a hand through her hair. It had been foolish of her to have sex with Lucas last night. She didn’t trust him. More than that, she didn’t want to go through what she had with Adam again. Adam had been… tender, gentle almost. They had shared lazy mornings, warm smiles, laughter. She had loved him for it then. She wasn’t sure she was ready to have that kind of relationship again, not so soon after Adam’s death, and certainly not with a man that she didn’t trust.

With a glance towards the door, Ros bent down and fetched some cleaner from under the sink. Silently, she wiped down the counter.

Chapter Text

Lucas sat at his desk, tossing a ball made of rubber bands into the air. He hadn’t missed this, the sitting around, the not doing anything, as he waited for something to do. Khordad’s plane shot down. It was ballsy, even for the cousins. They had to have known there would be repercussions. Surely they had already taken that into account? And they had to know that MI-5 wasn’t going to sit on its heels and stick its head in the sand and pretend the cousins hadn’t been responsible for Khordad’s death.

Then again, when have the cousins been particularly far-sighted?

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. It was times like this that he cursed his drive to finish paperwork in a timely manner. Ros and Harry were briefing the Home Secretary. Jo and Ben were talking quietly at Jo’s desk. Malcolm and Connie were staring at their computer screens, completely engrossed. And Lucas? Lucas was just bored. He was a field officer. He could help monitor chatter, but, really, he was better suited to being out in the field, tracking down leads, speaking with assets, those sorts of things. Not… sitting at the Grid with nothing to do. He had already done his part, setting Kate on the warpath to get Lorie out of England. Now, he had… nothing to do but sit and wait for something to come up. Or at least he didn’t have anything to do for another hour. Tom had called him and said that they should meet up, which meant Lucas had some time to kill before he had to come up with a convincing excuse to leave the Grid without a chaperone. Like that’ll happen. More than likely, he’d have to shake the tail again. Harry’ll love that.

He sighed again, this time noisily. He wondered if he could get away with running down the street to grab a half-decent cup of coffee. The Grid’s coffee was garbage and, while he did have coffee stashed away in his desk, he also was eager to get off the Grid and out and about. Lucas had never been one known for his patience and, while he had vastly improved on that particular quality during his time… away, he still wasn’t the greatest at being patient when he was bored. He tried not to focus on the fact that the Grid almost felt… suffocating and that he needed to do something before his carefully constructed control slipped.

Making sure that no one was watching, Lucas got up quietly and moved to Ros’ desk. More to annoy Ros than anything else, Lucas scanned her desk quickly before adjusting everything to be on the opposite side. Satisfied that her desk looked exactly as she had left it, only in reverse, Lucas glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was the wiser. Everyone was still engrossed in their various activities, so he returned to his desk.

If Lucas was honest with himself, he was still smarting over her asking him to stay the night and then kicking him out in the morning. Not that he blamed her. Lucas himself wasn’t too sure what he was thinking last night. He certainly hadn’t been drunk enough – not even tipsy enough, really – to blame it on the alcohol. Just… bad choices, he guessed. For a moment, he had felt… normal. Human again. Like his life wasn’t fucked up, possibly beyond repair. Like he hadn’t lost everything, including himself, in Russia. He had felt, and that was something he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. And, God, he really, really needed to feel again.

At least saying it was bad choices didn’t leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth. When he had woken up beside Ros in the middle of the night, he had... it had… it had hurt. For a moment, even if it was for a second before he remembered where he was and what he had done, he had thought he was back home, that it was Vyeta in the bed beside him. When he had turned and saw Ros instead… it had hurt. He had felt… wrong. Like he had betrayed Vyeta by sleeping with Ros. It was stupid and he knew it. Things were over between him and Vyeta. She had made that perfectly clear to him. But, still, he hurt, and, still, he felt wrong. That sense of wrongness hadn’t eased after his walk, nor did it ease when he had moved to the couch.

Involuntarily, Lucas glanced at Harry’s door before turning his attention back to the rubber band ball. Ros had gone back to ignoring Lucas’ existence when she came to work today. She had made it clear that what had happened last night didn’t mean anything, which suited him just fine. Still, it stung that she had gone back to pretending he didn’t exist. He’d had enough of that in prison. He wasn’t eager to feel it here, back home, too. The minor mischief he had orchestrated against her desk was the least he could do to remind her that he existed, whether she liked it or not. At least this time, I can remind someone I exist. He closed his eyes and forced himself away from those memories. Don’t go there. Not here.

Rationally, he knew it was petty to get into a feud with Ros. He knew that’s what she wanted. She had practically told him as such when she insisted on sparring with him. All he needed to do was give her an excuse and she’d have him benched at the very least. Lucas didn’t let himself think about what she’d do in a worst-case scenario. Still, it felt oddly satisfying to rearrange her desk.

Might even have to do it again some time.

Finally, Ros stepped out of Harry’s office. From the expression on her face, Lucas would hazard a guess and say that the cousins were, naturally, denying all involvement in Khordad’s little plane accident. Guess life is about to get interesting, after all. If the Al-Qaeda knew Khordad had been in London and that he had reached out to MI-5, then Lucas suspected Britain was going to be in for an interesting few weeks.

Ros stopped at her desk and stared at it. Lucas continued to focus on tossing the rubber band ball in the air and catching it one-handed. Ros sat down at her desk and rested her palms flat against the metal. “Did you rearrange my desk?” she demanded, not looking up.

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

“Perish the thought.”

“Did you rearrange my desk?” she repeated, her voice flat.

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

“I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu,” Lucas said. “Didn’t we just go over this?”

“I’m not left handed.”

“Lucky you.”

“Why is my mouse on the left side of my computer if I’m not left handed?”

“I dunno, Ros. Why is your mouse on the left side of your computer if you’re not left handed?” At this point, Lucas was deliberately being annoying and he knew it. He hazarded a glance at Ros and was pleased to see that she looked about as pissed off as she sounded. Good. Naturally, he didn’t let his surge of elation at having irritated her into admitting his existence show on his face.

“You bloody wanker. You rearranged my desk,” she hissed.

“Not sure how many more times I can tell you I didn’t touch your desk,” Lucas said. “I can say it in Russian if it’ll help. Maybe Latin? Oh, I know, how about Greek? Pig Latin? If you give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can open up Google Translate and try a few other languages.”

Ros snatched his rubber band ball while it was airborne. “You bastard.”

If Lucas had been a lesser man, he would have been inclined to make a crack about how that was most definitely not what she had said last night. As a man with a mostly good moral compass, Lucas elected not to comment on the fact that they had had sex last night. Instead, he got to his feet and plucked the rubber band ball from her hand. Given the fact that she had offered no resistance, he assumed she had decided to let him have it back.

“I’m going to go follow up on some leads and see about identifying the bombers,” he lied as he tossed the rubber band ball into a drawer. He was certain he could find something to do before meeting with Tom that didn’t involve sitting opposite a fuming Ros. “You have fun with your desk and finding the culprit.”

Chapter Text

Lucas shoved his hands into his pockets as he leaned back against the decrepit, stone structure. The advantage to choosing the Thames Estuary was that it was remote and relatively unpopulated, especially at this time of year. If Gemma or one of Harry’s tails was following Lucas, he’d see them coming long before they could overhear anything important. The disadvantage, Lucas thought, was that it was bloody cold. The wind off the water was bitter and cut through him, sending a chill down his spine. He glanced out over the water as haunting memories of the last time he had gone for a walk in the bleak countryside played in his mind. Oleg had always insisted on speaking English with him, particularly when they were going for walks. Lucas had always thought it odd; Oleg knew that Lucas could speak Russian and all of his other interrogators, save for Kachimov, had spoken Russian to him. But not Oleg. Lucas never did figure out why Oleg would insist on speaking English.

The sound of car tires rolling over gravel drew Lucas’ thoughts away from the past. He glanced up to the road and saw Tom get out of his car. Tom hesitated, scanning the countryside before Lucas stepped out of the structure and lifted a hand. The other man nodded and picked his way carefully towards Lucas. His caution made sense, Lucas supposed. Lucas’ father had taken him here a few times when he had been younger and Lucas had learned the terrain then. Years later, it had largely remained the same, but the large, loose stones made the walk treacherous to those unfamiliar with it; yet another reason why Lucas had chosen this specific location.

Finally, Tom dropped into the structure next to Lucas. “If you’re trying to get me killed, I can think of a few easier ways to do it,” Tom said. “I mean, the location is great. Scenery is beautiful, nice river there to throw a body into, lots of places for me to break my ankle. Great murder location. But, really. There are easier places.”

Lucas smiled thinly. “Gemma was spying on us last time.”

“Gemma Wright?” Tom asked. “I thought she was still heading Section B?”

“She is,” Lucas confirmed. “She came to my flat to give me the Polecat files and let me know that she had been watching.”

Tom poked his head out of the structure to look around. “Which is why you picked here to meet.”

“Yeah. Quiet. Remote. If Harry or Gemma are watching, they’re not going to hear much without us knowing they’re here.”

“Right,” Tom said as he looked back at Lucas. “You mentioned Gemma gave you the Polecat files?”

“She did,” Lucas said as he tilted his head. “She said that she and Harry didn’t find anything when they went over it.”

“Then why’d she give it to you?”

He shrugged. Tom’s question was one that Lucas had chewed over more than once in the past few months since Gemma had given him the files. He had worked for Gemma for two and a half years and, if there was one thing that Lucas knew about Gemma, it was that she didn’t do things without reason. She wanted him to have the files. She wanted him to come to the same conclusion that she and Harry had come to, that he hadn’t been burned. But why? If there really wasn’t anything to be found, why give him the files? To prove to him that there was nothing there?

“What’d she tell you?” Tom asked. He folded his arms across his chest when a particularly bitter wind blew through the structure.

“That she wanted me to come to the same conclusion she and Harry came to,” Lucas said. “That she and Harry went over the file and found nothing, that I had done everything right, but sometimes the best get caught.”

“She said that exactly?” Tom pushed.

“What are you thinking?”

“You know Gemma as well as I do, better, probably,” Tom said, trailing off. He glanced out of the structure again. “There has to be a reason why she just gave you the file.”

Lucas was silent for a moment as he recollected his conversation with Gemma. You did everything right. Sometimes even the best get caught. Neither one of us found anything. I’m going to let you come to the same conclusion that Harry and I came to. Tom was right. Lucas knew Gemma and he knew that she didn’t do things just because. Did she want him to determine that he wasn’t burned? That the FSB just happened to figure out who he was, where his safe house was, and what he did for a living? He was missing something, he knew he was. But what?

“She never said I wasn’t burned,” Lucas said slowly. He looked up at Tom. “Her exact words was that she didn’t find anything and that she wanted me to come to the same conclusion she came to.”

“You think that she thinks you were burned?”

“I think that it’s awfully coincidental that the FSB knew my bloody name, where I would be, and that I had a code to tell Five that I was alright,” Lucas said. He swiped his hand along his lips. Shit. Was this what Gemma was trying to tell him? That there had to be something that she and Harry missed and that he might have the missing piece to figure it out?

Tom rubbed his jaw. “I’ve been looking into it and haven’t found a whole lot yet. I looked into Zoe and Danny and neither of them had the FSB connections to sell you out. Danny had some financial problems, but he never had any questionable, unexplained funds come into his bank account. I haven’t looked into Malcolm or Collin yet, but, honestly, I doubt either of them would have sold you out.”

“No, I don’t think it was Malcolm or Collin,” Lucas said. He hesitated. He hadn’t told Tom that the FSB had said that it was Harry. But, Harry’s unwillingness to tell him anything, to even rebuff the FSB’s assertions, combined with his mysterious absences had doubt gnawing away at Lucas. Ros’ absolute belief in Harry, that Harry would never betray Lucas and that he had worked hard to bring Lucas home, meant shit to Lucas. He had eight years’ worth of reasons to at the very least question Harry. But, did he really think that Harry had been the one to sell him out? Harry had been the one to recruit him and had given Lucas a chance to do something with his life. Even if Harry didn’t sell me out, he sure as hell didn’t hurry to get me home.

“Lucas?” Tom asked. “You alright?”

“The FSB said Harry sold me out,” he said finally. Lucas looked up at Tom and saw the surprised look on the other man’s face. “They said that he wasn’t in a hurry to get me back and that he had been the one to give them my name.”

For a moment, Tom said nothing. He looked outside again before facing Lucas again. “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he repeated. “You don’t think that’s what Gemma meant when she said that you should come to the same conclusion as her? That maybe Harry…?”

Lucas hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said finally. He covered his mouth with his fingers before dropping his hand. “I don’t know. But the FSB knew too much about me for it to be a misstep on my part.” He paused. “They knew about Vyeta. They knew my name. They knew my position in Five. Hell, they even knew my middle name.”

“An inside job, then,” Tom surmised. “But Harry? You don’t really think Harry was the one that betrayed you?”

Lucas shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He hesitated again. He didn’t want to believe that the FSB had told him the truth, that Harry was the one that betrayed him. He didn’t want to believe that the man he looked up to like a goddamn father was the one that put him through hell for eight years. But Lucas knew Harry. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Harry had to make a difficult decision that resulted in an officer’s death. Harry had horse-traded to get Lucas back, had used the Russians’ embarrassment to strong arm them into returning Lucas. But what if… It’s possible. Eight years ago, maybe the Russians caught wind of something and forced Harry to give Lucas up. Maybe. He hoped that was the case. The alternative was… not pleasant to think about.

Of course, even if Harry had been forced to give Lucas up, the fact remained that he had left Lucas in prison for eight years. Surely he had known that Lucas was alive? Surely Harry had known what the FSB were doing to him? Harry had the clout to get what he wanted, Lucas knew that. Hell, he’d seen Harry use his connections and resources to get what he wanted. If Lucas was in prison for eight years, it meant that either Harry deemed Lucas unworthy of the cost or… No. No, Harry wouldn’t have just left me there. Would he? Lucas ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll look into Harry,” Tom said quietly. “I’ll see if I can find something that proves one way or the other.”

“Thanks, mate,” Lucas said. It was an inside job. Someone in Five had burned him. He didn’t want to think it was Harry, but everything suggested it was. Is this what Gemma wanted me to find? Proof that Harry is a mole? Or was Gemma trying to mislead him? No. Gemma wouldn’t have burned him, not after putting as much effort into training him as she had. She had risked a lot using her influence to gently encourage Harry to promote Lucas. She wouldn’t have thrown it all away by selling him out to the FSB. Lucas knew Gemma. She wouldn’t have burned him. But, then again, I thought I knew Harry, too, and yet here I am, considering the possibility that it was him that burned me.

Tom nodded. “So, just so we’re in agreement. We don’t think Gemma actually believes that you slipped up?”

Lucas shrugged. “I think she has her own agenda and that I should speak with her again.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea. I’ll text you if I find something. Or if I break my ankle trying to get back to my car.”

Chapter Text

Ros sat down in her chair, her hands splayed on her desk as she looked over it. Everything was back in its proper place. Bloody wanker. No matter what Lucas insisted, she knew it had to be him. No one else on the Grid had the nerve to touch her desk, much less move everything. She pursed her lips. Really, these childish pranks were starting to get out of hand. First the gift-wrapped desk at Christmas time, no doubt in retaliation for her stun gunning him, and now this, after she had informed him that the sex last night hadn’t changed anything between them. Clearly, she had made a mistake in assuming he was a big enough boy to handle hearing that. Then it is simply a mistake that I won’t make again.

Satisfied that her desk was in order again, Ros checked her watch before glancing at the pods contemplatively. Lucas had left five minutes ago and said he was following up on some leads, which meant he likely wouldn’t be back for an hour or two. She had her own lead that she wanted to follow up on and she rather doubted Lucas would approve of it if he knew. All the more reason to do it.

Glancing at Jo and Ben, who were filling out reports for the operation, Ros got up and wordlessly stepped out of the pods. Section B wasn’t far from where Section D was headquartered and, within a few minutes, she was standing in Section B. Their office looked much like Section D’s with desks pushed together and people filing their own reports. Where Section D focused on counter-terrorism, Section B focused on personnel training. And, it was headed by a previous Section Chief of Section D, the one that had been in charge when Lucas had first been recruited.

“Ros Myers, I presume,” a tall, black woman said as she extended her hand towards Ros. “Gemma Wright. We spoke briefly on the phone this morning.”

Ros smiled and took Gemma’s hand. The introduction was unnecessary. Gemma had her dark brown hair swept tightly into a neat bun and carried herself with a sense of confidence that likely came from many years spent in the Service. “Yes, of course. I was hoping to speak with you in private,” she said, glancing around the room again.

“I trust my office will suffice?” Gemma said, gesturing to an office that looked very similar to Harry’s.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind,” Ros said and followed Gemma into the office. While the layout was much the same, Gemma had styled her office differently from Harry’s and had added a few personal photos of her and another woman. A chessboard sat unobtrusively in the corner, the pieces arranged as if she and her opponent had stopped in the middle of their game. Some bookshelves were behind the simple, yet elegant desk. Ros wondered if Gemma also kept a bottle of whisky in one of the drawers. Like Harry’s office, two chairs were splayed opposite Gemma’s seat, and a simple, yet comfortable-looking couch sat along the wall.

Gemma shut the door behind them and gestured for Ros to take a seat. She noticed that Gemma didn’t sit at her chair. Instead, Gemma had leaned back against her desk, crossing her legs at the ankle. “What can I help with, Ms. Myers?”

Ros leaned back in her chair. “I was hoping to speak with you about one of your previous colleagues.”

Gemma tilted her head and smiled. Ros noticed that the mirth did not quite reach her dark eyes. Instead, there was a… steel to them, almost as she silently appraised Ros. I’d expect nothing less from someone of Gemma’s supposed calibre. Her reputation was almost as illustrious as Ros’, after all. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. I’ve worked with a lot of people, you see,” Gemma said apologetically.

“Lucas North,” Ros said.

The other woman nodded slowly. She seemed to think for a moment before saying, “My, you are asking me to go back. I remember him, though.”

“I hoped you would.”

Gemma smiled thinly as she pushed off her desk. Sitting down in her chair and folding her hands on top of her desk, she asked, “What can I help with?”

“I was hoping you might be able to provide some insight into what he was like as an officer.”

Gemma laughed. “He was a pain in the arse. If memory served, he was good, but he had problems following rules. Brilliant officer, otherwise.”

Ros pursed her lips and looked down at her hands for a moment. Nothing I didn’t already know. She wondered if that was deliberate on Gemma’s part, or if that truly was all Gemma could remember about Lucas. Ten and a half years was, admittedly, a long time to go back, but Ros would have thought that someone as annoying as Lucas would have been… memorable. And, in any case, one did not get to where Gemma was in her career by being bad with names and faces. “He was your successor,” Ros pointed out.

“He was,” Gemma agreed. “I hear he did quite well at the job, too.”

“You didn’t keep in touch with him after he was promoted?”

“Ms. Myers, my hands were rather full running my own section to be busy keeping tabs on another section,” Gemma said, almost apologetically. If Ros hadn’t specialized in undercover work, she might have even believed the apologetic note in Gemma’s voice.

“How’d he get promoted over more experienced officers?” Ros asked. “His file said that he had only been with the Service for two years before he was promoted….”

Gemma smiled. “As I said, Lucas was an excellent officer. One of the best I’ve worked with, honestly. I’m certain that Harry felt the same and gave him the job for that reason.”

Ros tilted her head. The other woman was good, Ros would give her that. Gemma Wright was a well-known name in the intelligence community and had built a reputation for being a chess master that excelled at getting what she wanted, often without the other party any wiser until it was too late. She had mastered the art of drawing attention to one hand while the other moved in the shadows, pushing pieces into place. Ros just couldn’t tell which hand she was being offered. She very much doubted that Lucas was given the promotion simply because Harry thought he was good at the job. Isn’t that how I got the job, though? Harry had promoted her because she was good at what she did and there had been no one else. Had Lucas been the same? Surely there would have been someone better suited than a kid with only two and a half years of experience?

“Is that all?” Gemma asked after a moment.

Ros smiled again. “I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Gemma said, gesturing towards Ros. “Anything to help.”

“Did you trust him?” Ros asked. It was direct, but Ros had a feeling that, had she asked the question any other way, Gemma would find a way to dodge the question. And, Ros wanted to gauge just how much Gemma trusted Lucas. She already knew Harry had his blinders on when it came to Lucas. She wanted an unbiased, second opinion on what Lucas had been like and if he had shown any signs that maybe he wasn’t what he said he was. And, if Gemma did have blinders where Lucas was concerned, then Ros would know to be even more wary of him. After all, anyone that could con not just one, but two Section Heads was someone that Ros wanted to keep a very close eye on. Particularly when there’s a very good probability that he’s turned. Lucas might have convinced Harry by handing him Kachimov, but Ros didn’t get to where she was by believing everything she saw.

“Implicitly,” Gemma said firmly, without hesitation. She looked at Ros directly. “Why?”

Ros smiled thinly. “I’m sure you know that he was recently returned to us?”

“I heard as much, yes,” Gemma confirmed. When Ros opened her mouth to ask another question, Gemma cut across her and said, “If you’re concerned that the FSB turned him, allow me to assure you that they didn’t. I know Lucas. You won’t find someone more loyal to Harry, to MI-5, than Lucas North.”

Ros schooled her features carefully, hiding her frustration. She didn’t share Gemma’s conviction that Lucas was loyal to Harry. Gemma hadn’t been privy to her and Lucas’ conversation about if Harry could be trusted and didn’t know that Lucas was questioning Harry. If you knew that he questioned Harry, would you still trust him?

“Of course,” Ros said amiably. No matter what intel the question would have given her, she wasn’t about to show Gemma all of her cards. “I also had a question about his file.”

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” Gemma asked. Her tone was jovial, but her eyes told a different story, and Ros had the distinct impression that she was being sized up. I’m not as easy to chew up as one might think, Ros thought coldly as she held Gemma’s stare. If Dolby couldn’t intimidate her, then she certainly wasn’t about to be intimidated by Gemma Wright, no matter what the intelligence community had to say about her. After all, Gemma wasn’t the only one with a reputation in the Service.

“One of my many personality quirks,” Ros quipped. “About his file?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s some missing information. I was hoping you could help fill in the pieces?”

Gemma lifted an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting MI-5 did not thoroughly vet him?”

“No,” Ros said. “I’m suggesting that there’s nothing in the file before 1995 and I’m assuming Lucas didn’t just pop out of the ground, fully grown, at age twenty. He has no next of kin. No parents. No siblings. No family. No birthplace,” Ros pressed. “Surely you would have done a background check on him when he was recruited and discovered that information?””

Gemma steepled her fingers and said in a reproachful tone, “Ms. Myers, while I admire your dedication to ensuring that Lucas has not betrayed his country, I assure you, these… missing pieces in his file are likely missing for a reason. Harry had Lucas thoroughly vetted and, if there was anything in his past that would have raised suspicion, it wouldn’t be missing from his file, now would it? So, if there is something missing in Lucas’ file, I would suggest you respect that fact. After all, I’m certain no one in Section D is without their own skeletons that they would prefer to be kept private.”

The threat was thinly veiled. Even Malcolm would have been able to pick up on it, Ros thought. But, the threat also told Ros more than she was certain Gemma meant to tell her. Whatever was in Lucas’ past, Harry knew about it. Likely, Gemma knew it too. Ros rather doubted that Gemma would have been the type to remain blissfully in the dark about officers under her direction. So why are you hiding it? What was so important in Lucas’ past - or damning, Ros thought - that he had both Harry and Gemma willing to omit it from his files, even at the risk of national security? If the FSB had turned Lucas, knowing who his family was could help MI-5 get him to roll over on his new bosses.

“Of course,” Ros said, smiling. It was a practiced smile, one she had learned from her parents growing up. Smile, so no one knows when you’re about to make your move until it’s too late, her father used to tell her. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. I’m sure you understand?”

Gemma tilted her head in acknowledgement. “I do, but, as I said. Lucas is loyal to Harry Pearce. While I admit, I haven’t spoken to him since he returned, I know Lucas. He didn’t turn in prison. If anything, he probably annoyed his captors into releasing him.” Gemma placed her hands on her desk and stood up. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m afraid I have to go to a meeting soon.”

Ros stood up as well and offered her hand to Gemma. “Thank you for your time and insight. I appreciate it.”

Gemma took her hand. “Not a problem at all. If you have any further questions, you know my number.”

Indeed, I do. Not that it’ll help, Ros thought sourly as she slipped out of Gemma’s office and began making her way back to the Grid. She hadn’t been given anything that would help her with figuring out just how big of a threat Lucas might be that she didn’t already know. It didn’t help that she still couldn’t decide if Gemma was about to tell Lucas about their little meeting or not. She knew it would be a risk, talking to Gemma, and that Gemma very well could tell Lucas about their conversation. But, assuming that Gemma had been more-or-less truthful, Gemma hadn’t spoken to Lucas since he got back. How likely is it that she was telling me the truth about that, though? It bothered her that she couldn’t decide.

Ros still hadn’t reached a decision by the time she made it back to her desk. Lucas still wasn’t back yet, so Ros’ desk was blissfully untouched. In the end, she decided it didn’t matter. If Gemma told Lucas, then Lucas simply knew that Ros was looking into him. If Gemma didn’t tell Lucas, then he would be none-the-wiser. Either way, she would continue trying to determine if the FSB had found something in his past that could turn him and, if they had, what, exactly, that had been so that she could use it to roll Lucas back over.

Chapter Text

Lucas walked through Hyde Park with his hands in his pockets. While he knew exactly where the damn Jelly Baby Family sculpture was, he was still in disbelief that Gemma would choose there, of all places in the bloody park, to meet. He’d seen a lot of things since he had moved to London. Unfortunately, the Jelly Baby Family was a rather memorable sculpture that would undoubtedly be haunting his dreams when he was on his death bed. Naturally, Gemma had chosen that sculpture to meet at. He was starting to think she knew his thoughts on the sculpture and that it had been a deliberate choice on her part, no doubt to spite him for inconveniently getting arrested in Russia.

Shaking his head as he finally spotted the towering purple and blue jelly baby sculptures, Lucas picked his way over. Gemma was standing next to the sculpture, looking up at the monstrosity with a faint smile on her face. As soon as Lucas was close enough to hear, she said, “You’re late.”

“And you picked the most terrifying statue to meet at,” Lucas retorted. “Honestly, if you were trying to give me nightmares, you’ve succeeded.”

“It’s cute,” Gemma said and reached out a hand to touch the green child jelly baby.

Lucas lifted an eyebrow. “You and Jackie thinking of adopting?”

“Thinking, yes,” Gemma said. “But we haven’t decided anything yet.”

“You’d be a great mum. Just don’t bring the kids here. They’ll never sleep again.”

Gemma laughed and Lucas smiled. He tried not to think of Vyeta and how she had wanted kids. Lucas had always been on the fence about kids. She was a teacher and worked with kids all the time, which made her want one all the more, where Lucas…. At the time, he thought it was because he didn’t want to be like his own father. He didn’t want to be the father that was never there because he was always at work or because someone else always took precedence over his family. If Lucas was going to have a kid, he wanted to be there for that child and he just… couldn’t guarantee that he’d make it home for dinner on time, much less be there for his child. If Lucas had a child, his child would grow up wishing for a father that was never there, and all Lucas would be able to say was ‘sorry.’ At least John had his reasons for not being home. It took Lucas going to prison to realize and forgive his father for those reasons. He rather doubted - and fervently hoped against - that, if he were to have a child, his own child would have that same opportunity for… self-reflection.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. “You wanted to meet?” Gemma asked as she folded her arms across her chest.

Lucas blinked. The jelly babies were clearly getting to him, if he was starting to think about children and Vyeta. I made my choice. Live with it. “I had a few questions.”

“Only a few?”

Lucas nodded his head once. “Well, for starters, I’d like to question your taste in art.”

“I hope that you didn’t call me away from work to tell me you don’t like the jelly babies.”

“I didn’t, but I want you to know I don’t like the jelly babies,” Lucas said, giving them another dubious glance. Judging wankers.

“Duly noted. You’ll find it with all the other complaints men have told me,” Gemma said with a smile.

Lucas snorted. “Just don’t put it next to Albert’s. It’ll never be seen if you put it next to his complaints.” The wind picked up again, causing Lucas to shiver and pull his arms closer to his body. Next time, I’m picking the meeting place and it’s not going to be at a terrifying, multi-coloured statue of jelly babies.

Gemma didn’t seem bothered by the cold. “What can I help you with, Lucas?” Gemma asked, the mirth gone from her voice.

He hesitated. Do I really want to do this? He knew that Gemma was playing a game, that she had some kind of agenda and Lucas was a pawn in the game. But he couldn’t figure out what that agenda was. Gemma had been a spook for a long time and she had taught him a large part of what he knew. She was as much a chess player, if not more so, than Kachimov had been. The only difference, Lucas thought, was that Gemma could move the pieces about without them any wiser. Lucas knew what Kachimov was doing, had known as soon as Kachimov first started planting the seeds that someone had sold him out. And look at where it’s gotten me. Questioning everyone I’ve worked with. Questioning Harry. Lucas had to know, though, and Gemma was his best bet.

“Polecat,” Lucas said finally.

Gemma nodded once. “I take it you’ve looked through the file?”

“Several times.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t find anything, either.”

Gemma pursed her lips and Lucas had the distinct impression that he had answered incorrectly. “Then?” she asked, finally.

“Why did you give me the file?” Lucas asked quietly. She looked at him, her dark brown eyes unreadable. When Gemma didn’t answer, Lucas said, “You gave me the file for a reason. Why?”

“I told you -”

“That you think I slipped up, yeah, I know,” Lucas said. He ran a hand through his hair. “But why give me the file if you think I slipped up? Did you just want to prove to me that I fucked up and went through hell because of it?”

Gemma waited for Lucas to finish before calmly asking, “Are you done?”

He glared at her, feeling much like an errant child again. When she didn’t say anything further, he muttered, “I guess so.”

“Good. I never said you slipped up.”

“But you said -”

“I said I would let you come to the same conclusion Harry and I had come to,” Gemma said, waving a dismissive hand. “Which is that you didn’t make a mistake.”

“Then why? Why was I caught? What did I do wrong?” Lucas asked plaintively. He swallowed hard. It was one thing to think those questions for eight years, to play each and every goddamn minute of that day over and over and over in his head during the long periods of solitude. It was another to give them voice. He pressed his hand to his lips for a moment before dropping it again.

“I believe that MI-5 has a mole,” Gemma said. “And I think that you have pieces Harry and I are missing.”

Lucas frowned. “You think the FSB told me something?”

Gemma smiled enigmatically. “I didn’t say that either.”

“I didn’t miss this.”

“Liar,” Gemma said, still smiling. “I would have expected you, of all people, to at least appreciate the value of word choice.”

Lucas smiled, in spite of himself. She was right, he had missed this mental chess game with Gemma. It was always thrilling, particularly when he figured out her angle and was able to outmanoeuvre her, but he would be the first to admit that that didn’t happen too often. Gemma was far better at manipulating than he was. He’d be damned if he told her that he missed this, though. “Don’t suppose you have any idea who our mystery mole might be?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have given you the file.” Somehow, Lucas believed her on that.

He hesitated again. The wind had picked up again and he had the feeling that the jelly baby sculptures were judging him for even thinking of asking Gemma if it was possible that Harry had been the one to sell him out. First they judge me for not wanting kids, now they’re judging me for questioning Harry. What’s next? Judging me for how I take my coffee? The statues were clearly getting to him, he thought, so he turned his back to them and looked out over the park. Everything seemed… quiet. Serene. Like it was the calm before the storm. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Be honest. Who do you think sold me out?” Lucas asked.

Gemma tilted her head slightly. “Honesty comes at a price in our trade, Lucas. Are you sure you want that answer?”

“No, but tell me anyway,” Lucas said, looking at her.

She nodded once. “It had to be someone who had access to operational details.”

“Anyone in Section D,” Lucas surmised. It didn’t… exactly exclude Harry. But it wasn’t an outright admission that she thought Harry was the mole. She’s too good for that, though. If Gemma thought Harry was responsible for Lucas’ internment, she wouldn’t say as much, not to Lucas, of all people.

Gemma shrugged. “Or someone that was working in joint operation with Section D. It could have also been anyone with the appropriate level access.”

“Section Chief or higher?” Lucas asked.

“Section Chief or higher,” Gemma confirmed. She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid I have to get back. If you find anything else, you’ll call, right?”

“Of course,” Lucas said, smiling. Eventually.

Gemma smiled. “You always were a good liar, Lucas North.”

His smile widened. “Me? Lie to you? Never.”

Gemma chuckled. She brushed past him before pausing and turning back to him. “Oh, and Lucas? Someone seems very interested in you.”

“Oh?” Lucas asked, glancing at Gemma.

“Ros Myers came to visit me and had a few questions about you and your file. She was concerned that there’s something serious in your past.”

Lucas made a face. He should have guessed that Ros wouldn’t leave well enough alone. “What’d you tell her?”

“That you were annoying and a pain in the arse.”

He snorted. “Downgraded me, did you?”

“I could hardly tell Ms. Myers that I still remind Harry every chance I can that he foisted you on me and that you were simultaneously the best and worst officer I’ve ever had to deal with. I did, however, consider telling her that you were the bane of politicians and that you were fond of ignoring orders every chance you could, but I thought I’d let her discover those delightful aspects of your charming personality for herself.”

Lucas grinned again. At least some parts of me haven’t changed. After all, he still ignored orders that he thought were stupid. He was just… smarter about it now, he supposed. Back then, he’d been too green to know how to properly ignore orders. “Thanks.”

Gemma smiled and touched a hand to his arm. “She’ll stop asking if you tell her, you know. Harry agreed to keep your family off the books and to make your juvenile record disappear when you joined the Service. You had good reasons then, and you have good reasons now, but she’s convinced you’re hiding something bigger and she doesn’t quite strike me as the type to let things lie.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas said. He looked at the judging jelly babies again. Gemma was probably right. Scratch that, she is right. He could tell Ros that he had requested that Harry remove any mention of Lucas’ family from his files. He grew up in a small village. If people knew even where he was born, they’d be able to find his parents and use them to get to him and that was something he refused to allow to happen. It was one thing to knowingly and consciously put himself at risk. It was another to put his family at risk without ever telling them why. “But I’d rather not. Not until I know….”

Gemma nodded. “I understand.”

“Besides, it’s amusing seeing her be irritated that she can’t figure out what I’m hiding,” Lucas said.

“As charming as ever,” Gemma said with a chuckle. “She’s going to kill you when she finds out.”

“She can join the line.”

The mirth drained from Gemma’s face. “Be safe, Lucas,” she said quietly. “I worked hard to train you and Harry worked just as hard to get you back, so please don’t get yourself killed.”

Lucas pointed up at the jelly babies. “They’ll be disappointed in me?”

“Exactly,” Gemma said, the smile returning to her face. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze of farewell before turning to leave.

“Say hi to Jackie for me,” Lucas said as Gemma left. “And, remember, don’t bring the kids to the jelly babies statue.” She lifted her hand in farewell.

Lucas gave another misgiving look to the jelly babies before scowling at the trees. He had a long walk back to the car and planned to make the most of that time mulling over everything Gemma had told him. At least Gemma was mostly straightforward this time. I hope.

Chapter Text

Ros was scowling when she opened her door. Today had not been nearly as fruitful as she had hoped. Gemma hadn’t been helpful. Lucas’ leads on the bombers didn’t go anywhere. Jo and Ben had been not-so-mysteriously absent for a few hours getting “coffee” - she made a mental note to remind Jo and Ben that, while she didn’t care if they were being intimate, she’d rather they didn’t do it at work, even on slow days. Harry had another one of his mysterious absences. When he had returned, he hadn’t told her where he’d been, which only served to frustrate her more. All in all, Ros left work with more questions than she had answers.

Shutting the door behind her, Ros closed her eyes as she leaned back against the wood. A hot bath with a glass of wine seemed like a good way to unwind after an all-around frustrating day. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tomorrow is another day. She would find the Al-Qaeda bombers and she would make them pay. But first, wine. And a bath. Opening her eyes, Ros flicked on the light and stepped into the living room before pausing.

She had never been one for decorations. Her house was unadorned and everything had its place. The coffee table, which was usually bereft of personal effects, had a thick book on top of some papers. She frowned. I’m reasonably certain I did not leave a book on the coffee table. Glancing around the flat, Ros inched towards the fireplace and pulled out the gun that she kept hidden there.

Weapon in hand, Ros methodically searched her house. With the exception of the book on the coffee table, nothing else was amiss. Making her way back to the living room, Ros sat on the couch and put the gun on the coffee table. The book, a dictionary, was a plain one, but the spine looked unbroken, suggesting it was new. Two yellow tabs stuck out, bookmarking two pages in particular. Fetching her letter opener, Ros gingerly lifted the pages before the first tab. Nothing sprayed out at her. Thank God for small mercies. Scanning the page, she found the word “back,” along with the definition, highlighted in yellow. She didn’t bother with the letter opener for the second tab. Flipping to that tab, she saw the word “off,” and its definition, also highlighted in yellow. You wanker, Ros thought as she tossed the dictionary into the unlit fireplace. Maybe I’ll have a nice fire tonight after my bath.

If nothing else, at least now Ros knew that Gemma was in Lucas’ pocket, which made Ros question everything Gemma had told her that much more. When she had left Gemma’s office, Ros fully suspected that Gemma knew more than she was letting on. Now, Ros considered the dictionary on the table to be proof that the other woman had deliberately held back information about Lucas. Whatever was in Lucas’ file, Gemma knew it. She knew why Lucas was promoted, she knew why he didn’t exist on paper before 1995. And she had slipped up by telling Lucas that Ros had visited. Now, to figure out how to use that.

Turning her attention to the pages that were under the dictionary, Ros felt growing unease as she rifled through them. That unease turned into full concern as she saw all the notes and files she had photocopied about the Russian mobster that had been working with her father. She had never told anyone that she had been trying to determine the validity of Adam’s claim that her father and that Russian mobster were in league together. Ros certainly had never told anyone that she was compiling her own evidence in a bid to try to get her father to turn on the Yelencovich and, in the process, possibly reduce his own sentence. Yet, here it all was. Every bit of evidence she had found thus far, stacked neatly under the dictionary Lucas had left her.

Ros looked up at the door in concern. Not only had Lucas been in her flat, but he had found her slicks. The threat was even clearer than Gemma’s had been. If Ros kept poking, Lucas would start poking. Sleeping with him had been a mistake. He had said that he had gone for a walk, but what if he had used that time to search for her slicks? She would have been asleep and, while she wanted to think she’d wake up if he started rummaging around her house, she also knew that their activities had left her rather exhausted.

She dropped the papers on the coffee table and sat back on the couch. If she had something more concrete to fuel her distrust of Lucas, she would have kept trying to dig up his past. Something had happened in his past, something big enough that he got Harry and Gemma to both hide it. But, without anything concrete to go off of, she was risking her father potentially getting out of prison early for… what? A doubt? A feeling that Lucas was dirty?

Running a hand through her hair, Ros stared at the dictionary in the fireplace. She rather doubted Lucas had been kind enough to leave any fingerprints that could definitively prove it was him that had broken into her house. Even if he did, his fingerprints were easily explained away now that she had invited him to her house and slept with him. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Ros closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was a diplomat’s daughter. Her father had made sure that she had politics for breakfast, acting for lunch, and manipulating for dinner. If Lucas wanted to enter a battle of wits with her, she’d call his bluff. Not now, not when she didn’t have anything concrete to go after him with. But, eventually. He would slip up. Men always do. And, when Lucas did slip up? She’d be there, ready to throw him back into prison for working with the FSB.

Chapter Text

Lucas rubbed his forehead as he waited impatiently for the coffee to finish brewing. He supposed that was the downside of coming to work early: no one else had started the coffee because no one else was here yet. Harry was on the phone in his office and Malcolm was tinkering with the cooked explosive from the restaurant. Everyone else was probably still either in bed or doing their morning commute. Either way, Lucas was feeling the effects of another sleepless night and the coffee wasn’t brewing fast enough.

Finally, the coffee finished. Lucas poured himself a cup and added two sugar before bringing it back to his desk. He was almost finished the cup and was contemplating if he wanted to risk Harry seeing him going for a refill when Ros came onto the Grid. She didn’t break pace as she reached into her oversized bag and tossed a rather familiar looking dictionary in front of him.

“I think you misplaced this,” Ros said coolly. Lucas had to bite back a smile as he reached towards the dictionary and idly flipped through the pages as if he’d never seen the dictionary before. “I’ve always been more of an Oxford fan, myself.”

Before he could reply, Harry stepped out of his office. “Lucas, Ros, conference room.”

Lucas looked up at Ros, who pointedly ignored him and went straight to the conference room. Judging from her sudden frostiness, Lucas assumed she got the hint. Good. It didn’t take him long to figure out why Ros had intelligence on Misha Yelencovich squirrelled away. She was missing pieces, clearly, otherwise she would have brought it forward to either her father or to Harry in a bid to get her father’s sentence reduced, but the papers served Lucas’ purposes. If he were feeling charitable, he might have even considered giving her what he knew about Yelencovich from when he did his homework for Polecat eight years ago.

Instead, Lucas got to his feet and, taking his coffee with him, made his way to the conference room. He sat opposite Ros. Slowly, the rest of the team trickled in, no doubt flagged by Harry as soon as they stepped through the pods. As Lucas waited for everyone to get settled, he finished his coffee and wondered what the urgency was. Usually, Harry at least let everyone walk in through the pods and take their jackets off before corralling everyone into the conference room. Maybe Harry has something on the Al-Qaeda bombers? Lucas hoped so. He really, really, really hoped so.

Finally, everyone was seated at the table. Harry didn’t say anything as he pressed a button on the remote. Lucas tensed as he heard an elongated, loud beep. What is Sugarhorse? Who is in your network? He blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the message on the screen, that whatever was about to play was the property of the US Department of Defense. When the video started to play, Lucas remembered to breathe and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus on the footage of an unmanned drone in Afghanistan.

“I do not have control of the vehicle,” a voice was saying. Lucas frowned before widening his eyes minutely as the drone began firing on a base. “Oh my God,” was the last thing the narrator said before Harry turned off the footage.

“The predator drone was hacked by the Al-Qaeda and was made to fire on its own base. Seven US deaths,” Harry said. “The Americans are upset as it was a British portal that the Al-Qaeda hacked. They want to install a new network, Cybershell, to reduce the number of potential cyber attacks British networks may face and prevent another tragedy like this from happening.”

“Hopefully it works,” Connie said disdainfully.

“I’ve been assured it works,” Harry said. “Whether it does or not… Well, I suppose that remains to be seen.”

“What do you need from us?” Ros asked.

“The CIA is sending a cryptographer to London install Cybershell. We need someone to pick her up and bring her here safely.”

“Lucas can do it,” Ros said coolly.

Lucas blinked again. Great, babysitting duty. He supposed he probably deserved it for breaking into Ros’ flat last night. Still, Lucas inclined his head. At the very least, he could use the excuse to hit a coffee shop and grab an actual, decent cup of coffee to go.

“We will also need someone to liaise with the CIA while they set up the Cybershell terminal,” Harry said. “Malcolm, Connie, I’d like you to prepare our servers for the upgrade.”

“I can liaise with the cousins,” Ros said.

“What do you want us to do?” Jo asked, gesturing to her and Ben.

“Finish your paperwork from yesterday,” Ros said. “Unless Harry needs you doing something else?”

“No, that is all. Remember. Seven people are dead because the Al-Qaeda hacked a drone through a British portal. As much as I don’t like the idea of using American networks, this is what is best and will assist us in preserving relations with them. Try to be nice to them, please. Dismissed.”

Chapter Text

Lucas scowled as he pulled down a long stretch of mostly deserted back road in the middle of nowhere. He knew that there’d be hell to pay for breaking into Ros’ house and digging up the intel on the mobster that was in league with her father. He didn’t think that she’d be so petty as to send him to babysit some cryptographer. Should have seen that one coming, though. Still, he supposed he’d rather be out in the field than sitting on the Grid, being glared at the entire time, even if it did mean he had to babysit some posh American cryptographer.

His phone chimed just as he spotted what he assumed were the Americans’ cars blockading the road. They had been the ones to select the spot, going for isolated and just outside the city limits. Apparently, the cryptographer was their baby and they were worried having her travel through conventional means like an airport would only get her killed. No, instead, they thought out in some isolated spot was the ideal place to be. What could possibly go wrong? He scowled as came to a stop. Not killing the engine quite yet, Lucas checked his phone and lifted an eyebrow as he read the text. Lorie Hanson is being sent home tomorrow, Kate’s message read. Well, I suppose that’s some good news.

Turning off the engine, Lucas got out of the car and flashed his credentials as he walked up to the car that he gathered contained his babysittee. One of the Americans held up his hand and Lucas came to a stop. “Hey, mate,” he said, offering a smile that he didn’t quite feel, but hoped would convince the security he wasn’t here to hurt their baby. “Security Services.” The two guards glanced at each other before the American in Lucas’ way stepped aside and gestured for him to go towards the window.

“Hey, James Bond,” a young, female voice said. Drawled, more like.

“Not exactly. Robert Wheeler, MI-5. Miss Ortiz,” he said, tilting his head as she got out.

“Danielle,” she corrected. “Only the big wigs call me Miss Ortiz.” She paused as he assessed her. Definitely not what I expected the cousins to send. He was starting to think posh was not the correct term to describe the girl. She looked fresh off the corner, complete with the sheer blue shirt with one sleeve ripped off just above her elbow, gaudy jewellery, jean shorts that barely covered her arse, sheer, ripped leggings, and cowboy boots. If it weren’t for the steel briefcase handcuffed to her wrist, he would have guessed that she had a very different profession than a CIA cryptographer.

As if reading his thoughts, she said, “They showed you that old yearbook photo of me, didn’t they? They think people won’t take me seriously if they know the true horror.”

I’ve seen true horror and it sure as hell doesn’t wear cowboy boots. “We need to get moving,” Lucas said, glancing down the road. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could join back up with the manhunt for the Al-Qaeda bombers.

“Woah, less with the chitchat, James, we need to get moving,” Danielle said. If he wasn’t so annoyed at having to do a job that he was certain could be foisted off on Ben or Jo, he would have smirked at her attitude. Instead, he walked back to his car and got in, waiting only for her to get in before starting the car.

“Well, this’ll be fun,” she said as he turned the car around and started back the way he had come. Her seatbelt clicked as she buckled in.

He gave her guards a one-fingered salute, in honour of their Americanness, in the rear-view mirror before making his way back to the main road.

It’ll be fun for one of us.

-x-

Ros rubbed her forehead as the phone started to ring. She really didn’t like the idea of the CIA having access to MI-5’s computers, but she had to concede that they had a point. MI-5’s systems were outdated and they did need an upgrade. She just… wasn’t as confident as Harry that Cybershell was the right system to upgrade to. Not too long ago the cousins had been snatching potential, high-profile assets off the street. Now, they wanted inside the Grid, inside MI-5’s internal network, to update the computers with a program that they controlled.

No, Ros thought, this was a terrible idea. But she didn’t see an alternative. So, with the patience ingrained in her from a young age, Ros picked up the phone and answered, “Yes?”

“Your officer just picked up Kipper,” the latest CIA liaison, Libby McCall, said. Ros rolled her eyes. McCall had insisted on calling Ortiz ‘Kipper.’ He claimed it was because he’d rather not compromise their darling cryptographer or Cybershell by saying her name over ‘potentially compromised channels.’ Ros thought that it was just a glorified way for him to try to show her that he was in charge now that Lori had inexplicably been called back to Langley and was expected to return Stateside tomorrow. If she was honest, Ros would say that she was hardly impressed by McCall’s peacocking.

“Then our business will soon be concluded,” Ros said smoothly, not letting any of the disdain she felt colour her words. Father would be so proud, she thought.

“Just make sure Kipper arrives unharmed and then we’ll go from there.”

“Naturally,” Ros said and ended the call. It was a minor thing, ensuring that she had the last word, but she had a feeling it would irk McCall to know that she had ended the call and not him.

Abruptly, a loud clatter sounded behind her. Ros spun in her chair to see Malcolm’s face contorted in rage. A clipboard, the source of the noise, laid on the floor. “I can’t take this anymore!” Malcolm snapped.

Ros blinked as Malcolm stormed past her towards the gents. She… couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Malcolm this angry. Adam had mentioned to her once that he hadn’t taken Colin’s death well, but he had never acted as though he held her accountable for that. He’d always been civil, kind, even, to her. Seeing him throw a clipboard to the floor in rage…. Ros frowned. Something is wrong.

Harry stepped out of his office, frowning at the commotion, likely. Ros exchanged a worried look with Harry as Jo cautiously picked up the clipboard. Ros spun back around in her chair, wondering what had set Malcolm off. While she wouldn’t be surprised to find out Malcolm was upset over the thought of the cousins fussing over MI-5’s computer systems, she rather doubted that was the cause of Malcolm’s outburst. No one was happy about the cousins coming in and mucking up MI-5’s computer systems. But to have an outburst like this? Surely something had to have caused it. Malcolm simply wasn't prone to random outbursts, not like this.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ben asked as Jo put the clipboard back on Malcolm’s desk. The CIA officers hovering near Connie’s desk shook their heads and went back to whatever it was they were doing, all under Connie’s watchful eye.

Jo shrugged at Ben. “Maybe he’s upset about the systems upgrade?”

“This seems a bit much for being upset over a system upgrade,” Ben said.

“Maybe, but these computers are Malcolm’s babies,” Jo pointed out.

“Should one of us go after him, you think?” Ben asked.

Ros sighed. “I’ll go,” she said and got to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said to the officer currently rooting through her desk. Maybe, when I get back, I’ll ask him to deliberately mess up Lucas’ desk. It’d serve him right, too. It took her bloody well close to two hours righting her desk when he had reorganized her desk. Even if the wanker denied it, she knew it had to have been him who had moved everything around on her desk. Ben and Jo didn’t have the balls to do it and Connie and Malcolm wouldn’t have thought to do it. Not to mention, there was the thinly veiled threat last night. Definitely asking them to make liberal use of his desk and to feel free to leave it a mess.

Still fuming, Ros made her way towards the gents’. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the deserted hall. With all hands on deck while the cousins upgraded their systems, no one was wandering about or running from the Grid to IT and back again. Finally, she reached the gents and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she called Malcolm’s name before walking inside. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Shh,” Malcolm said and ran his hand along each of the automatic sinks, activating them. Ros frowned. He didn’t stop there, though, and grabbed the cleaning checklist to drop that in the hand drier, setting that off too. She half expected him to run from stall to stall to get the toilets going, too, really add to the din.

“We have a serious problem,” he said in a hushed tone that she could barely hear over all the noise.

“Evidently. What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been listening to us.”

Ros blinked and shook her head. “What?”

Malcolm looked agitated and took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I only saw it because I was cleaning up the systems for Cybershell, but someone’s inside our systems and they’ve been listening to everything we’ve said.”

“How is that possible?” Ros asked. This could not have come at a worse time. They had the bombers to track down and the cryptographer en route. They did not have time for some has-been hacker to somehow get into MI-5’s systems. “And can you get them out of our systems?”

“I don’t know, but they have access to everything. Our files, our data, our personnel files. Even our phones. They’re listening to everything we’re saying, can see everything we’re doing. This is highly sophisticated work and, if I try anything, they’ll know right away and shut me down.”

Ros felt an overwhelming urge to scream, but managed to suppress it. Instead, she rubbed her forehead. “Damn.”

“Indeed.”

“Do you know where it’s coming from at least?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

Ros pinched the bridge of her nose. “Find out, Malcolm. I’ll update Harry.”

So much for a quiet systems upgrade. She only hoped that the hiccough only affected the Grid and not Lucas, otherwise she'd be getting an angry phone call from Libby instead of just an annoying phone call.

Chapter Text

Contrary to Lucas’ expectations, the girl actually knew how to shut up, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he quite wanted to listen to her prattle for the entire three-hour trip back to Thames House. After all, there were only so many James Bond jokes he could hear before he started to tune her out. At one point, she had touched everything she could reach in the car, insisting that there were secret compartments and that she was going to find them. It didn’t matter that he had told her five times that this was a normal, standard car, that the Service didn’t have the types of cars she seemed to think they did. She was determined. She would find them.

Lucas was very proud of the fact that he managed not to say anything when, shockingly, she didn’t find any secret compartments.

As she sulked over the lack of secret “spy gadgets” in the car, Lucas focused on keeping an eye out for potential tails. They were following a cleaning route and a fairly simple one at that, but he figured it didn’t hurt to be too cautious. If the cryptographer was as important as the cousins made her out to be, he didn’t want to be the one that got her hurt. When she started badly singing along to the radio, Lucas gripped the steering wheel tightly. I swear to God, I’m going to kill her. He reconsidered. If he killed her, he'd undoubtedly have to go back to prison, and Lucas really wasn't eager to see the inside of another cell any time soon. Fine. I'll gag her and toss her in the boot, then.

Content with the compromise he'd made with himself, Lucas looked up at the mirror again. Tailing him was the cousins’ plain, black car. After he had gotten back into London, he had noticed that a black car had pulled onto the motorway behind him. When it flashed its high-beams at him, he assumed that it belonged to the cousins, and, when he had pulled off the motorway to grab another coffee for himself and a bagel for Ortiz, he had come back to find two CIA officers standing outside his car, talking to Ortiz. It didn’t bother him, overly, that they were following him back to Thames House. It didn't even bother him that they were the ones that had insisted on circling around the city so much, just to be sure that they weren't being followed. What did bother him was the blue van tailing their car. Normally, Lucas wouldn’t think anything of a van on the motorway, but there had been several main exits off the road. The whole point of the cleaning route was that it was populous enough that it was unlikely anyone would try anything, but it wasn’t on the main thoroughfare into the city so they could spot if anyone was following them. Shit.

“What’s up, James?” Ortiz asked, pausing in her rather lacklustre rendition of whatever country station she had found on the radio.

“We’re on a cleaning route. That’s all you need to know,” Lucas said as he checked his mirror again. What the hell? It looked almost like the van was tailing the cousins’ car, he thought. If it had spotted the cousins’ car…. Is my vehicle compromised too?

“I already know about the route,” Ortiz said. He caught a flash of chipped blue nail polish as she waved her hand dismissively. “What I mean is that you’re looking in that mirror every ten seconds, you’re breathing funny, and your hands are real tight on the wheel.”

Lucas scowled and forced himself to relax. It wouldn’t do for her to catch on that something might be wrong. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. He was aware enough to recognize that he was… more prone to bouts of paranoia than he had been eight years ago. Still, this was just too coincidental. And with Ortiz being so important to the success of Cybershell.… Lucas wasn’t sure he wanted to risk that his paranoia was wrong with so much at stake.

“Just staying alert,” Lucas said, trying to keep his tone calm and even. “Checking for tails. Keeping you safe. From what I hear, you’re very special.”

“It’s what my dad used to tell me,” Ortiz said. She glanced at his wrists, which he only noticed because he was looking away from the rear view mirror again. “Nice tats, by the way.”

Lucas shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Where’d you get them done?”

“Nowhere you’ve heard of.”

She lifted her sleeve. “I have some too, you know. Got this one when I did some time in Rockfell Correction Facility in Indiana, 2004.”

“Wow, you did time and they’re trusting you with this?” He couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped out.

“You did time and they’re trusting you with this?” Ortiz countered. Lucas lifted an eyebrow and she shrugged. “I know prison tats when I see them. What’d you do?”

“Stole some stuff,” Lucas said neutrally.

“Oh. Mine was for hacking the Pentagon.”

Lucas looked over at her. Definitely did not see that one coming. He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or terrified that this woman, who looked barely older than he had been when he joined up with MI-5, had hacked the Pentagon. No wonder the cousins want her kept safe.

“So, what’d you steal?” she asked.

Lucas smiled thinly. “Nothing of note." It wasn't a complete lie. He'd been captured before he was able to find any useful intelligence, but he didn't particularly feel like sharing why he had prison tattoos, much less with a kid that annoyed him as much as Ortiz did. He had a feeling that she would make a joke about it or, worse, pity him, and the last damn thing he wanted was pity. He dealt with enough of that from Harry, when Harry thought Lucas wasn't looking or was preoccupied.

“But something noteworthy enough to land you time,” she pressed.

“Yep.”

“That’s it?”

Lucas glanced over at her and smirked. “That’s it.”

Ortiz sighed and threw her hands up in the air. “I’m trying to have a conversation here. The least you could do is participate, you know?”

He didn’t answer, just kept smirking as he checked the rear-view mirror again. The blue van was still there, hovering just behind the cousins’ cars. Lucas rubbed his hand over his mouth. He could keep on the cleaning route and hope that he was wrong, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his instincts were right, that the van was following them. He glanced over at Ortiz, who was still chattering away, and tuned her out. If he wanted to keep her safe, he’d have to lose her people, which would get a bunch of people upset with him. But at least I’ll lose the tail, too. At the very least, it’d probably cause some extra headaches for Ros if he pissed the Americans off.

Lucas waited until it was almost too late to take the exit, and then rather sharply turned into the exit lane and followed the ramp off the motorway and accelerated. The move earned him a few irate honks from other drivers, but had the desired effect of buying him at least a few seconds as both the cousins and the van following them realized that he was deviating from the route.

Ortiz yelped and grabbed the handle while staring at him. “What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Losing a tail,” Lucas said as he turned sharply into a parking garage. He didn’t want to take the chance that whoever was following the cousins had tagged his car as well.

He had barely turned the car off before he was already moving. “Come on, we need to move!” he yelled as he practically dragged Ortiz out of the car. “Come on!”

To her credit, she ran with him without any further questions. Lucas released her arm so that he could dig in his pockets for the multi-tool. While Lucas was no stranger to boosting cars, MI-5’s toys made stealing infinitely easier and he didn’t have the time to waste picking the lock and boosting the car. Finding the tool he was looking for, he pushed it into the lock of a civilian car and drilled through the lock. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t see Ortiz’s people or the tail. Not for much longer, though, he suspected. Wrenching open the door, he quickly unlocked the doors and Ortiz got in beside him. She clutched the briefcase tightly to her as Lucas pushed the drill into the ignition, carefully drilling through the pins. It’d been awhile since he had done this, but he figured he didn’t exactly have a whole lot of options if he wanted to keep Ortiz safe. As soon as he was done drilling, Lucas flipped the multi-tool so that the screwdriver was out and he pressed it into the ignition. Moment of truth. To his relief, the car started.

“So I’m going to go on a limb and say you stole a car that got you prison time?” Ortiz asked as he pulled out of the parking garage.

“It was a nice car,” Lucas said. Actually, it was rather shitty, and it wasn’t a car at all.

“No shit,” she said. Lucas merged back onto the motorway. “What happened?”

Lucas adjusted the rear-view mirror and was relieved to see he had lost both the tail and the cousins. “We had a tail, picked it up about twenty kilometres back. Not sure if they had all our vehicles tagged or just the CIA’s car, so I ditched our vehicle to get a new one.”

“You don’t think.… Eddie’s okay, you think?”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Lucas said. He surprised himself with how gentle he sounded. “Pissed that they lost us, but fine.”

Ortiz nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Lucas sighed. There wasn’t much he could say to her. And, really, what could he say? He was a stranger to her and he had just gone out of his way to lose the only people who were familiar to her. I don’t have time to dwell on this. He had shit to do and a girl to keep away from whoever was tailing them. Not to mention, the fact that there was even a tail in the first place worried him. It meant someone knew that Ortiz was in the country, they knew exactly where she would be, and they knew who she was. But how could they know that the CIA were going to fly Ortiz out to London to update MI-5's systems with Cybershell? Lucas hadn't even been told who he was supposed to be escorting until about five minutes before he had to leave to pick her up. Unless whoever was following them wasn't after Cybershell? No, it had to be Cybershell. It had to be. It didn't make sense to Lucas that it would be anything else.

Taking a hand off the wheel to dig in his pocket, Lucas grabbed his Bluetooth and slipped it on. He glanced down for a second to unlock his phone and, after briefly looking up to merge back into traffic, another glance down to find Harry’s number. On the third ring, Harry picked up. “Alpha One?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, you’re about to get an angry call from the cousins,” Lucas said, glancing again in the rear-view mirror. “I had to dump the package’s security detail and switch to a civilian car. You won’t be able to track me.”

“What? Why?”

“They were compromised. Look, I’m taking a new route home. Everything’s fine, I just need to be sure. I’ll see you later.”

Lucas disconnected the call and returned his focus to the road. Ortiz looked uncomfortable and he almost felt sorry for the girl. He had, after all, practically kidnapped her as far as she was concerned. “Look, I’m sure your people are safe,” he said. Ortiz nodded and pulled out her phone. “What are you doing?” Lucas asked.

“Updating my people. They’ll want to know.” Lucas snatched the phone from her hands. “Hey, what are you doing?” she demanded and moved to grab the phone. Lucas was faster, though, and tossed it into traffic where he saw another vehicle run it over.

“Being safe. We don’t know how the tail found us. Until I know, I’m not taking any risks.”

“What, you think my people are responsible?” Lucas didn’t answer, just kept staring straight ahead. “So you can use your phone, but I can’t use mine?”

“The tail wasn’t following my vehicle,” Lucas pointed out.

Ortiz’s mouth opened and then snapped close. Finally, Ortiz declared, “I don’t like this,” and crossed her arms across her chest. The handcuff around her wrist clacked loudly against the steel briefcase attached at the motion.

That makes two of us. Fortunately, Lucas did not say as much. Ros would be so proud of me. Instead, Lucas stared steadfastly at the road. Great. Now, not only did Lucas have to play babysitter, but he had to make sure that whoever was tailing them didn’t find them again. Oh, joy.

Chapter Text

Ros looked impassively at her computer. It was frustrating, knowing there wasn’t much she could do. It would look too suspicious if she followed Jo, Ben, and Malcolm into the hall. The brief power outage Malcolm had staged had given them a chance to bring everyone up to speed, but it still wasn’t an ideal situation. They could only have so many power outages before their voyeurs grew suspicious, which meant that it was essential that whoever was watching thought things were as normal on the Grid. Malcolm wasn’t sure how long the hackers had been watching and they couldn’t take any chances, not with the cryptographer on her way and Cybershell at stake.

It had been fifteen minutes since the power had come back on. Malcolm had managed to leave rather convincingly by saying he had to check on the systems after the power outage. Jo and Ben had followed. Ros supposed that it was rather fortuitous that the two of them sneaking off together wasn’t entirely uncommon. They had always thought they had successfully gone unnoticed for half an hour, usually. Had they not worked for an organization that trained its operatives to notice things, they might have even gotten away with it. Still, it did make for a convenient excuse for them to leave the Grid without drawing the attention of the unwanted voyeurs, so Ros supposed she couldn’t be too irritated with them. For now.

Of course, the three of them meeting in the hall, where there were no cameras, meant that it would look suspicious if Ros, Harry, and Connie went as well. Instead, Ros had to sit and wait. Pity. Waiting was never one of my best qualities. Connie was in Harry’s office, speaking with him likely about old times or whatever she and Harry talked about behind closed doors, which meant Ros was alone on the Grid to supervise the cousins. Wonderful. Just. Wonderful. At least they were almost finished. Soon, she would be able to dismiss them and the team could focus on the problem at hand without twisting McCall’s knickers.

The minutes ticked by and Ros could feel her frustration mounting. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do to help with the situation, not without tipping off the hackers. Malcolm still had nothing in place to let them speak plainly without their uninvited guests being privy to their conversations. Lucas was still out and about and bringing the package to the Grid. And then, of course, there was the question of the tail he had mentioned to Harry. The hackers had to be linked to the tail. It was just too coincidental for it to be an accident that someone had hacked into MI-5’s systems just before the Cybershell update and there was a tail following the Cybershell cryptographer. Lucas was due in two hours, which meant that they had two hours to sort out this mess, get the hackers out of MI-5, and figure out who was tailing Lucas.

No pressure. She was starting to think maybe sending Lucas was a mistake. She should have gone herself instead of acting out of petty revenge. He was good at the job, he had to be if he broke into her house last night as cleanly as he had without her alarms being triggered. But, the fact remained, Ros wasn’t sure just how good Lucas was, yet she had to trust that he would be able to keep the package alive, and she hated that feeling. For all she knew, he was one of those officers that adhered strictly to the rulebook. Okay, maybe not. A rulebook-thumping officer wouldn’t have thought to stage a fake bombing or to shake the tail without Grid approval first. Still, she didn’t share Harry’s confidence that Lucas could handle this, not with the residual damage from prison. She had heard him that night he had stayed at her home. He wasn't nearly as fine as he pretended. The last time an officer wasn't as fine as they wanted to be.... 

Ros snapped her head up as she heard Jo, Ben, and Malcolm trickled back from the hall. The trio crowded around Malcolm's desk, still talking animatedly about something. Ros could only hope that they had found a way around the Grid’s uninvited houseguests. She waited, tapping a pen against her palm, for them to either call her over or for a reason to go to Malcolm's desk arose. If she just went over as soon as they got back, the hackers would grow suspicious. Or, well, she would be suspicious. As each second dragged on, Ros found herself grinding her teeth. If Malcolm had thought of a way to communicate, he didn’t say anything to her, and that made her even more impatient. Damn it, we need to find a way to communicate. They were bloody spies. Their livelihoods depended on communicating in situations where communicating was difficult. How could no one think of a single bloody way to communicate without their voyeurs knowing?

“Harry, we’ve got something,” Malcolm said finally. Ros glanced over at Harry’s office and practically jumped to her feet. In a handful of strides, Ros joined the small crowd around Malcolm’s desk. Harry and Connie made their way over and looked over Malcolm’s shoulder at the screen. “A chatter report in our system with coded references to Cybershell.”

“It could be someone after the access codes,” Connie said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Do we know where the chatter originates from?” Ros asked, frowning. She thought Cybershell was supposed to be a secret database. Unless… Unless this was what they had been discussing in the hallway. They had a plan, then. Maybe, if Ros was lucky, it’d even work.

“Mobile account in south London, Drakefield Street.”

“Ben, Jo, go, see what you can find,” Harry said, nodding. “Bring back some good news.”

-x-

Ortiz had remained remarkably quiet after Lucas had tossed her phone out the window. So far, he hadn’t noticed any other tails, which he supposed was a good thing. He imagined it helped that he was taking the rather scenic route to Thames House instead of the more direct way, electing to stick to backroads where it would be more obvious if someone started tailing him. Every now and then, he would hear the clack of Ortiz’s handcuff moving against the briefcase as she fidgeted. At least she’s not singing again. He might actually hand her over to whoever had tailed the cousins’ car if she started singing again.

As he drove, Lucas tried to figure out how the tailers had known the cleaning route. Even he hadn’t known what the route was until Ros had called him while he was on the road to collect Ortiz from the CIA. The person that burned me, maybe? But that didn’t make sense. Section D had gone through many changes since he’d been Section Chief. Harry and Malcolm were the only two left from the team Lucas had when he was arrested. And Harry wouldn’t have put Ortiz’s life at risk, surely. It bothered him that he wasn’t… completely certain of that. It wouldn’t be the first time that Harry had put the wellbeing of the country over the wellbeing of the individual. Lucas had opposed it back then, and he opposed it now, if Harry was the party responsible for leaking the cleaning route.

Still, Lucas didn’t like Harry for it. If Harry was responsible, he would have been more cautious about who he sent to tail Lucas. While Lucas was deliberately downplaying how much he knew about the job, he couldn’t bluff Harry. Harry already knew what Lucas was capable of. He wouldn’t have sent a tail that would have made the mistake of being caught. Which brought Lucas back to trying to figure out how whoever had tailed the cousins knew the route.

Unless they didn’t know the route. If they knew the meeting place…. The cousins had chosen their meeting place a fair ways outside the city to make it easier to smuggle Ortiz back into the city. If she was as important as the CIA made her out to be, the last thing they would want is for her to be in the open where she’d be a target. Outside London at least reduced the chances of any surprise shooters. If the meeting place was compromised, then there were only a few different places where Ortiz would conceivably be brought back into the city. All the tailers had to do was place a vehicle at each of those entrances and wait for the cousins’ car to reappear.

But that still doesn’t explain who sent them. Lucas cut his eyes towards the briefcase before looking back at the road. Likely, the people responsible wanted Cybershell. It was just a question of who wanted it and how badly. This could get messy.

“Ever kill anyone, James?” Ortiz asked, bringing Lucas out of his reverie. Lucas sighed internally. He did not get paid enough to deal with this. And here I thought I left all my interrogators in Russia. He gave her a look that said he wasn’t amused before returning to focusing on the road. “And his answer is an enigmatic look,” Ortiz declared dramatically. Her hand waved equally dramatically to emphasize her point. Lucas didn’t even deign that with a look, much less a reply. She was relentless, though, and continued, oblivious – or perhaps simply uncaring – to his growing annoyance, “So, got any hobbies?”

“Nope,” Lucas said flatly. Nothing he’d share with her, anyway.

To Ortiz’s credit, she continued, undeterred. What does it take to shut this girl up? “I climb mountains. Although, these days, I have to go with a big spunky dude like you to keep me safe.” She looked up at him and blinked flirtatiously at him. “You’d keep me safe, right?”

“That is what I’m doing now, is it not?” he asked.

Ortiz flopped back in her seat. “So you really don’t have any hobbies? Books? Movies? Music? Come on, everyone likes music.” She leaned forward to fiddle with the radio and, soon enough, country music was blaring out of the speakers again.

“Used to,” he said. The girl was tenacious. Silence didn’t deter her. Maybe giving her an almost answer would. My shrink would be so damn proud.

“Used to? You used to like music? How does a person go off music? Seriously?” Or not. He glanced up at the roof of the car for a second, silently praying for patience.

Lucas didn’t answer right away. He had tried getting back into music when he got out of prison. Mostly, he found it was just noise to chase away the silence. Sometimes, he found it genuinely interesting to listen to. More times than not, he found it… sad. It reminded him too much of what he lost. Vyeta. He blinked once, twice, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Sometimes you just stop hearing it,” Lucas said quietly.

If Ortiz had something witty to say, she kept it to herself. Instead, she looked up at him before nodding once in understanding.

Chapter Text

Ros breathed a sigh of relief as the cousins filed out of the pods. Good riddance. The last thing she needed was the CIA catching wind that something was amiss and having to placate McCall again. After Lucas’ little stunt losing the cousins’ car, she had to listen to McCall irately inform her that he was not impressed with her officer’s brazen manoeuvre. I never thought I would see the day that I defended Lucas’ actions, Ros thought as she scowled at the phone, almost daring it to ring again. If Lucas thought there was a tail following him, then, as far as Ros was concerned, no matter how reluctant she was to think so, Lucas made the right decision in losing the cousins and switching cars. His goal was to deliver the cryptographer to them safe and unharmed and tails rarely followed for good reasons.

Shortly after the CIA officers had left, Jo came back to the Grid. Ros frowned. Where’s Ben? Jo caught Ros’ frown and gave her an apologetic look. “Ben’s mum called, asked him to pick up something for her. He said he’s sorry, should be back in twenty minutes or so.”

Ros lifted an eyebrow. While Ben had hardly warmed up to Ros after their… initial introduction and didn’t usually share information about his private life with her, this was also the first time she knew of that his ‘mother had called.’ Not saying anything, Ros simply inclined her head and turned back to the paperwork on her desk. If Ben’s not here, then they must have found something. Hopefully, with luck, it’d give them the edge they needed to get rid of their unwanted houseguests.

Thirty minutes later, Ben finally came through the pods. Ros glanced up and watched him walk towards Jo, handing her a bag. “From Mum,” Ben said with a smile. “She knows how much you love her chocolate cupcakes.”

Jo grinned. “Your mum is the sweetest. Thank her for me, will you?”

“‘Course,” Ben said and sat down. “I made sure to snag one with extra icing for you.”

Jo dived into the bag, pulling out a tin that she promptly opened. Ros rolled her eyes and met Harry’s eyes through the window to his office. She rather doubted that Ben had just brought Jo cupcakes. Or, at least, she hoped Ben brought more than cupcakes. They needed something if they wanted to shut down the hackers and get Cybershell installed without the Americans any wiser that their coveted program was almost compromised.

If he went out of his way to just buy Jo cupcakes, I swear, I’m going to sack him, and then Lucas, because Lucas probably put Ben up to it to spite me.

With nothing to do but wait until Jo either signalled they found something or Malcolm confirming he found a way for them to communicate without the voyeurs hearing, Ros pursed her lips and looked back at the paperwork on her desk. She really hated paperwork. But she wanted to make sure that Cybershell was installed without a hitch, which meant combing through reports about the various updates that would be required in order to install Cybershell. While Malcolm would have been better to go over the reports, he was… otherwise occupied, and Connie was assisting him as best she could. Which left Ros to go through the reports.

She made it through three reports before Jo slipped towards the ladies’ washroom. Ros glanced at Harry again, minutely nodding her head towards the hall. Harry blinked, which Ros took as him acknowledging her direction. Getting to her feet, Ros said, “I need to walk around before I fall asleep reading these reports. Ben, if Lucas calls, direct him to call my mobile, would you?”

“Sure,” Ben said.

Nodding once at Ben, Ros went into the hall. Malcolm had discovered the blindspot in the hall years ago, back when Adam had… still been alive. As far as Ros knew, he had told Harry about the blindspot, but nothing ever came of it. She never thought she’d be thankful for the government being as cheap as possible and unwilling to redo the camera-work and wiring in the hall to fix the solitary blindspot. They would still have to keep their voices down, but at least it was a start to giving them some way of communicating with each other without their voyeurs any wiser.

Within a few minutes, Harry and Jo joined Ros at the blindspot. Jo’s face was grim as she said, “We’ve got a problem.” She handed Ros a contraband phone, that Ros elected not to comment on. She had bigger concerns than Jo smuggling a phone onto the Grid. Was that what Ben got her?

Ros looked at the screen and frowned. Two of the men, she wasn’t surprised to see didn’t bring up any hits on the facial recognition software. If she were hacking into an intelligence organization, she wouldn’t go herself to investigate a lead. She’d hire some muscle and send them instead. But, that could just be the fact that, as a politician’s daughter, it was rare that she, herself, got her hands dirty. But, the other two faces…. She didn’t recognize either of them, but the facial recognition software had. The man was associated with the FSB and, according to his file, he specialized in cyber intelligence. The fourth face, a woman, was with the Chinese Secret Service. Shit. When she read the CSS operative’s description, her eyes widened. The CSS brought their own cryptographer into this?

“They must want Cybershell,” Ros surmised. She glanced up at Harry. This was more than bad. This was… This is a bloody mess.

“We can’t let them have it,” Harry said as he took the phone from Ros. “If they get into Cybershell, the West will have lost the cyber war before it’s even begun. We have to shut the hackers down, no matter what the cost to us.”

Ros blinked. It was the only indication she gave that what he had said shocked her. After Harry gave the go-ahead to detonate a bomb in Tehran to try to mask British involvement in a potential murder, she knew that it shouldn’t surprise her and yet…. “Harry, the cost to us is all our files. All our assets. All our personnel files.”

“I’m well aware, but our options are limited. We shut down the hackers, which means we sacrifice our intel, or we expose Cybershell, which means we lose our data and the Americans’. No, we have to find these people and stop them before Lucas gets back here with Ortiz.”

She tightened her grip on a pen that she had brought with her. Ros didn’t like it, but Harry was right. No matter what, MI-5’s files would be compromised. At least this way, they could minimize the damage. If the FSB and the Chinese got their hands on Cybershell….

“Alright,” she said. “Jo, give this back to Malcolm, and tell him we need to find the hackers and we need to find them now.”

Jo nodded and took the file from her. Ros waited a moment before nodding to Harry. The two of them walked onto the Grid together, calmly discussing various options about what to do about the tail that Lucas had mentioned. Ros had always been talented at acting. Her father had groomed her to take his place one day and her mother had made sure that Ros had all the tools she would need to do just that. Even if she was furious that the hackers were watching every move they made, even if she seethed at the idea that they would get their hands on all of MI-5’s intel, Ros could focus and pretend to be solely concerned with something that, ordinarily, would be a far bigger worry than it currently was. I have other concerns. Lucas’ mysterious tail will just have to wait.

Papers hitting the floor jolted Ros from her thoughts. Both she and Harry looked over to saw Jo squatting to help Malcolm pick up the files. Shit. The phone! Jo was already covering it with her hand. It took every scrap of restraint Ros had not to glance at one of the computers. The hackers wouldn’t show any signs if they saw the phone, not if they were any good. More likely, she thought, they would shut down the Grid if they saw the phone. It was a phone that they didn’t have control of, that they couldn’t use to spy on the team, and they wouldn’t allow Section D to exploit that. When nothing happened, she exhaled slowly. The hackers hadn’t noticed the phone, then. We’re still in the clear.

As Jo was straightening, warning sirens rang throughout the Grid. Shit. Security lock messages flashed across all the screens. Red lights flashed. Ben ran towards the pods and tried to get through, but they wouldn’t open. “Damn it,” Ros uttered as she walked over to Malcolm’s desk. The hackers had seen the phone then. They knew that Section D knew they were being watched. Shit. So much for our plan.

“Well, now that we’re all acquainted,” Harry said before jerking the wire out of the computer. Yes, that sure showed them, Ros thought crossly. “No need for further pretence, now they know we’re aware. Ben, Malcolm, kill everything they can use to see or hear us. I want some privacy.”

Connie covered her mouth with her hand as Malcolm and Ben exchanged looks before beginning to unplug everything. “This must be their backup plan,” she said. “They’re going to kill Ortiz and use their own cryptographer to input the codes while we’re locked down and powerless. We need to contact Lucas.”

“There must be a way to get a message out of here,” Harry mused.

“They have complete control of our systems,” Connie said. “There’s not a whole lot we can do.”

“So Lucas is on his own and walking into a trap?” Ros asked. She was definitely having second, and third, thoughts about sending Lucas now. If we make it out of this, I swear, I’m not going to let him irritate me into acting out of petty annoyance.

“It looks that way,” Connie said rather grimly. “Hopefully he’ll be as crafty as he was with the bombing.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ros said dubiously.

Chapter Text

Ros tapped a pen against the palm of her hand. It was the only indication of her frustration she allowed herself to show. Fifteen minutes had ticked by and they were no closer to a solution. Lucas was still on his way back with the cryptographer. Even if he stopped regularly to change vehicles, they needed to hurry up and find a way to regain control of the Grid and get on top of things. Otherwise, the CSS and the FSB would get their hands on the cryptographer and Cybershell. Harry’s right. We can’t let them get Cybershell. She might have her misgivings about the network and she was dubious about whether it was as powerful as the cousins seemed to think it was, but Harry was right. If the FSB and the CSS found a way into Cybershell, the West would lose the cyber war.

Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve failed again, her father’s voice sounded in her head. Ros clenched her hand around the pen. She had fought hard for her father’s approval when she had been a young woman. Everything she had done had been to earn his approval. She had gotten a political science degree, just like her father wanted. She had taken steps to start the application process to one day take over for her father, had gone with him to diplomatic dinners and started making connections. Accepting Colville’s offer and joining MI-6 had been the first time she had openly defied her father. They had fought, that night, and she could still remember him telling her that she had disappointed him, that she had failed him.

Ros had confidently told Dolby that he couldn’t find anyone better to do the job when she had told him to sack her if he thought she wasn’t good enough. And, now, her father’s words - that she had failed, again - rang through her mind. If the FSB and the CSS get into Cybershell, I’ll lose everything. She pursed her lips. Stay calm. Keep your wits. She wasn’t going to let the ghosts of her past or her fear of failing distract her. She couldn’t.

“So far, we haven’t been able to monitor the hackers, but I think I’ve found a way that we can see what they see,” Malcolm said, pulling Ros out of her reverie. “If I reroute the Internet through the server, we should at least be able to see what they’re doing.”

Ros leaned against the desk, watching the screen as loading files came up. “What are they doing?” she asked, frowning.

“Downloading our archives,” Malcolm said grimly. “Specifically personnel files, starting with us.”

“Of course,” Ros said. Damn it! All the phones on the Grid were down so there was no way to contact Lucas to tell him to delay bringing the cryptographer to the Grid. There had to be something that they could do to get out of the Grid and stop the hackers. We’re bloody MI-5. How could this happen? How do we not have anything in place?

“How long before they have everything?” Harry asked from where he stood beside her.

“They’re huge data packets, but probably an hour, tops,” Malcolm said, turning back to the computer.

“If you have any technological solutions, I’d love to hear them,” Ros growled.

“Wait, this is strange,” Malcolm said as the sound of numbers being dialled rang through the Grid. “A call’s being made.”

“By whom?” Harry asked.

Malcolm hesitated. “According to this, by you. It’s calling Lucas.”

“Can we talk to him?” Ros asked, suddenly hopeful. Lucas was off the Grid. He might be able to act where they couldn’t. At the very least, they could warn him that someone was listening in to all their conversations and that he needed to keep the cryptographer away from Thames House until they found a way to rid themselves of their unwelcome house guests.

“No, we can only listen,” Malcolm said. Damn.

Ros folded her arms across her chest, pressing her knuckles against her mouth. Shit. There was nothing more frustrating than watching the ringtone screen and knowing that she was helpless to warn Lucas that the FSB and the CSS were in control of the Grid. She had been helpless before and it hadn’t ended well. She could only hope it would be different this time.

“Yeah?” Lucas asked when he picked up. Don’t overdo it on the charm, there, North, Ros found herself thinking in spite of herself. If she were a betting woman, she’d even wager that his voice sounded a bit tense, like he was irritated. Excellent. At least something good has come from all this.

“Alpha One,” Harry’s voice said. Ros glanced over at Harry, who was frowning. “You can’t return to the Grid. Cybershell has been compromised and cancelled. We’re dispatching a team to recover the codes. Sending you rendezvous coordinates now.”

“Why? What’s happened?” Lucas demanded.

“Can’t say anymore now. Out.” The hackers ended the call with a resounding click.

For a moment, no one said anything. What was there to say? They were all helpless on the Grid and couldn’t do anything but listen to the FSB and the CSS send Lucas into a trap. If it had been Ben or Jo, at least Ros could have predicted how they would proceed. But Lucas? Lucas was the wild card. Certainly, she knew that Harry was convinced Lucas was a brilliant field officer, and she had seen a few glimpses of that brilliance, but she wasn’t as confident in Lucas’ abilities as Harry was, and she couldn’t decide just how worried she should be. If Lucas brought the cryptographer to the coordinates, they would both be killed. It was a sobering thought, and she found herself surprised that she rather hoped Lucas didn’t get himself killed by going to those coordinates. If he’s going to die, I want to be the one to bloody well kill him for being so damn annoying.

“So, now that we know the FSB and the Chinese have access to voice synthesizers, think we can make our day any worse?” Connie asked, breaking the silence.

Ros started pacing. She hated this. “How are we doing finding a way out?” she demanded. At this rate, she was going to tear apart the Grid in a bid to find an exit.

Ben and Jo glanced at each other and Ros fought the urge to scream. She didn’t care if it was a good plan they were thinking of. Anything was better than the whole lot of nothing that she was coming up with. They had no way of alerting Lucas that the rendezvous was a trap. And, because the order came from Harry and because that bloody idiot was too desperate to prove himself to Harry, he’d walk right into the trap and bring the cryptographer with him, even without knowing why “Harry” had cancelled Cybershell. It was one thing if his stupidity got him killed. But if he got that cryptographer killed, as well? Ros wasn’t so sure that the British would survive the diplomatic fallout with the Americans.

If it weren’t for the fact it annoyed her so much, Ros would have actually been impressed. The FSB and the Chinese couldn’t have asked for a better set up. The only officer in the field right now was the one officer who would do anything Harry said. And that same officer was the only person keeping the cryptographer alive. All they had to do was have the voice of Harry Pearce give him a bloody order, and Lucas would jump simply because it was Harry telling him to. Damn, damn, damn, damn!

“We might have an idea,” Jo said. “But I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Chapter Text

Lucas frowned at his phone as the coordinates came in. Something was going on. First the tail, and now the abrupt change of plans? And, while Lucas had expected Harry to not exactly be the most forthcoming, he had expected something a bit… more than “can’t say anything.” Something to give him an idea of what he could expect. Anything.

“What’s going on?” Ortiz asked, her voice wavering. It struck Lucas, then, just how young the girl was. Christ. She couldn’t have been older than he was when he had gone to Moscow eight years ago. She’s just a kid. And now he had to tell her that what should have been an ordinary, easy systems update was now something much more complicated. If he told her the truth, he’d probably terrify the shit out of her. If he didn’t tell her the truth… she’d figure out quickly enough that they weren’t headed towards Thames House. Even if she had never been to London, Lucas knew that the coordinates led to an abandoned construction site on the other side of the city, and she’d realize that they weren’t headed towards downtown.

“Change of plans,” Lucas said, turning the car abruptly down a side street.

“Let me call my people, please,” Ortiz said. She reached out and touched his bicep. “They need to know what’s going on. If something’s gone wrong, they need to know, it’s important.”

Lucas hesitated. He could appreciate her situation. There was nothing more terrifying than being in the cold with no way of contacting your people. But Lucas also knew that something was going down, something big. His gut was telling him that this whole mess stank and, if he wanted to keep the girl alive, then he had to play it cautiously. Until he knew the whole situation, he was loath to go against Harry’s orders.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s happened,” Lucas said quietly. For the first time since Ortiz had gotten into the car, Lucas decided to go with the truth, however frightening it might sound to her. “And, until I do know what’s happened, I’m only listening to my boss.”

He glanced over at her and felt a knife of guilt twist in his gut. The girl looked scared. Tears were welling in her eyes and her lower lip wobbled. She’s not cut out for this life, he thought sadly. All she did was hack the Pentagon and now she was thrust into a world of spies and dangerous people with dangerous agendas.

“Look,” Ortiz said, her voice wavering again. “I don’t know you. You lost my security, you’re not telling me what’s going on, and now we’re not even going to MI-5. If you want me to trust you, let me make a call.” Lucas didn’t answer. “Please? Robert?”

The knife twisted even more. She was scared and he was indirectly responsible for that. He remembered that day in Moscow, all those years ago, and he thought that the girl might feel the way he had felt when he was caught. There were no words to describe just how terrifying it had been, thinking he was going to be killed only to have something far worse happen. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he thought. Surely whatever was going on didn’t make the whole CIA dirty? Lucas didn't necessarily trust the cousins… but surely Ortiz had a handler or someone that she could call and that could be trusted. In any case, all the CIA had been guilty of was having their car being made. If there was something going on, some sort of bigger plot that he didn't know about, Harry would have told him. Wouldn't he? It wouldn't be the first time he's kept things from me, Lucas thought darkly.

Finally, Lucas looked over at Ortiz once more before pulling into a carpark. “Let me make a call,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do. Stay here.”

Ortiz nodded, clutching the briefcase close to her chest, as Lucas got out of the car. Rubbing his mouth, Lucas looked around, making sure no one else was around, and then pulled out his phone and called Harry.

-x-

Ringing filled the Grid once more. Ros and Harry glanced at each other before hurrying to crowd around where Malcolm and Connie were sitting. Ben and Jo continued to work on their little plan in the computer terminal room, away from any prying eyes and ears. Their plan had better work. They had been correct, Ros hadn’t liked their plan. But, as no one else had a better idea, she had settled for telling them to be careful and to do whatever they needed to do to make it work. She just hoped that it wouldn't get them all killed in the process.

“It’s Lucas,” Malcolm said, glancing up at Ros and Harry.

There was a click as the hackers picked up. “Harry?” Lucas asked.

“Alpha One,” Harry’s voice said. It was disconcerting, Ros decided, hearing Harry’s voice in front of her when he was right beside her.

“The package wants to clear the rendezvous with her superiors. Is that okay?” Lucas said. Ros could have slapped herself in the forehead. Just let her call them, damn it. Let them tell you that this whole mess stinks and that you shouldn’t go to the rendezvous. Ros supposed this is what she got for being petty with Lucas. Now the hackers would tell him that he couldn’t let the cryptographer ring the CIA, which meant that he would keep on walking blindly into their trap. Damn it.

“Hold on,” the hackers said.

“Why the delay?” Harry, the real Harry, asked after a few seconds of silence.

Malcolm glanced up, but it was Connie who answered. “They need to formulate new responses. Downside with voice synthesis," she said with a shrug.

Harry looked contemplative as the hackers said, “Alpha One, that is a negative. The package is under suspicion, maybe dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Lucas echoed, almost incredulously. He knows, he has to know, Ros thought. Never had she hoped so fervently that she was wrong about someone, but, God, she desperately hoped that her previously assessment of Lucas, that he was damaged goods and shouldn’t be in the field, was wrong. If she wasn’t… that cryptographer was as good as dead. Ros was under no illusions that, once the FSB and the CSS had Cybershell, they’d kill the girl. And Lucas. Although, Ros was still on the fence whether that’d be a tragedy. Really, if they killed him, she thought she'd be more irritated that they got to kill him instead of her.

“Come on, Harry. I need details,” Lucas coaxed.

“If she resists, neutralize her and bring the codes to the rendezvous yourself.”

What? Ros thought, eyes widening. Harry looked at her in alarm. Shit. She knew it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The hackers wanted the codes and, if they couldn’t have Ortiz, they’d take the codes from her corpse and pin it on MI-5. And we’d be disgraced. No one would be able to take MI-5 seriously again. At the very least, both hers and Harry's heads would roll. At the worst, all of us would be fired. Not to mention, the fallout with the cousins…. Shit. The United Kingdom wouldn’t survive the fallout if the FSB and the CSS succeeded in pinning Ortiz’s death on them, even more so than if they got their hands on Cybershell. They were already barely surviving America's wrath for some hacker hijacking their drones through a British portal. If they got Cybershell....

A more selfish thought wormed its way through her mind. She tried not to focus on it, but it was insidious and she found herself wondering just how long she could keep convincing everyone that there was no one better suited to the job than her if she kept making mistakes like these. One of the three devices had gone off and, while she had remained calm under pressure, the fact remained that MI-5 had faulty intelligence and would have been made a laughing stock if Ben hadn’t told them that the dry run was the real thing. Add to that the bomb at the restaurant… While the Home Secretary knew that the bomb had been fake, it was imperative that Londoners not realize that it was staged. Which meant that, if they lost the cryptographer too, she would never be able to convince anyone that she could do this job. She’d be disgraced, at best. Fired, and left out to dry at worst.

Ros chewed on her lip. She shouldn’t have given in to her foolish pettiness. No. She shouldn’t have given in to Lucas’ ploy. She had known what he was doing. Hell, if she wasn’t so competitive, she might have done something similar when she returned from Moscow. He was deliberately downplaying his skills; Ros knew he had to be. There was no way he had been promoted over his more experienced colleagues at twenty-three if he was as remarkably average as he pretended to be. There was no way he had earned the loyalty of not one, but two Section Heads if he wasn’t as brilliant as Harry seemed to think he was. But she had been foolish to treat him as though he were a green recruit. She had known the importance of the cryptographer making it to MI-5 safely and had known that, while it was an easy operation, she should have gone instead of delegating it to Lucas out of pure spite. She had let her anger get the best of her, had forgotten that he was dangerous and that he was a lot better than he pretended, and now they were about to suffer the consequences of her damned foolishness. All because he was desperate to win Harry's approval. As long as the hackers continued to use Harry's voice, they'd have Lucas asking how high to jump.

Lucas had paused, as if processing Harry’s orders. “Sorry, confirm that?” His voice sounded confused, but Ros felt certain there was a faint tone of anger to it. She frowned. Something Harry’s blind spot isn’t comfortable with, perhaps?

“If she resists, neutralize her and bring the codes to the rendezvous yourself. Bayonet protocol. Theta five.”

Ros looked over at Harry. His face was unreadable, but she imagined he felt the same as she did, hearing the order. Now would be an excellent time for your pet officer to show off what made him so special you were willing to hide whatever he did when he was younger, Ros thought. If he killed the cryptographer…. If MI-5 was responsible for the Americans’ prized Danielle Ortiz’s death, there were would be no reconciliation. It’d be war between their intelligence agencies and frosty relations between the United Kingdom and America.

“Harry?” Lucas asked, his voice just as incredulous as it had been a moment before. “That’s a kill order. On an unarmed civilian.”

“The codes must be at the rendezvous at all costs.”

“I’m not going to execute this girl.” Yes, Ros thought in elation. She never thought she’d be happier to hear that an officer had a weak stomach for killing.

“Bayonet protocol. Theta five.”

“No, sorry, I need full clearance and authorization codes, and I’m only doing this as an absolute last resort and if you don’t like that, you can decommission me. Is that clear?” Lucas said quickly. Ros was impressed. Never had she heard such heat in his voice. There’s the steel that she knew had to exist if he had survived eight years in prison. And the fact that he was willing to be decommissioned… They’re pushing him too hard.

“Yes. Sending now.”

Ros watched in horror as Harry’s codes appeared on the screen. “They know all my authorization codes,” Harry said. He rubbed his forehead.

“Lucas won’t do it, surely,” Connie said, looking between Ros and Harry.

“He might,” Ros said, biting her lower lip as she resumed tapping her pen against her palm. “He got the order from Harry himself.” And he’s desperate to prove himself to Harry. If he thought that offing Ortiz would win him some favour with Harry, then he might just kill the girl.

“I’ll call back when I get to the rendezvous,” Lucas said coldly. Gone was the anger in his voice. It was… almost chilling how remarkably neutral his voice sounded.

Ros closed her eyes as she heard the click of Lucas hanging up. Lucas may still be going to the rendezvous, but at least he had made it clear he wasn’t going to blindly follow orders and kill the girl. Thank God for small mercies. Now, if only Ben and Jo could hurry up with their Italian landmine, maybe they could all get out before Lucas did something monumentally stupid.

Chapter Text

To say Lucas was stunned would be an understatement. A kill order on Ortiz? Was Harry mental? What the fuck? While it was impressive that she had hacked the Pentagon, he was pretty certain that didn’t warrant killing her. Not to mention, if he did kill her, surely there’d be repercussions with the Americans? And why wasn’t Harry more concerned about the tail? Lucas would have at least expected Malcolm or Connie to have looked into who might have sent the tail. Surely Harry would have mentioned something if he had them looking into it? Shouldn’t one of them or, hell, both of them, found something by now on who was following the cousins?

He couldn’t quite figure out why, but his instincts were telling him there was something more going on, something he wasn’t privy to. Lucas tapped his phone against his palm a few times in thought as he turned back towards the car. Ortiz was watching him nervously, no doubt waiting for him to tell her if she could call her people or not. And I have to tell her she can’t, all the while trying to figure out what the bloody hell is going on. No time like the present to be the bearer of bad news. Lucas pocketed his phone and got back into the car. Leaning back against his seat, he took a moment before saying, “I’m sorry, I can’t let you call in.”

“That sucks,” Ortiz said. Before Lucas could say anything, she had the door open and was hurrying away from the car. Damn it. She stopped a few paces away.

“Calm down,” Lucas said as he got out of the car at a slower pace. He held his hands up placatingly as he circled around the car so that it was no longer between them.

“Wait, something’s wrong here,” Ortiz said, holding a hand up. Lucas stopped his advance. If he spooked her, she’d run, and that’d just be another headache and a half. He was still reeling from Harry giving the kill order, he’d really rather not have to chase down the girl and ward off any would-be good Samaritans. “And I’m not going anywhere until I check in.”

Lucas shook his head. “You’re mistaken.”

“You’re mistaken?” Ortiz echoed mockingly. “Oooh, scary.” Lucas sighed and looked away. Should have seen that one coming. “What are you gonna do? Kill me?”

He snapped his attention back to her. She couldn’t have overheard, could she? He had made sure that he hadn’t been facing the car for this exact reason. He had a feeling Harry wouldn’t allow her to make the call, but he didn’t want her to know that before he got back into the car. There was no way that she could know that he had been given a kill order.

Either Lucas was slipping and he was more unsettled about the kill order than he had initially thought, or the girl was smarter than he had given her credit. She must have seen something in his face because, in a moment, her face transformed from mocking to blind terror. She spun around and started running, screaming for help as she tried to put distance between her and Lucas.

Shit. Lucas snarled a slightly more vulgar word as he gave chase. Looks like all that late night running was good for something after all. The chase didn’t last excessively long. Lucas was more in shape, had longer legs that could cover more ground, and he wasn’t running in cowboy boots. Ortiz screamed when he wrapped an arm around her middle, so he covered her mouth with his hand as he hoisted her into the air. She bit at his hand, causing him to snarl again, but he didn’t relinquish his grip as he dragged her, literally, kicking and screaming to the car. There’s no way she’s going to get into the car with me. It was a sobering thought. He didn’t have anything with him to make sure she stayed put and didn’t try to throw herself out into traffic or something equally ridiculous. Which left him with one option.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he managed it, but he got the boot open without relinquishing his hold on Ortiz. She screamed again, incoherently at first, before switching to some rather inventive curses that he was fairly certain would cause some… past roommates to blush. When she saw him open the boot, her struggles intensified, but Lucas was stronger and, now that the boot was open, was able to use both hands to manhandle her into it.

“Sorry,” he said as he pushed her into the boot and slammed the lid down. Not ideal, but better than nothing. He braced his hands against the boot as he listened to Ortiz scream and pound at the metal. Lucas was pretty certain he could make out a few choice words that he elected to ignore. She was scared, but he could hardly blame her. He’d spent his fair share of time in the boot of a car and, in his experience, there weren’t too many things worse. No one went into the boot of a car for good reasons. And I just shoved her in there after getting a goddamn kill order.

Lucas pressed his hand against his mouth as he thought. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like Harry to take so long to answer the phone, and it certainly wasn’t like Harry to give a kill order on an unarmed civilian. He’d seen it done in the past, certainly, but those had been extreme situations. This, though? This was wrong. Ortiz might be a pain in the arse and she was certainly dangerous if she could hack even the Pentagon, but he wasn’t so sure that meant she had to be neutralized. And what was all this about Cybershell being compromised? How could it be compromised? It was supposed to be cutting edge technology, yet he was just supposed to believe that it was compromised? Just like that?

Frowning, Lucas got back into the car and rested his palms against the wheel. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. After a moment to collect himself, he put the Bluetooth back on and called Ros. As with Harry, it took Ros several rings to pick up. “Come on, pick up,” he muttered. She put him on this ridiculous operation. The least she could do was interrupt her meeting or whatever it was that had her and Harry tied up to answer her goddamn phone.

“Alpha One,” Ros said, finally picking up. Her voice was calm, cold almost, but he supposed that was to be expected. He had read her file. A kill order was hardly the worst order she’d received. A dark thought wormed its way into his mind and he found himself wondering if she would even question the order, or if she would have just taken the shot.

“Ros, what the hell is going on?”

“You heard Harry’s orders,” she said flatly.

“Yeah, I did, and they’re a goddamn kill order,” Lucas hissed, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “Ortiz is an unarmed civilian and you want me to kill her?”

“If she resists, neutralize her,” Ros said simply.

“That’s it, then? Neutralize her?” Lucas repeated incredulously. “What about the tail? Ros, what the fuck is going on?”

There was a pause. “Can’t say anything more now. If she resists, neutralize her. Out.” There was a sense of finality as she hung up.

“Fuck,” Lucas snarled as he hit the steering wheel. His conversation with Ros hadn’t eased any of the growing discomfort he had over this whole operation. There was definitely something off, something he couldn’t put his finger on. What the fuck is going on?

Lucas didn’t start the car. Instead, he stared at the empty parking garage. His instincts were screaming and he couldn’t figure out why. Think, Lucas, think. He hadn’t exactly expected Ros to be all sunshine and cuddles, especially after he had broken into her house last night, but he also hadn’t expected her to be so cold when repeating Harry’s orders.

That’s it!

His eyes widened. The wording. It was the wording that was making him certain there was something more going on. Ros had used the exact same words Harry had when repeating his orders. Even when he pushed to get details, she had used the exact same words, the exact same excuses as Harry. “Shit,” he growled and hit his hands against the steering wheel again.

Okay, now I know why this whole mess stinks. But what’s causing the stink?

Lucas pressed a hand to his mouth. The whole Cybershell mess had started with hackers using a British portal to access an American drone. What if… Surely it wasn’t possible? But what if they hacked us? It didn’t happen often – Lucas had never seen MI-5 be hacked during his tenure before prison, but Malcolm had mentioned in passing that MI-5 was hacked once sometime after Lucas was caught. But… what if… How are they getting Harry’s and Ros’ voices, though? Neither of them would voluntarily give those commands. Unless they were being threatened? No, even then, they would have found a way to warn him about any threats on the Grid. Code, maybe? But neither of them had used any code Lucas had heard of and, even if it was code, it didn’t explain the fact they had each separately used the exact same wording.

Ortiz was still screaming in the boot and Lucas groaned. She had hacked the Pentagon. She might have a better idea of what was going on than Lucas did. Great. First I slip up and she thinks I’m about to bloody well kill her, next I shove her in the boot, and now I have to convince her to help me figure out what the fuck is going on. Right. No problem.

Steeling himself, Lucas slipped out of the car again. He hesitated only for a moment before opening the boot of the car. “You fucking bastard! The only way you’ll get these codes is over my dead body! Wait until my people hear about this! I’m going to tell them all about how you lost my security and then tried to kill me!” Ortiz screamed, shaking her head in her hysteria.

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, about that,” he said. “If you’d kindly stop screaming at me for two seconds, I can explain.”

“Oh, now you want to explain?” Ortiz hissed. She swung the briefcase handcuffed to her wrist at him and Lucas was forced to retreat a step to avoid getting hit. Ortiz sprang out of the boot and bolted again, screaming once more.

Not again. Lucas growled a curse under his breath and chased after her. Wrapping an arm around her waist and a hand around her mouth to muffle her screams, Lucas jerked her hard against him. “Look, I’m trying to save your goddamn life. If you’d stop running and screaming, that’d be really convenient,” he hissed into her ear. Ortiz paused and Lucas took that as a good sign. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth because I’d like to speak with you, not at you. Nod if you understand.”

Ortiz nodded, so Lucas tentatively moved his hand off her mouth. He didn’t relinquish his hold around her waist, just in case she got it in her head to run off again. Lucas was getting really tired of having to chase her down and, when he wasn’t sure what was going on, having to chase her down wasted precious time.

“Gonna kill me, Robert?” Ortiz asked, her voice wobbling.

“No,” Lucas said.

“I don’t trust you.”

Lucas didn’t blame her for not trusting him. Hell, he wouldn’t trust him in this situation. But he had to win her over somehow, had to get her to at least hear him out, so Lucas let her go and took a step back. He lifted his hands placatingly, showing that they were empty as he did so. She took two steps away from him and turned to look at him nervously, eyeing the gun holster that his jacket was only partially hiding. Seeing his empty hands probably didn’t reassure her much when he knew she could see his gun, but he wasn’t about to disarm himself just to make her feel better. That was just plain stupid and, while he had certainly made some poor calls in the past, he wasn’t about to drop his gun where she could get at it, certainly not when she had no reason to trust him and every reason to use said weapon on him. There has to be another way to get her to trust me. He really needed her to trust him if he wanted to get her input on what might be going on with the Grid.

“I don’t blame you,” Lucas said finally. He had built a reputation on being able to talk himself out of difficult situations. Might as well put it to the test. “But I give you my word, I’m not going to kill you. Something has gone wrong with this operation and I’m trying to figure it out, but I need your help.”

“Will you let me call my people and tell them where we are?” Ortiz demanded. “Because, if not, forget it, you might as well just kill me now because I’m not getting in that car with you again.”

Lucas nodded once. “I will, but not yet. I think the operation is compromised.”

“What?” Ortiz frowned. Her hands tightened on the briefcase as she drew it closer to her body.

He folded his arms across his chest. “When we were on the cleaning route, I saw a tail following your security detail. That’s why I lost them.”

“Yeah, so you said.”

“I wasn’t sure if they had tagged us as well, so I thought it was better to be safe and I lost both the tail and your security detail. And, because I don’t know how they knew about the cleaning route, I decided it was best to minimize contact with anyone I didn’t trust.”

“You think the CIA sent the tail?” Ortiz asked sceptically.

“I don’t know,” Lucas admitted. And he didn’t. But he had to know how deep this went. “You said you hacked the Pentagon, right?”

“Yeah,” Ortiz said, narrowing her eyes.

“Is it possible that someone could hack the Security Services’ servers?” Lucas asked quietly.

Ortiz rolled her eyes. “Duh. A good enough hacker can get through any firewall. Why? Is that why you locked me in the trunk? Afraid I’d go and hack MI-whatever you guys are while you were taking a leak?”

Lucas rubbed his hand against his mouth again. Fuck. He had a bad feeling about this. “How hard is it to make it sound like someone’s talking to someone else without actually having the person say anything?”

“You mean, like, voice synthesis?” Ortiz asked. “Robert, what’s going on?”

Lucas pulled out his phone and, after a moment, offered to her. “Call your people. Tell them that the cleaning route was compromised and that your Security Services escort has received a new rendezvous location. Ask them to confirm it and tell me exactly what they say.”

“What, you’re not going to tell me to put it on speaker?” Ortiz asked, eyeing the phone.

“No,” he said. “I’m asking you to trust me on this. Least I can do is give you a bit of trust.”

Ortiz nodded after a moment. “Suppose I believe you. Suppose I think you might be right about this whole mission is compromised thing. Then what?”

“Then we figure out what the hell is going on and keep you safe,” Lucas said. Ortiz met his eyes and took the phone.

-x-

There had been no word from Lucas since receiving the kill order. Ben had since come to the Grid and requested Malcolm’s assistance with their little escape plan. Harry and Connie were hovering around Malcolm’s desk. With nothing for her to do but sit and be left with her anger, Ros decided that fair was fair. If Lucas wanted to start a juvenile prank war, she would win. Within ten minutes, she achieved revenge on Lucas for messing with her desk by reorganizing his own desk. When she wasn’t satisfied with the way she had reorganized it, she had moved things around again. And, while it had entertained her for a few minutes to enjoy the warm glow of revenge served, it had only entertained her for a short while. With nothing left to do, Ros paced.

This entire operation was a mess. It should have been straightforward. Even if she didn’t like the idea of the cousins coming in and updating MI-5’s systems with their own, there wasn’t supposed to be anything complicated in sending Lucas to retrieve the cryptographer. With the dry run-turned real run, at least Ros could say that no one expected it and that she had held up admirably. Certainly, the Al-Qaeda had gotten one past them and had gotten a bomb off, but no civilians ha died in the blast. They had been able to use their systems to communicate with C019 and stop the bombs. And, then, the mess with the Al-Qaeda attempting to detonate another device… While they had stopped the actual bomb from going off, the fact that the public thought the bomb went off meant that Ros was already swimming in perilous waters. She knew better than anyone here the power of the public’s opinion. If she wanted to keep her job, she needed this operation to succeed.

The fact that she couldn’t predict if Lucas would kill Ortiz or not worried her. She didn’t want to think Lucas would kill the cryptographer. She had been in his flat. She had searched the bloody place while he had been doing his groceries. She had seen the bible in the bedside drawer. She rather doubted Lucas had a stomach for killing. But he had survived eight years in prison. She maintained her belief that he was damaged goods. How far would he go to regain Harry’s trust? If the order had come from her, she would have expected that he would ignore the order or at least fight the order. But coming from Harry? Harry could tell Lucas to drop everything and go back to Moscow and Lucas would, simply because it was Harry asking him. The fact that “Harry” had given him the kill order… Ros wasn’t sure Ortiz would survive the hour.

With nothing to do but pace and berate herself, Ros stormed into the hall where Malcolm and Jo were huddled over the explosive device from the restaurant. It had been zapped, but Malcolm had said that he might be able to get it working again. Ros didn’t exactly like the idea of detonating a bomb inside Section D, but she couldn’t think of another way out either and they desperately needed to contact Lucas before he killed the cryptographer.

Ben was missing from the group. “Where’s Ben?” she demanded, her voice tight with frustration.

“Getting some wires,” Jo said before Malcolm could answer.

“Good,” Ros said, nodding shortly. “Where are we at with our escape plan?”

“Nearly there. I think I just need to do a few more things and it should be good to go. Maybe,” Malcolm said.

Before Ros could ask what Malcolm needed to finish doing and how much longer it would take, Connie called, “Lucas is calling again.” Ros looked up and hurried back to the Grid. Joining Harry and Connie at Malcolm’s desk, Ros stared hard at the screen. At the fourth ring, the hackers picked up.

“Harry,” Lucas’ voice carried through the Grid. It sounded… remarkably calm. Ros would have thought he would have been distressed over killing the cryptographer, especially with the way he had all but told Harry that he would rather be decommissioned than kill an unarmed civilian. Maybe he grew a spine in the past half hour.

“Alpha One,” the hackers, using Harry’s voice, said.

“I’m almost at the rendezvous. I’m about to carry out your orders when I get there.” Ros wasn’t sure how she felt at that. On the one hand, she was pleased that the girl wasn’t dead yet. On the other hand, Lucas sounded entirely… too calm, especially compared to the anger in his voice when he had spoken to the hackers last. “Just need to check something first, though,” he was saying, still in that calm voice.

“Go ahead.”

There was a pause. “What’s your favourite opera?”

What? Ros thought in confusion. And then it dawned on her. “He knows,” she whispered and felt a surge of triumph. Ros glanced at Harry, who was smiling. This is the spy Harry vouched for, she thought. She didn’t know how Lucas had figured it out, but she was relieved all the same. The girl was still alive. Lucas knew something was wrong. Now, all they had to do was get out of the Grid and rain hell on the hackers.

“You have your orders, Alpha One,” Harry’s voice said. “Bayonet protocol. Theta five.”

“Your favourite opera?” Lucas insisted. “Harry?”

“Neutralize Ortiz. Now.”

“Wrong answer.”

There was a decisive click and Ros smiled. I guess I have my answer about how skilled he is. Now, if they could just get out of the Grid and find the hackers….

Chapter Text

Lucas quickly removed the battery from his phone and tossed it to the side. He dropped his phone to the ground and smashed it with the heel of his shoe. No sense making it easy for whoever hacked MI-5 and the CIA . Ortiz looked frightened. He couldn’t exactly blame her. As he had suspected, her people had not only confirmed the rendezvous, but told her to trust him and that he would get her safely there. And, when she had probed for more information, they had told her the same thing “Harry” and “Ros” had told him: that they couldn’t discuss anything further.

“What happens now?” Ortiz asked. She wouldn’t look at him, instead choosing to look back the way they had come. The briefcase clacked against the handcuffs as she rubbed her arms and she scowled before dropping her hands.

“We get out of here,” Lucas said, gesturing for her to get back in the car. The rendezvous was still forty-five minutes away, but he didn’t bother going towards it. He didn’t know when the CIA or the Security Services became compromised, but he rather doubted it was after the instructions saying that Cybershell was compromised. The hardest part, he decided, would be keeping Ortiz and her briefcase out of sight, all the while trying to figure out if there was a way to contact Harry or Ros without the hackers listening in. If the hackers were good enough to hack the CIA and MI-5, he had a feeling that there’d be a bit more than just a kill squad at the rendezvous point and, if he were the hackers, he’d be telling the various kill squads to converge on the target’s last location. No sense telling Ortiz that, though. The girl was scared enough as it was. He didn’t want to frighten her even more.

Starting the car, Lucas pulled out of the parking garage and drove towards an exit that led down towards a Tesco. As much as Lucas hated grocery stores in general, Tesco was exactly what he needed right now. They had to ditch the car and there was no better place to do it – and acquire a new one while he was at it – than a carpark. No one looked twice at people moving near cars, nor would they look twice at an empty car in the carpark. Lucas hoped that it would buy him and Ortiz at least an hour or two before the hackers found their old car, and another few minutes to realize that they had gotten a new vehicle from the lot. Now if only I could figure out what to do in that time, that’d be great .

Ortiz was silent during the drive. Tears ran down her cheeks and Lucas felt a wave of sympathy. He rather doubted she had suspected this would happen when she agreed to a six-figure salary from her government. It also reminded him just how young she really was. Too young to be terrified that she’s going to find a bullet in her skull . The car’s radio still belted country, but Ortiz didn’t seem to be listening to it anymore. Despite not caring for the music, Lucas didn’t turn the radio off. Maybe, if he was lucky, the radio would give her a temporary respite from the reality of her situation.

Finally, Lucas pulled into the Tesco. Putting the car in park, Lucas got out and waited for Ortiz to follow suit. She looked around dubiously. “Tesco? This is your plan? What are we gonna do? Go grocery shopping? Shop ’til we drop?”

“Not quite,” Lucas said. He started walking away from the car. Ortiz hurried to catch up to him. Another couple was walking towards them, lost in conversation and carrying several bags of groceries. Lucas angled himself towards them and accidentally bumped against the other man. As he did so, he slipped the phone in the man’s pocket out and into his own pocket. Years of picking pockets and having light, if sticky, fingers ensured that the man was none the wiser as Lucas pocketed his newly acquired phone. “Sorry, mate, wasn’t looking where I was going,” he said, stooping over to help pick up the shopping bags. “You alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” the man said. His shopping bags once more in hand, he and his partner continued off. Lucas watched them critically for a moment before walking away.

“What was that about?” Ortiz demanded.

Lucas didn’t answer right away. Instead, he found a nondescript car. Glancing around once more, he slipped the multi-tool out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the doors. Ortiz muttered a few choice words about Lucas and him keeping secrets, but got into the passenger seat anyway. As soon as they were seated in the car, Lucas pulled out. He drove for a bit before he pulled over again.

“No one to knock over here,” Ortiz said as she looked around.

Smirking, Lucas pulled out the phone he had pickpocketed. “Don’t know about America, but here in England, it’s illegal to use a mobile phone while driving unless you are able to use it hands-free.”

Ortiz stared at him. “That’s why you bumped into the guy at the Tesco?”

Lucas winked and dialled a number. It was a gamble, he knew, but he had to try to make contact with Section D. It’d no doubt land him in trouble, but, at this rate, he’d rather be in trouble than be dead. And I need to know they’re okay . He didn’t know what was going on with the voice synthesis, but Section D had to be told that someone was in their systems. Here’s hoping someone’s there .

-x-

Ros started when she heard a muffled ring. Malcolm’s last update on their little escape plan had been almost an hour ago and she had taken to pacing again for lack of anything to do. When the ring sounded again, Ros frowned and glanced at Harry. Harry looked equally confused and they both looked around for the source of the ringing. Was it the hackers’ phones? Did Connie find a way to get them audio so they could hear what the hackers were up to? I hope so . She supposed it could have been the hackers trying Lucas' mobile again, but the last time they had called him, Ros heard an automated message saying that the client had turned off their phone or was temporarily out of the service area. She hoped that meant he had gotten rid of the mobile completely.

She moved towards her desk and the ringing grew louder. It sounded like a mobile phone’s ringtone, but that wasn’t possible. Harry had collected all their mobiles and had secured them in his office once the hackers knew that Section D was aware of their presence. To give the illusion of privacy, Harry had said. The only phones still visible were the desk phones, which were all unplugged. So why was a phone ringing out here? Maybe someone calling that phone Jo and Ben had brought back, Ros thought. She scowled. The last thing they needed was someone trying to ring their phone to find it. However, when she checked it, the phone was silent, the call log not showing any missed calls.

Harry groaned from behind her. Ros turned to face him, contraband phone still in hand, to find him pressing his hand against his face. “Check Lucas’ desk,” he said simply.

Ros lifted an eyebrow, but did as she was told. Putting the phone down on the desk, Ros scanned it clinically. She already knew there wasn't a mobile on the desk. While it would certainly be easy to hide, Lucas' desk had been organized before she had started moving things around and she had never found a mobile. And, while she had noticed that he seemed to change phones fairly frequently, she assumed that he kept the others at his flat. She was pretty certain she would have noticed if he was swapping sim cards between phones at his desk. Still, as she splayed her hands on his desk, she could hear the muffled ringing more loudly. Ros scowled. If Lucas had another mobile at his desk, one that he didn't tell her about, she was actually going to kill him.

Sitting in Lucas’ chair, Ros spitefully lowered it before reaching over to try each of the drawers. Each of them was locked and rattled when she tried to pull them open. Fine then . She could hardly blame Lucas for locking up his desk drawers. Really, it was a good habit for all of them to do and Ros, herself, locked her desk drawers. But, in times like this, it made it no less annoying. It’s not like I have much else to do on the Grid right now anyway .

Getting up, Ros went to her jacket that was still draped over her chair and grabbed her multi-tool. Moving back to the drawers, Ros began methodically opening them. The first one had the annoying rubber band ball that Lucas liked to toss, some pens, some paperclips, a stapler, and other miscellaneous office supplies. She lifted an eyebrow when she saw an epipen placed neatly alongside the pens. Well, now I know that he’s sufficiently allergic to something that I can probably kill him if he gets too annoying . Filing the knowledge away for future re-examination, Ros continued searching for the source of the ringing. The second drawer had some file folders, but nothing of note. By now, the ringing had stopped. Still, Ros kept searching and, as she was opening the third drawer, the ringing picked up again. The third drawer held some coffee tins. Odd, wouldn’t he only need one?

Unless the strange, muffled noise wasn’t just the phone ringing through the metal drawers . Ros snatched the tin closest to her and ripped the lid off. Coffee. She almost poured it out on the floor to see if he had stashed the phone inside the coffee, but decided to check the other tins first. No sense wasting good coffee, even if it does belong to Lucas . When she pulled the lid off the second tin, she wasn’t sure if she felt triumphant for finding the phone or disheartened to see a rather impressive collection of mobiles inside.

“It seems your mucky puppy likes to collect phones,” Ros commented as she poured out the tin, spilling half a dozen phones onto the floor. She would have to ask Lucas about his collection and why he felt he needed one later, when this was all over. At the very least, it explains the different phones he keeps using .

“He has been known to relieve others of their belongings, yes,” Harry said. Harry was still rubbing his forehead with his eyes closed. At least I’m not the only one annoyed .

So he’s a pickpocket then . Ros made a mental note to watch her handbag around him. Finding the ringing phone, Ros frowned. There wasn’t a caller ID on it. She hesitated. It could be the owner of the phone trying to find it. It could be Lucas trying to make contact. He’d know about the phones in his desk. Surely he’d know the phone numbers for them, too? Unless he removed the sim cards already .

With another look at Harry, Ros answered the phone. “Yes?”

“Ros?” Lucas asked.

“Lucas,” Ros confirmed. “Give me a minute,” she said as she gestured for Harry to follow her to the hall where Ben, Jo, and Malcolm were still tinkering with the bomb. “You’re on speaker,” she said as she switched it to speakerphone.

“Harry there?”

“I’m here,” Harry confirmed.

“What’s your favourite opera?” Lucas asked. Clever boy , Ros thought.

“Is this a one-use phone?” Harry countered.

“It’s not standard issue,” Lucas hedged. “Favourite opera, Harry?”

Ros glanced at Harry. It would seem his sticky fingers don’t just hoard phones at work . “ Nabucco ,” Harry said.

Lucas exhaled loudly. “Glad to hear it’s you,” he said, finally. “Listen, MI-5’s been hacked.”

“Yes, we’re aware of that,” Ros said, glancing at Harry. “The cryptographer, did you kill her?”

“No,” Lucas said. “But Ortiz’s people are compromised too.”

“Damn,” Harry said. “Lucas, we can’t get off the Grid. We’re working on a way out, but it’s taking us longer than we thought it would.”

“Hold on a second,” Lucas said. Ros thought she could hear muffled voices in the background, but couldn’t make out what was being said. She and Harry exchanged a look. “I’ve got a really bad idea,” Lucas said when he came back.

“Worse than detonating a bomb inside the Grid?” Harry asked dryly.

“Depends. How do you feel about a CIA cryptographer getting into our systems?”

Ros paused. “You’re right. That is a really bad idea,” she said. “You think it’ll get us out?”

“I think it can’t hurt to try,” Malcolm said from where he was crouching by the bomb. “If she can override our systems, even if it’s just for a few seconds, I might be able to get the pods open without having to figure out how to uncook the Italian landmine.”

Harry was silent for a moment. “Do it,” he said, finally.

Chapter Text

They switched cars twice more before Lucas finally pulled up to Tom’s house. Ortiz had been unusually quiet through the whole mess, but Lucas could hardly fault her for that. It wasn’t every day that one found out someone wanted them dead, after all. Ortiz was a techie, someone who probably sat at a rather posh desk at CIA headquarters and had a three car caravan following her wherever she went. She wasn’t a field officer and, while Lucas hazarded a guess that she was used to annoying everyone she spoke to, she probably wasn’t used to the idea that she could very well die if she misstepped.

Going to Tom’s was a risk, Lucas knew. If the hackers were in MI-5’s files, they’d know that Tom was an old colleague of Lucas’. They would know that Lucas wasn’t going to risk bringing Ortiz to a safe house, not when he knew the hackers had access to the files. And, they would know that Lucas wasn’t going to put his ex-wife in danger by bringing Ortiz to her. No, it was only a matter of time before they ran through the rather short list of people Lucas would turn to and checked Tom's. Which means we’ll have to be fast.

Ortiz pulled her briefcase close to her as she wiped her cheeks roughly. Lucas pretended he didn’t notice. Instead, he glanced down the street. It was largely empty, save for a few pedestrians walking. One had a dog with them. Another was pushing a stroller down the pavement. Hopefully not Russian or Chinese assassins . Still, he had to risk it. They needed a computer if they were going to get his team off the Grid and into play.

He gave Ortiz a few more seconds to collect herself before saying, “Come on. We need to move.”

“Where are we? Don’t tell me you took me to your mom’s. We’re not quite at that relationship level, you know?” Ortiz said.

Lucas smirked. At least she’s still annoyingly good humoured about everything. “Not exactly,” he said and got out of the car. Lucas thought he saw the curtain shift and had to suppress a smile. Tom and Christine might be retired from MI-5 and the CIA, but some habits died hard, he supposed.

Ortiz followed him out of the car. Tom’s house was largely unassuming, which made sense. Spooks always do make the best neighbours . The grass was cut. The driveway was clear, save for a plain, white car. Flowers bloomed in pots along the walkway to the house. Probably Christine's work, he thought. Tom had never been one for gardening. All in all, the house was… neat. Quiet. Unassuming. No one would look twice at it and, if they did, all they would see was a quiet, loving home, probably exactly how Tom and Christine wanted it to appear.

Looking up and down the street once again, Lucas gestured for Ortiz to follow him and led her up to the front of the house. Ortiz was hugging her briefcase again as she eyed the street. Here’s hoping Tom was our voyeur . Tom would let Lucas in, no questions asked. Christine…. Well, while Lucas didn’t exactly dislike Christine, he rather suspected she disliked him . When he had been Section Chief, he had made it a point to always send Tom to speak with her. She knew, as well as Lucas did, that Tom didn’t have the authority to make any deals with her, and it had irked her every time Lucas had sent Tom in his stead. Lucas may have also been responsible for the frequent bug checks she had to order done in the CIA office. While he doubted she ever figured out it was him doing the break-ins, she probably assumed - correctly - that it was on his orders the office was being bugged.

Knocking on the door, Lucas waited. He thought he heard movement inside. After a few seconds, the door opened and Christine stood in front of them, arms folded across her chest. Damn . “Isn’t this a surprise,” Christine said. “I never thought I’d see the day we actually met, face-to-face. What, no underlings to send in your stead?”

“Not this time,” Lucas said, feigning a smile. “I need your help. Can we come in?”

“Hold on, back up,” Christine said, holding up a hand. She looked immensely pleased. Evidently, whatever she had expected Lucas to say, it hadn’t been that he needed her help. “Repeat that, please.”

Lucas scowled. Fuck you . Okay, so maybe he did dislike Christine. He pointed at Ortiz. “Danielle Ortiz. American.”

Christine glanced over at Ortiz. “Take her to the embassy, then.”

“Can’t. She’s special,” Lucas said. He looked back at the dog-walker and the stroller-pusher. They weren’t acting suspicious or looking overly interested in Lucas and Ortiz, so he lowered his voice and said, “We’re in trouble. I need help and I’ll explain everything, but I can’t do it on the front step and we’re in a bit of a rush.”

Christine looked over Ortiz again. Ortiz, for her part, looked even more miserable as tears threatened to spill over again. When she moved to brush the tears away, the handcuff on her wrist clacked against the briefcase. Christine looked at the briefcase before looking back up at Lucas. “Okay,” she said and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Lucas gestured for Ortiz to go in first before following her in. Christine stuck her head outside the door and, he guessed, did the same threat assessment he had already done. Satisfied with her scan, she closed the door and waved her hand towards the living room. As Ortiz sat down on the plain brown sofa, Christine flicked the curtains closed and turned to face them, her arms once more folded across her chest.

“Explain,” she said curtly.

Lucas nodded once. “Your people wanted to install Cybershell into our systems and sent their crpytographer, Ortiz," Lucas paused and gestured towards where Ortiz was quietly sniffling as she fought back tears. "The Russians and the Chinese are working together to try to get the codes in that briefcase from her and they don't very much care if she's alive or dead when they take them."

“The Russians and the Chinese? They’re working together?” Christine interrupted, frowning.

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “They've hacked into MI-5 and the CIA. They’re using voice synthesis and tried to get me to bring Ortiz to a rendezvous. When I called back to ask for more information, they gave me a kill order if she resisted.”

“Which you ignored, evidently.”

“Following orders never was one of my strong suits,” Lucas said, shrugging. “I managed to make contact with my people, but they’re trapped on the Grid. The hackers have them in shut down.”

Christine looked over at Ortiz. “You want something to eat? Drink?” she asked gently. “Lucas has always been shit with manners.”

Ortiz frowned at Lucas. “You said your name was Robert.”

He scowled at Christine. “My name is whatever it needs to be,” he said shortly.

“So, James Bond, Lucas your real name or is that another fake one?” Ortiz asked.

Christine glanced at Lucas for a moment. “I’m going to get something for her to eat,” Christine said. “What do you need?”

“A computer,” Lucas said. Christine nodded once before leaving. Lucas didn’t answer Ortiz’s question right away. He pressed his hand against his mouth for a moment. Ortiz was scared and he could hardly blame her. An hour ago, she thought everything was fine. Now, she was running for her life and all she had keeping her alive was a man that had thrown her into the boot of the car and lied to her. Lucas wouldn’t exactly trust him if he were in her situation. Finally, he said quietly, “Yeah, my real name is Lucas.”

“Lucas as much of an asshole as Robert?” Ortiz asked.

“He can be,” Lucas said. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe, Danielle.”

Ortiz hesitated before she nodded slowly. “So how does Christine know you?”

Christine chose that moment to come back into the living room with a sandwich on a plate and a glass of water. She placed both in front of Ortiz. “I used to be the CIA liaison here in London. Lucas was supposed to meet with me, but he liked to send my husband, Tom, instead.” Ortiz snorted and Christine smiled. “I’ll be right back with a laptop. Try not to terrorize her, Lucas?”

Lucas rolled his eyes, but lifted his hand in concession. I already threw her in the boot of a car and made her think I was going to kill her. He’d be hard-pressed to top that. Christine gave him a stern look before she left in search of the laptop. Ortiz eyed the sandwich. “She seems nice,” Ortiz said before caving and taking a bite out of the sandwich.

“Nice isn’t the first word I’d use to describe her,” Lucas said. He wasn’t sure it was even on the list of words he’d use to describe Christine, but he conceded that his dislike of her could be directly linked to the fact that she had been CIA and hadn’t cared if a few British citizens were stepped on in her pursuit of CIA goals.

“Funny, I get the impression she’d say the same thing about you.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I think she’d use some rather colourful words to describe me.”

“Crazy asshole that throws women into the boot of a car?”

“Only you,” he said.

“Lucky me.” Ortiz sipped at her water before looking at the briefcase on her lap. She seemed like she was about to say something before Christine returned with a laptop and a charger.

“I trust these’ll do?” Christine asked, holding them up.

Ortiz got up and took the laptop, turning it over in her hands. “Nice,” she drawled. “Very nice. This’ll do.”

“Good,” Christine said, nodding. She held her hand out to Lucas. “Car keys.”

Lucas frowned for a second before smiling and tossing his multi-tool to her. Smart . Christine knew as well as Lucas did that it was only a matter of time before the Russians and the Chinese showed up here to try to pick up his trail. If she moved the car away from the house, it might just buy Lucas and Ortiz time to get Section D off the Grid.

Just as Christine was about to leave, Lucas said, “Hey, be careful.”

Christine smiled at him. “I will. I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to lord the fact you needed my help over you for the next five years.”

He snorted. “If this works, I might even let you.”

“You won’t have a choice, honey,” Christine said with a wink and left.

Lucas scowled at the door. Yep, definitely don’t like her still .

Chapter Text

Ros tapped the phone against the palm of her hand as she glared at the pods. Lucas hadn’t called them with any updates. She tried not to worry about the implications of that. Gemma had said that Lucas had difficulty following the rules. It was entirely possible that Lucas simply didn’t think to call her with an update on his status. He was being cautious, that was all. He bloody well better not be dead, otherwise I’ll kill him . She was still angry with him for breaking into her house. Him getting killed before she could fully exact revenge would be rather inconsiderate of him.

More than once, Ros thought about trying to call Lucas back. More than once, she reminded herself that if Lucas was half as good as Harry said he was, he would have ditched the phone he called her on. It would have been sloppy of him to keep a phone that could be traced. But, that meant that Ros had no reliable way of getting into contact with him. She hated that she had to trust that Lucas’ plan would work, but Malcolm was no closer to figuring out how to reactivate the bomb than he had been a few hours ago and Lucas could only keep Ortiz off the Grid and alive for so long before the Russians and the Chinese eventually caught up to him.

“Connie, is there any way we can find where the hackers’ base of operations is?” Ros asked.

“There’s a few things we could try, but the KGB and the CSS will be able to see us searching before we could do anything,” Connie said. “They’ll either be gone or they’ll shut us out.”

“Damn it,” Ros said as Harry tiredly said, “FSB.”

She started pacing. There had to be a way to get a message to Lucas. If his hacker could get into their systems, maybe find a way to kick the Russians and Chinese out of MI-5's databases, maybe Connie and Malcolm could work their magic and find their location. They had to find them. Letting the FSB and CSS officers escape simply wasn't an option.  They had gone through each of their personnel files and were now downloading asset files. If any of that information got out or was given to their superiors, MI-5 would be ruined. I can’t let that happen. I can’t .

The phone in her hand started to ring and Ros started before she answered it. “Lucas?”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “You able to talk?”

“No, I’m in the midst of a thrilling game of solitaire. I simply don’t have the time to speak with you,” Ros said calmly, hoping Lucas would pick up that she wasn’t exactly in an ideal spot to chat with him about plans.

“Well, maybe I can cheer you up then,” Lucas said. “You ready for some good news?”

Ros slipped into the hall, away from any potential prying voyeurs. Malcolm glanced up at her from where he was crouched by the bomb. Ben was holding a pair of wires beside him, while Jo hovered above, looking worried. “Go ahead. I’m clear now," Ros said, nodding once at the three officers.

“You know how much I hate interrupting your quality solitaire time,” Lucas said snidely. “Ortiz is in our systems. She’s able to see you lot.”

“Can Ortiz get us out?” Ros asked. She could not care less if Ortiz could see them. What she wanted was for Ortiz to get them out .

“She can,” Lucas confirmed.

“Is that Lucas?” Malcolm asked, standing up and walking towards Ros.

“Hold on,” Ros told Lucas as she nodded at Malcolm. She covered the speaker on the phone and said, “He says Ortiz is in our systems now and has the same access the hackers have.”

Malcolm fidgeted, glancing pointedly at the Grid. “She hasn’t done anything yet, has she?” he asked. Ros relayed the question to Lucas. She listened as Lucas repeated the question to Ortiz.

“She says she hasn’t and wants instruction on what we want done,” Lucas said when he came back to the phone.

Ros scowled. When she had told Harry that she wanted Section D, she did not mean that she wanted to be their damned messenger.  I am   not  playing middleman for the boys . She put the phone on speaker and said, “You’re on speaker. Repeat yourself, please. I'm not going to be your messenger.”

“Oh, and here I thought you did it so well,” Lucas said. “Ortiz hasn’t done anything yet.”

“Good,” Malcolm said. “If she does anything, the CSS and FSB will know she’s there and they’ll use that connection to track her location.”

“Is she safe?” Ros asked, looking up at Malcolm. He had a worryingly good point. This day is getting better and better .

“As safe as she can be,” Lucas said. He didn't elaborate and Ros sighed in relief. Good. He was being cautious. Ros never thought that she'd be thankful for Lucas being annoyingly secretive. She only hoped that meant that, wherever he had stashed Ortiz, it wasn't in MI-5's files. Otherwise, for all Ros knew, the CSS and FSB could be on their way right now and Section D's only real chance at getting off the Grid would be killed.

Ros thought she heard something muffled in the background. She heard Lucas offer minimal protest before a female voice came on, “Look, I can see all of you guys and I can get you out, but they’ll know you’re out.”

Malcolm looked thoughtful for a moment before his eyes widened excitedly. “What if we put a mask over the screens?”

Ros frowned. A mask? What, were they now going to try blinding the FSB and the CSS by draping coats over the screens? Because that won’t give us away . She was about to say as such when Ortiz said, “That… could actually work, yeah. Give me five minutes to set it up. Have everyone look like they’re doing whatever they’re doing now so that the hackers won’t suspect anything and I’ll set up the mask and then open your guys’ doors.”

Ros still didn’t quite know what they were talking about, but Malcolm seemed excited and certain it would work so she elected to not ask for clarification. She didn’t quite feel like being regaled with a lengthy explanation, filled with techno-jargon. She supposed that was the downside of Malcolm. Whenever he got excited about something, he always forgot to speak in English, rather than technician. Still, Ros gestured for Jo to come over.

“Jo, go back to the Grid and tell Harry we’re setting up some sort of mask and to have everyone look like they’re at their desks. Stay there until I tell you otherwise.” Jo nodded once and nodded towards Ben, who followed her back to the Grid. Once they were both out of the hall, Ros asked, “You said you’re in our systems?”

“Yep. I can see everything the hackers can see,” Ortiz said. Ros thought she could hear keys clacking in the background.

“Are you able to get into their systems?” Ros asked.

“Brilliant,” Malcolm said. “You could triangulate their location by piggybacking into their portal and -”

“Malcolm,” Ros said, holding up her hand and stopping him before he could give her a headache. “Ortiz, can you do it?”

“Wow, no Ms?” Ortiz said. Just as Ros was about to snap, Ortiz added, “Yeah, I can get into their systems. I’ll get the mask set up and then I’ll get James here to call you back with the coordinates.”

“Good,” Ros said. She smiled thinly at the name Lucas had given Ortiz. James? Really ? Lucas didn’t exactly exude James Bond. Or at least that’s who Ros assumed he was alluding to. Subtle, Lucas. Very subtle . Once she got off the Grid, she’d have to tease him about it. After we bring in the hackers.

Chapter Text

Ros sighed as she stepped inside her house. It was good to be home. It was good to know that they had averted two crises and that the FSB and CSS were no closer to getting their hands on Cybershell. It was even good to know that Lucas had successfully kept Ortiz alive and well. But, still, she felt… tired. Frustrated. The hackers should never have been able to get into their systems in the first place. Malcolm had said that he was going to stay late, make sure everything was in order, and see what he could do to increase their cybersecurity so that they didn't have a repeat of today. But the fact remained: the CSS and the FSB had gotten into their systems. Ros couldn’t help but wonder if they had help and, if they did, who helped them.

It wasn’t like she could just come out and ask Lucas if he had helped the FSB get into MI-5’s servers. And the fact that he hadn’t killed the cryptographer suggested, perhaps, that he hadn’t been privy to this plan. Or, if he was, he really did have a weak stomach and had balked at the thought of killing the cryptographer. Still, the FSB couldn’t have known that Ros would send Lucas to retrieve Ortiz. Unless that was why he broke into my house last night .

Ros hung up her coat. This was ridiculous. She already knew why Lucas had broken into her house last night and it was directly because she was investigating him and he wanted her to back off. It wasn’t to irk her enough to lash out and send him on menial tasks. She could have just as easily retaliated by sending him to the paper archive. Even if he was a mole, it was unlikely he had a hand in today’s mess. If she were a FSB handler, she wouldn't risk a prize asset on something that had too many uncontrollable variables. Which brought her back to wondering how the CSS and FSB had gotten into MI-5's systems.

Turning on the telly, Ros went into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Growing up, she had always had meals prepared for her. It wasn’t until she had moved out and joined MI-6 that she had really learned how to cook. Now, she just found that it brought back sad memories. She and her father had had a fight, what felt like so long ago now, about her joining the Service. He had thought it was just a phase, that she’d grow out of it once she saw the reality of the Service. Jocelyn had wanted his only child, his baby girl, to follow his footsteps. He had wanted a dynasty in politics and Ros had rejected that. After that fight, she had made it a point to stay with the Service, through the hard times and the good times. And she learned how to cook because she would be damned if she went home to have supper with her father and listen to him disparage her choice of careers. Eventually, he came to realize that she wasn’t leaving the Service and they had made up, but, still, it had always remained a sore topic between them, one that he only ever brought up when he needed her to do something for him.

She pulled vegetables from the refrigerator and began washing them. There was something almost therapeutic in the routine; wash the vegetables, wash away the day; slice the vegetables, slice away her problems and worries. The routine was something she could focus on and get lost in. She tuned out everything, the telly, the sound of the knife clicking against the cutting board, and focused only on the blade slicing through the vegetables. For better or for worse, the hackers were caught and dealt with. The breach was in the process of being fixed, and the data was reclaimed before the hackers could do anything damaging with it.

Just as she was finishing preparing dinner, Ros heard a knock on the door. She scowled. Picking up the knife she had used to cut vegetables, she went to the door and peered through the peek hole. To her eternal annoyance, Lucas was standing on the stoop with a bag in hand. He gave an annoying wave and grinned. Bastard . She wrenched open the door. “What?” she asked.

“Hello, Ros. I’m doing well, thanks, how are you?” Lucas asked.

“Annoyed. Go away.”

“I brought you something,” Lucas said, holding up the bag. “But you might not want to open it up out here.”

She scowled, but stood aside. Lucas stepped inside and she shut the door behind him. He handed her the bag, which Ros took without a word. She didn’t open it, purely to spite Lucas. Instead, she put it on the couch and went back to her dinner. “I’m not offering you any,” she said stiffly as she sat down to eat.

He shrugged. “Good. I ate already. And I don’t trust you not to poison me.”

“If I poison you, you won’t know it was me,” she said, smiling brightly. The idea of poisoning Lucas warmed her insides as she ate.

“Noted,” Lucas said. He sat opposite her at the table.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

“A new bra, as promised.”

“You don’t know my size.”

Lucas smiled. “I’m a good guess.”

She scowled. “You looked at my bra size while I was sleeping.”

“That too. I also made sure I got a style that you liked so that you won’t strangle me with it.”

“Bastard.”

He shrugged again. “I also brought a peace offering.” Ros lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t dignify that with a response. Lucas leaned back in his chair and stretched one arm along the table. “You’re looking into the Russian mafia.”

“Are you admitting to breaking into my house last night?” Ros asked. She didn’t think Lucas would be so sloppy as to admit to the deed, but, he'd surprised her before.

“No. But, hypothetically, if I did know that you were looking into the Russian mafia, I might be inclined to help. I might know some things about them.” He smiled thinly. “Hypothetically, of course.”

Ros leaned back in her own chair and put her fork down, lest she use it to stab Lucas. “In exchange?”

“Back off from my file, Ros. Whatever you think is in there, I assure you, it’s not,” Lucas said. There was a sudden coldness to his voice that gave Ros pause. “If you keep digging, you’re going to get people I happen to care about hurt and I’m not going to let you do that. So back off, or I’m going to not be so nice next time.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t threaten.”

“Good. I don’t either,” Lucas said. He was still smiling, but there was nothing even remotely friendly in it. “Back off, Ros. I’m not going to ask you again.”

Her hand tightened around her fork. “If you touch me, I will kill you.”

“Not going to go after you,” Lucas said calmly, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather, and got up. Her eyes narrowed at his threat, but his smile didn’t waver as he said, “Enjoy your dinner.”

Lucas turned to leave and Ros bit her lower lip. If Lucas’ information on the Russian mafia was good… I could get my father back . The thought hit her harder than she had thought it would. Ever since the sentence came down, Ros had been trying to find a way to fight the sentence, to reduce it somehow, to bring Jocelyn home . She felt guilty just looking at her mother, knowing that she was the reason that her father was in jail. Ros had been the one to make him stand down. Ros had been the one that gave him to MI-5. If she hadn’t… if she had talked him out of the coup in the first place… if she had been more aware of what his plans were, maybe he wouldn’t be in jail now.

Lucas’ information could help her. But it could also be a bluff on his part. If she agreed to back off and he found out that she was still investigating him…. His threat wasn’t exactly subtle. If she pushed, he would go after her father or maybe her mother. If he really was as acquainted with the Russian mafia as he had implied, if he had information that wasn’t in the Polecat operation notes, then he might very well be able to make sure her father never saw freedom again. I won’t let you do that , she thought fiercely. If Lucas went after her father, she would kill him. Plain and simple.

“Wait,” Ros gritted out, just as Lucas opened the door. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Suppose I agree. How do I know your information is any good?”

He shrugged. “You don’t. But I’ll tell you right now that it is. You’ve read my file. You know that I was trying to infiltrate the Russian mafia when I was arrested in Moscow.”

She worried at her lower lip. “Why are you so intent on hiding your past?” she asked finally.

Lucas glanced outside before shutting the door and turning back towards her. “I have my reasons,” he said finally. “Someone burned me. I’m not going to let you, or anyone else, hurt the people I care about to try to leverage my loyalty. I’m loyal to MI-5. I always have been. I always will be.”

Ros leaned back in her chair, uncertain if she believed him or not. He was right, of course. She knew he'd been infiltrating the mafia before being caught and, frankly, even if he wasn't, spending eight years in Russian prison probably gave him some insider knowledge about the mafia's operations. At the very least, his information might give Ros somewhere to start in her efforts to get her father out of prison.  “Alright,” she said finally. Lucas made his way back to the table and sat down again. When he was seated, Ros asked, “What have you got?”

-x-

Ros slipped away into the bathroom. Lucas had been surprisingly forthcoming about Yelencovich. If his information checked out, she might just be able to convince her father to testify against Yelencovich in exchange for earlier release. I could get my father back. I could bring him home . He would still have to serve some time, Ros suspected. But he could come home . He might not be an old man when his sentence was finished. It was a heady thought and Ros gripped the sink tightly. Maybe, at long last, she'd be able to look at her mother without feeling the stab of guilt that accompanied every visit to her mother.

All of that hinged on Lucas having good information, though. He said he had given her everything he knew on Yelencovich. When she asked where he had gotten his information from, he had told her that he got it while he was doing research for Polecat and that he had supplemented it with some information from chattier cell mates. But if he was lying… if any of it didn’t check out… It might just make things worse for my father . She tightened her grip on the porcelain. It might be good information or it might be bad, but at least it was a start . And, if it was good information, she might just be able to convince her father to turn on Yelencovich.

She ran a hand through her hair. Ros wondered if her father would even speak with her after her role in getting him to stand down. Would he tell her mother what she did? That, because she had used their relationship and how she had always looked up to him to make him stand down , he was incarcerated? Will my parents ever look at me the same way again? She made the right decision, she knew she did, but it still hurt. She had put the lives of thousands over the life of her father. Never make a decision you can’t live with the consequences , Colville had told her once. She had made her decision. Now I have to live with the consequences . At least now, she had a chance to have her father back, maybe even make peace with him again.

Taking a deep breath, Ros flushed the toilet and made her way back to the kitchen. Lucas was still sitting at the table, sipping at the glass of vodka she had poured him. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t look like Lucas had had very much of the vodka. He was always cautious about how much he drank around others, she had noticed. Even when the section had gone for drinks after successfully thwarting the FSB’s and the CSS’ attempts to wrest Cybershell from the Americans, Ros noticed Lucas had nursed one pint over several hours. She had seen the vodka and rum at his flat. She knew he drank more than a pint of beer some nights.

Ros sat down and lifted her wine glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yep,” she said, her eyes challenging him to call her on her bluff. Lucas had given her a chance to bring her father home, but at what cost? Would her father accept the information, coming from her? Would he still accept her after what she did? And, even if her father did accept the information, the price of Lucas' information weighed heavily on her. Lucas wanted her to back off from his file. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something in it that could help her determine if he really was loyal to MI-5 or if he was playing them rather spectacularly. If she went back on her promise, which she fully intended to do, and he found out, then... what? He started kicking up a hornet's nest about how she was given the section despite the fact that he'd held the job previously? He couldn't very well go after her father anymore than the press already had. Even if her father did get out of prison, his career as a diplomat was over. Then I'll just have to be more cautious, she decided. She eyed Lucas speculatively. She'd find out what he was hiding in his file and then she'd decide, one way or the other, if he could be trusted.

Lucas scrutinized her before shrugging and taking another sip of vodka. “So, what are we mad about tonight? CSS and FSB working together? FSB trapping you lot on the Grid? Americans having to save the day?”

“Your existence?” Ros suggested, only half-joking. Lucas grinned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty pissed I exist too,” he agreed. “Not sure I’d drink to that, though.”

“Then I suppose we’ll simply have to settle for something else,” Ros said. “To the Americans deciding not to invade our systems with Cybershell?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Lucas said, lifting his glass towards her before taking a sip.

Ros took a sip as well. When she lowered her glass, she swirled her wine thoughtfully. “How’d you figure out it wasn’t us?”

Lucas glanced at her. “The hackers lacked your charming personality.”

“I’d throw my wine at you if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want to waste good wine on an annoying colleague,” Ros said.

He snorted before looking down at his own glass. When he looked up again, he wasn’t looking at her. “When the hackers used voice synthesis to sound like you to reinforce Harry’s orders, they used the same words they used when they gave the initial order. I thought it was odd, so I had Oritz call up the CIA, and they confirmed information they shouldn’t have been privy to.”

“Like the tail following the CIA?”

“That, yeah. And they also used the same words to tell her that Cybershell had been compromised and to trust me to follow my orders.”

Ros hummed. Now that she thought about it, Lucas was right. The hackers had used the exact same wording when giving the order to kill Oritz. And Lucas picked up on it. Maybe Lucas really was as good as Harry seemed to think he was. She had already suspected he was better than he let on. Now she had her proof. In Lucas’ place, Ben or Jo probably would have killed the cryptographer. Lucas not only disobeyed an order from who he thought was Harry , but figured out that it wasn’t Harry. I’ll have to watch Lucas a lot closer now .

“I saw your epipen,” Ros said. Lucas frowned as his eyes flicked away from his vodka and towards her. “I’m guessing there’s no point asking what it’s for.”

“Nope,” Lucas said. “You know me so well.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, because you are so good at sharing.”

“Mum always said it was one of my strong suits.”

Ros pursed her lips, but ultimately decided to let it slide - for now . Maybe she could trick Malcolm into telling her what Lucas was so allergic to that he thought it prudent to keep an epipen at work. And maybe Malcolm would even believe her when she said that it was for Lucas’ own good and not at all because she wanted to use whatever he was allergic to to kill him.

Warmed by thoughts of Lucas’ murder, Ros sipped her wine. The corner of Lucas’ mouth quirked up  and he returned to staring at his vodka. They drank in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It was good to finally get a win, especially after the string of failures. Certainly, Ros knew that she had done better than anyone else could have in each of those situations, but the fact that the Al-Qaeda had gotten some past her, or that the Americans had killed Khordad, irked her. The FSB and CSS had almost gotten their hands on Cybershell, but they didn’t , thanks to the efforts of her team. They had caught the hackers. They saved their data from falling into the wrong hands. And, now, she might just have a way of getting her father’s sentence reduced.

“Are we good?” Lucas asked abruptly, pulling Ros from her thoughts.

She blinked. “What?”

“You and me. Jo and Ben… they look to us when they don’t know what to do. You and I have the most seniority, the most experience on the job. When Harry’s not there to give orders, or even when he is, they look to us. If we’re at odds, they notice and suffer for it. So, are we good?”

Ros leaned back in her chair and studied Lucas’ face. It was earnest enough, she supposed. And she appreciated that he didn’t mention they had slept together and that she had kicked him out in the morning. But, as much as it irked her to admit it, Lucas was right. They had to present a unified front. Whether she liked it or not, he was her senior case officer. If, for whatever reason, she and Harry weren’t around to take charge of a situation, Lucas was in charge. Section D couldn’t afford to have Lucas and Ros bickering and going behind each other’s backs, or at least not visibly.

“Yeah. We’re good,” Ros said finally.

Lucas nodded. “Good.”

Chapter Text

To Ros’ surprise, after their agreement that they were still good, Lucas didn’t leave. She thought about kicking him out again, but decided against it. Instead, they had migrated from the dining room to the living room. They didn’t speak much and Ros was… surprised at how much she appreciated that. She and Adam had always tried small talk after an operation. She wasn’t sure she wanted to establish that sort of tradition with Lucas. Ros… didn’t exactly dislike small talk, but she also appreciated the companionable silences too. Adam was never much good at those.

She still hadn’t opened the bag Lucas had brought. It was perched on the seat next to her. Knowing what she did of Lucas, she was almost afraid to open it. If it was some ridiculous, childish bra, she really was going to strangle him with it. She wouldn’t have put it past him to buy her a joke bra. More than that, though, Ros was more afraid of Lucas being genuine, that he really had gotten her a bra the same size and style that she liked. It meant he remembered a promise made during, quite literally, the heat of the moment, and it meant that he thought it important enough to keep. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to think on the implications of that .

Ros gave the bag a misgiving look. Lucas must have caught the expression on her face because he said, “It’s just a bra, Ros. It’s not going to jump out and kill you.”

“It’s an inanimate object. I should hope that it’s not going to do any jumping,” Ros said crossly.

“I know you had a posh upbringing, but surely you’ve heard of that expression,” Lucas said.

“I’m not a cave-dweller, Lucas. Of course I have,” she said as she snatched the bag up. She emptied its contents onto the seat beside her and was pleasantly surprised to see a bra that was, indeed, in her size and in a style she liked. She’d be damned if she told Lucas that, though. It would stroke his ego and she really didn’t feel like dealing with Lucas being smug that he was right. “What, no matching set?” Ros asked, only half-joking.

“I said I’d buy you a new bra. Didn’t destroy the pants,” Lucas pointed out.

“It’s nice, but I don’t have anything to match it with.”

“You’ll get creative, I’m sure,” Lucas said. He got to his feet and finished his vodka before walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Ros demanded, placing the bra onto the couch beside her.

“Home. Where I live. And sleep,” Lucas deadpanned. He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Why?”

Ros picked at the tag on the bra. She noticed he hadn’t removed the price tag, likely in the event she wanted to return it. He was right, though. It was expensive. At least he got that much right . “And if I invited you to stay?”

Lucas paused before stepping back into the living room. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he looked around the room, almost restlessly, before he finally settled on looking at her. “I don’t get you,” he said finally. “An hour ago, you were plotting my murder. Now you’re inviting me to stay?”

“You could have just said no,” Ros said stiffly and got to her feet. She felt her cheeks redden.

“I’m just trying to figure out if you’re inviting me to stay so you can murder me,” Lucas said. He grinned at her. “Not so sure I want to wind up dead. Still have eight years’ worth of Coronation Street to catch up on.”

Ros narrowed her eyes and slowly got to her feet. She met Lucas' eyes challengingly. He lifted an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his amusement from his face. It only made her more frustrated. She wasn't surprised to see Lucas refuse to back down - he'd never done it before, she didn't see why he would suddenly do it now - but it didn't stop her from wanting him to back down. Today might have been a win, they might have saved the cryptographer and stopped the FSB and the CSS from getting access to all of MI-5's and the CIA's files, but it had been no less infuriating. She hated being helpless, hated not being in control, hated the feelings and memories that it evoked. When she had woken up in the funeral home, she had promised herself that she'd never let herself feel that helpless again. But today, being stuck on the Grid, unable to do anything.... Never again. The fact that Lucas thought her frustration about today was amusing fed into her anger.

She wasn't entirely certain what she was doing until she grabbed the front of Lucas' shirt and jerked him to her, kissing him hard. He grunted, his hands flying up to grip her biceps. "Hey," Lucas said, pushing her away. She noticed he didn't let go of her. "Ros."

Ros shook him off her and took a step back, putting more space between them. She ran a hand through her hair, looking anywhere but at Lucas, as she tried in vain to fight back the blush that was colouring her cheeks. "Sorry." She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Sorry," she said again.

Lucas looked down at the floor, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You, uh, want to talk about it?"

"Do you?"

"Not really."

"There's your answer."

He nodded and glanced at the door. Neither of them said anything. Ros ran her hand through her hair again and snatched her wineglass from the coffee table to take a larger-than-average sip. So much for burning off my anger that way. She wasn't sure what she had been thinking beyond that she wasn't. Even if Lucas was willing to have sex with her, again, she doubted he'd be willing to back down, to submit, the way she needed. In any case, she shouldn't have jumped him like that. While they hadn't talked about what happened after... last time, they also hadn't had a repeat. She'd been stupid to think that him bringing the bra meant anything more than wanting to keep a promise.

"I get the feeling we, uh, should talk about it, though," Lucas said slowly, carefully, as if he was measuring each word.

"You can talk about your feelings, I'm going to refill my wineglass," Ros said snidely and made her way to the kitchen, as if it wasn't her that had made things awkward.

Lucas followed her into the kitchen. "You're angry about what happened today," he said. She noticed the distinct lack of a question and scowled. I must be slipping if he picked up on that.

"You're damn right I am," she said hotly and snatched the wine bottle from the counter. She poured considerably more wine in her glass than she thought she probably should have. When Lucas didn't answer, she turned around and glared at him. He cocked his head to the side contemplatively. "What?" she demanded.

"Look, if you need, er, that, we can... you know...," he trailed off and shrugged.

"Are you flustered, Lucas North?"

"No," he said and scowled.

She narrowed her eyes and then burst into laughter. He was flustered. Him. Lucas North. Bane of Section D, Russian interrogators, and probably anyone that had to talk to him for more than a minute. Flustered from talking about sex. If it wasn't for the fact that she'd have to explain how she knew talking about sex would fluster Lucas, she'd use the information to tease him mercilessly every time he started to annoy her. "Who knew that talking about sex would make the ever annoying Lucas North flustered," she said.

"I hate you so much," Lucas said flatly.

"Feeling's mutual."

"Well, at least we're on the same page."

She put her wineglass down on the counter behind her. "Are you serious about your offer, though?"

"Yeah. If it's what you want."

"What do you want?"

He shrugged again, still not looking at her. "It just surprised me earlier," he said after a moment. "You haven't exactly been subtle in your hourly 'plot to kill Lucas' sessions."

She gave him a flat look. "If you weren't so bloody annoying, I wouldn't have to plot various ways to murder you."

He snorted. "If I had a pound for every time I heard that, I'd be a very wealthy man."

"I can't imagine why. Has it ever occurred to you there might be a common denominator if everyone you meet tells you that you're annoying?" Ros asked, only half-joking.

He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips in thought. After a full minute, he said, "Nope. No idea." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Look, the offer's on the table if you want it."

She paused, weighing her options. If his offer was genuine.... She certainly wouldn't say no. If he was willing to have sex, maybe he'd also be willing to not be his usual, annoyingly stubborn self, even if it was only for a night. At the very least, she might be able to work off some of her frustrations, maybe even regain her sense of control. "Fine," she said and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the bedroom. "But we're not having sex on my counter again."

-x-

After they finished, Ros stretched across the bed, listening as Lucas sought out his clothes. When she heard the tell-tale sound of him doing up his belt, she opened her eyes and gave him what she thought was a rather impressively stern look, despite the fact that she was feeling thoroughly relaxed and rather boneless.

“I hope you weren’t planning on leaving,” Ros said.

“Not without saying goodbye.”

She cracked an eye open. He was already moving towards his shirt. Ros wanted to grab Lucas’ hand, pull him back to the bed, demand he stay with her again and this time stay in the bed with her. In the end, she opted not to move. She wasn’t sure she could move. Instead, she settled for ordering, “Stay.”

Lucas paused, holding his shirt in one hand. “You gonna kick me out in the morning again?”

“I’ll think on it.”

“I’ll think on staying, then,” he retorted.

“Is that a yes?”

“A definite maybe.”

Ros opened both her eyes and glared at him. “Get back in bed, now, before I get up and drag you back.”

Lucas grinned. “Well, since you asked me so nicely,” he said as he climbed back into bed with Ros. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or discomforted by the fact that he made no attempt to sidle up against her. Instead, he was very clearly on one side of the bed, not touching her. Ros tolerated it for a whole minute before she wriggled next to him, resting her head on his chest. She flung an arm over him for good measure.

“If you leave the bed again to go for a walk, I’m going to kick you out in the morning,” Ros said. She pressed a chaste kiss to his chest.

“What if I leave the bed to piss?” he asked.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“That could be a challenge.” 

“Good thing you like challenges,” Ros said. She patted his breast patronizingly. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

Chapter Text

Lucas woke with a start, gasping. In his sleep, he had shoved the pillow up against the headboard and had been using his bicep as a pillow instead. Sheets were tangled around his legs and he felt a body pressed against his back, an arm slung around his hips. Inhaling raggedly, he stumbled out of the bed and collapsed to the floor, gripping his head. The nightmares had been vivid this time and lingered, even after he woke. Had he been in his own flat, he might have given in to the temptation to scream in frustration. I’m home, I’m not there anymore. I’m home, I’m not there anymore. I escaped Lushanka. The mantra felt hollow, even to him.

Leaning back against the wall, Lucas focused on his breathing, trying to get it back under control. He could hear the sheets rustle above him, which was all he needed to remind himself that here, in the bedroom, was really not the place to be fighting his demons. Without saying a word or even looking at the bed, Lucas clawed his way to his feet and all but fled into the bathroom, shutting the door with more force than necessary. He didn’t bother turning on the light, not wanting to see the fucking tattoos in the mirror.

He felt sick. He always did after the nightmares, particularly these ones. Lucas just made it to the toilet before vomiting what little he had eaten before coming over to Ros’. Ros’ . Right. He was here. At Ros’. Not in Lushanka. Not in that dark little cell anymore. Lucas threw up again. He shivered violently and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the goddamn memories away. Not for the first time, Lucas bitterly wondered if staying loyal had been worth the price he’d paid. I’m home, I’m not there anymore. I escaped Lushanka .

When he thought he could stand without dry heaving over the toilet, he got to his feet and flushed the toilet. Still refusing to turn on the light, Lucas closed his eyes and moved to where he remembered the sink being. Turning on the tap, Lucas splashed water on his face. At this point, even those memories would be preferable to the ones currently being featured. He rinsed his mouth before spitting the water out and turning off the tap. Gripping the sink tightly, Lucas squeezed his eyes shut again and shook his head once, trying to forcibly eject the memories out.

I’m home, I’m not there anymore. I escaped Lushanka .

Then why don’t I believe it?

Lucas slid to the floor and clenched his hands against the side of his head. He thought he could hear footsteps outside the bathroom door, but he ignored them. With his weight against the door, even Ros would have troubles pushing it open if she was dedicated enough. Just leave me alone . Morbidly, he wondered if this would be the ammunition Ros needed to get his clearance at work revoked. He decided he’d worry about that later when he didn’t want to rip his brain out and flush it down the toilet with everything else. I’m home, I’m not there anymore. I escaped Lushanka .

Nobody escapes from Lushanka .

Lucas shuddered as Oleg’s voice rang clearly through his mind. If Lucas were honest with himself, he’d say that Oleg was right. He might be home now, but the terror of going back to Lushanka, of all this being a sick dream and having it taken away from him once again, was enough to make him question if he really had escaped. And, God, if he hadn’t…. If it all was a dream…. If he really was still in Lushanka…. Even now, where he was… mostly certain that he was lucid and not suffering another one of the vivid hallucinations he’d occasionally had while in solitary, he couldn’t shake Oleg’s voice. Nobody escapes from Lushanka . He crawled to the toilet and threw up again.

Footsteps paced outside the bathroom door. Lucas concentrated on the sound of a sheet whispering against the floorboards. Returning to sit back against the door, Lucas dragged his legs up to his chest, dropping his head into his arms. God, he wanted to forget. Wanted to scrub the last eight years out of his memories, just forget , just once . Lucas wanted to scream in helpless rage that he couldn’t . He’d always considered his memory a blessing. He could see things, hear things, and recall them later with little to no difficulty. Just once, Lucas wished that his memory was not what it was, that he could just… forget . Just once.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, nor was he sure how long Ros paced before she finally went back towards the bedroom. Lucas waited another five minutes before finally getting up and rubbing his eyes. He rather doubted he’d be getting any more sleep tonight, but he’d rather not spend the rest of the night in the bathroom, either. Sighing, he opened the door and looked down the hall to where light spilled out of the bedroom. Ros must have turned a lamp on. Great .

With no one to see, Lucas winced. By the time he was nudging the bedroom door more open with his hip, his face was carefully composed to hide the fear and frustration his nightmares had left him with. Ros, for her part, was sitting on the bed, the sheets carefully arranged around her to provide her the semblance of modesty. As if I haven’t seen it already . Still, he was rather glad that she was covering up. He wasn’t sure he wanted anything to do with sex right now.  

“Lucas,” Ros said.  

He heard the unspoken question. Lucas almost bared his teeth at her in a snarl. The last fucking thing he wanted - or needed - was Ros’ pity . Her concern was about as welcome. Still, Lucas knew it wasn’t her fault. How was she supposed to react after he all but ran from the fucking bedroom and spent the last - he checked the clock - hour in the bathroom? It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had woken him, nor what had bothered him enough that he needed space. She might not know the specifics, but he was under no illusion that she knew what had woken him.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly and got back into bed, pointedly facing away from Ros.

She touched his shoulder and Lucas inadvertently flinched as he felt her fingers brush against the star tattoo. Fuck . It wasn’t her fault. How could she know? All the same, he shrugged her hand off. “I’m fine,” he repeated and squeezed his eyes closed again against the memories that threatened to overwhelm him once more.

Ros took the hint and retracted her hand. “If you want to talk about it…,” she trailed off.

“I don’t.”

“Okay,” she said. He thought he detected a hint of relief in her voice and he couldn’t exactly blame her. If she knew even a fraction of what he went through in prison…. Nobody escapes from Lushanka . He shivered again. If Ros noticed, she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she said, “I’m going back to bed. If you need anything, I’m sure you’re capable of finding it.”

Lucas snorted, but didn’t offer a reply. The light turned off and, thankfully, Ros didn’t sidle up to him again. He listened as she pulled the covers over herself. Soon enough, he could hear her deep, even breathing that suggested she had found sleep. Lucky . Lucas didn’t attempt to fall back asleep. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, much less could , fall back asleep, not with the past so fresh in his mind.

Was it worth it? Staying loyal?

Like so many times before, Lucas didn’t have an answer for himself.

-x-

Lucas was working on his third cup of coffee when Ros, fully dressed, sauntered out of the bedroom, phone in hand. Silently, he braced himself for a conversation he really didn’t want to have. The first time he slept with Ros, it had been a mistake. He’d been fresh from prison and desperate to feel normal again after spending so long suppressing any glimmer of his emotions. At the time, that’d meant going through the motions of sex and, even if he hadn’t really been physically attracted to Ros, at least for an hour or two, he’d felt something instead of the God-awful emotional distance that was all he could muster most days. The fact that he had slept with Ros again brought up uncomfortable thoughts that maybe… maybe Harry was right. Maybe he was more affected by prison than he thought. He still didn’t feel physically attracted to her, but he’d gone through with it anyway because he… wanted to hold onto that emotional connection. He wanted to… to prove that he still could connect with people after Oleg had… severely tested that.

Of course, then there was also… last night. He knew it’d been stupid to stay the night, especially when he knew the memories of prison were so… fresh. She hadn’t meant to, he knew it, but their bedroom activities had brought them simmering just below the surface, all the same. If he’d been smart, he would have gone home afterwards. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed, because he was too wrapped up in holding onto that connection that he had thought maybe… maybe the nightmares wouldn’t be too bad. But they had been, and now Ros knew just how fucked up prison had left him. Shit .

Ros brushed past him to grab a mug from the cupboard. “Good morning, Lucas,” she said.

“Morning,” he said and moved out of her way as she started to prepare her coffee. Some milk, nothing more. He waited until she had poured herself a cup before saying, “About last night….”

She held a hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. If he hadn’t spent the majority of the night fighting demons, he might have kept talking despite her telling him, in not so many words, to be quiet. Instead, he lifted an eyebrow. “What happens at night is your business, Lucas,” Ros said. She took a sip of coffee and tilted her head to the side, as if contemplating if she made it correctly. “So long as it doesn’t affect the team, I’m really not interested because it’d mean a lot of paperwork for me and I really don’t like paperwork.”

Lucas pursed his lips and nodded once. Well, that was easier than expected . It was also remarkably more fair than he had expected from Ros. He knew what she thought of him and he’d be surprised if she didn’t blame him, and his fresh-from-prison status, for Adam’s death. Lucas thought she would have jumped at the opportunity to get him put on leave or properly debriefed, both of which would involve revoking his access to the Grid. It was unsettling, being the one that underestimated his opponent. Usually, Lucas tried to encourage others to underestimate him . He wasn’t used to making the mistake of underestimating those around him, especially not after his eight year… sabbatical. Either he had Ros pegged wrong, or he had underestimated her. Neither of which are mistakes I’ll make a second time .

“Are you going to go to work or just stand there drinking coffee?” Ros asked archly.

There’s the Ros that Lucas expected. “Don’t suppose you have a travel mug?”

Chapter Text

After a long day of doing paperwork, the last thing Lucas wanted to come home to was Kate leaning against his building. He had worked very hard to avoid answering her repeated and increasingly frequent calls and texts the past few weeks. Lucas knew why she was calling - he still hadn’t committed to going or not going back home for Easter and she wanted to know one way or the other. With the holiday coming up next week, he supposed he should have expected her to show up at his flat. Truthfully, Lucas just… hadn’t decided if he wanted to go back. He loved his family, but he preferred to love them from a five-and-a-half-hour car ride away. Not to mention he hadn’t been home in… almost sixteen years. As soon as he had turned eighteen, he had moved out and never looked back, never gone back. Sure, he’d rung his mum a few times before he had… taken an eight year sabbatical, but he had resisted her trying to convince him to come visit.

The last time he had seen his parents was at his wedding, twelve years ago. What was he supposed to tell them? That his wife was now his ex-wife and that she had left him while he had been in prison? And, God, the looks his parents would give him when he told them that he had been in prison…. The worst part was that they wouldn’t even be surprised if he told them a half-truth, that he had gone to prison for stealing. Kate had been disappointed in him, and he had barely survived that, but his parents… they’d be resigned. Not surprised, not disappointed. Just resigned. And it killed him that he wouldn’t, couldn’t , tell them the truth.  

Still, he could only evade Kate for so long. Eventually, she’d track him down and he would never hear the end of it if that happened. As it was, he had a feeling he was about to be thoroughly chastised for ducking her calls and texts. Steeling himself, Lucas picked his way to where Kate was sitting. By the looks of it, she had gone straight to his flat after she finished work, if the fact that she was still wearing a pencil skirt, blouse, and heels were anything to go by. He knew his cousin. The second she was home, she was in jeans, a t-shirt, and barefoot. Which meant he was in more trouble, because he interrupted her evening routine. Lucas supposed it was a good thing that he wasn’t exactly a stranger to being in trouble.  

“Hey,” he said as soon as he was close enough. And, because he knew he was in trouble anyway , he added, “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

Kate narrowed her eyes at him as she pushed off the wall. “It’s almost like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Perish the thought,” Lucas said. “I’d invite you in for a beer so we could catch up, but I have a nosey neighbour and I’m reasonably certain she’s home right now, ready to listen in if I bring a woman into my flat. Don’t suppose I could get a rain check?”  

“Sure, but before you go, you could answer whether or not you’re going home for Easter or not,” Kate said, planting her hands on her hips as she stood in between him and the door. Despite her best efforts, Lucas found it difficult to be intimidated by someone that only reached his shoulder. He eyed the door contemplatively, wondering how much shit he would get if he just… pushed her out of the way. In the end, he decided he’d probably never survive pushing Kate Acker anywhere, much less out of the path between him and his flat.  

“Oh, is that coming up?” Lucas asked innocently.

“ Lucas ,” Kate said with no small amount of exasperation. “ Please don’t make me deal with my mother alone this year. Do you know what she did last year? No, of course not, because you didn’t go home .”

“In my defence, it’s not like I had a choice,” Lucas pointed out. He even managed to keep the dark memories of what - and where - he had done for Easter last year at bay. “But, knowing your mother, I’m sure it was something absolutely terrible that you only barely survived.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “She introduced me to every single bachelor in Braithwaite! Every. Single. One .”

“That’s not a whole lot, Kate.”

“It was five more than I wanted to meet,” Kate said. “Come on, Lucas, it’ll be fun. You get to bless my mum with your charming presence.”

Lucas snorted. The last time he had been in the same room as his aunt, she had tried to exorcise him. Again. For the fifteenth time. Granted, that had been after he had stashed a rather realistic looking toy snake in her fridge, amongst the apples. He thought it had been both appropriate and hilarious, but Iris had… not found it quite as funny as he had. When she failed to exorcise him, she settled for permanently banishing him from ever stepping foot in her home. Wonder if that banishment is still in effect . “You do remember that your mum banished me from your place, right?”

“Lucas, that was seventeen years ago. I’m sure she’s forgiven you.”

“She never forgave me for putting red dye capsules in the sink, either.”

“In her defence, you nearly gave her a heart attack.” Kate tilted her head to the side. “Seriously though. Save me, Lucas, you’re my only hope.”

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. Despite the rather considerable amount of trepidation he had about going home, he felt like he owed Kate this one. No matter how many reasons he came up with about why telling Kate he was MI-5 was a very bad idea , he still felt guilty lying to her all the time. He could put up with having to deal with his aunt for a few days if it meant assuaging his guilt. “Fine, I’ll go home with you and protect you from your mother at the risk of being exorcised again. But I’m only going on the condition that you never make a Star Wars reference again, because I feel like I’m the last person that comes to mind when you think of people who could be Obi Wan Kenobi. ”

“You’re not the only nerd in the family,” Kate said with a wink. “We’re leaving Thursday after work and we’ll come back Tuesday morning.”

Lucas frowned. “That’ll put us in Braithwaite late.”  

She shrugged. “I didn’t want Michelle to miss school. And I know that you’ll use the excuse that you can’t get the time off to wriggle out of going home if you have to take two days off instead of one . I’m sure you can convince your boss to give you Tuesday off. Offer to buy him coffee or pinky promise that you’ll be nice to him for the week or something.”

He couldn’t fault her for that one, because he had fully intended on giving a half-arsed attempt to get the time off, undoubtedly fail, and then be reluctantly - very reluctantly - forced to tell Kate that he couldn’t go with her. But, rather than admitting that fact, Lucas just smirked and said, “I’m always nice.”

Kate made a face that displayed the full extent of her disbelief. “Sure,” she said. “Oh, Lucas, did you want to bring your girlfriend?”  

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Lucas said. It wasn’t even a lie. Whatever he and Ros were, it… definitely wasn’t dating. She made him feel normal , even if it was only a temporary respite from the pain of the past. And he knew that she was using him to chase away her own demons. Whatever they were, whatever they were doing, he knew it couldn’t last. He didn’t…. Lucas had never been one to jump into relationships, certainly not when he was still reeling from the dissolution of his marriage. But he wanted, needed , to feel normal and, for an hour or two, Ros could at least help him feel that again. They weren’t dating, he wouldn’t even go so far as to say they were friends, and he certainly wasn’t about to bring her home to meet his family when she was practically leading the faction of MI-5 that thought he betrayed his country.

“You have that glow around you,” Kate said, waving her hand at him.  

“I’m a man, Kate. Men don’t glow,” Lucas deadpanned. “And I’m not seeing anyone. Honestly.”  

Kate stared at him for a full minute before finally relenting. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’ll let this go. But you will eventually introduce me to her, right?”

“Sure, if I were actually dating someone, you’d be the first to know,” Lucas said. He kissed her forehead. “Good to see you, Kate.”

Chapter Text

The drive to Braithwaite was quiet, mostly. As soon as they were outside of London, Michelle had put on her earphones and blocked out the car’s radio with whatever it was that skulky fourteen year olds listened to. Kate had filled him in on all the happenings that he had missed while in prison, but, when one comes from a village as small as Braithwaite, where a new house being built is considered a big change , that conversation could only go on for so long. Still, it had been sixteen years since Lucas had last been home and he was unsurprised to hear that not much had changed.

As he drove, Lucas snuck a glance over at Kate, who had suspiciously fallen silent a half an hour ago. He smiled when he saw that she had fallen asleep. Not that he’d ever tell her, but he’d always envied her ability to sleep just about anywhere, in just about any position. Sitting in a chair at work, going for a long drive in the car, even on a plane, Kate could fall asleep. A glance at the rearview mirror confirmed that Michelle had inherited her mother’s sleeping tendencies. Now he understood why Kate had insisted he drive. Initially, he had thought that she was trying to mollify him after she had put her foot down and said they were only taking one car, despite his protests. She just wanted to sleep , he thought with a small shake of his head. Definitely should have seen that one coming . It was a game they had used to play, back when they were kids, where they’d each try to manipulate the other. Kate usually won, more because Lucas saw through her attempts and let her win, but it was sobering to realize that either she had gotten better at manipulating people — likely because of her career choice — or he had gotten sloppier. Survived outfoxing Russian interrogators for eight years, only to get manipulated by my damn cousin . He shook his head again with a slight smile.

With nothing else to distract him from his thoughts, Lucas let his mind wander towards thoughts of home. He hadn’t left on good terms. By the time he had graduated sixth form, shortly before his eighteenth birthday, he and his father weren’t talking. If they did, it was only to yell at each other. Well, Lucas ended up yelling. His father…. Lucas had inherited his quiet anger, even if he hadn’t realized it in his teenage years. It took moving out and having to be professional to politicians to realize that fact. Regardless, as soon as he had graduated and had an acceptance letter from Leeds University, Lucas had bought a suitcase and moved out. He hadn’t even bothered to make it a secret as to why he was leaving - he was angry with his father, with the village, with everything . Braithwaite was a dead-end village. Nothing ever happened. Nothing ever changed. There was nothing there for him, nothing that interested him, nothing that stimulated his mind. Just… more of the same. Day in, day out, same old, same old. Everyone knew everyone and no one so much as hiccoughed without the whole village hearing about it. For some, like his parents, that was exactly what they wanted. For him, it was… not.

He supposed that he should feel lucky that it had been Kate that had managed to expertly guilt him into going home for Easter instead of Tom or Harry. It meant he didn’t have to, even if he really should have, ring his parents to tell them he was going because he was willing to wager Kate had already taken care of that for him. She wouldn’t have left it to him to do, not when she knew that he could very well use his parents not knowing he was coming home as an excuse to wheedle out of going.

Still, he felt guilty over not ringing them. If he was honest with himself, it was largely because he just… didn’t know what to say. Harry used to tell Lucas that part of his success as a spook, despite his young age, was that he could talk himself out of any situation. Of course, Lucas was usually the one getting himself into those situations, but it had impressed Harry all the same. And, true to form, Lucas had backed himself into a corner with his parents - he had sparingly rang home to wish his mum happy Christmas, Mother’s Day, and on her birthday, but he had never gone home save for a weekend when he brought Vyeta home to meet his parents — at her insistence, rather than any desire of his own — and he never stayed on the phone long. And then he had gone to Moscow and lost eight years of his life. He had endured torture, humiliation, pain, and everything in between in prison. He had survived, even if at three in the morning, he wasn’t entirely certain all of him had made it out of Lushanka. But what could he tell his parents? He couldn’t, wouldn’t , tell them why he had been arrested. Which meant he had to lie to them, and he wasn’t quite ready to face the disappointed looks when he said that he had been arrested for stealing. They wouldn’t be surprised, wouldn’t even be angry. Just… disappointed. Resigned. They had been through it already, back when he was a teenager, and they wouldn’t be surprised to see it happen again now that he was an adult. And that knowledge hurt .

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Of course, the only thing he dreaded more than the disappointed looks was everyone knowing that his marriage was over. Lucas held no illusions — if Kate knew, then the entire goddamn village knew. It was how Braithwaite operated. There was no such thing as a secret. Everyone knew everyone’s business. Hell, his entire family probably knew his marriage had failed before he did. And he held no illusions that someone, probably his aunt, would bring it up. How did I let Kate talk me into doing this, again?

-x-

It was already dark by the time they finally reached Braithwaite. Kate had woken up and insisted they stop to grab something to eat in Manchester, which Lucas thought was probably for the best, knowing both his mum and his aunt. If Lucas, Kate, and Michelle arrived and said that they hadn’t eaten, then they could almost guarantee that both women would stay up later and fuss over making them something to eat. And, while Kate just gave him a concerned look when he didn’t finish his dinner, his mum would no doubt never let him hear the end of it if he didn’t finish whatever she made.

Lucas pulled to a stop next to Iris’ house. The porch light was on, and Lucas thought he could see his aunt’s willowy silhouette in the window, watching them. Beside him, Kate took several deep breaths before reaching back and jostling Michelle’s knee. “We’re here, honey,” she said as Michelle groggily pulled out an earphone. “Why don’t you go on in and I’ll get the luggage?”

Michelle gave her mother a look of long suffering before sulkily exiting the car. Lucas smiled at the exaggerated display. As soon as she had slammed the car door shut, all very dramatically of course, and begun to trudge her way towards the front door, he said, “She takes after me.”

Kate chuckled and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Yeah. I think part of it is that Mum is having a hard time accepting that Michelle decided she’s an atheist and Michelle’s picking up on that.”

“Wait, do you mean to tell me that there’s someone other than me who might get to claim ownership of the illustrious title of being the black sheep of the family?” Lucas deadpanned. Kate shot him a venomous look and he grinned at her in the darkness. “I’m only asking for research purposes.”

“No, I’m pretty certain Mum still thinks you’re the Antichrist. You know, you don’t have to be so proud of that.”

“Pretty certain I do,” Lucas said as he leaned down, pulled the switch to open the boot and got out of the car. Kate followed suit before going around to fetch hers and Michelle’s suitcase. He heard a door open and, when he looked towards the house, saw that Iris had come out onto the porch. Lucas knew the second that Iris spotted him, because she inhaled sharply and gave him a look that even Ros would be proud of. Yep, still banned from the house . The thought warmed him from the inside out and he smiled. Prison had changed a lot of things for him, changed the way he saw things, even changed the way he perceived himself, but at least it didn’t change his and his aunt’s animosity towards each other.  

Kate caught Lucas’ grin and sighed exasperatedly. “Please don’t make my mum kill you before Tuesday,” she said.

“Mum always taught me I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“She also said that you should love thy neighbour, not steal from thy neighbour, and eat your salad, but I don’t see you eagerly following those rules.”

Lucas winked at Kate. “Good night, Kate. See you in the morning.”

She hesitated. “You going to be okay?”

Lucas glanced down the street towards his parents’ place. It was tempting, almost, to take Kate’s implied offer. If he wanted, she’d go with him, and all he had to do was say so. But he couldn’t hide behind Kate forever. Glancing back at Kate, Lucas nodded his head once. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

She gave him a scrutinizing look. “Text me if you need me.”

He looked back at Iris and gave her a mischievous grin, which widened when his aunt scowled at him. “Don’t kill your mum,” he teased.

Kate rolled her eyes and gave him a quick hug. “Good luck,” she said and, grabbing the suitcase, hurried up the walkway. Lucas glanced down the road again and shook his head slightly. Only Kate would pack her entire wardrobe for a four day trip, he thought as he got back into the car. But, he supposed that his… eight year sabbatical gave him a new appreciation for what he could and could not live without. Needless to say, Kate brought an entire suitcase for her and Michelle, and Lucas brought what he supposed would barely constitute a carry-on for a plane.

Taking a deep breath, Lucas put the car in drive and made his way towards his parents’ house. It wasn’t far from his aunt’s, although he supposed nowhere in Braithwaite was far from any given home. He could leisurely walk across the entire village in ten minutes. This late at night, no one was walking, although there were a smattering of porch lights on, indicating that someone was still awake. He smiled thinly. Give it a couple hours, and most of the lights would turn off, making it the perfect time for rambunctious youngsters to get into mischief.

It didn’t surprise him to see a car in his parents’ driveway. His father worked long hours, but often walked to and from the church. Of course, that was sixteen years ago. Try as he might, though, Lucas couldn’t imagine his father breaking down and driving to church. When Lucas had been considerably younger, it had been his father that had insisted on taking him out for walk, often to parks, and just appreciating the outdoors in general. Lucas was pretty certain that the car was solely there for his mother’s use, for groceries, and for travelling outside of Braithwaite.

Parking beside it, Lucas turned off the engine and hesitated. He could see movement in the windows behind the curtains. If he had to guess, his mother was getting an early start on the cooking for the weekend. It had always amazed him how the North household could be so full during the holidays. Easter, Christmas, any major holiday often saw a surprising number of people coming in and out. Mostly family, but there was also a long-standing tradition of inviting anyone that had nowhere else to go for the holidays to come.

Leaning back in his seat, Lucas stared hard at the door. It was ridiculous, being so nervous to see his bloody parents. He had stared down Russian interrogators, terrorists, and annoying CIA hackers, but the thought of seeing his parents was what made him hesitate? Hell, he had been shot at and had almost died more times than he could count. Who knew all the Russians had to do was threaten to ring my mum to make me nervous , he thought ruefully. So much had changed since he had last been home. He had gotten married, only for his marriage to fail; he had a job that he couldn’t tell his parents about; he had gone to prison because of that job, and it hurt to know that they wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he had gone to prison in the first place. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, because he wasn’t about to tell his parents the truth of why he went to prison.

Taking a deep breath, Lucas forced himself to get out of the car. If he could survive Russian hospitality, he could bloody well survive seeing his parents for four days. Grabbing his suitcase from the boot, Lucas gave a misgiving look in his aunt’s home’s general direction before making his way to the front door. He had barely knocked before the door was flung open and his mother was illuminated by the hall light. He smiled at her, silently noting how, save for a few new wrinkles around the corners of her mouth and eyes, she hadn’t changed since he had last seen her. Lucas took after his mother in looks, sharing her dark hair and blue eyes, along with her sharp features, but had his father’s height and build. Growing up, it had always annoyed him whenever people said that he looked almost identical to his mum. Now…. Now, he wasn’t so sure he’d mind as much.

“Hey,” Lucas said. “Been awhile.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before his mother threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Lucas hesitated for just a few seconds before he hugged her back. Eight years…. God, for eight years he genuinely believed he’d never see his parents again. He lost track of how many times he had prayed to see his wife, his parents, his cousin, anyone he cared about, again. And now he was here , and it took every bit of self-restraint that he had learned in prison to keep himself from devolving into a crying mess on his mum’s shoulder. For once, even if he knew it wouldn’t last, Lucas felt normal .

Footsteps sounded and Lucas looked up to see his father standing on the stairs. John North was a tall, willowy man with a lean build, much like Lucas’. He ran a hand through his blond hair before covering his mouth with his hand. Margaret pulled away from Lucas, but still held tightly to his arms, as if afraid that he’d bolt. He couldn’t blame her. A lifetime ago, he would have bolted at seeing his father. But now…. He met his father’s eyes and gave a small smile. Margaret’s head swivelled between her son and her husband as Lucas pulled away and extended his hand towards his dad. “Hey,” he said.

John took his hand awkwardly before pulling Lucas in for a hug. It took Lucas a minute longer before he returned the hug. It was… nice. Good. Warm . Growing up, Lucas could remember his dad never being a man of many words. His father had been quiet, reserved, preferred to speak in gestures rather than in words. It had always annoyed Lucas, growing up, how alike he was to his father in that regard. But now, as so much was conveyed in the simple hug, Lucas was thankful that he didn’t have to voice the maelstrom of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say.

“It’s good to see you,” John said as he broke the hug. He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave Lucas an earnest smile.

Lucas swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah.”

Margaret came up behind Lucas and touched his back. “Have you eaten already?”

“Yeah. We stopped in Manchester,” Lucas said with a smile. No, Braithwaite hadn’t changed a bit since he had last been home, and neither had his parents. His suspicions were confirmed as Margaret made her way to the kitchen anyway and started gathering materials to make a sandwich. With his mum in the kitchen, Lucas looked back at his dad. “We should talk, sometime,” he said hesitantly. Even if his father picked up on everything Lucas wanted to say in the hug, Lucas made a promise to himself that he would fix things with his father if he got out of prison. And, whether he liked it or not, that meant he had to talk to his father. Kate’ll love this , he thought sourly.

“I’d like that,” John said, still smiling. “I’d like that a lot.”

Lucas nodded. “I’m going to go send Mum to bed before she makes me a three course meal.”

John laughed and clapped Lucas on the shoulder. “Probably for the best.”

As Lucas made his way towards the kitchen, he had to smile to himself. No, a lot had changed in his life, but at least Braithwaite stayed the same.

Chapter Text

Lucas flinched into a hazy half-state between waking and sleeping. Blinking, he tried to place what had woken him when he heard footsteps outside the door. Whoever was on the other side hesitated. Out of habit, Lucas stayed still, facing away from the door, waiting. He was torn between wanting whoever was outside the door to open it and wanting them to just leave him alone . As he blinked again, Lucas frowned. No. Something was off. The presence by his door left, and Lucas pushed himself up, feeling the blankets slide down his waist. Blankets…? Oleg had taken them away after….

“Shit,” Lucas muttered as he rubbed his eyes. I’m not in Lushanka. I’m not in Lushanka . The mantra left a bitter taste in his mouth as he slid out of bed. It had been months since he’d last woken up in a cell, but, still, it haunted him. Pulling a t-shirt on, Lucas slipped out of the bedroom and made his way to the bathroom, silently thankful that his parents were either already awake and going about their day, or still in bed. Gripping the sink, Lucas glared at the mirror. I’m not in Lushanka . Get it together . The last thing he wanted was to have a breakdown at his bloody parents’ place.

Splashing water on his face to try to banish the dark thoughts that wouldn’t leave him, Lucas straightened and made his way back to the bedroom. His parents had converted his old bedroom into a guest room, which didn’t overly surprise him. He had made it pretty clear he had no interest in coming home again once he moved out. Even if he hadn’t been half as angry as he had been when he left, in any case, his parents were the type of people that always offered a spot at the table if someone needed it. It was only a matter of time before they converted his room into a guest room so they could offer something more than just some warm food. Still, he took silent note of the little mementos of his, things that his parents hadn’t quite been able to toss into the rubbish, scattered here and there throughout the room. He suspected, if he were to go up into the attic, he’d find the rest of the things he hadn’t brought to Leeds with him stored away. At least I come by my sentimentality honestly .

Getting changed, Lucas silently made his way downstairs. Whichever one of his parents was up - probably his father, if he had to guess - was already gone, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated through the house. In a few hours, the house would be crowded with people cooking and baking and preparing for Sunday, but for now? Now, it was peaceful and quiet. He closed his eyes for a moment. It was… nice, not being watched, even if it wouldn’t last. Although, if Lucas had to guess, Harry probably forced some poor bloke into keeping an eye on Lucas’ movements while in Braithwaite. It’s what he would have done in Harry’s place.

Exhaling as he opened his eyes, Lucas grabbed a travel mug from the cupboard and helped himself to some of the coffee. He had no intention of being home when people started to trickle into the house. Lucas had never been fond of having the whole family in one house. Half of them, he didn’t get along with. The other half thought he was the Devil reincarnated, which suited him just fine, but meant that he had more holy water flicked in his face than he cared to admit to. And, even if his family somehow managed to remain coolly neutral towards him for the duration of the holiday weekend, Lucas had no doubt that he’d be questioned about Elizabeta. He wasn’t sure what was worse - having to tell his family that she had left him, or that they already knew and were going to express their sympathies.

Lucas sighed. Kate owed him at least two coffees for this. Two fucking expensive coffees. Leaving a quick note that he was going out for a walk, Lucas grabbed his jacket and, coffee in hand, slipped outside as quietly as he could. If his mum was still sleeping, he didn’t want to be the one that woke her. It was an old habit, harkening back to when his mother had first gone through chemotherapy when he had been fourteen, wanting to let her get as much rest as she could. She’d been cancer-free for twenty years now, but he still felt protective of her. It was why he had never told his parents what he really did for a living, and it was why he had asked Harry to keep his family off his file. No matter how bad things had been between him and his father, the last thing he wanted was to see his family hurt because of Lucas or his work, and that included his parents suffering long, sleepless nights every time they turned on the news and saw the latest threat to British security.

Walking through town brought back memories, some fond, some… not quite as fond. Braithwaite was quiet, this hour in the morning. The sun was only just starting to rise and, in a few hours, the village would bustle with people running last minute errands. Kids would play in the streets while parents and neighbours would supervise them through living room windows. Every now and then, a few tourists would stay at one of the bed and breakfasts, but Lucas thought that it wasn’t quite the right time of season for them to be visiting.

Almost without meaning to, Lucas found his way to the only church in town and came to a stop. He touched the old wooden doors and smiled in bittersweet memory. He had hated this place so much when he had been a teenager. Practically his whole life had revolved around this place, with his father being the local minister, and his mother being the minister’s wife. Whenever Iris had grown sufficiently irritated by Lucas’ existence that she refused to babysit him, his father would bring him to the church so that both he and Margaret could go about their workdays. And, if it wasn’t his father bringing him to church to keep a watchful eye on him, then it was his mother. Lucas wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest to find out that his mother was still running Sunday school, volunteering to host coffee hours after church, learning how to play all the hymns on the piano, and leading God knew how many committees. She was almost as much of a constant presence in the church as John was, and it had driven Lucas mental how much time he had spent in the church because of it.

Lucas pushed one hand into his pocket, the other tightening around the travel mug, and turned away from the door. As a kid, he hadn’t cared much about going to church. He remembered not being enthusiastic to go, mostly because he had never been fond of large gatherings. But, as he grew older, he… stopped feeling welcome in the church. His father had always preached that it was a place of sanctuary, a home to anyone who felt lost and needed somewhere to turn. After he and Daniel had…. Well, it stopped being that welcoming place for him. His parents could never figure out what had changed, and Lucas wasn’t exactly eager to tell them. He’d told Oleg, though. Looking back, he should have known it was all a ploy on Oleg’s part, but Lucas had been thrown by Oleg’s repeated… kindness, by the fact that he was taking Lucas out for walks every so often or having conversations with him or giving him something to read that they could then discuss at their next meeting, all instead of hurting him. The beatings, the torture, it had all still been there, sure, but Oleg had been… kind during a time when there were very few people that were kind to Lucas. Bitterly, he knew he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he had been when Oleg…. Lucas squeezed his eyes closed. He wouldn’t think about that, not here, not here .

Angrily, Lucas spun back towards the church and glared at the cross on the top of the church, as if it were personally responsible for everything he had suffered in prison. He had prayed, every day, for help, for strength to survive, for Harry to get off his arse and help him, for an end to the pain, and he had been ignored . Oleg didn’t ignore me. Not always . Lucas bared his teeth. Oleg tortured him for four years. He wasn’t…. He tortured Lucas. Whatever kindness Oleg had shown him had been just that, another form of torture . Nothing more. Nothing less. Then why can’t I get myself to believe that? he thought desperately.

“Fuck,” Lucas muttered and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. No matter what thoughts plagued him, no matter how many times he was dogged by the past, he was here. He had survived Russian hell, more-or-less, and he was here , back home . There were times, when he was caught in the hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, that he thought maybe he had finally cracked, that he was just deluding being back in England again, that he had never really escaped Lushanka, that at any minute, Oleg would walk through the door, telling him it was time for a new tattoo. Eventually, reality would settle in, he’d remember that he had escaped, that he was in England, that the noises outside his bedroom were real .

He inhaled raggedly. Lucas hadn’t cracked in prison and he wasn’t imagining being back in England. He hadn’t cracked. Even if he had, he couldn’t… wouldn’t let himself topple. Not after everything he went through. I’m home. I’m back in England and I’m home .  

Lucas touched the church door again, almost fearfully. He had promised himself he’d set things right with his father. When Margaret had been sick, John had always been here, working, and Lucas had never forgiven his father for his absence. Now, older, with his own traumas that he tried to hide from, Lucas understood his father in a way that he never had as a child. John hadn’t been so different back then from Lucas, now, using work to cope. He owed it to himself , to do himself this one kindness, and maybe regain something he thought lost forever. If I can salvage this, maybe I really can salvage everything else .

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Lucas pushed open the door. He was unsurprised to find that it was unlocked. In the decades that John had been the minister, Lucas couldn’t remember a time that his father had ever locked the door. Even after Lucas and his mates had snuck in that one night so many years ago, the door remained unlocked. He figured that it was in case anyone needed a place to escape to or a place of comfort, they could go to the church and know that they were welcome. Lucas tried hard not to think of the implications that, instinctively, he had sought out the church, of all places.  

The church was empty at this hour. He glanced towards where he knew the little office, cluttered with pictures and books and spare bibles, was. No doubt, his father was in there, working away on his sermon for tonight. Lucas smiled to himself and ran his fingers along a pew in the back, feeling claw marks from the time when he and Daniel had snuck a squirrel into the church. Utter mayhem had been unleashed in the middle of mass. He’d been grounded for a month, not that it did much to curb his rambunctious drive. It just meant he got… creative sneaking out. The squirrel incident was another item on the list of reasons Iris was convinced he was the Devil reborn, although Lucas supposed he couldn’t entirely blame her for being angry at him over the squirrel. After all, if a squirrel had climbed up his leg in the middle of a sermon, Lucas was pretty certain he would have sworn rather loudly and creatively too.

He heard footsteps, no doubt his father coming to investigate who had opened the front doors, a few moments before John appeared. Glancing up, Lucas met his father’s eyes and saw him hesitate before the corner of John’s mouth quirked up. “You know she’s still angry at you over the squirrel, right?”

“Yeah,” Lucas said and took his hand off the pew. “I figured as much. Didn’t know she knew so many colourful swears.”

John snorted. “You had to get it from someone.”

Lucas made a face. He tried hard not to acknowledge that he was, unfortunately, related to his aunt. The two of them had… very different views on a wide variety of topics. He had always considered himself more leftist, while Iris was staunchly right-wing. When she had found out that he had proposed to Elizabeta, Lucas thought his aunt might actually die from a heart attack and was disappointed to find out that she, instead, only had some rather strong opinions to share about the fact that he was marrying an immigrant . And, when she met Elizabeta? Lucas had damn near shot his aunt, then and there, consequences be damned after she started making comments on the fact that Vyeta was half-Mexican, half-Russian. Still, regardless of their differing opinions, they were unfortunately related. He wasn’t looking forward to having to be in the same room as her. If prison had taught Lucas anything, it was to play nice around people he didn’t like, but he had a feeling that Iris would severely strain that newfound ability.

“I’m glad you came home for Easter,” John said quietly, offering a small smile.

Lucas nodded once. “Kate threatened to litigate my arse if I didn’t.”

His father chuckled. “That sounds like my niece.” John paused before saying, “She worries about you, you know.”

“I gathered as much.” Lucas pushed his hand back into his jeans’ pocket, staring awkwardly at the claw marks in the pew in front of him. Eight years, he had wished he’d get to have this chance, to be able to mend fences with his father. Eight years, he thought about how he would do it, what he would say. And now he was here, and he had no clue what to say. Talking himself out of trouble had always been one of Lucas’ strong suits, particularly given how often he had to employ that particular skill, but now…. Now, he had no words.

“You look like you could use a smoke,” John commented.

Lucas nodded slowly. “Thought you quit when Mum got sick.”

“Thought you quit, too.”

Lucas felt a ghost of a smile tug at his lips and gestured towards the door. “I don’t smoke anymore.”

“Neither do I,” John said as he made his way towards Lucas. Clapping him on the shoulder, John stepped outside. Lucas followed suit. “Kate know that you’ve quit smoking?”

“No,” Lucas said and pulled out a cigarette. He offered the box to his father, who took one. “Mum know you’ve quit?”

“Your mother is remarkably perceptive. She knows.”

They smoked in uneasy silence. Once, things had been… good between Lucas and his father. He could remember an old bedtime ritual, when both his parents would sit with him in his room and they’d take turns reading chapters from whatever book caught Lucas’ interest. He also remembered the game he and his father had played, where Lucas would stash a torch in his bedroom, somewhere, and read after going to bed, and his father would check on him to see if he could catch Lucas in the act. If he did, the torch was confiscated, or at least it was until Lucas managed to steal it back. Back then, he had thought he had been exceptionally crafty and sneaky in stealing the torch. Older now, and much more experienced in the art of thievery, Lucas came to the realization that his father left it for Lucas to steal back, that it was only ever a half-hearted attempt to keep Lucas from staying up past his bedtime to read. Probably preferred reading than the other things I got into in my teenage years .

Sliding his hand back into his pocket and taking a welcomed sip of coffee, Lucas scanned the village. By this point, it was almost second nature, surveying his surroundings. The habit made sense in London, where it paid to have an ear to the ground and an eye open. It had even made sense when he was in prison, where hearing interrogators come towards his cell had allowed him to brace for whatever fresh hell they were about to inflict on him. But here? Braithwaite was the middle of nowhere. Lucas was pretty certain that bored, rambunctious teenagers were the only criminals in the village. There certainly weren’t any stone-cold terrorists waiting to blow up Braithwaite .

“I heard about Elizabeta,” John said slowly. Lucas bowed his head. Saw that one coming . “I’m sorry.”

Lucas shrugged uncomfortably. “She’s happier this way,” he said tightly, because, no matter how much it hurt him to know, it was the truth. She was happier, and, at the end of the day, that was all he had ever wanted for her, was for her to be happy .

They fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Lucas was silently grateful. He’d rather the awkward silences over having to talk about how and why his marriage had failed. Finally, after catching Lucas looking around again, John said, “It’s quiet this time of morning. Perfect time to practice for the night’s sermon.”  

The corner of Lucas’ mouth quirked up. “Yeah, I imagine.” He inhaled slowly and gave the village one last scan before turning to his father. “Look, I… wanted to apologize. For when I was a kid.”

John lifted an eyebrow. “What changed?”

Lucas hesitated. He… wasn’t quite ready to tell his father he spent the past eight years in prison. If not now, then when? He opened his mouth and the words caught in his throat. If he admitted it now, then his father would give him that disapproving look that, when Lucas was younger, he could care less about receiving. Now…. Now he genuinely wanted to mend fences with his father. He was tired of being angry and tired of being a disappointment. But the truth would come out eventually anyway . While he doubted Kate would tell anyone, the topic that Lucas hadn’t rung his parents in eight years would come up, and questions would be asked. Questions, in particular, that he didn’t want to answer in front of his goddamned aunt. “I went to prison,” he whispered finally.

His father didn’t say anything and Lucas looked back out at the village, desperate to look at anything other than his father. Finally, John said, “You want to talk about it?” Lucas shook his head once. John nodded and clapped Lucas’ shoulder again. “Okay. Okay. If you… if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”

“I know,” Lucas said. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “I know.”

John squeezed his shoulder. “Do I want to know what you went to prison for?”

“Stealing,” Lucas said. It wasn’t… a complete lie. Instead, it was the same lie he had given Kate. It worked about as well, and Lucas felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him. He wanted to tell his parents the truth, that he had gone to prison because he refused to betray his country, but that truth meant admitting what he actually did for a living and that…. He made a promise to himself, when he had first joined MI-5, that he would never let his job hurt his family. More than that, though, he was afraid of what the truth would do to his parents. His mum had already endured breast cancer and survived. If he came out and told his parents that he regularly put his life on the line, that it was more likely he would be killed in the line of duty than retire, his mum would never stop worrying about him. Any prolonged silences, be it for an operation or just that he didn’t feel like ringing home, would result in his mother thinking the worst had happened, and Lucas couldn’t, wouldn’t , let that happen.

John nodded slowly, oblivious to Lucas’ internal struggle. “I… thought you had quit that, too.”  

Lucas inhaled deeply. “I did.” At least, he quit illegally stealing. Lucas was under no illusions about why he got the job over people that had actually applied to MI-5. But he could hardly tell his father that he was caught stealing intelligence for his country to help stop the Russian mafia from funding a terror event that would have killed thousands of people.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Lucas shook his head again, and he and his father lulled back into uneasy silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas saw John rub the back of his neck before lighting another cigarette. When they each finished their cigarette, Lucas hesitated for a moment more before saying again, “I’m sorry. For when I was a kid. For being angry.”

John held up a hand. “You’re not the only one that needs to apologize,” he said quietly. “You were young. I wasn’t there for you when your mother was sick, and I didn’t know how to handle you when you started acting out. I handled it poorly and I let you leave here filled with anger and I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

“It wasn’t as if I gave you much choice,” Lucas pointed out, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” his father said and held out a hand.

Lucas met his father’s eyes as he took it. If his visit home achieved nothing else, at least he could say that he at least started the process of amending for past wrongs. Although, I still have to survive dinner with my aunt . Despite telling Harry that he was going away for the weekend, Lucas was still secretly hoping that something would come up that would require him to unfortunately go back to London. At this point, he’d even settle for Ros texting him that she’d set her house on fire trying to cook a turkey, if only so that he could demand she take a picture and send it to him and then never let her live it down. Although, knowing what he did about Ros, he rather doubted she did her own cooking. Pity .  

The sun had finished rising, and cars were starting to drive by. A few honked at John. Others waved through the windows. John smiled and lifted his hand back to each person that waved or honked at him. Lucas smiled. “I should let you get back to work,” Lucas said.

“If you need to talk….”

“I’m fine. Thanks, Dad,” Lucas said and nodded resolutely. “Alan still heading the police department?”

“Him and Landon Hartley.”

Lucas lifted both eyebrows. He hadn’t expected Landon , of all people, to join up with the police. Landon and Lucas had run in similar circles growing up. Landon joining the police force seemed about as likely as Lucas joining MI-5. Still, Lucas was happy for Landon. He’d been a smart kid, even if he had been the reason Lucas had been caught, all those years ago. Hopefully he’s brushed up on his hacking skills . “Either way, Mum’ll send them after me if I don’t get back. She’ll think I’m up to something or missing. Or that I killed Iris,” Lucas said with a mischievous grin.

“Please don’t kill your aunt,” John said, only slightly exasperated.

“I won’t if she doesn’t try to exorcise me.”

“If you were nicer to her, she wouldn’t think you’re possessed.”

“If I was nicer to her, she’d be even more convinced I’m possessed.”  

John sighed. “Good point. Go, see your mother before she calls Alan and Landon.”

Lucas lifted his hand in acknowledgement and started making his way back towards his parents’ house. Slipping his hand into his pocket and putting a considerable dent into his coffee, he deliberately took a less-populated path home. While Lucas was glad he had a chance to reconcile with his father, he knew that was just it - a chance . There would be more bumps in the road. Maybe things wouldn’t ever go back to the easy relationship they had when Lucas had been a child. But, he thought, at least he was home . He was talking to his father, and, right now, that would have to be enough.

Just as the sleepy town had woken up, so had Lucas’ mum. By the time he slipped in through the front door, he could hear her in the kitchen. Judging by the sizzle of bacon, he guessed she was making breakfast first before moving on to preparations for Sunday. It had always been an Easter tradition in his family, one that he had staunchly hated precisely because it meant spending time with his family, that those in the family that could cook would be in the kitchen, preparing for Sunday. Those that were not skilled at cooking, such as Lucas, would be shooed away and left to their own devices. As a kid, Lucas had always interpreted that to mean get into mischief . As an adult, Lucas supposed that it actually meant ‘gather together, swap stories, drink beer.’ He liked his childhood interpretation better.

“Hey,” Lucas called as he took off his jacket and hung it up in the closet. While he could get away with tossing it over the arm of the couch at his flat, his mother would lynch him if he even thought of not hanging his jacket up.

“You’re awake,” Margaret said and appeared briefly in the hall, smiling. “Have you eaten already? I’m making breakfast, if you want some.”

Lucas smiled. No, some things really don’t change . “I grabbed some toast earlier,” he lied. While he was able to eat more than he had been able to when he first got out of prison, it was still a process, adjusting to being able to eat three full meals a day. He didn’t think he was up to eating heavier foods like bacon quite yet, and didn’t want to worry his mum if he was correct.  

Margaret frowned. “Toast is not a healthy breakfast,” she said and pointed a spatula at him before disappearing back into the kitchen.

He chuckled and followed her to the kitchen. “Healthier than doughnuts,” he said and leaned against the counter. Ros had given him many stern looks, pretty much every morning that he came onto the Grid with a doughnut in hand. Sometimes, she even commented on his healthy breakfast. Sometimes , Lucas even thought about telling her he’d already had breakfast and was just annoying her. Sometimes.

Margaret turned around again to look him over. He saw her eyes pause on his tattoos and he almost crossed his arms to hide them before he stopped himself. “I’m hoping you’re joking about the doughnuts.”

“Sometimes,” Lucas said. He looked away as he gave into the urge to cover his tattoos as best he could.

“Clearly, I failed you,” Margaret announced dramatically. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Your bacon is burning,” Lucas pointed out. He wasn’t much of a cook, but if there was one thing he could reliably cook, it was breakfast foods. And her bacon was starting to burn.

“Damn,” Margaret said and hurriedly took the bacon off the pan. She pointed the spatula at him again. “Not a word.”

Lucas held his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

Margaret huffed and got two eggs from the refrigerator. He watched as she cracked each egg into the frying pan. “You were up pretty early,” she remarked as she scrambled the eggs.

“Yeah,” Lucas said, shrugging. “Old habits.”

“Work keeping you busy?”

“It is.”

“So busy you can’t ring?” Margaret asked innocently.

Lucas winced. “Not exactly,” he hedged. He pressed his fingers to his mouth briefly before sighing. He already told his father, which meant he might as well tell his mum, lest she murder him dead for letting her hear it from John first. “I was in prison. Eight years,” he said quietly. “Got out in November.”

Margaret lowered her head and Lucas looked away again. He didn’t want to see the resigned look he knew would be on her face. Still, it was better this way. Let her think that he had fallen back into old habits and had his luck run out than to constantly worry every time she turned on the news. He knew that she was stronger than she appeared, she had to be if she had put up with his antics growing up and if she survived cancer, but he still refused to be the one that made her constantly worry. If it meant his parents thinking that he had gone back to a life that he had left behind fourteen years ago, so be it.  

“I see,” she said finally. She turned to look at him. “Is that where you’ve been getting the money you’ve been sending me?”

“No,” Lucas said. “That’s from work.”

She nodded once. “And while you were in prison?”

“It’s complicated,” Lucas said. When he had joined the Service, he had arranged to send money home to help support his mum. As far as he knew, Harry had continued to make sure that Lucas’ family was taken care of while Lucas was in prison. He pushed off the counter and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. He was not caffeinated enough for this discussion. “But it was from work. Not… that.”

Margaret didn’t look convinced, but nodded all the same. “Okay,” she said. She handed him the sugar jar. “But I know that you’re holding something back. I’m not going to push, because I know you. But, if you want to talk about whatever it is, your father and I are here for you.”

Lucas didn’t say anything as he added sugar to his coffee. Stirring absently, he finally said, “I’m not hiding anything. I did a favour for someone, got caught, went to prison. That’s all.”

His mother came up and covered his hand with hers. “Ever since the cancer, you’ve always seen me as fragile,” she said quietly. “And I understand. I know. I get it. But I’m not as fragile as you think. Whatever… whatever you're keeping from your father and me, it’s okay. But, if you want to tell us the truth, we’ll listen. We both love you.”

Lucas turned and kissed his mum on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said. “I’m still not hungry, though.”

Margaret chuckled and turned back to her eggs. He watched as she grated some cheese over the eggs, waited long enough for the cheese to melt, and then transferred the eggs from the frying pan to a plate that she had fetched from the cupboard. “How is work, anyway?” she asked as she got a fork out from the drawer.

“Good,” Lucas said. “Still at the same place.”

“Still not going to tell me where?”

“So you can ring my boss every day and nag me to ring home?” Lucas teased. “Nope.”

His mother laughed and took a bite of her scrambled eggs. “Come, now, Lucas. I’d ring every other day and ask to speak to you so that I can tell you to ring home.”

“Cut out the middle-man. Smart,” Lucas said. “Still not telling you.”

She shook her head. “You’re terrible.”

“But you love me anyway,” Lucas said and, deciding to risk it, stole a piece of bacon.

“I do,” Margaret said as she gave him a warm smile. “Are you sure I can’t make you anything for breakfast?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Lucas said. “Supposedly, I’m a big boy now.”

“Supposedly.”

Lucas chuckled and finished the pilfered piece of bacon. He was… glad that his mum didn’t bring up Vyeta. It had been hard, hearing his father express his sympathies. Lucas wasn’t sure he could hear it twice in less than a few hours. Still, he… couldn’t help but wonder why his mother hadn’t mentioned it. As far as he knew, Margaret had loved Vyeta and had welcomed her into the family like a long-lost daughter. Where Lucas rang his mum only a few times a year, Vyeta had rang almost weekly to speak with Margaret. Lucas was pretty certain it was the only reason why he got away with not ringing more often, because Vyeta not worrying about Lucas meant he was doing well enough.

He sighed and took a sip of coffee. He had to move on, he knew he did, but it was… hard. Seeing Vyeta with a child, seeing her happy with someone that wasn’t him …. Lucas was happy for her, he really was. He was glad that she had the life she had always wanted. He just… missed her. For eight years, through the bad parts and the worse parts, he had clung to her memory. He still hadn’t gotten around to doing something with his wedding ring. Instead, he had shoved it into the bottom of a plastic bin, with all the other things Vyeta had left him that reminded him of her, and then pushed the bin into a closet that he kept shut.

“Your aunt was thinking of dropping by for dinner tonight,” his mum said as she pushed a piece of scrambled eggs on her plate. “Should I expect you to be home for dinner or do you think you’ll go out?”  

“I plan to spend as little time as possible with Iris,” Lucas said. “Text me when she’s gone?”

Margaret grinned. “Only if you take me grocery shopping this afternoon.”

Lucas pointed a finger at his mother. “If you wanted me to take you, you could have just asked.”

“I could , but then you’d say no because you might run into someone you know and we can’t have that ,” Margaret said, lowering her voice in a poor imitation of his.

“There’s no might here,” Lucas pointed out. “I know literally all the adults in this village.”

“We’ll leave at half past one?” Margaret said innocently.

Lucas shook his head, smiling. His mother knew him well enough to know that he’d take potentially having uncomfortable conversations and holy water thrown in his face at the grocery store over dinner with his aunt. Looks like we know which side of the family I got the manipulative streak from . “Fine,” he said. “But if anyone throws holy water at me, I’m telling you right now I’m going to hiss and act like I was just burned.”

“Has it ever occurred to you to not act like you’re possessed by the Devil?” Margaret asked.  

“It has. I decided against it,” Lucas said, shrugging. “People might try to be friendly with me if I stopped reacting negatively to crosses, Bibles, and holy water being pushed into my face. We can’t have that ,” he said, imitating her.  

Margaret laughed and Lucas grinned. Maybe Easter won’t be so bad . Maybe. Assuming he could successfully avoid his aunt for the duration of his stay. I always did like a challenge .

Chapter Text

Despite his earlier assertion that he would rather be pretty much anywhere else than in the same room as his aunt, the whole reason Lucas had come to Braithwaite was as a favour to Kate. She’d murder him if he didn’t at least try to ward off her aunt’s attempts to set her up with a doting would-be husband. Which meant that, even though he did capitulate and bring his mother to the grocery store - where he did, in fact, run into people that tried to talk to him - Lucas still found himself in the kitchen, helping his mum by cutting potatoes while she chopped carrots.

“I would have thought you would be gone by now,” Margaret said, not looking up from her work.

“Kate threatened to disembowel me if I abandoned her,” Lucas said.

“That sounds just like her,” his mum said, smiling. She brushed a stray hair behind her ear as Lucas rolled his eyes and continued quartering the potatoes before dropping them into a pot of boiling water. “Turn the heat down on those, will you?” she asked as she heard the splash of potatoes going into the pot.

“And here I thought we would just leave them to boil,” Lucas muttered as he turned down the heat.

Margaret sighed, conveying a lifetime of exasperation at his antics in a simple gesture. Lucas grinned. Still got it . It was a point of pride, at this point, to see how often he could irritate those around him. Some, like Ros and his aunt, were exceptionally easy to rile. Others, like Gemma and his mum, not so easy. But he managed. Somehow.

“Oh, did Kate tell you that Iris invited Landon Hartley to dinner?” Margaret asked as she put the carrots in another pot.

Lucas frowned. Well, this’ll be awkward . He didn’t need his mum to tell him why Iris had invited Landon for dinner. If he were honest, he’d admit that it was a brilliant move on Iris’ part. It’d simultaneously annoy Lucas and have the potential to set her darling daughter up on the path towards nuptials. It didn’t matter how often, or ardently, Kate told Iris that she had no interest in settling down and becoming a housewife, certainly not when her career was taking off the way it was. Iris wanted her daughter to be living “the way God intended” and there was no shortage of comments about Michelle lacking a father figure in her life. Lucas almost wished to be a fly on the wall to hear those conversations, particularly if Kate ever mentioned that he was Michelle’s godfather. That would be a conversation to hear .

Of course, Lucas suspected that it was no accident that Iris picked the one bachelor that used to be friends with Lucas. Granted, Landon had always been more of one of Daniel’s friends than Lucas’, but he had still gotten on well enough with Landon. Really, the only one of Daniel’s friends that Lucas hadn’t gotten along with had been John Bateman, but, as far as Lucas knew, John had also left Braithwaite long ago. Not that Lucas particularly cared where John went. Frankly, if John found his way to the bottom of the ocean, Lucas wouldn’t be too broken up about it. But Landon? Landon was decent enough. Shit hacker, though .

“No, she didn’t,” Lucas said and stooped to fish out a lid for the potatoes from the pots cupboard. “Which means she probably doesn’t know yet.”

“Iris is hoping that Landon will be the one.”

“I bet she is,” Lucas said. “But I doubt it. I hear Landon’s got a career here and I doubt Kate’s going to give up her job to move back here.”

“Would that be so bad?” Margaret asked quietly. “Coming back home?”

Lucas winced. While he knew that, ostensibly, Margaret was talking about Kate, he didn’t miss the underlying question. It was probably the closest she’d ever come to asking him to come home. He leaned back against the counter, not looking at his mum. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. But she’s got a career in London,” Lucas said carefully. “And I don’t think she’s willing to give it up.”

Margaret nodded and put her hand on his forearm. “I know,” she said. She gently squeezed. “Braithwaite’s probably too small for her, anyway.”

He shrugged. “Besides, I’m pretty certain Kate’d go homicidal within a week of moving back here,” Lucas joked, trying to lighten the mood.

His mum chuckled. “Kate, or you?”

Lucas cocked his head, pretending to give serious thought to the question before saying, “Definitely both of us.”

Margaret leaned against the counter beside him, her arm brushing against his. “A mother can always dream,” she said dramatically before cracking a grin. “Then again, maybe it’s best if you don’t move back here. I don’t think Braithwaite can survive its own version of the Antichrist returning to town.”

Lucas laughed. “Mother, have you finally accepted that you gave birth to the Antichrist?”

“More like I have no choice but to admit it. Was it really necessary to hiss at Mrs. Hall at the store today?”

“She held up a cross in my face,” Lucas said, shrugging. “And I’d hate to disappoint her expectations.”

Margaret looked up at the ceiling as she crossed herself. “Lord, give me strength.”

“I’d apologize, but you always told me it was bad to lie.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Margaret asked. The potato water sizzled as it started to bubble and overflow. He moved out of the way as his mum swooped in to tend to the potatoes. He could survive the neighbour shoving a cross into his face. Lucas could not survive his mother never letting him live it down if the potatoes burned because he was standing in the way.

The doorbell rang and Margaret sighed in annoyance. “Lucas, be a dear and get that, will you? I need to keep an eye on the vegetables and your father isn’t home yet.”

Lucas pushed off the counter. “If it’s Iris, can I close the door in her face?”

“ Lucas .”

He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be nice .” Nice-ish, anyway . Nice enough that his mother wouldn’t try to throttle him, at least. Lucas figured he could achieve that level of nice . And, if not.… Well, I could always sneak out, just like old times .

The doorbell rang again and Lucas took it as his cue to leave his mother to her ministrations. Lucas opened the door and nodded at Landon, who was standing on the front stoop, a bottle of wine in hand. Wonder if he knows he’s being set up on a date , Lucas thought. If it weren’t for the fact that either Kate or Landon would have to give up their careers for it to work, Lucas supposed that the match wouldn’t have been entirely terrible. Although, he had never really pictured Landon as the fatherly type, which could be problematic. Michelle was Kate’s world, even more so than her career was, and Lucas rather suspected anyone who couldn’t accept that Michelle would always take priority in Kate’s life was a hard pass on Kate’s list of potential would-be suitors.

“Hey,” Landon said. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

Lucas snorted eloquently. If I had a pence for every time I heard that over the past few days … “Landon,” Lucas said. “You look well.” And he did. He was more solidly built than he had been fourteen years ago and had cut his light brown hair short, likely to keep it in line with being a copper now. While Lucas rather doubted old Alan was much of a hardass when it came to appearances and length of hair, Lucas also imagined that he had imparted many nuggets of wisdom about how long hair left loose could be problematic when trying to arrest criminals that may not wish to be arrested. Of course, this was Braithwaite . Lucas was pretty certain the paper archives back on the Grid were more threatening than any of the criminals Braithwaite produced.

“Thanks,” Landon said as he shrugged. “You look….”

“Skinny. I know,” Lucas said. “New diet.”

“Have you considered getting off the diet?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Considered. Decided against. I really like my diet.”

“Who does it annoy?”

“Who says that it annoys anyone?” Lucas asked innocently.

“Me, because you don’t do anything unless it’s to annoy someone ,” Landon said. “Usually your dad. Or your mum. Or Katie. Or your aunt. Or Bates. Or Daniel.”

Lucas chuckled as he stepped aside to let Landon in. He almost corrected Landon, before deciding to let him learn for himself how much Kate loved being called 'Katie.' If Landon wanted any shot at all with Kate, he’d have to learn that 'Katie' was a despised nickname and that she had only tolerated it growing up because she didn’t want to cause a row between Lucas and his mates. “I do things for other reasons too, you know,” he said instead.

Landon laughed. “No, I’m pretty certain you only do things to annoy people.”

Lucas took the bottle of wine from Landon and closed the door behind him, just as Margaret poked her head into the hall. “Who is Lucas annoying now?”

Landon gave Lucas a triumphant grin. “See? Even your mum knows you only do things to annoy people.”

Margaret placed her hands on her hips as she looked Landon over. “That’s because my son is a no-good troublemaker at the best of times,” she said. “I just recently accepted that he is, in fact, the Antichrist.”

Landon let out a low whistle. “Wow, you finally convinced her. You must be so proud.”

“ So proud,” Lucas said dryly. “How’s Alan treating you?”

“Great. He’s probably glad that I’m working on his side of the fence now instead of causing him no small amount of trouble,” Landon said. His green eyes flicked towards Margaret before looking back at Lucas. Quietly, he said, “Speaking of which, we should talk sometime.”

Lucas lifted an eyebrow, but inclined his head. As soon as his mum had mentioned Iris had invited Landon for dinner, Lucas knew that he’d have to come up with a reason why he had just… stopped answering his mates’ calls. He couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, that part of the deal he had struck with Harry when he took the job was that he didn’t contact his old friends again. Staying in touch with them, with known criminals, would have meant his career with MI-5 was over before it even got a chance to grow. So he had cut off ties abruptly, and he had never looked back. It didn’t surprise him that Landon would take the opportunity to quiz him about it. It did surprise him that Landon would give him the courtesy of a forewarning rather than ambushing him with questions.

Margaret, oblivious to their brief conversation, came towards them and took the bottle of wine from Lucas. “You shouldn’t have,” she said, smiling.

“Least I could do, Mrs. N,” Landon said. He leaned down to kiss Margaret on the cheek. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Everything is cooking and should be ready in half an hour. I suspect that Iris, Kate, and Michelle will be here any minute.”

Lucas made a face. “If Iris wanted to not come at all, I’d be okay with that.”

Margaret swatted half-heartedly at Lucas’ shoulder. “You said you would be nice,” she said, exasperated.

“I said I’d be nice if it was Iris at the door. I made no promises about dinner,” Lucas pointed out. Landon chuckled.

As if on cue, the door opened, bumping into Landon. He made a surprised noise before scooting clear of the door. Kate froze, hand still on the doorknob, as she realized that she had accidentally hit someone with the door, before Michelle huffed and pushed her way inside, phone in hand. Lucas smiled and watched Michelle haphazardly make her way towards the living room before plopping down, never once looking up from her phone. Kids .

“I’m so sorry,” Kate said. Iris, who was standing just behind her daughter, had a triumphant smile on her face, one that Lucas was certain Kate hadn’t noticed, as Kate fussed over Landon.

“It’s fine, really, I shouldn’t have been standing in the doorway,” Landon said, holding up his hands. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Landon, it’s good to see you,” Iris said. “I hope you don’t mind, Margaret, that I invited him to dinner?”

“Not at all,” Margaret said, beaming. Lucas thought that she even made her delight sound convincing, as if she hadn’t seen through Iris’ obvious attempt to see Kate walk down the aisle, and was irritated on her niece’s behalf. But Lucas knew his mother well enough to recognize when she was being deliberately saccharine and when she was being genuine, and this was definitely a case of the former, he thought. “I made plenty of food. Come in, come in. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. John’s still at church, but should be home soon.”

Kate moved out of the way, letting her mother slip inside. Iris gave Landon a warm smile and Lucas a…. Well, Lucas was pretty certain he’d seen more genuine smiles in prison after he had said something sassy that had earned him a hard strike for his efforts than whatever it was Iris tried to give him. He gave her a fake smile that he thought did a significantly better job at conveying his dislike for her presence than her failed attempt. Although, he supposed he couldn’t fault Iris for her shitty attempt to express the utmost disdain for his existence. After all, he’d had more practice, even before he went to prison.

Margaret crossed herself again, no doubt praying that Lucas wouldn’t kill his aunt before the night was through. Should have left Kate to fend for herself, Lucas thought as Iris brushed past him. Margaret gave Lucas a despairing look, silently imploring him to be civil, to which Lucas responded by mouthing that he’d try , before she followed Iris back into the kitchen. Lucas uncrossed his fingers from behind his back and looked back at Kate and Landon.

Landon was watching Michelle with an amused look. “Didn’t we break into the church around that age?” he mused.

“Allegedly,” Lucas said with a wink at Kate.

Kate rolled her eyes. “I’m a human rights lawyer, Lucas, not a prosecutor.”

“You sure Alan and I can’t convince you to become a prosecutor? We could use a good lawyer on our side for a change,” Landon teased.

Kate wrinkled her nose and Lucas laughed. “She’d miss going after MI-5 with a pitchfork too much, I think,” Lucas teased, only half-joking. He’d had to suffer through Harry loudly cursing about Kate and her latest client going against MI-5 more often than he cared to admit to. Sometimes, he even agreed with Harry. Not often, but that was more because he felt obligated to take Kate’s side than any strong feeling against MI-5. Of course, he supposed, it could also be that he didn’t quite trust the higher ups in MI-5 to have the country’s best interests in mind, and that lawyers like Kate and Sam kept them accountable.

“Well, if they wouldn’t violate human rights, I wouldn’t have to come after them with a pitchfork,” she said sweetly.

Lucas didn’t bother correcting her that the only time they violated any human rights was when it was in the country’s best interests. Unlike MI-6, MI-5 had standards sometimes. Or at least that’s what Lucas had always told Danny, Zoe, and Tom, back in the day. Besides, correcting Kate would lead to questions about when he became so pro-MI-5 and why he was so certain they wouldn’t violate rights unnecessarily. And he really didn’t want to answer those questions, not when he didn’t particularly want to lie to Kate more than strictly necessary.

Landon pushed his hands into his pockets. “So, I guess it’s been awhile. Didn’t know you had a kid, Katie.”

Kate’s face wrinkled again. “Yeah. Had her while I was in university.”

“And the dad?”

“Why don’t we let Kate and Michelle settle in before you start interrogating her?” Lucas said, stepping in before Kate felt a need to elbow him in reminder that he was supposed to be her buffer. “You said you wanted to catch up. Should it be done over drinks or should we just go outside?”

Landon looked between Lucas and Kate. Lucas wondered if Landon even realized he was watching the two of them the way a cop might watch a perp. As he felt Landon’s scrutinizing gaze look him over, Lucas shifted his stance slightly, glancing away as he stood at ease. When Kate elbowed Lucas gently in the side, Lucas released the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding and blinked.

“Should be fine to just go outside,” Landon said, opening the front door. “Assuming, of course, your mum won’t mind if I steal you for ten minutes?”

“Nah, she should be fine. She’s got Iris to help her out,” Lucas said sarcastically.

Kate coughed suspiciously and, shaking her head, made her way towards Michelle. Lucas watched the pair for a moment before following Landon onto the front step. Landon pulled out a cigarette as Lucas thought he should have grabbed a jacket. The wind was brisk still, and he found himself hunching his shoulders against the cold. I’ve bloody well had enough of the cold , he thought as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“How’ve you been?” Landon asked neutrally.

“Getting on,” Lucas said, shrugging. “I hope you didn’t drag me out here to ask me about that.”

“No,” Landon said. He offered the box of cigarettes to Lucas. Lucas shook his head once, and Landon put the box back into his pocket before pulling out a lighter. Lucas waited impatiently as Landon lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. “What’ve you been up to lately?”

“Working. Sleeping. Rinse. Repeat,” Lucas said carefully.

“Don’t suppose you’d know why my boss got an angry call from who I assume is an equally angry man in black when I ran your name through the database?” Landon asked, looking out at the street.

Lucas tensed. It was MI-5 protocol that, whenever police ran a spook’s name, MI-5 would investigate. Usually, it was nothing more than a curt phone call advising the station that perhaps it might wish to reconsider its investigation. Other times, more drastic measures were taken. MI-5 didn’t take chances, not when it came to their spooks’ safeties. Unless it’s me in Moscow , Lucas thought darkly. Harry, and MI-5, sure didn’t give a damn that he had been caught in Moscow. Still, regardless of his thoughts on the matter, Lucas could hardly tell Landon that Ross had gotten an angry call because MI-5 thought that Landon running his name might have been someone trying to get to him.

“Why were you running my name, anyway?” Lucas hedged.

“As a favour to your mum,” Landon said. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why did my mum want you to run my name?”  

“I dunno, Lucas. Maybe because you were just… gone,” Landon said. “Maybe you had done to your parents what you did to me and your other mates all those years ago. Maybe your mum was actually worried about you. Why did my boss get an angry phone call when I ran your name? What’d you do?”

“Nothing,” Lucas said, ignoring the stab of guilt Landon’s words elicited. “I didn’t do anything. It’s my company’s policy. We investigate anyone who tries to investigate us.” It wasn’t the exact truth, but it was close enough and Lucas hoped it’d appease Landon.

“Right. Where do you work, again?”

“You arresting me for something?” Lucas asked coldly.

“No, I’m… Look, Lucas, we were mates, good mates years ago, and then you just… disappeared,” Landon said, exasperated. Lucas remained silent as he folded his arms across his chest. “And now you’re here . No offence, but I didn’t think you’d ever even come back to Braithwaite, much less spend four days here.”

“Why is it, whenever someone says ‘no offence,’ it’s to preface something that is probably going to offend the person they’re talking to?” Lucas mused.

Landon gave Lucas a hard look. “Stop dodging the issue.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, lie to me if it makes you feel better. Hell, lie to your parents if that’s what you need to do. But, for God’s sake, Lucas, don’t disappear on your parents again. It nearly killed them, not knowing where you were, and then when Alan got that angry call from the men in black….”

“I’m sorry about the call,” Lucas said.

“Why did it even happen in the first place?”

“You’re a copper, now, Landon,” Lucas said as the corner of his mouth twitched up in a feigned smirk. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Before Landon could no doubt call Lucas a word that would have his mother handing Landon a bar of soap for his mouth, John’s car pulled into the driveway. Lucas exhaled and nodded at his father, silently grateful for his unintentional interference. Rationally, Lucas knew he was just being paranoid, not telling Landon the truth about why he got the phone call. Now that Landon worked with the police, they were theoretically supposed to be on the same side and all. Still, unless strictly necessary, Lucas saw no reason to tell Landon that they were on the same side now. Let him think I’m back at my thieving ways and think that I’ve got enough clout in those circles to warrant an angry phone call when he starts looking into me . Because, at the end of the day, no matter how good of friends they had been in the past, what they had was gone, and, if Lucas had lied to his wife about his job, he sure as hell wasn’t going to confess to someone that he didn’t know anymore.

“I hope I’m not late,” John said as he got out of the car. “Landon, I didn’t know you’d be coming over.”

“Yeah, Iris invited me,” Landon said. “Something about Alan working me too hard and that I can’t cook worth a damn.”

John chuckled. “That sounds like my sister. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No,” Lucas said and looked at Landon. “We were just catching up. Shall we, before Mum gets it in her head to call Alan and have him come for dinner after he’s tracked us all down?”

-x-

Lucas pushed a carrot around on his plate. If anyone noticed that he had hardly touched his meal, they kindly kept their thoughts to themselves. The last thing Lucas felt like talking about was the fact that he was still recovering from prison’s rather unique and lacklustre diet, and that large meals were still rather beyond his capabilities of keeping down. Although, he figured Kate had taken notice, as she was subtly picking carrots off his plate and eating them herself. He made a mental note to thank her for saving him from his mother’s wrath for barely eating. At least this way, he could pretend that he ate more than he actually did.

“So, Landon, how has work been?” Iris asked as she cut her steak.

“Quiet,” Landon said around a mouthful of potatoes. “Not much going on right now. Things are significantly quieter than they were, uh, years ago.”

“I imagine it is,” Iris said with a pointed look at Lucas. He bit his tongue hard .

Oblivious to the silent jab, Landon continued, “Alan is thinking of having a sort of career day with the school sometime. Try to promote the various things we can do, I think.”

“Besides eating doughnuts?” Lucas teased. “Because that would have sold me, as a kid.”

Landon rolled his eyes. “We do more than eat doughnuts, you know.”

Iris gave Lucas a cold look before turning back towards Landon and saying, “Anyone special in your life, Landon?”

“Erm, no, can’t say there is,” Landon said.

“Kate doesn’t have anyone either. You know, now that I think about it, you two would get on quite well, I think. Weren’t the two of you close as kids?” Iris asked innocently. It took all of Lucas' severely tested patience not to run his hand over his face at Iris' lack of subtlety. Even before he became a spook, he liked to think that he had been at least a bit more subtle.

Michelle made a face. “Gross, Grandma Iris,” she said at the same time that Kate said, rather exasperated, “Mum!”

“Uh,” Landon said eloquently as his cheeks turned red. Lucas bit his tongue again as he looked between Iris, Landon, and Kate. While Lucas was pretty certain Landon had had a crush on Kate when they had been in school, he was also fairly confident that that ship had long since passed. Besides, even if there were any lingering feelings, Kate had made it pretty clear in school that the feelings were not reciprocated, and Landon had respected that fact.

Kate jabbed Lucas in the side and gave him a hard look. Countering with an expression of long suffering, Lucas slung an arm around Landon’s shoulders and said, “Landon, you wouldn’t cheat on me with my cousin, would you?”

While Lucas knew he could have diffused the situation about a dozen separate ways, he was very pleased with the chaos that his question had caused. His aunt’s face alternated between horror and disgust at the thought that someone in her family might be living in sin . His father choked on a piece of steak. His mother crossed herself for the third time and looked up at the ceiling, silently mouthing for God to give her patience. Kate covered her mouth and her shoulders shook from the effort of trying to hide her laughter. Michelle suddenly looked much more interested in the conversation. And Landon, bless him, Lucas thought, just ran with it.

“I thought we had agreed that we’d wait until after the marriage to announce to your family about our relationship,” Landon said and gave Lucas an amused look.

“Surprise,” Lucas deadpanned. John coughed again and took a sip of wine while Iris looked like the Devil himself was sitting at the dinner table.

“I get to be the best woman, right?” Kate asked.

“Sure,” Lucas said. “Iris, you mind if I borrow your daughter to be the best woman at my wedding?”

“ Sinner ,” Iris spat as she crossed herself before getting up from the table in a huff.

Lucas watched as she stormed outside and waited a few seconds before shrugging. “Oops. I think I upset her,” he said innocently and dropped his arm back against his side.

His mother rubbed her forehead. “Lucas.”

“Mother.”

“Landon?” Landon said.

Kate coughed suspiciously again. “I’ll be the first to admit, that was not what I expected when I asked you to come to Braithwaite with me to ward off my mother’s attempts to set me up on a date,” she said.

“Wait, so are you two actually getting married or not?” Michelle asked, waving a fork between Lucas and Landon.

“No,” Lucas said. “We decided to get a surprise divorce about thirty seconds ago when Iris left the table.”

“ Lucas ,” Margaret said. “Would it kill you to be nice to your aunt, long enough for us to make it through dinner?”

Lucas pretended to think about the question very seriously , before saying, “Yeah, pretty certain it would.”

John laughed. “You know, one of these days, she’s going to get even with you for all the smartass comments you’ve made to her.”

Lucas grinned. “She’s welcome to try.” His smile faded. Gemma had once told him, a lifetime ago, that he had to learn how to pick his battles. Things had been simpler then. He knew what side he was on and what side those around him were on. Things hadn't been black and white, they never were with MI-5, but they certainly hadn't been as muddled as they were now. He didn't know who he could trust. He was always looking over his shoulder now. Until he found who had burned him, Lucas had a feeling that the constant awareness of those around him, the double-guessing everyone he met, all of the paranoia he felt, it would all be his new normal.

Chapter Text

The next few days went by without incident, largely because Lucas made a concentrated effort to avoid his aunt whenever possible. It was surprisingly easy enough, although he suspected that was largely because of his efforts to ward off her attempt to set up Kate with Landon. He even managed to avoid his mother’s worried looks whenever he didn’t eat much at dinner. The nightmares still haunted him, even here, where he knew he should feel safe. More than once, he had fled to the bathroom to throw up and, more than once, had heard his mother’s worried footsteps outside. But she never knocked, and he never explained. What was there to say, anyway? There were things, things he endured, things he did in prison, that he’d never forget and he’d never tell. He couldn’t. Especially not to his mother. Lucas would never forgive himself if he was the reason she finally broke under the weight of everything life had thrown at her.

Still, by the time Sunday rolled around, Lucas was itching to return to London. Being in Braithwaite, even for only a few days, had reminded him of everything that he had hated about this place. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew everyone’s business. He couldn’t walk anywhere without at least four people recognizing him and either crossing themselves or waving hello. And, on top of that, there was nothing to do in Braithwaite. Lucas had never been particularly social, always preferring the company of books or a few close friends or, when things had been good between him and his parents, spending time with his parents. He’d never really been one to visit extended family and, as such, really… didn’t have much to do over the past few days. In any case, most people in the village remembered him as a rambunctious trouble-maker. He’d be very disappointed if they stopped thinking of him like that.

Unsurprisingly, things never changed in Braithwaite. By noon, extended family had started to drop by the North household to help with dinner preparations. Lucas made himself scarce as much as he could. He gave polite nods of acknowledgement to anyone that was brave enough to make eye contact with him, and was quite content that, for the most part, his extended family left him alone. It didn’t take a genius to know why they were avoiding him. The last time he had seen most of them had been at his wedding. It hurt, being here without Elizabeta. He smiled sadly as he could almost imagine her sarcastically telling him how proud she was of him for coming home for the holidays and not terrorizing anyone. She had always tried to convince him that they should visit his parents for various holidays and, every time, he had rebuffed her. Well, here I am. Home. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Running his hand across his lips, Lucas slipped outside and leaned against the wall. The cool air was refreshing. Spring was here, even if it was slow coming. The first - and only - time that Lucas had brought Elizabeta home had been for Christmas. He had proposed to her two months before and she had insisted on meeting his parents before the wedding, so he had caved and brought her to Braithwaite. Lucas remembered that he avoided his father as much as he could, even as Vyeta had charmed them both. God, he could remember how startled she had been when it had snowed in the morning, gave way to clear skies in the afternoon, and rained all evening.

The front door opened, and Lucas frowned. The whole point of coming outside was to give himself a respite from the crowded interior. He wasn’t feeling particularly social and didn’t feel up to dealing with his extended family any more than he strictly had to. His mood went completely sour as soon as he saw his aunt picking her way towards him. The last person he wanted to speak to was his aunt. His antics Friday night certainly hadn’t improved Iris’ mood, and the two of them had studiously been avoiding each other, even more so than usual. The last time he had been home, she had made her opinion on Lucas marrying an immigrant very clear and he had made it equally clear that he wouldn’t tolerate her speaking about Vyeta that way. If Iris wanted to hate him, fine, he really couldn’t care less. But he wouldn’t let her get away with being cruel to Vyeta because of an old feud between him and his aunt.

“Lucas,” Iris said. It always amazed him just how much scorn she could put into two syllables. She tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear, for all the good it did, as the wind chose that particular moment to gust.

“Iris,” Lucas said, matching her tone perfectly. “How pleasant to see you.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t bite the bait. “I was hoping we might talk in private.”

“Really? I wasn’t.”

Iris opened her mouth and then closed it, lips pursed tightly. Lucas thought he saw her forcibly biting back a sharp rebuke for his less-than-deferent attitude. “It’s about Kate.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Lucas pushed off the wall. “Whatever it is you want me to do for you, the answer is no. If you want something from Kate or to know something about her, ask her yourself.”

As he brushed past Iris, she shot a hand out and grabbed his arm. Lucas spun, hand fisted and raised, only just catching himself in time to stop himself from attacking back. He blinked and shook his head minutely before jerking his arm away from Iris. When he glanced up at her face, he was surprised to see… fear in her eyes. He swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath. I’m not in Lushanka. It struck him just how… thin his aunt looked. Almost as thin as me, he thought, surprised.

He watched his aunt blink and say, without a trace of the fear he had seen in her eyes a moment ago, “I’m not asking you to do anything but listen.”

“And I already told you, the answer is no,” Lucas said and turned back to make a hasty retreat towards the door. “I heard enough of what you had to say on Friday. Not really interested in hearing anything else.”

“My daughter is a good girl, Lucas. I won’t…. I won’t let you do this to her,” Iris said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Lucas felt hot anger shoot through him and came to an abrupt stop. He clenched both hands tightly and bit down hard on his tongue. When he thought he could speak without spitting insults, he turned slowly and said, calmly, “I’m not doing anything to her.”

“You are leading my baby down a path of sin and I am asking you to stop before she does something she can’t come back from.”

“Kate’s a big girl. I suggest you start treating her as such.”

“She had a child out of wedlock. Your influence.”

“Hardly.”

“You think I don’t know?” Iris said scornfully. “You had relations while you were in university. Kate told me. And then, a few months later, I get a phone call from Kate saying she’s pregnant and that the man that impregnated her is not in the picture. What conclusion am I supposed to draw?”

“I can’t tell if you’re blaming me for knocking Kate up, which I didn’t because, ew, she’s my cousin, or if you’re blaming me for not giving her the birds and the bees talk, which, quite frankly, is your job, not mine.”

Iris narrowed her eyes. “I’m blaming you for influencing her to live a life of sin. And then you proposed to that….”

“Be very careful about what you’re about to call her,” Lucas said coldly. “Because, I swear to God, if you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, I don’t give a damn that you’re my aunt, you will regret it.”

Iris squared her shoulders. “Every day, I pray to God that my little girl will come to her senses. Every day, I pray that she will find a good man and that she will settle down and live life the way God intended for us to live. And your inability to stay in a marriage will only show that committing to marriage is unnecessary.”

“Funny. Last I checked, Methodism acknowledges that sometimes relationships don’t work out and divorce is necessary. I’m not the one driving Kate towards sin, Iris. You are with your ridiculously outdated beliefs that women belong in the kitchen. Has it ever occurred to you that Kate doesn’t want that life? That she is perfectly happy as a working, single mother?”

“I want what is best for Kate, and don’t you dare imply otherwise,” Iris said, lifting a finger and pointing at Lucas.

Lucas knocked her hand out of his face. “Really? Because, from where I’m standing, one of us was there when Kate found out she was pregnant and stuck by her when she decided to keep the baby, and it sure as hell wasn’t you. You were the reason she considered abortion in the first place, because she was so goddamned afraid that you would disown her and, when she finally did tell you? You refused to talk to her until after she had Michelle. Hell, you told her to not come home again when she first told you that she was pregnant and that she was going to keep the child without getting married. So don’t you dare try to tell me that you know what’s best for Kate. Now, if you’re done trying to lecture me about my living in sin or whatever, I’m going back inside.”

He knew it was foolish, jabbing Iris where he knew it would hurt. Still, he was angry and, as he turned back towards the house, he thought he was actually quite civil compared to what he had almost done. Just before he got to the door, Iris called out, “If that immigrant left you, it can only be because she saw you for what you are. A troublemaker. A sinner. And now you want to drag Kate down with you and I won’t allow it!”

His hand on the doorknob, Lucas inhaled sharply. He knew why Elizabeta left him. Hell, he didn’t even blame her, because Iris was right about that, at least, it was his fault that his marriage had failed. But it sure as hell wasn’t because he had a difference of opinion about what constituted living in sin. He pressed his fingers to his mouth for a moment before he turned to Iris again. “I’m done with this conversation. I suggest you drop it as well.”

Lucas’ piece said, he wrenched open the door. It took every scrap of will he had not to slam it behind him. All that will went out the proverbial door, though, when he saw Michelle sitting on the floor near the window. The open window. Shit. As far as he could tell, no one else had noticed either Lucas’ or Iris’ absence, nor had they noticed the fight outside. Michelle brushed her eyes as she hurriedly got to her feet, not looking at Lucas.

“Want to go for a drive?” he offered. Time to do some damage control. You’re fucking welcome, you ungrateful bitch, he thought rather uncharitably towards his aunt.

Michelle looked at the window. Lucas followed her gaze and saw that Iris was pacing outside, no doubt giving time for Lucas to reintegrate himself with the family gathering before coming inside to minimize the amount of time the two of them had to spend in the same house together. While that suited him just fine, he also suspected that Kate and, by extension, Michelle would never survive Iris seeing Lucas and Michelle leaving together.

“Can you keep a secret?” Lucas asked. When Michelle nodded tearfully at him, he nodded his head towards the stairs. “Good. I’m going to show you something.”

As Michelle walked upstairs slowly, Lucas grabbed his car keys and phone before following her upstairs. She was waiting for him on the second landing. Lucas winked at her and pressed a finger to his lips as he led her towards the guest room. His parents might have renovated his old bedroom, but they hadn’t cut down the large branches from the tree that was still in the front yard that sprouted up towards the roof. For a spry, determined fourteen year old, it wasn’t much of a hassle to climb out the window, onto the roof, and into the tree. While he liked to imagine his parents never caught on to the fact that that was how he snuck out so many times as a teenager, realistically, he figured it was more effort to remove the tree than to feign ignorance.

Opening the window, Lucas climbed out. Thank goodness for work keeping me in window-crawling shape. Michelle followed him out onto the roof. The both of them peeked over the edge and watched Iris go inside. Lucas then turned back to the window and lowered it, leaving just enough space between the sill and the pane that they could open it easily enough from the outside. Gesturing for Michelle to follow him, Lucas led her towards the tree and showed her the easiest way to climb down the tree.

“Trade secret,” Lucas said when Michelle jumped onto the lawn beside him. “Don’t tell my parents. Definitely don’t tell your mum or she’s going to lynch me.”

“And you and Grandma Iris will have another fight?” Michelle asked, wringing her hands.

“No,” Lucas said and fished his keys out of his pocket. Pressing the unlock key on the fob, he gestured towards his car. Michelle hesitated before going towards the car. Lucas glanced back at the house and pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Kate that Michelle was with him and that they were going out for a drive. Just as he opened the driver’s side door, his phone buzzed in his pocket. When it only buzzed the once, Lucas sat down and started the car. If it was important, Kate or work could call.

Pulling out of the driveway, Lucas drove towards the osprey viewpoint. It wasn’t far outside of town, and, at this time, probably wasn’t too busy. Most people would be home for Easter dinner, rather than going out to watch the ospreys. Neither Lucas nor Michelle spoke for the first part of the drive. Lucas was still fuming from his fight with Iris and the fact that he now had to do damage control because his stupid, pig-headed aunt couldn’t figure out that her own damn actions had consequences. The worst part was that she wasn’t totally wrong about his marriage. Mostly wrong, certainly. But she wasn’t wrong to think that Lucas was the reason the relationship failed.

Finally, when Lucas had calmed down enough that he thought he could speak without saying rather colourful things about his aunt, he said, “I’m not going to pretend you didn’t hear what your grandmother and I said to each other.”

Michelle wiped her cheeks. “I didn’t know. About… about when Mum had me.”

He sighed. “She was twenty and still in school when she found out she was pregnant. She had had a one-night fling with a guy and didn’t find out until weeks later that she was pregnant.”

“That’s why she never mentioned my father.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “And she never told you that she considered an abortion because, in the end, she decided against it. I offered to help her with looking after you so that she could finish school.”

“And Liz?”

“She was after you were born,” Lucas said with a sad smile. Michelle had always had trouble saying Vyeta’s name, to the point where Vyeta had told her to call her ‘Liz’ instead. “But she adored you. Absolutely loved it when Kate asked her to babysit you.”

Michelle nodded slowly and looked out the window. Her fingers carded through her hair, absently dividing it into three strands and braiding it. “Did Grandma Iris really tell Mum not to come home?”

Lucas inhaled slowly. He could lie to Michelle, tell her that he had only said that in the heat of the moment, but that it wasn’t true. But, Lucas also wasn’t exactly feeling the most charitable towards his aunt. “She did. But she loves Kate, and she loves you. She might not be happy with the fact that Kate’s single, but she wouldn’t trade you for the world. She’s just… staunchly religious.”

“I hate religion,” Michelle said.

Lucas pulled into the parking lot and put the car in park. “Don’t say that around Dad.”

Michelle got out of the car and Lucas followed. He leaned on the top of the car, watching Michelle closely. He didn’t blame her for being upset. Hell, he was still furious with his aunt. But he would never forgive himself if things he said in the heat of an argument caused another rift between Kate and her mother. Kate was trying her best with her mother, but even Lucas could see there was still some tension. Iris still hadn’t quite come around to the fact that Kate had a successful career and was a single mother. He imagined his aunt probably would take that anger to her grave.

He sighed. “Look, Michelle. I was angry at your grandmother. She blames me for a lot of things, some of which are even deserved. But, no matter what I said, no matter what happened between Kate and Iris before you were born, I know for a fact that Iris loves you. You’re her pride and joy, and she probably brags about you to anyone who’ll listen.”

“Even if she almost disowned Mum over me?”

“Yep. Your grandmother is a weird one, filled with contradictions like that.”

Michelle giggled and Lucas smiled. “I’m sorry about you and Liz,” Michelle said.

“Me too,” Lucas said, looking away. After a moment, Lucas pointed towards the entrance. “If you want a steep hike, there’s a good view of Bassenwaithe Lake. Might be some ospreys in the area this time of year.”

“Won’t Mum get worried?”

“Only if she doesn’t look at her phone,” Lucas said with a shrug.

Michelle gave him a betrayed look. “You already texted her to say we were gone?”

“Of course. Do you want the entire two-man police detachment looking for us?”

“Why did you tell me not to tell Mum about sneaking out, then?”

Lucas gave Michelle a cavalier grin. “I told you not to tell her how we snuck out. Didn’t say anything about me not telling her that we’re going for a drive.”

Michelle folded her arms across her chest and gave Lucas a rather impressive glare that he was pretty certain she learned from her mother. “Buy me ice cream on the way home and I won’t say a thing.”

Lucas laughed. “Fine. But I want it clear that it’s because I feel bad that you overheard something I said and not because you’re extorting me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, but we both know I’m extorting you.”

As they got back into the car, Lucas said, “First rule of extortion: don’t tell the mark you’re extorting them.”

Chapter Text

Kate was sitting on the front step as Lucas pulled against the curb. He had lost his parking spot to a somehow-related relative, which didn’t overly bother him. It just meant he’d have to reclaim it after everyone had left. As Michelle hopped out of the car, still gleefully eating her ice cream, Lucas wondered if he could get away with just… not going back inside. Mum’ll kill me. Kate’ll kill whatever’s left, Lucas thought as he got out and leaned against the car. Kate cupped Michelle’s face as she gave Lucas a despairing look. Lucas shrugged. Really, after the chaos he had caused on Friday, letting Michelle have ice cream before dinner was hardly that mischievous.

Kate and Michelle exchanged words as Lucas looked down the street, giving the pair the illusion of privacy. He didn’t turn back towards Kate until he heard the door open and close. He watched as she folded her arms across her chest before picking her way across the lawn towards him and Lucas had the distinct impression he was about to get thoroughly chastised for letting her little girl eat ice cream before dinner. Oops. He somehow doubted it’d be the last time Kate chewed him out for doing something naughty.

“Hey,” Kate said as soon as she was close enough. She came to a stop beside him.

“Hey yourself,” Lucas said as he locked the car and pocketed his keys.

“Thought I’d give you the head’s up that Mum talked to Aunt Mags.”

Shit. “Of course she did,” Lucas said neutrally. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Kate shrugged. “She had some colourful things to say about what happened.”

“Do I want to know?”

“That you almost attacked her, for one,” Kate said, tapping her index finger as she counted. She tapped her middle finger. “Saying that it’s her fault I’m living in sin. Not taking responsibility for your actions. She also said something about you threatening to kill her when she mentioned Vyeta.”

“I didn’t threaten to kill her,” Lucas said. “I said she’d regret it if she said what I thought she was about to say.”

“So you threatened to hurt her. Much better, Lucas, really,” Kate said sarcastically. “I’m glad you have your priorities straight.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. Threatening to make Iris regret saying aloud the word she was definitely thinking in regards to Elizabeta had, admittedly, probably been a mistake. But he wasn’t about to apologize over it, and certainly not to his aunt. Lucas had a lot of things he regretted in his life, many of which revolved around his ex-wife, but he wasn’t inclined to add this particular incident to the list.

Kate sighed noisily. “Just… don’t kill my mum, please.”

“I won’t,” Lucas said. He nudged Kate with his arm as he looked down the road. “That’d involve wasting valuable time and energy and I just don’t care enough about Iris to muster the requisite levels to harm her.”

He smiled as Kate laughed. “That sounds like you,” Kate said. “Although, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you admit to being lazy.”

“Me? Lazy?” Lucas pressed a hand to his chest. “Nah. Just not willing to spend precious energy on the she-devil.”

“If Mum is a she-devil, and you are the Devil, doesn’t that make the two of you husband and wife?”

“Ew,” Lucas said as he made a face. “Thanks for adding to my nightmare fuel.”

Kate beamed. “No problem.” She nudged his arm back. “I might not know exactly what you said, but I know you, and I’m pretty certain you stood up for me, so thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” Lucas said. “I got your back, even if you want to spend the requisite energy to kill your mum. I’ve got some great contacts, back in Russia, if you need help hiding the body.”

Kate laughed again as she swatted his arm. Lucas grinned. There was a lot in his life that was decidedly not fine. At least this was one thing that had stayed constant, even through the strain that Lucas’… little disappearing act had put their relationship through. “I’m not killing my mother for you, either.”

Lucas winked. “Before or after she sets you up on a date with Landon?”

“Before or after yours and Landon’s wedding?” Kate countered.

“Probably before, because after means he’s cheating on me and I’ll be heartbroken beyond repair,” Lucas deadpanned. He had a suspicion that Kate wasn’t going to let him live this whole mess down for a long time to come, despite the fact that the only reason he had made the joke in the first place was for her sake. And possibly because he enjoyed the fact that it had vastly irritated her mother. Definitely the latter. He was starting to think that maybe Landon was on to something, that Lucas did do a fair few things to annoy people. He wasn’t so sure he’d go so far as to say that the only reason he did things was to annoy people. Sometimes, he did things to alleviate his boredom. Which usually annoys someone.

“More like you’ll just annoy everyone with even more sass,” Kate lamented.

“Everyone keeps saying I annoy people,” Lucas mused.

“Because it’s true.”

Lucas opened his mouth before wisely closing it again. When he had first joined the Service, Gemma had told him fairly early on that he needed to get rid of the chip on his shoulder and to stop looking for fights everywhere he turned. He was older now, and debatably wiser, and decided that this was a particular battle that he probably could win, but didn’t feel like winning, if only because Kate was almost as quick as he was. Damn law school, he thought fondly.

“Come on, we should go back in,” Kate said. “Otherwise, Mum might think you’re leading me into homosexuality. If I thought she was bad for setting me up on dates before Friday….”

“I’m pretty certain homosexuality doesn’t work like that,” Lucas pointed out.

“Great, you can explain that to my mum.” Lucas gave a mock salute and Kate groaned. “No! I was joking! Don’t even mention the word ‘homosexuality’ to my mother!”

Lucas paused. “Can I say ‘gay’ around her? What about ‘lesbians’? ‘Bisexual’? How do you think she feels about ‘transgender’?”

“Lucas,” Kate groaned. She clapped a hand over his mouth and Lucas had to resist the urge to laugh at her. “No deliberately poking the bear, Lucas. Don’t make me treat you like you’re five.”

Lucas pulled his head back so that he could talk. “I think we both would agree I’m rather tall for a five year old.”

“Maybe so, but you have the mentality of a child, Lucas,” Kate said, folding her arms across her chest. “Do I need to make a list of okay topics for you to talk about with my mother?”

“Would she follow it, though?” Lucas asked.

Kate threw her hands in the air. “I give up. I’m going inside before you drive me mental. If my mother poisons you, you can drive your own arse to the hospital.”

Lucas laughed as he followed Kate back into the house. Leave it to Kate to make an otherwise shitty day bearable. Now he just had to survive dinner with a rather busy household and Kate’s wrath for giving Michelle ice cream before dinner. Lucas figured he could probably survive dinner — if there was anything good that came from prison, it was that it had dramatically increased his ability to deal with situations he… didn’t particularly care for. Surviving Kate’s wrath…. I’ll play that one by ear, he figured, if only because that one was infinitely more difficult to survive, particularly when he still had an impending, fairly long car ride on Tuesday to survive. One problem at a time.

Chapter Text

Dinner went by relatively quietly. Lucas avoided his aunt, who, in turn, avoided him. It worked well for the both of them. Really, the most awkward part of the evening was the occasional family member that came up to him to ask about Vyeta. After the first five were told, rather shortly, that he and Vyeta were not together anymore, he noticed the rest of the family left him alone, which suited him just fine. He didn’t particularly feel like announcing to everyone gathered that Vyeta had left him, nor did he wish to tell everyone on an individual basis that the two of them were no more. I’d rather just… not talk about her, honestly, Lucas thought after a stray family member — a distant cousin, or some-such, Lucas thought — asked about Vyeta. He politely told the distant cousin the same thing he had told everyone else that had asked: he didn’t know how Vyeta was doing, because they decided things weren’t working out and got a divorce.

As the extended family started to get the hint that Lucas didn’t particularly want to talk to them, even less so about Vyeta, Michelle made her way to where Lucas was leaning back against the wall in the corner. He might not like talking about himself, or with his extended family in general, but he did like people watching, and found some of the stories he overheard amusing. When Michelle finally got to him, she let out a forced sigh, which Lucas thought was a rather miserable attempt at sounding overwhelmed.

“How do you get everyone to leave you alone?” Michelle asked, combing her fingers through her hair and absently starting to braid it.

“I tell them to sod off,” Lucas said, shrugging.

Michelle looked up at him. “Seriously?”

“No,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. “Why? You don’t want to be the centre of everyone’s attention?”

“Do I have to be?” Michelle asked and leaned back against the wall beside him. “I don’t even know half these people.”

“They all know you,” Lucas said.

Michelle huffed. “I know, that’s the problem! Mum took away my phone and won’t let me have it back until after we get back to Grandma Iris’. How am I supposed to deal with all these people?”

Lucas smirked. “I don’t think you want to go my route.”

“Will it make people leave me alone?”

“Sure, but you’ll also get lectured to death by your mum and your grandmum.”

Michelle squinted at him. “Would that have something to do with why you were gone for eight years?”

Lucas lifted an eyebrow. Kate didn’t tell her, then. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not by that realization. Michelle was… innocent, still, and, while he was pretty certain he had achieved ‘cool godfather’ status in her books after he let her pick what size ice cream she wanted, he wasn’t quite as certain he wanted to solidify that status by telling her he’d been in prison. “No, that was… something else. Reading sabbatical,” Lucas said.

“Reading what?”

“Sabbatical. I went away for eight years. And then I came back,” Lucas said carefully. He looked down at the floor. “It’s a long story. Trust me when I say that you really don’t want to do what I did to get people to leave me alone.”

“What’d you do?” Michelle pressed.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I annoyed a lot of people as a kid. Pretty certain everyone in town thinks I’m the Antichrist at this point.”

“Oh.”

“Told you.”

Michelle huffed. “I could annoy a lot of people.”

Lucas shrugged. “You’re annoying me now, so I suppose you could,” he lied.

She rolled her eyes. “Is it even possible to annoy you?”

“Nope,” Lucas said with a small upturn of the corner of his mouth. After prison, he found things that used to annoy him were more… muted. They still caused a flicker of annoyance, but that was all. It was… disconcerting, to say the least. Lucas’ shrink kept telling him that it was normal to have difficulty feeling the same way towards things that he used to after experiencing a great trauma. It certainly explained why he was having as much difficulty feeling… anything as much as he used to.

Michelle pouted. “Mum can annoy you, I bet.”

“More like I can annoy her. Watch,” Lucas said and pushed off the wall. He made his way over towards Kate and draped an arm around her shoulder. Leaning in close, he murmured, “Your daughter wants me to show her how to annoy people.”

Kate spun around and pointed a finger in his face. “No! Don’t you dare! I barely survived you! I can’t survive two of you.”

Lucas grinned and lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t. Promise.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Dunno. Maybe you have trust issues,” Lucas said over his shoulder as he made his way back to his corner. Thankfully, no one else had claimed his spot. Michelle was stifling a laugh as she covered her mouth with her hands. Leaning back against the wall, Lucas said, “See? I told you I could annoy your mum.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That me and Landon really are wildly in love and we're gonna have our marriage ceremony tomorrow,” Lucas deadpanned. He struggled to feel a lot of things, but he had very strong feelings about not wanting to piss off Kate any more than he already had by teaching Michelle his ways.

“You didn’t seriously say that, did you?”

“Well, I said something,” Lucas said.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Now you’re annoying me.”

“It’s a skill. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Michelle stuck her tongue out at him and Lucas smirked at her as he resumed scanning over the living room. God, there was a lot of people in there. He was glad that the family largely left him alone, if only because he wasn’t sure he was up to dealing with that many people all at once. But, the nice thing about all the people in such a small space was that there was plenty of others between him and Iris, and he was able to avoid her rather successfully. At worst, if she did pop up, Lucas figured he'd just carefully intone another stupid knock knock joke in Russian, make it sound like he was chanting something vaguely hellish and trying to summon the devil or something. He'd have hell to pay for it, but it'd be so worth it.

Maybe I’ll do it regardless of if Iris tries to annoy me or not.

-X-

As dinner wrapped up, Lucas moved to help his mum divide up and put away the leftovers, more to avoid the awkward socializing as family that saw each other literally every day interacted and asked if anything new had happened since the night before. Kate was embroiled in a legal conversation with Landon, who had come over again at Iris’ behest. Lucas almost snagged him and snogged him, just for the chaos but decided maybe he wasn’t quite ready for that level of chaos. A lie, one that Landon was more than happy to indulge, was one thing. Acting out that lie was a line he wasn't prepared to cross. Contrary to Iris' belief, he had some morals. John was arguing with Iris, but Lucas wasn’t overly surprised by that. They got along about as well as Lucas and Iris did, if a bit more cordial. Lucas supposed it was a sibling thing. His mum repeatedly assured him that the two of them loved each other very much. Lucas wondered how much of that was the truth and how much of it was just Margaret being hopeful.

As he silently scraped a plate over the rubbish bin, Margaret said, “You didn’t eat much.”

Lucas shrugged. “Yeah. Feeling a bit under the weather,” he lied.

Margaret walked over to him and pressed the back of her hand against his cheek. “You don’t feel hot.”

“Thus why I said a bit, Mum,” Lucas said and kissed her on the top of the head. “I’ll be fine. Just a stomach bug, I think.”

His mum frowned and shook her head once before going back to dividing the leftovers. With so much of the family involved in making dinner, it was always an art, dividing the food and handing it out. Iris and Thomas didn’t like ham, so they got leftover turkey, and somehow-related Bob didn’t like corn, so he got carrots, and a laundry list of other particulars that Lucas could probably recite if he so chose, but he rarely chose to do so. Usually, he left his mum and Iris in charge of splitting the leftovers, but he didn’t feel particularly social and, as such, had volunteered to help out.

“Do you know what time you’ll be leaving on Tuesday, yet?” Margaret asked as she carved the rest of the turkey and divided it up as evenly as possible.

“Not yet, but I imagine early,” Lucas said. “I have to talk about it with Kate, first.”

Margaret hummed. “Will you at least let me make you three breakfast before you whisk everyone back to London?”

“Sure,” Lucas said. “But good luck waking Michelle up to eat that early. I’m pretty certain I’m going to have to carry her into the car because she’s going to announce that whatever time we leave it at is too early because it’s before noon.”

“You weren’t too different when you were her age,” Margaret said.

“That’s because I was occupied at night,” Lucas pointed out.

“Most people wouldn’t be so proud of that.”

“I like being contrary.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Lucas winced. Here it comes. As soon as Kate had told Lucas that Iris had told Margaret about their little spat, Lucas knew he’d be in for a lecture. At the very least, he’d be told that he should smarten up and at least try to show Iris some modicum of respect. At the worst, his mum would thoroughly chastise him for an hour and then make him apologize to Iris for doing his civic duty in reminding Iris that not everyone needed a husband to be happy.

“Yeah?” Lucas asked. If there was one thing that Lucas had always loved about talking with his mum, it was that he didn’t have to voice the questions that he didn’t want to. She just knew them. And he knew, without a doubt, that she knew that he was asking if she was referring to his fight with Iris, or if it was Friday’s mischief that she was talking about. Either way, not a conversation I feel like having. Although, he supposed, to be fair, he’d never want to have that conversation. He really didn’t want to have to apologize to Iris. He might even have to make it sound as fake as possible and that would be terrible for everyone involved, because she might actually think he was being genuine. And he couldn’t have that.

Margaret didn’t say anything for a moment as she deftly poured gravy into several different sized containers. “Yeah,” she confirmed, answering his unspoken question.

He sighed. “And?” It happened. What do you want me to do about it?

“We should go for a walk after we’re done putting everything away,” she said gently.

Lucas winced. He knew that tone. He had heard it… rather often growing up. Exasperated meant she was just annoyed with him. Gently suggesting they go for a walk meant that he was in a lot more trouble than just a scolding. She doesn’t even know the half of it, Lucas thought sourly as he stabbed a piece of leftover ham a lot more forcefully than probably necessary. He was in trouble. Sometimes he even admitted it to himself. After the rain incident, the memory-nightmares were getting worse and more… creative. The worst ones were the ones that left him feeling… hollow. Empty. But he’d never talk about those ones to his shrink, or anyone else for that matter. Those ones, he’d take with him to the grave, because he didn’t think he’d ever have the words to describe them. And, even if he did… to give voice to them…. If he ever started talking about them, then the doors might never close, and he was afraid of that more than he was afraid of the damage the weight of those memories left unspoken caused.

“Alright,” Lucas said and shook the ham off the fork and into a Tupperware container. “Long or short?”

Margaret paused. “Long, probably,” she said. “You haven’t been home in awhile. It’d be nice to talk, just the two of us.” Definitely in trouble, then, he thought. “I know how much you love talking around extended family,” she added with a mischievous grin.

Lucas snorted. It was a running gag that he was pretty certain he’d never live down, and it was his own damn fault, really. He had learned how to speak fairly young for his age, but had only ever spoken around his parents and Kate. The second his aunt was in hearing range, he’d clam up, silent as could be. At first, he had thought it great fun because his aunt would get so unnerved by his unusual silence and intense stare. After awhile, it just… became habit, one that extended to everyone outside of his parents and Kate. And the only reason he would speak around Kate was because she hit him with a stuffed teddy bear once because he didn’t answer her. Who says I’m not a quick learner? He thought with amusement. After his sixth birthday, he still refused to talk to his extended family, and he could still remember clearly the day his aunt had told his mum that she thought he had some sort of learning disability because surely he should be speaking by now. And, rather than let Margaret amusedly tell his aunt that she thought Lucas was doing just fine, Lucas had walked up to her, matter-of-factly stated that he could talk, he just chose to only speak with people that had something interesting to say, and then went upstairs to his room to read.

Is anyone surprised that Iris and I never got along?

“In my defence, Iris,” Lucas pointed out.

Margaret lifted an index finger as she turned around, her mouth open before she closed it again. “Fair point,” she conceded, turning back to making sure that all the gravy containers were adequately filled for their new, respective homes. “But she is still your aunt.”

“Unfortunately,” Lucas muttered under his breath as he stabbed another piece of ham half-heartedly.

Margaret sighed, speaking volumes of the long struggle she endured as she tried to keep the peace as best she could between Lucas and Iris, without saying a single word.

“I love you, Mum,” Lucas said, grinning.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t vex me like this,” she said and wagged a gravy-laden spoon at him.

“Vexing people is a sign of my affection,” Lucas teased. “I got a new boss at work last November. Gift-wrapped her desk for Christmas. She loved it.”

“Did she fire you on the spot?”

“Nah. She did say a couple of choice things about me though. My feelings were almost hurt.”

“Oh, well, we can’t have that,” Margaret deadpanned as she moved on to dividing the mashed potatoes. Lucas didn’t envy that particular task. There were a lot of family members, himself included, that were fond of his mother’s mashed potatoes, which always made dividing them… rather interesting.

“Exactly,” Lucas said agreeably.

Margaret smiled and tucked a stray, long hair back behind her ear. “Oh, and Lucas? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just telling you that my new boss loves me and I like to reciprocate that affection,” Lucas said innocently.

“You’re changing the subject to avoid taking ownership for the fact that you can be rather vexing at times.”

“Only at times?” Lucas asked, giving his mother a hurt look. He aimed for being vexing at all times, much to the displeasure of pretty much anyone that had to spend more than a minute with him, Lucas imagined. Certainly to the rather apparent displeasure of the many interrogators he went through at Lushanka. Lucas stabbed another piece of ham.

Truthfully, Lucas had handled today better than he had thought he would, but it didn’t surprise him that everything was reminding him of that time, either. Those first four years, he had been kept in general populace with inmates that pretty much all wanted to kill him, but couldn’t under threat of severe punishment from the FSB. Of course, that protection had only gone so far and Lucas had learned to sleep rather lightly, lest he wake to an over-zealous inmate that wanted to let Lucas know exactly what he thought about an English spook in his midst. Lucas had retaliated the only way he had available, which, in retrospect, probably hadn’t improved any of the inmates’ opinions of him. Except maybe Mikhail, the bloke who did his tattoos. At least someone thought I was funny.

“Sometimes you graduate to being an asshole,” Margaret said primly.

Lucas exaggerated shock. “Mother, did you just swear?”

“You had to get it from one of us, and it sure as hell wasn’t your father,” she said as she grabbed the plastic bags to start putting the leftovers into.

Without saying a word, Lucas reached over and grabbed the bar of soap his mum kept by the sink and held it out towards her. Margaret narrowed her eyes at him and Lucas blinked innocently as he said, “You always threatened to wash my mouth out if I swore at home.”

“Well, I’m your mother and I’m allowed to swear,” she said, knocking his hand away.

“That’s called being a hypocrite. I learned that word. It’s my big word for the day,” Lucas teased.

Margaret sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hands planted on the counter. “Lord, I am a good person. What did I do to deserve this?”

“Probably when we let him read the dictionary when he was three,” John said as he came into the kitchen. “Lucas, stop giving your mother a hard time,” he added half-heartedly.

Lucas snorted as he put the bar of soap back where he found it. He went back to casually stabbing the pieces of ham and dropping them into Tupperware containers. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father come up behind Margaret and give her a hug, kissing her cheek lightly. It was… refreshing, he thought, to see two people that loved each other still together, even if it served as a painful reminder that he could have had that had… things been different. Had I been honest with Vyeta. Had I not gone to Moscow. Had I not gotten caught. A darker thought wormed its way into the forefront of his mind and Lucas scowled at the ham as though it was personally responsible. Had I turned sooner. Had I finally stopped clinging to the stupid, desperate hope that Harry was going to come for me.

“Lucas and I are going for a walk after we’re done putting everything away,” Margaret said as she leaned back into John’s embrace.

“You’re in trouble now, Lucas,” John teased and then hesitated. “I meant that as… you know….”

Lucas waved a dismissive hand. “I know,” he said. “And I’m always in trouble, honestly. Just some days I’m in more trouble than not,” he said slyly.

“Well, today you’re in more trouble,” Margaret announced and broke away from John to start putting lids onto the ham Tupperware containers. If she noticed the rather forceful stabbing Lucas was giving the ham, she wisely didn’t say anything. Lucas imagined he’d hear about it on their walk instead. If there was one thing Lucas had learned growing up, it was that Margaret North missed nothing. She tended to be like him, quiet in her observations, and even quieter about just how much she was aware of what was going on around her, which meant that Lucas very rarely got anything by her.

I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, Lucas thought. He pushed away from the counter and let his mum take over separating duties. In any case, she was a lot better at it than he was. Lucas was pretty certain all the ham he had separated in the last ten minutes were feeling thoroughly speared and less gently put away. That makes two of us, then.

“Why don’t I finish up in here?” John asked. “It’s getting dark.”

“Don’t worry, John,” Margaret said, smiling at her husband. “I’ll protect Lucas.”

Lucas snorted. More like I’ll protect her. John chuckled. “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the people you protect Lucas from.”

“I can protect myself, you know,” Lucas pointed out. “Supposedly, I’m a big boy now. Supposedly.”

“Do you think you could act like it?” Margaret asked sweetly, looking at Lucas over her shoulder. He rolled his eyes and she laughed. “Oh, all right, John. You finish up here. I’ll save Lucas the awkwardness of having to, oh no, talk to his family.”

“My hero,” Lucas said dryly, pressing a hand to his chest.

John shook his head, still smiling. “Don’t forget your coat this time,” he suggested as Lucas followed his mum into the hall. Lucas grunted. Forget it one time and suddenly I’m five again and needing the bloody reminder. Pointedly, Lucas jerked his coat out of the closet and shrugged it on. Margaret watched him silently as she pulled on her shoes.

Without a word to anyone still talking in the living room, Lucas slipped outside. He inhaled slowly, feeling the cold air burn through his lungs. God, he always forgot how cold Braithwaite got at night, even in the spring. Lucas closed his eyes before blinking them back open again. Bad idea. He had spent enough of his life in the dark cold. He wasn’t racing to spend any more of it in that place than strictly necessary. If he was lucky, maybe, one day, he’d never go back there.

Maybe. When I’m dead.

Margaret joined him on the porch and nodded towards the steps. “Shall we?” she asked.

“Sure,” Lucas said and took off.

He let Margaret choose the route. If he knew every street, alley, and backstreet in this hellhole, he could only imagine how familiar it all was for his mum. At least he could say that some things had changed. A new house had been built, after all. Just the one. But it was new, all the same. This place… it was the same, day in, day out. It never changed growing up. Dunno why it’d start now, Lucas thought. Breaking into as many houses as he had when he was young meant that the town lost a lot of its charm. Suddenly, people had secrets and not all of them the embarrassing kind. The really bad ones, Lucas had even left an anonymous tip with Alan about. But others? Others were just… there. Beneath the surface.

It was what he liked about London. People had their secrets there, but at least they didn’t hold their noses and pretend they were better than anyone that didn’t fit the mold. Lucas, even with all his quirks, was just another bloke on the street in London. Here… Here, he was the Antichrist. And he was okay with that. But it didn’t change that, sometimes, he wished that Braithwaite could be different, that it could change. It wouldn’t. But he wished it would.

Lucas pushed his hands into his pockets as he and his mum walked in silence. Neither of them said anything as they meandered through the village. At some point, Margaret looped her arm around his, holding onto him as if she were afraid that he’d disappear on her again. Lucas pursed his lips. It was a grim reality that he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t. Even excluding the possibility of being arrested again, the very nature of his job meant that, at any moment, something could happen. Lucas had read Adam’s file - he had left a kid, a young kid, orphaned when he died. And that kid had never seen it coming. Lucas could remember Harry sitting him down one night, early on his career with MI-5, and telling him frankly over a glass of whiskey that the life expectancy of field officers wasn’t particularly high. All Lucas had to do was look at what had happened to his old team to know the truth of that statement. Colin and Danny were both dead. Zoe had to abruptly flee the country, leaving someone else to a life in prison in her stead, no one the wiser as to where the actual Zoe was. Tom was forcibly retired after being framed for a murder he didn’t commit. And Malcolm and Harry? They’d both been in the Service for so long, and it had cost them. Lucas wasn’t any different. The Service had cost him, too.

But, at least he still had this. He was here, even if he was reminded of all the ways he hated this place. There was something quaint about walking about at this hour. Everyone in the village was indoors, enjoying good food and good company. Sure, there were some kids playing in yards, but Lucas would imagine that would be just about anywhere rather than exclusive to Braithwaite. He had missed the scenery of the village. London was nice. He liked the bustle of the city, the sounds of people living their lives all around him, loved that he could be just another anonymous bystander. He could sit down at a café and just… people watch without anyone the wiser. But Lucas would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the rustic look Braithwaite had. He liked the fact that the village was more green than stone, that the countryside was delightfully beautiful, no matter the season. And I’m here. I’m alive and I’m here again.

For a moment, however brief, he quietly thought maybe, just maybe, he had escaped Lushanka.

“So,” Margaret said, looking down at her feet.

“So,” Lucas said, deliberately avoiding the obvious question. He didn’t particularly feel like explaining himself to his mother, especially when half of his explanation would involve lies, half-truths, and very carefully dodging her questions while answering them in such a way that she thought they were answered. It was… surprisingly difficult to do. Apparently, if he listened to his father for a change, he and his mum had a quick, sharp intelligence in common. Lucas just thought it was a mum thing. Not that his mother wasn’t intelligent. He just figured that mothers always knew when their offspring were bullshitting them.

Margaret patted Lucas’ arm. “Your aunt told me what happened earlier,” she said carefully.

“Oh?” Lucas asked, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. If she wanted to talk about his little spat with Iris, she was more than welcome to, but Lucas saw no particular reason that he had to participate in that particular conversation. He had meant it when he had told Iris that he was done with that conversation and, really, he didn’t particularly feel like continuing that argument with his mother. Although, he doubted that his mother had a bad thing to say about Vyeta, much less her resident status. Margaret had loved Vyeta.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you don’t have to rise up to her bait all the time?”

“Sure. I just choose to bite it anyway,” Lucas said with a shrug. “Otherwise, she might think I’m going soft.”

“Trust me when I say that, after Friday, I don’t think any of us think you’ve lost your edge,” Margaret said. She patted his arm again. “You and your aunt never have gotten along, ever since you said she was too stupid to warrant having a conversation with.”

“Well, in my defence, she is pretty stupid. And ignorant. And a plethora of other words that’ll make you demand I pick you up so you can smack me upside the head,” Lucas said, half-smirking.

As if to prove that she could, in fact, reach the back of his head, Margaret reached up and gently swatted his head. If he hadn’t expected her to do it, he might have even flinched. Instead, he clenched his hands in his pockets and stared straight ahead. “What’d you say about not rising to the bait again?” he asked.

“It’s different when I do it, honey,” Margaret said and slipped her arm back around his again. “It’s called tough love when I do it.”

“I don’t think I like tough love very much,” Lucas said.

“I’m sorry that you don’t like it,” Margaret said. Had he not known his mother so well, he might have even believed the sincerity in her voice. “And that is what you should tell your aunt when we get back.”

“Mum,” Lucas said, exasperated. “I’m a grown man.”

“So grow up and apologize.”

“No.”

Margaret was silent as she considered what she wanted to say. Finally, she said, “Iris said you almost attacked her.”

Lucas scowled. He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was that his aunt had mentioned that particular lapse in judgement to his mother. He would have thought that Iris would have wanted to keep the fact that he had scared her to herself. But, then again, he supposed she would want the sympathy it would garner and generate some outrage at him. It wasn’t like he could deny the claim, either. She had taken him by surprise and he’d just… reacted. He didn’t even mean to threaten her. He just… did. But he wasn’t about to apologize for it, either. As far as Lucas was concerned, she was just as much in the wrong as he was. And, in any case, the important part was that he had almost hit her. He didn’t because he caught himself before he could. So much for escaping Lushanka.

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “Sorry about that.” Still not apologizing to Iris.

“The two of you have gone at it before and you’ve never reacted that strongly before,” Margaret said carefully.

“She was really annoying me this time, I guess,” Lucas lied.

Margaret came to a stop abruptly, jarring him for a moment. Lucas half-turned towards her as she cocked her head and studied him. He looked away, not meeting her eyes. “You’ve changed,” she said softly, “since you last came home.”

“I should hope so. That was, what, twelve years ago?” Lucas said with a shrug.

“No,” Margaret said. She reached up and touched his cheek. “You’ve become harder, Lucas. Something’s snapped inside of you, and you’re not who you were when you left here.”

Lucas looked down the street uncomfortably as he pulled his face away from her touch. He was not sober enough for this conversation. The last thing he needed was his mum joining the chorus of people telling him that prison had affected him. He already fucking knew that. Of course it had affected him. He had spent eight years being physically and psychologically tortured. No one came out of that unscathed. He had given up a lot in prison, and sometimes, at three am when the nightmares were at their strongest, he couldn’t help but wonder if there were pieces of himself that he left in prison, pieces that he’d never get back. He’d never fully been able to get Oleg’s voice out of his head, never fully able to forget his assertion that no one escapes Lushanka. It was a sobering thought, certainly one that frightened him a lot more than he cared to admit.

Margaret sighed and dropped her hand. “I know. I know. You’re fine, you don’t want to talk about it. But… if you do…. If you need to talk about it, I’m here.”

“You said it yourself. I’m fine,” Lucas said, forcing himself to smile at her. No matter how much he wanted to tell his mother the truth, the whole truth, he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Telling her what he did for a living, what he had lost because he chose to stay loyal to his country…. He couldn’t do it. If she knew the truth…. He knew it was foolish, seeing her as fragile as he did. But it was times like these, when she was hugging her thin arms around her middle, her nose pink from the cold and her hair tied up in a messy bun, a sure sign that she was more agitated than she appeared, that he couldn’t help it. If he told her the truth, it’d break her, and Lucas wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did that to her. She'd gone through enough. She didn't need to add this to her worries.

“You’re not,” Margaret said softly. She rubbed under her nose. “But you say you are because you don’t want to talk about it. Do I know my son or what?”

Lucas rolled his eyes and swiped his fingers against his mouth. “Still don’t want to talk about it.”

“There’s not much point in suggesting you stay with your father and I for a little while, is there?”

“Nope,” Lucas said rather emphatically. Even ignoring that he had a career that he loved and a life in London, Lucas wouldn’t move back to Braithwaite unless there was literally nowhere else for him to go. It wasn’t that he hated Braithwaite — well, that was a lie, he did — it’s just…. The village was good for the people that chose to stay, but it wasn’t good for him. There was nothing for him here. At best, Braithwaite was a dead end village where the most he could aspire to was either becoming a teacher, like his mum, which was admittedly a rewarding job for someone that actually liked kids — unlike him, definitely unlike him — or a cashier at the local grocery store. Neither option particularly appealed to Lucas. In his current career, sure, Lucas probably wasn’t going to live to retire, but at least he could feel like he was doing something with his life. He was making a difference, even if he couldn’t tell anyone that he loved about that particular fact. And he couldn’t, wouldn’t, give that up for Braithwaite.

Besides, Lucas loved his family, but he preferred to love them from a four and a half hour car ride away. He liked being able to socialize with them on his terms rather than having them drop by whenever they so pleased. Although, I certainly have been having more people than I care for dropping by my flat, he thought sourly. If one more person broke into his flat again, he was going to make the door hinges squeal again, just to deter them.

Beside him, Margaret sighed. “I thought not,” she said. She looked around the village. “There was nothing ever here for you, anyway.”

“No, there wasn’t,” Lucas agreed. “Look, Mum, thanks for the concern, but I’m… doing as fine as I can right now. It’s not a perfect fine. But it’s fine enough.”

“Can you fit one more fine in there, please?” his mum teased, elbowing him gently. Lucas snorted. “Kate’s worried about you too.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “That’s because she’s a mum. She’s a professional worrier now.”

Margaret chuckled and patted Lucas’ arm. “Then allow me to professionally worry about you.”

“I’m still not apologizing to Iris.”

His mother sighed and tugged him along, indicating that their break was over. Lucas kept his pace matched to his mother’s. Like his father, Lucas tended to be a quick walker and all the traumatized running he’d been doing late at night and early in the morning, probably didn’t help his pace at all. His mother tended to be… more sedate in her pace. Like the world would still be there, which he supposed it would, in the extra five minutes that it took to get to her destination at her current pace. Sometimes, Lucas wondered if it was a side-effect of the chemotherapy she’d had so many years ago, and if it was still affecting her, making her tire more easily than she used to.

“I need to tell you something you’re not going to want to hear,” Margaret said quietly.

“You think I wanted to be told to apologize to Iris?” Lucas teased.

“I’m serious.”

He lifted an eyebrow and looked down at Margaret. There’s something I don’t want to hear more than that I should apologize to my aunt? That was… troubling. Serious, even. “Alright,” he said. “Go for it.”

She inhaled slowly. “Vyeta called me before she… left you.”

Lucas’ eyes snapped back down to his mum. “What?”

“She wanted to know if I had heard from you,” she said carefully. Margaret was watching the pavement where she was walking as Lucas felt a tumult of emotions wash over him. He had a feeling he knew where this was going and, his mum was right, he really didn’t want to hear it. “And I told her that I hadn’t.”

“She asked you if I was having an affair,” Lucas surmised. It’d been their last fight before he went to Moscow. Vyeta thought that there were simply too many late nights, too many abrupt cancellations of plans, too many work emergencies, for a bloke in private security. When he told her that he had to go away for work, he remembered the tears on her cheeks as she asked him if he was having an affair, which he denied vehemently. Lucas had promised her answers when he got back from work. Kachimov delivered them first.

“Yes,” Margaret said. “And I told her I didn’t think you were. I’ve never seen you like how you were with her. Happy. Carefree. You were in love with her, and anyone who saw the two of you knew it. So I told her that, and then I asked her why she thought you were having an affair.”

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. Even if he were the type to have an affair, he wasn’t particularly the type to announce it to the world, much less his parents, that he was involved with another person. “Thanks, I think,” Lucas said.

“I’m not done,” Margaret said. “She told me that she hadn’t heard from you in years and that she had met someone. I… I told her that she should follow her heart, and that if it wasn’t with you anymore, that that was okay.”

Lucas blinked. He… definitely hadn’t expected that. Well, shit. He exhaled slowly, processing. He… shouldn’t have been surprised that his mum had told Vyeta to essentially leave him. It didn’t change the fact that it stung. It certainly didn’t help the knife of guilt that twisted again in him. He should have told Vyeta the truth as soon as he started dating her, Harry and his fucking paranoia be damned. He still would have been gone for eight years, but maybe…. At least she would have known something had happened instead of being left with questions and lies. But at what cost? Would she still have married him, knowing he was a spook? Would he have just traded one guilty conscience for another? He hated lying to her, but at least she hadn’t worried about him the way she would have had he been truthful with her.

He pressed his fingers to his mouth. “I see,” he said finally, because what was there to say to that? That he was glad that at least Vyeta had called his mum first before leaving him? That he was angry that his mum didn’t do more to convince Vyeta to stay? That he didn’t blame his mum for speaking from the heart and for telling Vyeta to leave, because he would have done the same damn thing in her position, knowing as little about his career as she did?

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” she said, and Lucas knew that she was apologizing that his marriage had failed, not that she had been the one to tell Vyeta to leave him.

“Yeah. Me too,” Lucas said, because he was sorry that he had put both Vyeta and his mum in that position. He rubbed the back of his neck again.

“Lucas, I… have to ask,” Margaret said slowly, picking her words carefully. “Why didn’t she know you were in prison? Surely there would have been a trial or she would have been notified.”

Lucas exhaled noisily. Should have seen that coming. He couldn’t exactly tell her that, technically, he’d been detained in prison, which allowed the Russians to forego a trial all together and hold him indefinitely, until he either broke or died, whichever happened first, and that the FSB weren’t exactly going to allow Lucas call his wife to let her know the situation. They had certainly threatened her, but Lucas had called their bluff, hoping against hope that Harry was actually protecting Vyeta instead of throwing her to the wolves. In some ways, Vyeta leaving him might have actually been the best protection she could have given herself.

“It’s complicated,” Lucas said finally. “I was arrested in Russia, and they’ve got different rules.”

Margaret hummed, and he didn’t think that she believed him for even a second. “That explains the tattoos, I guess,” she said instead.

“Part of the culture,” Lucas said. He started to pull his arm away from his mum to cross them over his chest, but Margaret tightened her hold on Lucas’ arm when he tried. While he definitely could have broken out of her grip — it wasn’t as firm as it had been years ago — he didn’t. “They all mean something.”

“I imagine they would,” Margaret said gently. “Is there any point asking you what?”

“No,” Lucas said firmly. Even if he was inclined to share, she wouldn’t understand some of them, not without knowing why he had gotten them. The Cyrillic on his arm, the gnothi seauton tattoo, both of them were his quiet rebellion against the FSB, his way of telling them that they were right, he was a spy, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk to them. But his mother wouldn’t understand that, and Lucas was reluctant to drag her into the world of espionage to make her understand. And, of course, there were… the other tattoos. He swallowed hard. Fuck you, Oleg.

Margaret sighed. “Okay,” she said. “How many do you have?”

“More than you’d approve of,” Lucas hedged.

“Well, that’s not a particularly high number, then.” He snorted and Margaret smiled. “Will you at least consider what I said about not rising to your aunt’s bait?”

Lucas cocked his head to the side. “Considered. Ignored.”

“Lucas,” Margaret said.

“Mother,” Lucas said.

“You know I don’t like it when you ignore my suggestions,” Margaret said. “They’re usually made with your best interests at heart.”

“You know that I ignore just about everyone’s suggestions,” Lucas pointed out. He was contrary like that. “It’s nothing personal.”

Margaret loosed an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. “How does anyone put up with you?”

Lucas grinned. “With a lot of alcohol, most like.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

-X-

They had circled Braithwaite… several times by the time that they went back to the house. Lucas was relieved to see that most of the cars were gone and that he could reclaim his parking spot next to his dad’s car. Easter Monday wasn’t as hectic as Easter Sunday, thankfully, but he imagined that they’d still have a sizeable amount of family come to visit. Which meant Lucas would probably make himself scarce, because he really didn’t feel like dealing with any more family members. He'd done his familial duty and made his rare appearance at home, and he was more than happy to be a ghost lurking upstairs as the family celebrated some more on Monday.

The porch light was still on, and would likely stay on for another hour or so, despite the fact that he and Margaret were now home. Lucas’ parents were creatures of habit. When Lucas had been a teenager, the porch light would stay on late into the night as a sign that his parents were awake and aware that Lucas was not in his bedroom. Usually, it meant that he would be in trouble as soon as he came back, if not for the fact that he was doing something illegal, then because he had snuck out of the house in the first place. Not that the groundings ever did much. He knew at least a dozen ways to sneak out of the house, to his parents’ eternal chagrin. He was also willing to wager all of those various ways to sneak out were still there, despite the time that had passed.

Before Lucas could open the door, Margaret put her hand on his. “You’re always welcome here, if you think it’d do you any good,” she said.

“Thanks,” Lucas said. He knew as well as she did that he wasn’t going to stay any longer than strictly necessary. But… maybe he would visit. Sometimes. Once or twice a year. For a day. Any longer and he might actually go homicidal against his aunt.

Margaret patted his hand. “Now, are you going to open the door, or do I have to freeze out here first?”

Lucas rolled his eyes and opened the door, letting Margaret go in first before following her inside and shutting the door behind them. More out of habit than anything else, Lucas locked the door. His mother reached around him and flicked the lock, unlocking the door. Lucas blinked. Right. They don’t lock the door here. Small village. Everyone knew everyone. John and Margaret always had a spare room made up and a warm meal for anyone that needed it.

John came into the foyer, juggling a wine glass and two glasses of whisky. “Welcome back,” he said, handing Margaret the glass of wine and Lucas one of the glasses of whisky. Lucas resisted the urge to make a face. He’d never been a fan of whisky, largely because, during his formative drinking years, he’d been angry with his father and whisky was John’s poison of choice. Even after all these years, Lucas still wasn’t exactly fond of whisky, despite Harry’s best efforts to convert him.

Margaret stood on her toes, balancing herself with a hand on John’s shoulder, and kissed John on the cheek. Lucas looked away, giving his parents the illusion of privacy as he put the glass of whisky down so that he could take off his jacket and hang it up in the closet. He wondered if he could get away with forgetting the whisky glass on the side table before deciding that his parents wouldn’t believe him for a second. Oh well.

“Thanks,” Margaret said and smiled. “It was a good walk. Weather’s getting warmer.”

Lucas blinked. Right. London was usually fairly stable, temperature-wise. They didn’t get as many cold temperatures as Braithwaite did, given that they were considerably more south than Braithwaite. But Lucas supposed that his mum was right, the weather was getting warmer, for Braithwaite, at least.

“That’s good,” John said. He helped Margaret take her jacket off and hung it up in the closet next to Lucas’.

Taking a sip of the whisky, and resisting the urge to make a face as it burned its way down his throat, Lucas followed his parents into the living room. Kate had stayed behind, evidently, as she had claimed the armchair - the armchair that Lucas usually liked to claim because it meant no one would sit next to him and try to talk to him - and was sipping a glass of red wine. The triumphant smirk she flashed Lucas confirmed that she had taken the armchair deliberately and Lucas narrowed his eyes at her before pointedly sitting on the far end of the couch. His parents were oblivious to his and Kate’s silent conversation and sat down together next to Lucas.

“Attack anyone on your walk?” Kate asked and Lucas heard, loud and clear, exactly what she was saying.

“No,” he said curtly. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he had nearly hit Iris when she had grabbed him unexpectedly, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize, nor was he going to continue having this particular conversation with every single goddamn member of his family.

She nodded and a look of disappointment crossed her face before she wiped it away and gave him a cheerful smile. “Michelle wanted me to ask you, Aunt Mags, if you’d share your recipe for your mashed potatoes. She really liked them.”

Lucas snorted as his mum beamed. “I’d love to. Maybe she can come over tomorrow and I can show her how to make them?”

“That’d be nice,” Kate said. “Lucas, should I invite your fiancée for dinner tomorrow or is the wedding off now?”

“Wedding’s off,” Lucas confirmed. “If he’s going to cheat on me with my cousin, I’m afraid we just aren’t meant to be.”

John snickered and Margaret took a suspiciously large gulp of wine. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to being best woman,” Kate lamented.

“I’m sure you’ll make do,” Lucas said.

For the next few hours, Lucas sat back and listened as his parents and Kate debated… pretty much everything he could think of and then some. He wisely bit his tongue when the conversation steered towards the government, earning him a few confused looks from Kate. She knew how strongly Lucas felt about the government, but he could hardly tell her that, while he might not like politicians, he worked for them and, as such, had to at least pretend to like them. Usually. It was hit or miss whether he actually succeeded at that. He suspected it was why he’d simultaneously been a brilliant and terrible Section Chief so many years ago, because he didn’t take their shit and had no problem telling them that they could focus on running the country, he’d focus on keeping the United Kingdom safe. Sometimes, he thought that was the entire reason why Harry had promoted him instead of someone more experienced, like Tessa or Peter.

Still, despite Kate’s obvious concern, Lucas was content to listen, rather than join in. He sipped his whisky, resisting the urge to make a face each time, and was just… present. It was a heady feeling, knowing that, despite Kachimov’s and Oleg’s and all the other interrogators’ best efforts, he had survived and he was home. Even if, more nights than he cared to admit to, he questioned just how much of him had escaped Lushanka, he clung to that desperate thought that he had escaped, and sitting here, in his parents’ living room, surrounded by people he would die to protect, was a stark reminder of that fact. He had escaped. He was home.

Chapter Text

Monday was as painless as having to be social and nice could be. Still, Lucas was quite glad when Tuesday morning rolled around, even if it meant a four and a half hour car ride. As he had predicted, Michelle had complained at the early departure time, but still showed up, albeit sleepily, for breakfast. Lucas, who had already made a sizeable dent in the pot of coffee, wordlessly handed Michelle his coffee after making sure Kate was distracted in the kitchen with his mum. Judging by the fact that Michelle took it and chugged it, he imagined that she was drinking coffee without her mum any wiser.

When Michelle silently handed Lucas the empty mug, he shrugged and braved the kitchen to get more coffee. Kate and Margaret were fussing over whether or not Margaret would send lunches with them and Lucas almost told Kate to just give up now, they were getting lunches. His mother could be as stubborn as he was when she had it in her mind that she wanted something. Before either woman registered that he was in the kitchen, Lucas spun on his heel and went back into the dining room. He’d refill on coffee after they were done arguing. For now, he’d sit and commiserate with Michelle that six am was, in fact, early, even if it was actually relatively late for him. Normally, he was up and about by four, given that he had difficulties falling and staying asleep, so six am really wasn’t that early for him. But, he didn’t quite feel like getting into semantics with Michelle, who looked like she could probably use a whole pot of coffee.

About a minute after Lucas sat back down at the table, he watched Michelle slowly reach for his coffee mug. Lucas pretended he didn’t notice as she dragged it away from him. At her crestfallen look to see it empty, the corner of his mouth quirked up. If Michelle wanted more coffee, she could brave Kate and Margaret to get it.

“It’s empty,” she said, pointing at the mug.

“Yep,” Lucas said. “That tends to happen when you drink it all.”

“But…. It’s empty,” Michelle said. She looked at the mug again and then looked at him. “Don’t you adults live on coffee or something?”

“That,” Lucas said, pointing at his mug, “was my fourth cup of coffee, so my coffee levels should last me for at least another hour before I’ll need a refill.”

Michelle blinked. “I’m not awake enough for this.”

“Kitchen’s right there if you want more coffee,” Lucas said, pointing towards where Kate and Margaret were still arguing.

She squinted, listening to the two women arguing. “Mum said I’m not supposed to have coffee yet.”

“Looks like you’re out of luck, then.”

“But you’re allowed coffee.”

“Beauty of being an adult.”

“And your mug is empty.”

“Wow, I hope you didn’t hurt yourself coming to that conclusion,” Lucas teased.

“You could refill your mug.”

“And then you’d drink it.”

“And then I’d drink it,” Michelle said. “I like this plan.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and snatched his mug from Michelle. He could only hear her announce forlornly that it was empty so many times before it started to get on his nerves. Besides, he could always refill it, drink all but a quarter of it before going back into the dining room, and give her the remnants. Annoy Michelle and Kate in one fell swoop. He liked that plan a lot more than Michelle’s.

Going back into the kitchen, Lucas steeled himself and went straight for the coffee pot. His hope of being largely ignored was quickly dashed when Kate said, “Lucas, tell your mother that she doesn’t need to burden herself with making us lunch.”

“Lucas is staying out of this debate,” Lucas said as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

Kate huffed. “It’s fine, really, Aunt Mags. Please, don’t worry about it. We’re not going to starve. Right, Lucas?”

“La, la, la,” Lucas said as he hastily added two sugar to the cup and all but fled back to the dining room. He was pretty certain he narrowly dodged a spoon being flung at his head as he heard it bounce off the wall and clatter onto the floor.

Taking a few gulps of the coffee, Lucas put it on the table, just out of reach of Michelle, who had her head resting on her arms on the table. It was a dick move, he knew, but if she wanted the coffee, she could damn well work for it. As she heard him sit down, she lifted her head from her arms. She blinked again. Lucas watched again as small, pale hands stretched out to try to take the mug, only for her to sulk when it was outside her reach. He took pity on her and pushed the mug just inside her reach with one finger.

“Don’t tell your mum,” Lucas warned.

Michelle didn’t answer, just wrapped her hands around the mug and pulled it back towards her. She took a few sips and frowned. “Haven’t you ever heard of coffee whitener?”

“First you steal my coffee, then you critique it,” Lucas said. “Haven’t you heard of gratitude?”

“I’d be more grateful if your coffee had whitener in it.”

“Deal with it,” Lucas said. “Or, better yet, feel free to go into the kitchen to get the whitener.”

“Mum’ll kill me.”

“Sounds like a you problem and not a me problem,” Lucas said, shrugging.

“You’re right, you are good at annoying people,” Michelle complained as she took another sip of the coffee. She made another face.

Lucas smirked and pulled out his phone. Bored, he sent Ros a wall of turkey emojis, purely because it’d annoy her. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing when she answered with, “I hate you, Lucas.” He sent her a smiley face, immediately followed by another wall of turkey emojis. Pocketing his phone, because Ros would probably actually kill him if he sent her a third wall of turkeys, Lucas looked back up. Michelle was still clutching his coffee in a vice grip, and he had a feeling she’d actually attack him if he so much as thought of trying to reclaim it from her. In the kitchen, he thought that his mum had won the debate and that Kate had adamantly insisted on making the lunches instead of letting Margaret do it, if only to make sure that Margaret didn’t worry herself too much with making them.

He glanced over towards the stairs as he heard his father coming down them. Within a few seconds, John came around the corner, finishing buttoning up his shirt. He paused, taking in Lucas and Michelle at the table, Lucas sans a coffee cup, and listening to Kate and Margaret talking in the kitchen. “Does her mum know that you gave Michelle your coffee?” John asked, glancing at the kitchen.

“Probably not,” Lucas said.

“Tell her and die,” Michelle mumbled into the coffee mug.

John frowned. Before he could rebuke Michelle, Lucas reached over and hooked two fingers into the coffee mug’s handle. Michelle hissed at him as he forcefully took it away from her. “No coffee if you’re going to say death threats,” Lucas said.

“Maybe I need the coffee to not say death threats.”

“Maybe you should go to bed earlier,” Lucas suggested.

Michelle huffed. “Sorry, Uncle John.”

John smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said.

Lucas nodded at his father and pushed the mug back towards Michelle, who grabbed it greedily. He shook his head, smiling. Kids. One of these days, Kate would have to accept that Michelle was an up-and-coming caffeine addict. Hell, Lucas was pretty certain that Kate had been younger than Michelle was when she first started drinking coffee, although he suspected that had more to do with the fact that her mother had been very strict about Kate not being old enough to drink coffee, and less to do with the fact that Kate actually needed the caffeine.

“I have to run into work to make sure everything is in order for the service tonight,” John said apologetically. “I probably won’t be back before you leave.”

“Yeah, I think we’re leaving as soon as Kate and Mum are done glaring at each other,” Lucas said, glancing over at the kitchen as he stood up. His father held out his hand, and Lucas took it. After a few seconds, Lucas gave his father a hug. “Thanks for having us,” he said.

“Thank you for coming,” John said. “Ring us when you get home, just to let us know you made it home okay?”

“Sure,” Lucas said. Assuming Ros isn’t waiting in my flat to kill me first. Maybe he would send her the third wall of turkey emojis, just to fuck with her. It was Easter, after all.

Yeah. He was going to send the third wall of turkeys.

Chapter Text

Lucas took a seat at the conference table, eyeing Ros and Harry for some indication about what kind of operation they were about to embark on. He wondered if maybe it was a lead on the coalition between FSB and CSS and how they had managed to hack into MI-5’s servers with no one realizing it until it was too late. Although, last Lucas had heard almost a month ago, the Americans insisted on investigating themselves as they thought the British systems were “too susceptible to being hacked again for them to investigate safely with British aid.” More like you want to toss the sods responsible into your little torture dungeon. Still, if the cousins wanted to do the work, as far as Lucas was concerned, he was content to let them. Ros isn’t the only one that hates paperwork.

It took a few minutes before everyone was inside and seated. Harry sat at the head of the table, rubbing his eyes. Lucas scanned the table; Jo and Ben were whispering to each other to Harry’s right, and Ros was sitting to his left. To the casual observer, she looked almost relaxed, even, with one hand resting lightly on a manilla folder. The corner of Lucas’ mouth twitched up in the barest hint of a smile. The tense set of her shoulders betrayed her casualness. Malcolm was the last to arrive, closing the conference room doors behind him before settling beside Lucas. He looked as mystified about what the meeting was about as Lucas was. For a second, he looked as though he might ask Lucas, but Harry shuffled the papers in front of him, and Malcolm closed his mouth in anticipation of the beginning of the meeting. Oddly, Connie wasn’t present. Lucas’ faint smile faded. He didn’t remember seeing her come onto the Grid, but he would have assumed she would have been here for the briefing. He glanced over at Ros, but she was staring down neutrally at the file in front of her.

As Harry glanced up, coughing politely to gather everyone’s attention, Lucas was struck by just how tired Harry looked. This whole mess with Cybershell had taken its toll on all of them, certainly, but Harry had dark circles under his eyes that almost rivalled Lucas’, and there was a slump to his shoulders that hadn’t been there previously. He looked exhausted. More so than Lucas could ever remember seeing. Something bigger is going on. Lucas looked at Ros again, but wasn’t able to glean anything from her face. If she knew something, she was hiding it deep.

“Thank you everyone for coming in,” Harry said. “We’ve received intelligence that Meynell Holdings will be opening an office here in London.”

“Alexis Meynell is a banker that made his first bet against airline stocks on the morning of 9/11,” Ros said. Lucas lifted an eyebrow, and tried to remember if he’d read anything about Meynell while catching up on the major events of the past eight years. When he recalled nothing, he made a mental note to do his own research after the meeting. “Meynell made quite the profit after the second plane hit the tower. Since then, he has made a pattern of finding weak economies and taking advantage of them, leaving the economy in tatters,” Ros continued.

“Meynell’s preferred method is to start runs on banks. He starts rumours that the bank is in trouble. Everyone panics, withdraws their money, and then he places a bet that the value of the bank’s share price will collapse. Meynell profits while others lose everything,” Harry said.

“So why’s he coming here?” Jo asked. Lucas looked at her briefly before looking toward at Ros and Harry again.

“Because he’s planning to target Highland Life, except we can’t find any evidence that he’s about to make his move,” Ros finished.

Malcolm’s face turned ashen, reflecting what they all were thinking. Lucas leaned back in his chair. Shit. This was… definitely bad. If Meynell succeeded, it’d lead to catastrophic economic meltdown. Even if he didn’t succeed, it’d lead to the British public utterly unable to trust Highland Life again. Hell, maybe even unable to trust the British economy.

“What’s our plan?” Ben asked, chewing his lip. He was looking, wide-eyed, from Ros to Harry to Ros again. 

“Ros is going to go undercover and try to get close enough to Meynell to get us the evidence we need to shut Meynell down for good,” Harry said. “Lucas, I want you running things on the Grid while Ros is undercover. Ben, you’re going to be Ros’ backup. We’ve arranged for you to work as a barista at the coffee shop on the first floor of Meynell Holdings. Jo, you will be our runner. I want you relaying any messages from Ros to the Grid and vice-versa. Malcolm, I’m afraid Connie is on temporary leave and will be unable to assist with technical support, so I need you to hold down the technical fort.”

“Do we know if we have Chancellor Calderwood’s support?” Lucas mused. “She might be able to freeze Meynell’s assets and give us the time we need to shut down his operation.”

“Not yet. You and I are going to brief her and the chairman of Highland Life, Francis Denham, tomorrow morning to see if we can get her to agree to freeze his assets,” Harry said. Lucas squashed the urge to roll his eyes. Talking to bankers and politicians. Two of his favourite things. Ben was lucky. Lucas would take being a harried barista in a posh coffee shop over making nice with politicians. Though, he supposed Jillian Calderwood wasn’t the worst. Just… cautious. To the point of irritability. Despite being the one to suggest it, Lucas doubted Calderwood would give them an inch. Not without hard evidence and assurances.

“Where did we get the intelligence from?” Jo asked.

Harry and Ros exchanged a glance, drawing Lucas from his musings. “One of Meynell’s managers. We turned him yesterday,” Harry said carefully.

“And…?” Ben asked. Bloody spooks with journalism backgrounds, Lucas thought. He rubbed his mouth once. Lucas didn’t need to hear Ros’ or Harry’s answer to know that, if they weren’t leaning on the manager, it was likely because the manager was no longer in play. He just hoped it was only the poor sod’s job MI-5 had cost him and not something… more than that.

“Face-down in the Thames, I’m afraid,” Ros said casually, as if commenting on the weather.

Damn. For a moment, no one said anything. Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. If anyone could get the evidence they needed to shut Meynell down for good, it’d be Ros. Of course, that was assuming Meynell didn’t find out she worked for MI-5 and decided the manager needed a friend in the Thames. Hopefully, Lucas’ assessment of Calderwood was wrong, and they’d have her support. If not… well, that’d just make things more difficult. A lot more difficult.

Finally, Malcolm coughed surreptitiously. “I might have some gadgets to help you, Ros.”

“No good,” Ros said. “Meynell is obsessively cautious and will have tight security measures in place.”

“Which means it’s all on me to make sure you don’t find yourself in the Thames?” Ben surmised with a grimace.

“Exactly,” Ros said. “You and I will work out a code for various types of coffee. Think you can manage it?”

Lucas snorted. “Ben’ll be fine,” he said. He smiled encouragingly at Ben. “Right?”

“Right,” Ben said, a little less confidently.

“Wait, hold on,” Jo said, holding one hand out as if she could physically stop them. “We’re going to send Ros into a situation with minimal Grid support after Meynell killed the last person to speak with us?”

“What choice do we have?” Harry asked. “We need to stop Meynell before he cripples the British economy and the only way we can do that is if we can find evidence that he is participating in insider trading on a massive scale. No one in Meynell’s organization is going to agree to work with us after what happened to the last manager to speak with us.”

“Besides, Ros can always kill Meynell with a fork if he tries to kill her,” Lucas chimed in. His quip had the desired effect; Ros glared at him as Ben and Jo chuckled nervously, alleviating a bit of the tension, even if it was only fractionally.

Harry sighed. “If we are done joking around, perhaps we can disperse? Lucas, if you wouldn’t mind staying behind so we can prepare the briefing for tomorrow. Ros, Ben, work out whatever codes you need to. Jo, help Malcolm monitor the situation with Highland Life until we launch the operation tomorrow. Remember, we need to stop Meynell, or he will destroy the lives of millions of British citizens.”

“God help us all,” Malcolm whispered, so quietly that Lucas was certain he was the only one to hear it. Lucas added a silent amen.

-x-

Stepping into Jenny Hunter, tax manager, had been easy enough. For all that she found paperwork dull, her father had ensured that Ros knew how to file her taxes the proper way. “All the better to work the system,” he had used to tell her. So pretending to be a tax manager, here to do her job and do it well, wasn’t overly difficult for her. What was difficult was using her cover to see if there were any obvious discrepancies in Meynell’s taxes when no one important was looking. It was a long shot, one that she rather doubted would pay off. Everything MI-5 had on Meynell suggested that he was too paranoid, too cautious, to be foolish enough to leave something that screamed insider trading in his taxes. Copying the sim card had been a risk, but Ros didn’t come all this way to play it safe. Not with the British economy on the line. She simply hoped it was worth the extra attention she had generated by copying it, both from Meynell and Asa Dalek. Ros tapped her pen impatiently, waiting for Ben to hurry up to deliver a coffee verifying if her little gamble had borne any fruit.

As she switched between documents, Ros shot a quick look at Meynell’s office. If he was this cautious, and this difficult to catch with his fingers in the pie, then she had her doubts that he’d have something on the sim card. Maybe if they were lucky, certainly. But when have we ever been that lucky? Ros’ grip on her pen tightened infinitesimally. They’d have to get creative if there wasn’t any information on the sim card. Given that Meynell had told Dalek to raise the stakes against the bank, she gathered that Harry and Lucas had been unsuccessful in convincing the chancellor to freeze the assets, which meant that evidence was the only way to shut Meynell down. The chancellor throwing support behind Highland Life was nothing but a respite, granting them maybe another day to get the evidence needed to shut Meynell down. Please, let there be something on that bloody sim card.

Ros’ thoughts were disrupted when an errand boy appeared with a bouquet of flowers. She had to fight off the scowl. Meynell. Ros hadn’t missed his rather obvious interest in her, despite his reservations. He would hardly be the first honeypot operation she’d participated in, and, unfortunately, she rather doubted he’d be the last. Still, until she knew what was on his sim card, she wasn’t about to deviate from the plan. Not with the stakes so high, and certainly not when she knew Meynell wasn’t above killing perceived traitors. She had a bottle of red wine at her flat, waiting for a job well done, and she would very much like to go home to enjoy it, not go for a swim in the Thames.

“Delivered in person,” the boy said and smiled at her before leaving to speak with another manager. Ros lifted an eyebrow. Not Meynell, then. She unceremoniously placed the flowers on her desk and looked at the card. “Just because. Love ‘Pete’.” That wasn’t promising. Ben was supposed to send her coffee, not flowers. That he hadn’t didn’t bode well. Either he was compromised and couldn’t stick to the planned coffee order, or the Grid thought he needed backup. She repressed an annoyed huff. Ben would have to learn how to perform undercover work, eventually. Sending Jo or Lucas to cover for him would only hamper his progress. A darker thought wormed its way into her mind, settling comfortably. Maybe the Grid hadn’t sent Ben backup. Maybe they thought she needed backup. Ros dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Harry wouldn’t have given her Section D if he didn’t think she was capable, and he certainly wouldn’t have sent her undercover on an operation of this magnitude if he thought she couldn’t handle it. Which brought her back to wondering why the Grid was deviating from the agreed coffee communication. Coffee was safe. No one would think twice if she was sipping at a caramel macchiato earlier in the day, and then a chai latte in the afternoon. They would think twice about visitors. Jenny Hunter was a new employee, and already having visitors distract her from work? Not a good look.

Stealing another glance at Meynell’s office and satisfied that he was speaking with Dalek and really wouldn’t miss her for a few minutes, she got to her feet and swept out of the office. The only reason the Grid would have sent “Pete” to speak with her was because they needed to pass a message on to her more urgently than Ben’s delivered coffee. And there were only two messages that warranted an in-person delivery: there was nothing on the sim card and her gamble had been for nothing, or her cover was blown and she needed to get out before Meynell decided to visit upon her the same treatment he’d given the last asset.

Ros pursed her lips as she saw Lucas waiting in the hall. Part of her knew “Pete” was Lucas, even if it annoyed her. Really, he was the only officer it could be. Ben was busy playing Nick the Barista, and Jo was back at base, under Harry’s watchful eye. The chances of Harry, himself, coming to see her were negligible. Still, seeing Section D’s significant annoyance standing in the front entryway, his back to her, did not improve her mood. If Lucas was here to deliver bad news, it meant the chancellor had dug her heels in about freezing Meynell’s assets. Wonderful. No doubt she’d have to get inventive to uncover any dirt on Meynell, and she’d have to work quickly. 

“Pete,” she said warmly. Lucas turned and smiled at her. For a second, she thought it might have even been genuine. “Thank you, darling.”

She stopped in front of him, and Lucas leaned down to give her a light kiss. She pressed her palm to the centre of his chest and lifted an eyebrow. At least I don’t have to kiss Ben. With a small incline of his head, Lucas slipped his arm around her waist and led her away from the scanners. His voice was low as he murmured, “There’s nothing on the sim card. Treasury’s going crazy. People are trying to withdraw their money from Highland Life, and Calderwood says they don’t have enough funds left to save the bank.” Shit. Lucas being here was a definite bad wrench in the plan, then. Ros turned to look at Lucas and, in doing so, saw movement in her peripheral vision. Stealing a glance sideways, she saw Meynell on the phone, standing on the other side of the scanners. Ros barely bit back her grimace. Perhaps she had under-estimated Meynell’s attentions towards her. “We need to prove exactly what Meynell’s up to, so you’re going to have to get closer to him. A lot closer.”

Ros looked back at Lucas and gave him another smile, even as Lucas also looked briefly towards where Meynell was slowly approaching them. “Well, the last person we said that to ended up face down in the Thames.”

“Well, that person wasn’t you,” Lucas said, smirking. He’s not wrong about that.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m not sure you showing up here as my boyfriend is really going to help,” Ros said, still smiling as she tilted her head towards Lucas.

Lucas glanced over at Meynell again. “Come on, Ros, you know what men are like.” He looked back at her, still smirking. If she didn’t find him so bloody annoying, it might have almost been attractive. “It’s all in the challenge,” he said and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, one that lasted long enough to pique Meynell’s attention, but not long enough to be indecent. Thank God for small mercies.

When Meynell was close enough, Ros turned towards him and said, “Alexis.” She felt Lucas turn as well and a quick glance up confirmed he was, in fact, giving a feigned smile. It wasn’t even particularly subtle - she was reasonably certain even Ben could tell that it was fake, and he was still new at the job. “This is my partner, Pete,” she said, sliding her hand around his waist and giving his side a pinch. Come on, Lucas, you can do better than that, surely. Harry had nothing but glowing praise for his wayward protégé, and after the whole Cybershell debacle, Ros had to very begrudgingly admit Lucas was perhaps acceptable as an intelligence officer. Which meant she had little doubt he could conjure a far more convincing smile for a few minutes.

Unsurprisingly, Lucas didn’t even flinch or let on if he noticed she had pinched him. Instead, he extended his hand and said, “Fiancé Pete, hi.” Meynell took Lucas’ hand and looked about as convinced about Lucas’ sincerity at meeting Ros’ new “boss” as she was.

“Sorry, I’m still not used to saying that,” Ros said with a chuckle, and gave Lucas an adoring look. She rather hoped that he saw the murderous look in her eyes that said she was going to kill him when the operation was done. Really, fiancé? How the bloody hell is that supposed to help me get close to Meynell? At least she had always enjoyed a challenge. Otherwise, she might have damn near groaned in front of Meynell. She comforted herself with thoughts of vengeance, everything ranging from sentencing Lucas to the paper archives for a week to swapping all the coffee in Lucas’ flat for decaf.

“Hm,” Meynell said and Ros smiled at him. “Don’t wear an engagement ring, either.”

Ros thought it was rather fortuitous for Lucas that, unlike him, she did specialize in undercover work and was rather adept at salvaging annoying situations brought on by equally annoying colleagues. “Well, we haven’t been out to choose one yet,” she stated matter-of-factly and met Lucas’ eyes. You are a dead man when this is done. He gave her an approving look, and she very nearly scowled at him. The bloody wanker is testing me? He was dead.

There was a pause. Slowly, carefully, as if choosing his words, Meynell said, “You know, I don’t normally allow visitors in my place of work.” Ros didn’t miss the emphasis he placed on work. She inhaled slowly, biting the inside of her cheek against the barest hint of a begrudging smile. Looks like Lucas might have been right about piquing Meynell’s interest through challenging him. Not that she’d admit that to Lucas. She’d much rather put a fork in his throat than admit he might have been right about something, and Ros had sworn off killing anyone else with a fork. She’d never hear the end of it from Lucas, who would no doubt embolden Jo and Ben to make jokes about it as well.

Lucas blinked and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I just popped in as I work around the corner.” Ros pinched his side again. Lucas was treading in dangerous waters. At least they had slept together a few times, enough that the two of them could sell the idea that they might be engaged. But Lucas claiming he worked in the area? That was ambitious. This area was all banks and Ros rather doubted that Lucas had the same formal education in banking and accounting that she had had. Meynell would see through him within a few questions, and that would put her in jeopardy.

“Where would that be?” Meynell asked and Ros had to repress a wince. Damn it. She looked up at Lucas, who was giving a rather impressive condescending smile to Meynell.

“What some might call a proper bank. Zurich International,” he said.

“Right,” Meynell said as he glanced at Ros. Ros smiled at him and tilted her head closer towards Lucas. If Lucas was trying to make Meynell hate him, she figured he rather spectacularly succeeded at that. At least he’d done his homework about banks in the area. Or, more likely, Malcolm had quickly concocted an identity for Lucas and briefed him on everything he’d need to sell Pete the Banker. “Then you’ll have received my invitation to a little fundraiser later?”

Lucas hesitated, and Ros inwardly cringed. How do I salvage this? She could try saying that “Pete” was new to the job, or could say that he received it, but was busy tonight. She could even try saying that “Pete” would love to go, but had just come in to tell her that his cat had been hit or something equally terrible that would suitably excuse Lucas from having to play Pete the Banker at a party filled with people like Meynell.

“Well, my PA doesn’t always pass on social stuff,” Lucas quipped before she could say anything. His voice was confident, despite his earlier hesitation.

“It’s not social,” Meynell said. Ros’ eyes widened almost minutely. Well, this just got worse. Was Meynell so confident in his plot to destroy Highland Life that he was already throwing a victory party? “I’m launching the British arm of my charitable foundation. And I know that Zurich takes philanthropy very seriously.”

Ros lifted both eyebrows. She had expected a very different answer from Meynell. Charitable foundation? Maybe that was the key to the evidence they needed to take Meynell down. Shell company, maybe? Ros glanced up at Lucas. His face was unreadable. She assumed he’d also picked up on the curious nature of Meynell’s little party, and would dutifully pass it on to Malcolm. Perhaps she might get to crack open that bottle of red wine sooner than she’d anticipated. She might even share it with Lucas, if his appearance as her fiancé was what cracked the paranoid Meynell.

“Well, in that case, how can I refuse?” Lucas said flatly. The corner of his mouth flicked up in an annoyed smile. Ros wanted to rub her eyes. Lucas wasn’t even bothering to hide his annoyance at having to play Pete the Banker longer than expected, though he had no one to blame but himself for his predicament. Next time, he could show up as Pete the Delivery Boy, like was initially planned, and save both of them from fumbling their way through an impromptu relationship neither of them had time to collaborate on. Already, she was forming polite excuses to offer Meynell; Pete was such a hard worker, took his job so seriously, was merely irritated at being taken away from his very important work, but she wouldn’t complain, oh no, because it’d mean she could see him for a change! As improvised stories went, it might just work, and give her the perfect excuse to get a bit closer with Meynell. She smiled. Maybe she’d spare the coffee in Lucas’ flat, after all.

“Good,” Meynell said, with no small amount of disdain. “Shall we?” he asked Ros.

Ros nodded and, as soon as Meynell’s back was turned, gave Lucas a worried look. He inclined his head towards Meynell and exaggerated rolling his eyes. Ros scowled at him before leaving to go back through the scanners. She had work to do and a charitable foundation to attend, and an economic vulture to stop.