The 'trapped' challenge from Mollyina,

1. Your characters must be trapped together and forced to spend time there (lockdown, kidnapping, long car journey, whatever you like). Not all of your characters have to be there, and it doesn't have to be for the duration of the fic, but it should be a big/vital component.

2. The fic must also involve the following things

a) Somebody singing
b) A classic movie reference (yes, you can use the Gold Rush thing)
c) A normally bitchy character doing something nice
d) Mention of at least one ex-spook
e) New shoes (preferably red)

All the characters are property of Kudos and BBC, so don’t sue – I’m a penniless student anyway. I promise I’ll return them in good condition! Actually...would anyone like to buy me them for Xmas?

You may have to suspend belief slightly, but hey, I wrote it in a hurry and this is fic-land:) Enjoy and please R&R!

She had been in the safe house for 3 days now. People, or more specifically, nutters, had a knack for letting themselves into her house. She had come home on Tuesday to find blood smeared through her hallway and into the kitchen, with a note saying “do you really want their blood on your hands?”. She’d known immediately what it referred to: the new abortion legislation was making its way though parliament again, and some of the pro-life extremists had surfaced, coming out of the woodwork, back from the days of Danny, Tom and Zoë. It was probably just scare tactics. They probably wouldn’t harm her. Probably.

Immediately, she had called the one man she could always rely on, and true to form he had appeared in record time, bringing with him an army of Spooks and forensic analysts, but more importantly, he brought reassurance. Not from what he said, or did; just by being there.

She’d moved to the safe house that night. He’d dropped her off. He probably shouldn’t have, but he’d seen the worry in her eyes, and how it seemed to ease slightly when he was around. It made his heart soar to know that he could do that for her, to know that he could be some comfort to her.

Now, 3 days later, her eyes still held the same worry, but there was nobody around to see it. Ruth was stationed in one of their more remote safe houses, set down a long and winding driveway, out in the woodland of the Kentish countryside. Harry had given her time off while this all blew over. She wished he hadn’t. Not because she missed him, as much as that might be true, but because sitting alone in an old stone house in the woods was doing very little to abate her paranoia.

She’d hardly slept in 72 hours. The first night she was still too shaken up, but the second and third it was due to the new terror which consumed her – the noises she thought she could hear, the shadows she thought she saw. Adam had been round twice already to check the place over and to leave a better panic button, and Ruth felt she was becoming a burden with her ridiculous notions of intruders in the house. Still, it didn’t make her feel any better – just because Adam couldn’t find anything, didn’t mean she was safe.

Above the hissing kettle, she thought, yet again, that she could hear a noise. Leaving the room, slowly and deliberately, frying pan in hand like some Tom and Jerry cartoon, she made her way into the lounge. Nothing. She looked around and nothing. She was about to turn back into the kitchen when she stopped dead. She screwed her eyes shut, shook her head, and then opened them again. The netting which hung in the French doors was trapped slightly between them, the outer edge of it flapping in the evening breeze outside. Her heart felt like it was residing in her head. That was locked, she thought, that was locked. I know I locked it – it was true of course, Ruth’s security habits in the house were bordering on obsessive compulsive.

Fumbling in her pocket, she called the only number she knew by heart: Harry’s. Perched precariously on the arm of the sofa, she frantically waved the phone about for signal, and upon finding some leaned awkwardly, like some ill-posed statue, whilst making the call.

“Yes?” came the answer. She couldn’t tell from his tone if he already knew it was her.

“Harry, it’s Ruth” she whispered, although quite why she didn’t know. If ever there was an opportune moment for the mystery intruder to strike, he would have done it by now with her in the middle of such a ridiculous balancing act. No, she was sure he was long gone. “Someone’s been in here. I’m sure of it this time.”

“Sit tight”

-----

It was nearly 8.00pm and falling dark by the time Harry had arrived and been caught up on Ruth’s discovery. Having finally calmed her down, the two sat in comfortable silence in front of the TV, cups of tea in hand. Neither of them was watching it. The volume was down low, but each of them would feign interest in it in between sneaking glances at each other, bathed in the dim, bluish light which it threw out. To an outsider they looked like a couple, spouses even. Ruth yawned, quite loudly, stifling it too late.

“Ruth” he murmured, soft and low “you haven’t slept have you? You can go to bed if you want. I’ll stop up down here and keep my eye on things.”

“Thanks, I’m alright. I’m going to go and have a nice long shower though; I’ll be back down in a bit.”

“I’ll make us some supper” he offered, his eyes dancing with genuine enjoyment at spending the evening together. It wasn’t quite that second dinner date she’d refused him. No, this was infinitely better.

-----

Ruth savoured the warmth of the water on her skin and relaxed a little for the first time in days. She’d hardly dared spend more than 30 seconds under the shower since she got here, so convinced was she that some lunatic would yank back the curtain and knife her, psycho-style.

Wiping a blob of foamy shampoo from her eyes, she sighed and thought of the man downstairs. It was times like these, being alone with him, easy conversation and comfortable silences, which made it hard for her to remember why she had refused a second date. Indeed, she generally found it hard to reconcile herself with the fact that she’d turned him down, but she was both too proud and embarrassed to tell him she was wrong.

She began to sing, loudly and off key, to Seal’s This Could be Heaven. It was fitting, she thought. It was what she sometimes thought about the two of them.

This could be heaven
Maybe we could start a life today
This could be heaven
Love instead of throwin' it all away
This could be heaven
You and me, we know we're our best friends
This could be heaven

She jumped slightly, fearing she had heard a noise above her woeful tune. She turned the shower off. Nothing. She turned it back on and heard it again. Shaking her head she told herself not to be so silly, it was almost certainly Harry in the kitchen. She poked her head around the curtain to do a ‘pyscho-check’ just in case and the door flew open. Panicked, Ruth wrapped the shower curtain tight to her body, as Harry stood shocked.

“Sorry,” he fumbled, trying not to notice that in fact the white shower curtain was almost see through as it clung to her body, “I knocked, but, I, we have to go Ruth, three jeeps have been picked up on surveillance, heading down the driveway”

He stood there a while longer, expecting her to do something, before realising he should probably hand her a towel and look away.

“So where the hell are we going to go? Out the back and into the woods?” she asked, she was facing the back wall of the shower, but looked over her shoulder to check Harry was still facing the door.

“Ye…” he started, but was interrupted by an enormous crashing of the door being rammed. “Run!” he yelled, and yanked her hand; the other one, thankfully, was still clutching the towel around her.

Out on the landing, he could hear them downstairs, and he searched frantically for an escape. He pulled Ruth into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. Glad of the chance, Ruth grabbed her robe and wrapped it tight around her freezing body, whilst Harry frantically formulated a plan. He was pacing, she noticed, in a good way. He stared at the ceiling as he did so his plan began to take shape.

“Ruth” he said, controlled as always “I need you to stand on my hand and open the loft hatch.”

She looked at him as if he was off his trolley, but obliged nonetheless. Fortunately the ceilings were low, and she could reach easily from just standing on his knees. She pushed it open, and a cloud of dust flurried outwards stinging her eyes.

“Now, up you go” he said lifting her slightly.

She hoisted herself in and prepared to give him her hand in return.

-----

Safely, although not altogether gracefully, inside the loft, Ruth’s eyes struggled to become accustom to the dark. She felt herself gag and splutter at the dust she was inhaling, and felt a comforting hand rub her back to ease the coughing. She smiled in spite of the situation. She was glad it was dark now: he couldn’t see her blushing furiously at his touch.

A bluish light registered in the corner of her eye, and she struggled to comprehend what it could be. His phone she realised, slowly.

“There must be a light up here somewhere” he muttered, more to himself than to her, “but we’ll have to seal ourselves in first. We can’t have them seeing the light through the hatch and coming up after us.” She wasn’t entirely sure if he expected a response to the second part either.

“Help me move this chest of drawers over the hatch” he whispered “and try not to drag it too much, they’ll hear us”.

Ten minutes later, chest in place and one very inadequate bulb casting an almost non-existent glow over the place, Harry sat himself down against an old wardrobe, next to Ruth.

“So how long ‘til they get here?” she asked

“Who?” he replied stupidly

“Adam, Zaf, Jo…I don’t know. What do you mean who?”

“Oh, you know” he fumbled “I have absolutely no idea Ruth. I’m so sorry we didn’t step up surveillance more. Adam said…”

“Its not your fault” she uttered. The familiar words were accompanied by a familiar gesture as she gently squeezed his arm.

He felt her shudder as she did so. He wasn’t surprised. It was decidedly cold, and with her wet hair and flannel dressing gown, she must have been frozen.

He shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. “We’re in communication silence too, I’m afraid. Signal’s dropping in and out here.”

She laughed, and could just about make out the puzzled look on his face through the dim gloom. “It’s a miracle you got the signal to receive the surveillance call” she spoke quietly, but with amusement in her voice, as she proceeded to tell him about her ridiculous pose during her phone call to him.

He laughed, and smiled a genuine smile. She noticed it and it warmed her more than the jacket had.

-----

Less than ten minutes later the commotion had died down. Apparently, whoever these people were, they weren’t big fans of hide and seek. Watching from the gap in the rafters, Harry watched as the three jeeps left. Removing his phone, he dialled Adam’s number, to tell him it was all clear, to send a team by anyway but there was no immediate rush. “I’d rather you set about looking for the bastards instead”, he said. Turning to give her the thumbs up, but realising she probably couldn’t see him in the gloom, he heard Ruth yawn across the room.

“You should try and catch forty winks before our lot get here, you sound like you could use it.”

“I’m alright” she yawned again.

He strode over and sat down next to her. “Come on, help me move the chest and we can go downstairs where you can rest a bit.”

They tugged and shoved at the monstrous piece of furniture until the hatch was revealed again and Harry took a moment to catch his breath.

“Erm, Harry?” Ruth asked, tentatively. “We had to push the hatch up, from the bedroom, right?”

“Yes Ruth” he said patiently

“Well, then how the hell do we get it out of its frame now we’re up here?”

She raised an interesting point. He had no idea….getting out again had not been top of his list of priorities at that point, and neither of them had taken the time to realise that the hatch couldn’t be opened from inside.

He reached for his mobile, only to notice that his battery was flashing low from being used in the manner of a torch, and that his signal had disappeared again.

“I think you’d better get comfy” he murmured lowly. For a second a hugely inappropriate thought flicked through her mind at his sensual phrase and a wicked grin threatened to form, but it was quickly dashed as he held up the phone for her to see what he meant. “I’d already sent them after the jeeps; they won’t be here for a while.”

She sighed, and positioned herself back against the wardrobe to wait for her rescue, although, she realised with great irony, her real knight in shinning armour was sat right next to her. Laying her head back, she closed her eyes, and found that sleep, although much needed, came much easier than she’d imagined it would.

He watched her as she slept. So beautiful and peaceful. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and he smiled, wondering what the look on her face would be when she woke up and realised.

She whispered his name. Quietly. So quietly he was sure he was mistaken. No. She whispered it again, still sleeping: “Harry”. It was soft and breathy, the sort of sound one makes when they are content, as though she just enjoyed saying it.

He kissed her hair lightly, so as not to wake her. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but in that one little word, three years worth of self control had crumbled and reduced him to this. Her eyelids fluttered none the less, and Harry held his breath waiting to see if she was waking up. She was.

-----

Outside Jo and Ros finally pulled up in their respective cars. Jo started inside while Ros did a perimeter search.

After many minutes, Jo emerged. Alone.

“They aren’t in there!” she exclaimed, horrified.

“Don’t be daft. Harry phoned from inside after they left, and we’ve caught the bastards now. Where they hell else are they?” she rolled her eyes. Jo had a notoriously unperceptive eye considering she was a spook. No doubt she hadn’t looked very hard. “Go and look properly” she demanded, in full bitch mode. She shouldn’t even be working right now. She had a date with a certain man from the office and was already dressed up the nines when she got the call. She looked at her feet, the red stiletto heels covered with mud.

“No, nothing, honestly, look yourself” Jo said huffily. She was tired and in no mood to be bitched at.

Ros whipped the thermal imaging camera out of her car door and trained it on the ground floor, working her way around the outside. Nothing. The same with the second floor. Thoroughly miffed, and increasingly worried, she was about to call in a team when she spotted something high up in the rafters.

She adjusted the zoom and the focus, but still she could only see one outline. It glowed a soft orange, quite warm, she though, given the temperature it must me up there. She watched for a while, still confused as to what she was seeing. Slowly, the colours intensified to a bright yellow and eventually to white. Jo nudged her side but Ros elbowed her off, still watching, working it out.

She blinked hard thinking her eyes must be playing tricks. She opened her eyes and smiled. The white blob was no longer one form, but two, intertwined. 1, 2, 3, 4 legs, moving together. You sly old fox, she thought.

“For Christs’ sake Ros, what is it?”

“Nothing” she replied sweetly, “I think we should go and check the woods.”

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