Beyond the Roundels

(I did think about Ten/Martha, but it would have gone: "How come it was your idea to start up a coffee shop, but I'm left doing all the work?" x10. Which is maybe unfair to Ten, but ... not all that unfair, lol!) Besides, I've been in a Spooks mood a lot lately, so, Ruth/Harry for you. (Disclaimer: some of these were written while seriously feverish and weird...)

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Wild West
“Should I shoot him again, Harry?”

“Yes, why not? Always best to be sure about these things…”

Coffee Shop
He came in, as he did every Saturday morning (one black coffee and the Times crossword). She smiled at him, flustered by talk of the weather while she counted out his change – and wrote a cryptic clue on his receipt. He left his paper behind, the answer pencilled into the crossword, and she grinned: it was a date.

Shapeshifters
“Ruth, I know,” said Harry, in the privacy of his office. “It wasn’t all that hard to work out.”

Ruth closed her eyes and finally admitted her darkest secret: “All right, it’s true – I am the mole!”

Pirates
The fearsome Pirate Nancy* liked to think no ship on the four seas was safe from her. Captain Harry Pearce of His Majesty’s Navy liked to think otherwise. (He was wrong.)


*Because when (any) Ruth is a pirate, her name is Nancy, of course. ;-)

. . . In SPACE!!
It was a common joke amongst the crew of the SS Thames House that Captain Pearce was in love with the ship’s computer interface. It was only Technician Wynn-Jones who suspected it might not be a joke after all.

Born Another Gender
Harriet Pearce had always been obstinate and career-minded, fighting her way through years of prejudice both in the WRAC and later in Five. She was, she felt, a damn fine officer (despite being too often passed over for promotion) and so she would remain. This was more than could be said for the current ‘specialist’ she’d been lumbered with – an Oxford professor who was the only one familiar with the archaic language the latest terrorist used.

“You know, I always wanted to be a spy,” said Rupert Evershed, happily. “James Bond and all that.”

God, thought Harriet. It was going to be a long few days.

Schoolfic
“Mr Pearce,” said the librarian running after the Head of English. “I wanted a word with you – it’s about those books going missing from the library. I think I’ve solved the mystery!”

“Ah, yes,” said Harry Pearce. “Pupils again, I expect.”

Miss Evershed ushered him into the library. “No, no. Well, yes, obviously, but I’ve narrowed it down to two and I thought you could help me –”

“Why not?” said Harry.

Police/Firefighters
“Sir, wait,” Ruth said, the phone still in her hand.

Curious, Harry Pearce turned to face the receptionist.

“I’ve been mapping our calls – and I’m sure there’s a pattern to these fires,” said Ruth. “They aren’t random arson attacks – it’s the opening move in somebody’s strategy. It might sound odd, but you have to believe me.”

Strangely, he did.

Urban Fantasy
“Ruth,” said Harry, striding into the grid. “What is it this morning? Dirty bombs in Whitehall or demonic activity in Whitechapel?”

She passed him a file. “Neither. A rogue magician in Hounslow, but don’t worry, we’ve set Ros onto him.”

“Well, tell her not to bare her fangs this time…”

Regency
Society had long since given up Miss Evershed as a hopeless spinster. She was far too awkward and bookish to appeal to the gentlemen. Sir Harry Pearce had heard, however, that unlikely as it seemed, she possessed a keen mind with a knack for languages and codes – and he had a message recovered from a French agent to be deciphered. Whitehall had need of her services, and he was the man to ask her for them.