OK, OK! So, I thought I had probably better post my swimming fic, being as I am somewhat responsible for the absurd (yet irresistible notion) of Harry and Ruth in their swimsuits!

Just so you don't think we're complete nutters, the conversation went something like this:

Nonsenseandmischief: Hmmmm, off topic, but went swimming today, and was trying to think of ways to get (and by get I mean "force into a story by any means necessary") swimming into a fic (some kind of MI5 fitness tests?) - just so we could have a very awkward Harry and Ruth moment lol

Sakura aka Tapping Toes: O-M-G, that would be hilarious. Heck yeah, fitness tests? Sounds valid enough to me!

And hence the idea was born.

Laurie my dear, your fic probably puts mine to shame, but I'm so glad you did one (even if its just for the fact that it got Mollyina off my case for another 24hrs lol :P) hugs

Ok I'll shut up now, except to say I don't own them, because if I did they all would have had staff training like this in the series!

How he hated her. She's just so bloody infuriating! he thought, as he watched her approach his office. Debra Langham, the once tolerable junior human resources officer, was now head of HR and Training, and was fast becoming the bane of his existence. It seemed like every week she had some new, silly little scheme to "improve" his team. She really didn't have a clue what MI5 was all about. She'd questioned the sociability of the working hours, the health and safety and risk assessment strategies - it was as if she didn't realise they were paid to put their lives on the line! A relaxation room had been the worst suggestion so far: "someplace where you could go and think, be alone, collect your thoughts after a stressful event", Harry recalled her saying, as if the Grid was some kind of spa or holistic retreat. "And where the bloody hell would we put that then!? Next to the ruddy sauna?" he seemed to remember yelling! Thinking back on it, he hadn't seen her for a few days afterwards. He hoped he had intimidated her into submission, but half of him thought she might just be dim-witted enough to have gone off to ask someone where the sauna was.

Now, however, no doubt disappointed by the lack of spa facilities to be found on the grid, she was less than three feet from his door, and Harry held his breath in anticipation of her next bird brained idea. She rapped hard and fast, almost as if it was inefficient to knock in any other manner. She didn't wait for an answer, and simply swooped inside.

"Training requirements" she stated matter of factly, as it that told him all he needed to know.

He raised his eyebrow wearily, not even bothering to make the effort to ask her what she meant.

"Training requirements" she repeated, this time shoving a pile of papers into his hands.

He eyes them suspiciously, scanning over the details on the first sheet. "They've already been bloody trained" he said gruffly.

"I know" she said, with the intonation one might use to address a toddler, "but the JIC wants all training across the services to conform to the new regulations brought in in May according to section 5.6 of the Mandatory Health and Training Programme 2006, and if I am not mistake, the team last had training in April."

If looks could kill then Debra should by rights have been dead 10 times over, but this was one of Harry's worst stares to date. "You're telling me," he said "that I have to renew an entire teams worth of training - training which is less than two months old - because some fuss pot in the ruddy JIC has issued some new paperwork!?"

"Yes!" She nodded vigorously, as if in some inexplicable way it would make him understand better. She turned to leave and Harry made to breath a sigh of relief, but he was stopped short as she paused. "Oh, and Harry, they want the whole team trained - from the top to the bottom. Even the techies. Even you. Have the paperwork filled in and sent back by Friday and we'll arrange a schedule for you all." The door clicked shut just in time, as Harry flung a stapler across the room.

Two hours later, and the stapler was still there when Ruth entered the room, splintering shards of plastic everywhere as the heel of her boot came crashing down on it.

"Shit!" she muttered so quietly that Harry almost didn't here. "What the hell was that thing doing on the floor Harry?"

"Staff training requirements" he stated. Now he was at it.

"Staff training requirements that require you to have staplers on the floor?" she asked.

Ok...hit the review button...you know you want to