'Hero' by DD Agent
After reading so much good fanfic in this section, i just had to write one of my own. Before Juliet mentioned their relationship in 5.2, i never had any idea of Harry and Ruth. I have seen the error of my ways. Hope you enjoy and like the story. Please review so I can see if people want more.
Oliver Mace entered the office of his summer house. The building, Tudor built, had been refurbished last year; and he was enjoying the changes. However, a headache (verging on a migraine) disturbed the atmosphere.
"Monsieur Mace? Would you like a cup of tea?" asked his French maid Gabriella. The perky brunette always looked cheerful; her soft blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders.
"Yes, thank you Gabriella. You couldn't fetch the pain killers as well could you?" the maid scurried away to prepare the tea. Oliver absently rubbed his arm, the white scar beaming like a beacon under his shirt.
Three years ago, he had tried to cover up the torture of terrorists. During the incident, his name had been blacklisted by many old friends and allies, he had been made to resign his post and he was brutally assaulted by one Harry Pearce.
All due to Harry Pearce's feelings of one Ruth Evershed. It was a pity the poor girl committed suicide. She would have been a valuable resource.
"Your tea and pain killers monsieur," Gabriella stated, laying down a tray in front of him. The bone white china stood out amongst the beige of piles and piles of files scattered amongst the room. He waved the girl away and his eyes immediately turned towards the safe.
All the important files were there. Included were several incriminating evidence reports, black agencies and old legends he had needed to use. Tucked right at the back where no one would ever see was a report that revealed the truth about the Cotterdam incident. The true revelation about the MI5 agent present at their meeting. The evidence that would have set poor Ruth Evershed free and back in old Harry's arms.
As he began to put in the electronic combination, his mobile phone began to ring.
"Hi Daddy, just wanted to call and say hello," said the voice of his ever brilliant daughter, Isabelle. The top of her class since she was two and a registered Mensa member; Oliver was extremely proud of his little girl. She had a particular talent for History and English, and had wanted to lecture at Oxford University. He, on the other hand, had wanted her to join the service at the first opportunity.
"Hello darling. How is University at the moment? The courses are alright I trust?"
"They're great Daddy. So, have you been in the safe in your office yet?" Isabelle asked. Ever since she was old enough, he had taken her into the world of the spook. Oliver had been hoping that she would have become an agent at MI6 when it was time. The nineteen year old would have made a great spy.
"Just checking it now. Hopefully we won't have to shoot any of the refurbishing men," Oliver chuckled, opening the safe. "Is there anything you want me to check on?"
"The Cotterdam file,"
Yes, the Cotterdam file. Isabelle had taken a liking to that one and had voiced her opinions over it greatly. They had always argued long into the night about whether framing Ruth Evershed was a good idea and the merits of having made the whole of MI5 enemies. Mace opened the safe door, prepared to extract the file and get into another discussion over Harry Pearce's antics.
It was empty.
"The files! They're missing!" Oliver exclaimed into the phone. Someone had all his top secret files. Someone had all his secrets. Someone could ruin him. Oliver couldn't think. He was shaking all over, his hands sweating with fear.
"I should hope so, Daddy. See, when the painters and the movers came to redecorate the summer house, I took the liberty of removing them," Isabelle explained over the phone, her voice cheerful.
"Why? Well you're just going to have to wait and see, aren't you Dad?,"
The phone went dead in his hand, and Oliver immediately collapsed in his chair. His headache was throbbing, his hands shaking. Gripping the phone with both hands, he called some of the few people who had stood by him. He needed to get those files back.
"I want no moaning, no questions asked. The Prime Minister wants you to find Isabelle Mace and bring her, and the files she possesses, into custody. Is that clear?" Juliet finished.
Looking around, she could see many of the same faces now as when she first entered the grid. Malcolm was standing at the side, but with his apprentice George instead of best friend Colin. The only intelligence analyst to survive Harry's reign of firing, Abigail, sat in the corner. Ros sat in Harry's chair now, and Zaf sat beside her in Adam's place. Jo and David (an actor by trade turned spy) finished off the group.
Adam was in a grave in one of the more up market cemeteries in the London area. Harry might as well join him, as retirement was not suiting the broken man. Drinking hard liquor night and day and becoming desperately hermit like was not doing his mind or body any good. And his soul? That went with Ruth.
"If I may ask, why are we investigating this? This is police work isn't it?" Zaf asked, the rest of the group nodding with him. He had become a lot stronger in himself since Adam had been shot and killed and he had had to take control.
"I thought I made it clear that I wanted no questions asked?" Juliet still had a lot of her edge, and that edge made most of the lower sections tremble. Ros also had that gift, and many in the good side of the government thought her a worthy replacement of Harry Pearce.
"Juliet, why are you giving this to us? Surely this is 6 territory. If I was Mace's daughter and I had a ton of files that could ruin him and half the government I would leave the country. What else is going on?" Ros pressed, her voice like a poisonous snake. David began to sink into his seat, not wanting the battle of super females spill into the ranks. The last time Juliet and Ros went at each other, David had tried to calm them down. He still had the teeth marks.
"Isabelle Mace has a file that could set Ruth free and clear any charges or doubt against her,"
George, David and Abigail remained unmoved. None of them had met Ruth, and it was only Abigail who had met Harry. The Cotterdam incident was just a report; and the relationship between both of them was occasional office gossip. But Jo, Zaf, Ros and Malcolm sat up and started to pay attention. They had been waiting an eternity for this moment, and it was within their grasp. Malcolm grasped Jo's hand and Zaf smiled like a Cheshire cat.
"Were you even going to tell us this?"
"Eventually. But for now, you need to find her," Juliet finished, and David offered to help her to the lift. Abigail quietly left the room and took George with her. The old crew just kept staring around at each other, none of them wanting to be the first one to speak.
"Ros? What are we going to do?" Jo asked. Looking round, Ros could see the question reflected in the eyes of Malcolm and Zaf too.
Without saying anything, Ros pressed the appropriate buttons on her phone to get her secretary.
"Katie? Get me Harry Pearce on the phone right away,"
Harry sat by the phone, staring into space. His pets: both cat and dog clambered over the floor for their food. The place looked like a bomb had exploded. Drink bottles piled up in the bin. Old newspapers sat in a corner. The only time the place got a tidy was when Jo came over on Sunday to see how Harry was. But he wasn't thinking of Jo, or his untidy house.
Ros had just called. And he was thinking of Ruth once again.
He had been waiting for this moment for three years, and now he felt nervous. Months of planning on what he would say to her if he ever found her, and his throat wouldn't work. The old grid lot still followed his orders. Even Ros. Though she was now in charge of the grid, and had been for two years; Harry outranked everybody in their eyes. Against Juliet's wishes probably, she had made that call.
The phone started to ring and Harry grabbed it, nearly knocking it to the floor. His sweaty hands made it difficult to hold the phone, but he managed.
"Hello?" he said, a tremble at the back of his throat. Looking at the caller I.D, he saw the number was withheld. Any number like that, and he was just waiting for it to be her. Never was. But just for a second, there was hope.
"Hello Harry," said a familiar male voice. Not Ruth. The voice sounded so familiar though, like watching an old television programme now that you watched every day as a child.
"Do I know you?" Harry asked, still trying to attach a name or a face to the voice. It was so familiar, but his mind was slower now.
"I should hope so. Harry, it's Tom. We need to talk," the thick voice replied.
Tom. One of the best agents Harry had ever worked with, until his conscience got the better of him. They hadn't spoken for five, five and a half years; not since Harry had kicked him out of the service. This had to be about Isabelle Mace. Had to be.
"Of course Tom. What about?"
"Isabelle Mace, the files she possesses and how much they are worth to MI5," Tom replied. Of course, Isabelle Mace was big news behind closed doors. Ros had told him that £3, 000, 000 was the price on the teenager's head.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry retorted. Keeping his voice calm and even was a struggle, but faking innocence was the best bet until Tom told him what he wanted.
"Of course you do, Harry. We need to talk in person, I'll call you later with the details,"
The phone clicked, and Tom was gone.
A payphone on a street corner in London had some interesting characters surrounding it. The only male present, Tom Quinn, was by the phone, and when his call was finished, he put it back in its slot. Outside were two women, two different ages but similar looks.
Isabelle Mace had short brown hair that just grazed her shoulders. Bright brown eyes lit up her face. Nineteen and very pretty, she was a wanted woman.
"It's begun. They want the files Izzy. They want you. My contact says you've got a price on your head. They're bringing out the big guns if they're calling out Harry from retirement to help find you," Tom stated, stepping out of the booth. He slipped an arm around both women, and Isabelle drew into him.
"But you'll protect me right?" Isabelle asked the duo. They both smiled, although the smile didn't reach the woman's eyes.
Ruth Evershed had short brown hair that just grazed her shoulders. Dim grey eyes filled with sadness made her look older than she was. Forty and brilliant, she was a wanted woman.
"We promised Izzy. We'll protect you to the ends of the earth,"
The three walked off down the street, never looking back at the phone booth. Perfectly unaware that Harry had his calls traced and that MI5 agents were running to the empty phone box.