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“Tell me that isn't locked.”
Stephen pulled at the door, though he already knew perfectly well that it wasn't going to budge no matter how hard he tried. He turned back to Ryan and raised his hands to indicate that nothing was doing.
Ryan shook his head and started to explore the room. It didn't take very long. They were in the cellar of an old country house that Helen Cutter had been using as a base of operations. Lester had authorised a covert operation involving Ryan and two of his men; they'd staked out the place for two days and had been on the point of capturing her when Stephen had shown up.
“I can explain,” Stephen said.
“And I'll be delighted to hear it,” Ryan said, “when I'm ready for it.”
Stephen glumly looked down at his shoes and then moved to sit down on an upturned crate.
Ryan continued his exploration of the room, noting no windows, only the one door and, apparently, no secret passages hidden through the bricks. Finally, having no option, he sat down on a crate opposite Stephen.
“Are you working against the ARC?”
Stephen looked shocked at the question, too shocked for the emotion to be real – he'd have to have been anticipating the accusation, planned for it. Ryan glared at him. Stephen deflated.
“No.” He looked up and Ryan observed some real emotion at last. “No, Tom, please, I haven't. I – I've been trying to get to the truth. That's all.”
“On your own?”
“I don't have much of a choice in that, do I?”
Ryan shook his head to disagree but then stopped; none of them had been as supportive as they could have been, himself included.
They sat in gloomy silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Before Helen's spiteful revelations Ryan had been on the brink of asking Stephen out for something more than just beers with the other soldiers but he'd kept second guessing himself, assuming that Stephen was in love with Cutter. He smiled to himself, realising how wrong he'd been about that.
“What's – what's funny?” Stephen asked.
“Nothing,” Ryan replied. “Just, funny, how you can misread a situation, isn't it? You know I thought you were in love with Cutter, Nick, for the longest time.”
“Cutter? God, no. People assume, a lot. But no, he's – he was – my best friend. But no, I suppose he was just a work colleague, really. In the end.”
“Stephen, you know that isn't true. He's – he's the stubbornest man I've ever met and I'm army so I know what I'm talking about. But he's your friend, even now. He just won't admit it to himself, but we can all see it. He's forcing himself not to talk you.”
Stephen wiped at his eyes, embarrassed by Ryan's kindness. Ryan made a point of re-examining some of the upturned boxes while Stephen composed himself.
Ryan knelt down to examine the box nearest to him, something about it having caught his eye. Stephen came over behind him, curious.
“What have you spotted?”
“This label,” Ryan explained, fingers running across the lettering. “I've seen it somewhere before, recently.”
Stephen squatted down next to Ryan, their shoulders touching as he moved to balance on his toes.
“That's the company in Wandsworth I was looking into last week,” Stephen explained. “I found some receipts that I couldn't make sense of. She was buying all sorts of medical supplies from them – test tubes, saline packs, incubators...”
“Incubators?” Ryan asked, baffled. “What the hell does she want with them?”
Stephen shook his head and stood up, helping Ryan to his feet. Ryan realised they were standing very close and coughed to cover his embarrassment before reaching for his pocket knife and hacking away at the seal around one of the boxes.
Inside, under a copious amount of bubble wrap were vials of blood. Stephen's eye was, not unnaturally, drawn to the three of them with his name on them.
“Don't suppose you remember her plunging a needle into you at any point?” Ryan asked.
Stephen shook his head even though Ryan wasn't really looking at him. “This isn't how you store blood.”
“No,” Ryan agreed grumpily, moving around more bubble wrap to see what was at the bottom of the box. “This is where you put things you don't have a use for but don't want to get rid of.”
With a gentle tug he revealed a dozen more vials of blood each labelled with the name of someone at the ARC, including himself.
“The only way she could have got hold of our blood is from the medical team. Which means Lester was right.”
Stephen blinked, confused. “Right about what?”
Ryan sighed and stood up straighter. “He thinks there's a mole.”
“Me?” Stephen asked.
Ryan glared at him. “Not everything is about you.”
Stephen opened his mouth, surprised, and then started to laugh. Ryan let out a breath and then chuckled himself.
“Sorry,” Stephen said, “I've been pretty self-obsessesd lately, haven't I?”
“You've certainly been giving Cutter a run for his money,” Ryan agreed.
Embarrassed Stephen apologised again and then suggested they look into some of the other boxes. Here they found more samples – tissue, hair – and photos, stacks of photos of all of them, in their homes, at work, on nights out. Ryan was annoyed with himself that he hadn't seen anyone trailing him yet here was evidence that on every run he'd taken, every mountain he'd climbed, someone had been watching.
“What do you think she's been doing?”
“I don't know,” Ryan said. “Lester was worried she might have joined up with a woman – Christine Johnson – to take over the ARC. Put plans in motion to destroy humanity once and for all.”
“Helen wouldn't do that,” Stephen said, weakly.
Ryan coughed. “That woman would see us all dead if she could.” He started to cough some more as he pulled out his phone and registered that there was still no signal this far underground.
“Are you all right?” Stephen asked, then had to pause himself to cough.
Alarmed, they looked at each other and then at the door. Smoke was slowly curling its way under the small gap at the bottom of the door and twisting through the keyhole.
“Your men are out there aren't they?” Stephen asked.
Ryan nodded. “Two of them. When I saw you arrive I gave them clear instructions to capture Helen and I'd go after you. They might be back at the ARC for all I know.”
Stephen guiltily nodded his understanding. “We need some towels or something.”
Still coughing and finding it increasingly hard to breathe they pulled off dust sheets from some of the boxes and pushed them up against the gap in the door. It improved things slightly but it wasn't a permanent solution and they both knew it. Out there the building was burning and could collapse at any moment.
They moved to sit as far away from the door as they could and kept themselves low to the floor. Stephen, who hadn't eaten much that day, his stomach a knot of anxiety, was already feeling light headed and Ryan wasn't faring much better.
“I'm sorry,” Stephen said. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I just – I just got so caught up in myself. I thought I loved Helen but I know none of that was real love. She only ever really had love for herself.”
Ryan put his hand on Stephen's leg and squeezed it gently. “When you get out of here I'm sure you'll find someone who loves you for all your faults.”
There must have been more to his words than he realised because Stephen turned towards him, a startled expression on his face, his mouth not quite forming words.
And then an axe splitting the wood of the door made them both jump.
“Ryan! Ryan! You in there?”
Ryan quickly stood up, ignoring the way Stephen was now looking at him. “Yes, with Stephen. How bad is it?”
“Totally fucked”, came the reply. “Have you out in a – fucking hell get a move on!”
There was a sound of crashing and shouting followed by more cursing. Stephen appeared at his shoulder, not saying anything, and they watched with increasing relief as the door turned to splinters. It wasn't long before some of Ryan's men and some of the local fire brigade were entering and pulling them both out, shielding them as best they could from the raging fire until they were out into the blissful air of a spring evening.
They both fell to their knees, gasping for breath, grateful when oxygen was applied. Impossibly Ryan realised that James Lester was there, helping them both to their feet.
“You had me worried Captain. You too Stephen. Helen's in custody and you two both need to get to hospital.”
Ryan nodded his thanks, unable to speak. He hadn't wanted to let on to Stephen, but he really had thought they were about to die in that room. Stephen mumbled something through his mask but Ryan couldn't hear what he was saying and decided that was probably for the best.
* * * * *
Lester had arranged a shared private room for himself and Stephen so Ryan luxuriated in the quiet rhythm of his own heartbeat and the soft snores of his companion. They'd slept almost two days straight but the doctors had decided late last night that they could be discharged today, provided they didn't do anything strenuous over the next week. Ryan had almost laughed at that, but Lester had been stubbornly insistent that they both take a week's leave and Ryan hadn't had the energy to argue.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Stephen asked.
Ryan had assumed he was still asleep but when he turned on to his side he saw that not only was Stephen awake but that he was almost fully dressed.
“Talk about what?” Ryan asked, shifting to sit up and look around for his own clothes.
“Tom, don't.”
Ryan found his t-shirt and put it on to give him a few seconds to think. “You know, I've always admired that about you. Your ability to just – face things head on.”
Stephen frowned. “What do you mean?”
“First time I met you, you went toe to toe with a dinosaur without hesitation. You stood up to Helen when she outed you at the anomaly, you stand up to Cutter when he's drifting into crackpot territory, you came to work and did the best you could even when Cutter was barely speaking to you...”
“Cutter is still barely speaking to me,” Stephen interrupted.
“Cutter spent last night at your bedside watching you sleep,” Ryan said, pleased at the incredulous look he'd managed to put on Stephen's face. “The team loves you, Stephen, even if lately they haven't had a healthy way of showing it.”
Stephen apparently didn't know where to look, his hands rubbing absent-mindedly down his legs.
“We should probably get going,” Ryan said after a moment where Stephen had looked like he was concentrating very hard on unravelling the mysteries of the universe, and Ryan had saved his energies for putting his trousers on and finding his shoes.
“Right,” Stephen said. “I suppose I should see what new life my fridge has grown while I've been away.”
Ryan smiled. “Or...”
“...Or...?”
“You could come back to mine and we could get a take away and a couple of beers and celebrate the fact that once again Helen Cutter failed to get us killed?”
Stephen's smile lit up his face and Ryan's heart sped up; he was very glad that his heart rate was no longer being monitored.
“I'd like that. But...”
“...But...?”
Cautiously Stephen stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss against Ryan's lips. Before he could take a step back Ryan had grabbed both his arms and pulled him forward, deepening the kiss and smiling against Stephen's mouth as he half fell onto Ryan's bed, but still kept on kissing him.
They slowly moved apart, both licking their lips.
“I might have wanted to do that the first week we met,” Stephen admitted, blushing.
It was Ryan's turned to look incredulous this time. “You – really?”
“Always had a thing for soldiers,” Stephen admitted. “Strong and competent...” He shrugged, embarrassed, and then leant in for another kiss. “And kind,” he added. “And willing to make me believe I can be better, do better.”
Ryan smiled softly and ran his hand through Stephen's hair, enjoying the way Stephen seemed to melt at his touch.
“You know those are all the reasons I like you too.” He put his hand to Stephen's chin and tilted his head up so that Stephen had no choice but to look directly into Ryan's eyes. “We're going to make an incredible team.”
Stephen's response was another blinding smile and a kiss that nearly knocked them both off of the bed. And would have gone on a lot longer if a heavy set matron hadn't barrelled into the room and told them that they were in a hospital not a hotel and if they didn't leave right away she'd have security throw them out.
Trying to keep straight faces, but failing miserably, they grabbed their bags and hurried out of the room, through the ward and out into a balmy London night, side by side, and ready for whatever adventure awaited them next.