Dr. Vera Nair

Indie Field Surgeon RP

[doctorveranair]

"Kindersley here." The man responded with similar curtness, then launched straight to business. "Let me assure you that she is in no real danger from the tag. A necessary evil, but nothing life-threatening. Nothing a good sleep won't fix."

Dr. Nair sipped the water. She had no way to know who was on the other end of Gareth's call and, from his tone, assumed it was work. She was clammy. Her immune system was fighting hard, but her temperature was only a degree or so higher than normal. Nothing to be alarmed about, except that they still had no real idea what was going on.

"Had to be done, I'm afraid, but do let her know that in light of these extraordinary circumstances, she has been granted compassionate leave for as long as she remains in your care." Kindersley let that hang for a moment, but only a moment. "Consider the Jaguar a courtesy gift, a goodwill gesture, for going above and beyond the call of duty on behalf of our liaison. Truly, a lovely vehicle." He was certainly talking about the vehicle, but there was something else dripping from his tone. Dr. Nair was as much a part of this bargain as the Jaguar. More. "Dr. Nair's personal belongings are in the back, it would be appreciated if you could see that they are returned to her. Her personal accounts have been reopened though, of course, company resources will be inaccessible to her for the duration of her leave."

Vera curled into the coats. Her eyelids felt too heavy.

[dontcxckitup]

He froze, staring at Vera, when the other man gave him his name. Kindersley. At least that bastard was still alive – what a shame. “You must think me stupid if you believe I will actually accept your…gracious gift.” Gareth couldn’t help the chuckle briefly crossing his lips. He lowered his phone and put it on speakers. There were no secrets between him and Vera; she could listen in. This was about her as much as it was about him, after all.

“I would love to tell you where you can…shove the Jaguar and all that comes with it, but I’m afraid I am too much of a British gentleman to say it to you directly.” His brow rose, his gaze on Vera the entire time. “I’m counting on your vivid imagination.” Because Kindersley must have one if he really thought Gareth was just going to accept the car. “Now get to the bloody point, Mister Kindersley, I’m a busy man. What do you want?”

[doctorveranair]

Kindersley chuckled. Not a malicious sound, but one of amusement. He wasn't a cat playing with a mouse. He was a man decades removed from the normalcy of everyday life.

Too far removed, really.

Where Vera had fifteen years with the Foundation, Kindersley had forty-five. If he were in most any other line of work, he might have considered retirement. As it was, he was a solitary man quite content to remain in this position of power—high above field work. That period of his life he preferred not to dwell on. Existence was simpler as a faceless bureaucrat. Things hurt him far less now. Less and less with each passing year.

He hadn't even been addressed by his actual name in three years, seven months, and four days.

And he was just fine with that.

"I commend your gallantry, Mr. Mallory. As a fellow spymaster and as a fellow Brit." Kindersley made no claims to being a proper gentleman. He wasn't a gentleman of any sort, really, and that was fine, too. "You may dispose of the Jaguar in any manner you wish. Donate it to charity. Crush it into a cube and throw it into a landfill. Leave it on the street till it's towed. It belongs to you, now. Personally, I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Vera stayed silent, but looked on wearily at the phone.

"Regardless, I do hope you'll let our good doctor take the chance to collect her things. I've taken the liberty of leaving a little something special in her kit. By evening, that bite will turn nasty. I expect no permanent damage, but this little offering serves as a precaution against some rather naughty short-term side effects."

Vera winced.

"Are you listening, Dr. Nair? Your colleague, Dr. Brennan, whipped up this serum just for you."

Vera said nothing, but she frowned. She knew Dr. Brennan well. Dr. Brennan was a well-respected research physician. An immunologist.

"As to business, Mr. Mallory, I humbly request that you take good care of our Dr. Nair. She is a clever one, isn't she? Good as gold and abundantly more useful." He let that hang in the air for a second too long. His tone was laced with implications clear enough that Vera nearly snarled at him. Instead, she shut her eyes tightly. Kindersley continued. "She's a jolly little plaything. If she attempts to leave the country unaccompanied by you, Mr. Mallory, I'll take it that you've cut her loose. Never fear. We'll snap her right up again. She won't go to waste."

"So long as she remains in your care, and keeps her mouth shut, I see no reason to force the issue." Dr. Nair was still registered as the Medical Liaison. Her replacement would work remotely. Quietly. With any luck, the GOI would still catch Nair as intended and, when they returned what remained of her, the specialized locating system she'd been tagged with would give the Foundation all they required: coordinates and time of death. "We aren't animals."

[doctorveranair]

"You're too important to me," she reiterated, her voice soft, but insistent. Even if he would not acknowledge his importance as a world security chief, this stubborn gentleman, he would need to get on board with Vera's feelings for him.

But she let him leave the closet door ajar.

"If it is some sort of tracking device, we should assume that it isn't just any device." The coats began to consume her. It was not a large hall closet. Certainly not designed for long-term habitation. "Foundation doesn't support any standardized internal tracking devices. It's one of those things. If an agent were to desert, to try to reveal the Foundation, an implanted tracking device would be physical evidence that there was something going on even if no one truly believed the extent of the operation."

"So this... Whatever it is, if it is a tracker, it may not be removable. It may not even appear particularly significant in medical screenings. I don't know what it is." Vera leaned back heavily against the coats. "I'm lightheaded, Gareth. Water... Water would be nice."

Still holding his hand, she sank to the floor of the closet.

"The Jaguar—"

Vera was cut off by the sound of Gareth's phone ringing.

She was tired, though. Suddenly exhausted. Her body was fighting an unknown entity. The injection site was a swollen hive.

The phone rang on.

Bond was close, but Kindersley waited on the other end of this call.

[dontcxckitup]

“Of course it isn’t…” Gareth muttered, more to himself than Vera, helping her sit down in the closet. A child would have easily been able to hide between the coats and jackets, but for an adult it was simply too small. She would suffocate in there if she actually did close the door. Now, explain that to outsiders. He didn’t believe there was no way out, though. No matter how good the Foundation’s trackers were, there always had to be a way to get them out of someone’s system.

He was already on his way to the kitchen when his phone rang, though Gareth chose to ignore it as he was filling a glass with cold water. Then, finally, when he was back with Vera, he grabbed the phone and answered it. “Mallory.” Short and firm. The voice he often used when dealing with agents that were particularly annoying him on certain days. He offered the glass to Vera and tilted his head to take a better look at her arm. The injection hole was nearly invisible, but the entire area around it was glaringly obvious. The skin around it was red and swollen, and he could have sworn he noticed sweat on her brow. Virus, after all? He, on the other hand, didn’t have any symptoms at all. Would it take a while?

He reached out with his free hand and gently placed it on Vera’s cheek, thumb stroking tenderly over her skin. She felt warmer than usual – or perhaps it was just the stress of the situation.

[doctorveranair]

"Kindersley here." The man responded with similar curtness, then launched straight to business. "Let me assure you that she is in no real danger from the tag. A necessary evil, but nothing life-threatening. Nothing a good sleep won't fix."

Dr. Nair sipped the water. She had no way to know who was on the other end of Gareth's call and, from his tone, assumed it was work. She was clammy. Her immune system was fighting hard, but her temperature was only a degree or so higher than normal. Nothing to be alarmed about, except that they still had no real idea what was going on.

"Had to be done, I'm afraid, but do let her know that in light of these extraordinary circumstances, she has been granted compassionate leave for as long as she remains in your care." Kindersley let that hang for a moment, but only a moment. "Consider the Jaguar a courtesy gift, a goodwill gesture, for going above and beyond the call of duty on behalf of our liaison. Truly, a lovely vehicle." He was certainly talking about the vehicle, but there was something else dripping from his tone. Dr. Nair was as much a part of this bargain as the Jaguar. More. "Dr. Nair's personal belongings are in the back, it would be appreciated if you could see that they are returned to her. Her personal accounts have been reopened though, of course, company resources will be inaccessible to her for the duration of her leave."

Vera curled into the coats. Her eyelids felt too heavy.

[doctorveranair]

Vera did not take the harshness of his tone as a personal offense—she had spent far too much time around sick, frightened people to make that mistake. Instead, she softened. Her dark eyes were agonizingly full of compassion and care. "Right now, the best thing you can do for me, for us, is to stay safe so that you can ensure I am given the best possible care."

"I'll stand in the hall closet like a nice hat rack if you won't give me the bathroom." This was a tease, but one that she truly meant. She placed the bags inside first and then moved to take her place in the quarantine closet. "You are too important to risk. Too important to the world. Too important to me."

Vera considered.

"I don't think that this is a virus. The Foundation is dead serious about containing any anomalous diseases they can't eliminate entirely. Endangering the general public with an infectious disease and drawing attention to themselves by poisoning the actual Head of MI6 as well as a shopping street packed with civilians seems to me the very last things they would want."

"But we must play it safe." Vera moved to close herself into the hall closet with a bit of a cheek in spite of their precarious situation. "Do you have a blood-pressure cuff? If only I had my kit."

She would have eaten her words if only she'd known that the mysterious Jaguar with her belongings still in the back had already been discreetly driven outside the house.

"Is there anyone else you need to alert..." Her voice dropped out at the final word. "What do you think they've done to me?" The fear was palpable beneath her soft voice. The Foundation had already done so much damage to her. She didn't want to die.

[dontcxckitup]

God, she really was stubborn, wasn’t she? He didn’t actually believe they had given Vera anything that could harm him as well; after all, hadn’t the Foundation constantly claimed they needed him? It wouldn’t play into their hands if he was no more? And that unknown GOI…well, they hadn’t been this subtle about trying to kill them.

“I’m not important at all, darling.” When he died, someone else would take his place. After all, he had just taken the place of his predecessor, too. It was the circle of life; no one even cared about him if he quit his job and left, he would just be gone, the world would keep turning, the people working. He would be forgotten within two days. His hand shot out towards the door so that Vera couldn’t close the closet. It was ridiculous, really, and he would have laughed about her standing between the coats and jackets if the situation hadn’t been so serious. His other hand gently took Vera’s. “I don’t know. I don’t…want to think about the worst case. We should hope they just injected you with some kind of tracker.” Though wouldn’t that have been a lot easier than with a bunch of joggers as a distraction? Or did he over-analyse this now, and gave the Foundation too much credit?

He sucked in a deep breath. “Bond will bring our very own medical team with him; first they will check what’s in your blood. If there is anything in your blood. If it turns out to be a biohazard, we will take the necessary steps from there.” Gareth squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry too much, please. Do you want a glass of water?” Or a drink. He didn’t have a blood-pressure cuff in the house, unfortunately. A glass of scotch usually did the trick.

[doctorveranair]

"You're too important to me," she reiterated, her voice soft, but insistent. Even if he would not acknowledge his importance as a world security chief, this stubborn gentleman, he would need to get on board with Vera's feelings for him.

But she let him leave the closet door ajar.

"If it is some sort of tracking device, we should assume that it isn't just any device." The coats began to consume her. It was not a large hall closet. Certainly not designed for long-term habitation. "Foundation doesn't support any standardized internal tracking devices. It's one of those things. If an agent were to desert, to try to reveal the Foundation, an implanted tracking device would be physical evidence that there was something going on even if no one truly believed the extent of the operation."

"So this... Whatever it is, if it is a tracker, it may not be removable. It may not even appear particularly significant in medical screenings. I don't know what it is." Vera leaned back heavily against the coats. "I'm lightheaded, Gareth. Water... Water would be nice."

Still holding his hand, she sank to the floor of the closet.

"The Jaguar—"

Vera was cut off by the sound of Gareth's phone ringing.

She was tired, though. Suddenly exhausted. Her body was fighting an unknown entity. The injection site was a swollen hive.

The phone rang on.

Bond was close, but Kindersley waited on the other end of this call.

[doctorveranair]

It was, perhaps, a good thing that Vera couldn't read Bond's mind. If she'd somehow detected him thinking of her as anyone's 'conquest,' it may very well have distracted her from even this most dire matter at hand.

"Right," she agreed.

And though, of course, she could not read his mind, Vera would have readily agreed with Bond's assessment of the situation. Gareth Mallory was the priority here. For so many reasons, Gareth Mallory was the one who mattered right now.

"We can't go into one of the shops." They knew they were targets. They did not know what Vera had been injected with and though she did not think the Foundation would risk civilian lives, she couldn't know. She couldn't even be sure it was the Foundation! The GOI was likely still aware of her existence.

No. The risks were too great to involve civilians.

"We can maintain a safe distance from each other for the block and half we are from home." She tried to draw her hand back, but he held firm and so she granted him that much even as she kept pace for them. "I'll sit in the bath and talk to you until help arrives, alright? I'll be just behind the door. I promise, I've no intention of leaving you. I'm not leaving," she insisted as they fast approached the front door.

"You'll hear me all the while, but you'll be somewhat more safely removed from me in case this is..." Vera thought of Sergei and Julia Skripal. It was a fright. The Foundation had been on high alert when the poisonings occurred. The Foundation Medical Liaison at the time had been, by necessity, involved over concerns that the unknown agent affected others who came into contact with it—not just the Skripal's, but medical and police personnel as well. They determined it was not an anomalous toxin, but the Novichok nerve agent that was ultimately discovered was considered a sobering reminder of what humanity was capable of all on its own among the medical ranks of the Foundation.

She gave his hand a tight squeeze and moved to withdraw once more, for his own safety.

"Would you unlock the door, love? Better that I don't touch much." Her tender regard for him was plain all across her features even as she slipped seamlessly back into herself, into her role as doctor. "I love you. I'll be alright. I'll recite sonnets for you through the bathroom door. We can video chat so you can see me. I'm going to be alright. Okay, Gareth? We're going to be alright."

[dontcxckitup]

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice was harsher than he intended, and Gareth scolded himself for it once again. This wasn’t Vera’s fault – but he blamed himself. Actually, of all the people he could have been furious at right now for this situation, he was the angriest at himself for letting it happen. For not being able to properly protect Vera. All the bloody greatest security systems in the world, and they had fallen for the simplest trick in the bloody book! A damn group of joggers, a very obvious distraction!

Even when Vera tried to get out of his grip, Gareth didn’t let her. If only, he tightened it. “We are in this together.” As they reached the house and passed the black iron fence, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. Squeezing her hand lightly. “If you have…anything that can spread to me, I am having it, too. I don’t care about the consequences.” Because, god, he loved her. He loved this woman, and he would do anything for her – even if it meant dying. He didn’t want to lose someone again, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without her in it.

“Besides,” he continued, shifting the bag to try and hold them all with one arm as he was fishing for his keys to unlock the front door, “we only have one functioning bathroom at the moment.” At least an attempt to lighten the mood a little, even if not even he could laugh about it. The door opened, and he stepped inside, reluctantly letting go of Vera’s hand to type in the six-digits-code and keep the alarm from going off. “They wouldn’t inject you with a virus, would they?”

[doctorveranair]

Vera did not take the harshness of his tone as a personal offense—she had spent far too much time around sick, frightened people to make that mistake. Instead, she softened. Her dark eyes were agonizingly full of compassion and care. "Right now, the best thing you can do for me, for us, is to stay safe so that you can ensure I am given the best possible care."

"I'll stand in the hall closet like a nice hat rack if you won't give me the bathroom." This was a tease, but one that she truly meant. She placed the bags inside first and then moved to take her place in the quarantine closet. "You are too important to risk. Too important to the world. Too important to me."

Vera considered.

"I don't think that this is a virus. The Foundation is dead serious about containing any anomalous diseases they can't eliminate entirely. Endangering the general public with an infectious disease and drawing attention to themselves by poisoning the actual Head of MI6 as well as a shopping street packed with civilians seems to me the very last things they would want."

"But we must play it safe." Vera moved to close herself into the hall closet with a bit of a cheek in spite of their precarious situation. "Do you have a blood-pressure cuff? If only I had my kit."

She would have eaten her words if only she'd known that the mysterious Jaguar with her belongings still in the back had already been discreetly driven outside the house.

"Is there anyone else you need to alert..." Her voice dropped out at the final word. "What do you think they've done to me?" The fear was palpable beneath her soft voice. The Foundation had already done so much damage to her. She didn't want to die.

[doctorveranair]

Vera knew she would not recognize anyone near the Jaguar, but she scanned the faces passersby regardless even as she felt for Gareth's cell. "This isn't your car," she clarified. The frame was with Q. They had been talking about it mere seconds before. "This is something else entirely." Her things were in the backseat. "A bribe?"

She shifted an armful of bags in her arm as she pressed Bond's contact. He was one of a select number of those available with just a tap even from the lock screen.

They walked back towards Gareth's house even as the phone rang.

"Bond."

Vera had never met the man, but she'd dealt with her share of Bond-like figures if Gareth's description was at all to be relied upon. "Yes. Hello. This is Dr. Nair." It seemed unnecessary to state the obvious, that she was calling him from Gareth's mobile. She gave their location, first. "M requests immediate assistance. The Foundation has made a... A delivery. A Jaguar appears to have been left for him. Exact make and model as the ruined one. It's a bit... My personal belongings appear to be in the back seat."

A group of joggers in t-shirts and leggings just like Vera's came racing through. There was a commotion of 'on your right' and 'on your left' and 'watch it!'

It would have been nothing, but Vera realized right away that it wasn't. There was a stinging at her upper arm, left side, where one of the joggers had placed his hand to slip past her. She grimaced, still on the phone, and spoke to both Bond and Gareth at once.

"Not good. I've just been... Something's wrong." Vera remained as calm as she possibly could, giving herself a visual inspection. "The injection site is small. It could be—"

Anything, really. But if they wanted her dead, was this how they'd do it? Really?

"Could be a tracer." Her head felt a little funny. Why hadn't she gone after the joggers? Where had they gone? "Could be something else." She took a step away from Gareth. "I need quarantine. We don't know what this is. This is not safe. Gare—Bond, M is not safe."

[dontcxckitup]

In all honesty, Bond wasn’t all too keen on getting a call from M’s phone and his newest conquest was on the other end. Of course he had to take it seriously, but he only fully paid attention when Doctor Nair said the few magic words: M is not safe. Now, he and M didn’t often see eye to eye, but that was something he couldn’t ignore, no matter their differences. “I’ll be right there,” was all he said, as he was already on the way to his car. Phone still tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Get him into the house.” As if she didn’t matter.

Gareth scolded himself silently at how stupid he was – how oblivious and negligent. He was the Head of the British SIS, for Christ’s sake, he was supposed to be smarter than this! Why hadn’t he reacted the second the group of joggers rounded the corner? Why hadn’t he immediately pulled Vera away? It was the simplest trick in the bloody book: distracting in the open, make it obvious, then strike.

He shifted the bags all into one hand and reached out to Vera, ignoring her taking the step back and away from him. Screw the ‘not safe’, he wasn’t going to leave her side. “We’re going back inside and I don’t want a single word of protest!” Gareth told her firmly, fingers curling around Vera’s. All kinds of possibilities were running through his mind. Had they poisoned her? What kind of poison? Quick acting, or slow? Slow was the best, that way they could perhaps find out what it was; however, he couldn’t help but think of the assassination of a Bulgarian dissident writer in London in the seventies – with the help of a simple umbrella. It had taken the poor man four days to succumb to it. He was keen on not letting that happen to Vera. “I’m going to have my people do tests and check you.” The grip on her hand tightened. “I’m not leaving you.”

[doctorveranair]

It was, perhaps, a good thing that Vera couldn't read Bond's mind. If she'd somehow detected him thinking of her as anyone's 'conquest,' it may very well have distracted her from even this most dire matter at hand.

"Right," she agreed.

And though, of course, she could not read his mind, Vera would have readily agreed with Bond's assessment of the situation. Gareth Mallory was the priority here. For so many reasons, Gareth Mallory was the one who mattered right now.

"We can't go into one of the shops." They knew they were targets. They did not know what Vera had been injected with and though she did not think the Foundation would risk civilian lives, she couldn't know. She couldn't even be sure it was the Foundation! The GOI was likely still aware of her existence.

No. The risks were too great to involve civilians.

"We can maintain a safe distance from each other for the block and half we are from home." She tried to draw her hand back, but he held firm and so she granted him that much even as she kept pace for them. "I'll sit in the bath and talk to you until help arrives, alright? I'll be just behind the door. I promise, I've no intention of leaving you. I'm not leaving," she insisted as they fast approached the front door.

"You'll hear me all the while, but you'll be somewhat more safely removed from me in case this is..." Vera thought of Sergei and Julia Skripal. It was a fright. The Foundation had been on high alert when the poisonings occurred. The Foundation Medical Liaison at the time had been, by necessity, involved over concerns that the unknown agent affected others who came into contact with it—not just the Skripal's, but medical and police personnel as well. They determined it was not an anomalous toxin, but the Novichok nerve agent that was ultimately discovered was considered a sobering reminder of what humanity was capable of all on its own among the medical ranks of the Foundation.

She gave his hand a tight squeeze and moved to withdraw once more, for his own safety.

"Would you unlock the door, love? Better that I don't touch much." Her tender regard for him was plain all across her features even as she slipped seamlessly back into herself, into her role as doctor. "I love you. I'll be alright. I'll recite sonnets for you through the bathroom door. We can video chat so you can see me. I'm going to be alright. Okay, Gareth? We're going to be alright."

[doctorveranair]

"Ha fucking ha, Gareth." Vera did a quick-footed little jog-in-place. "I understand the practicality of camouflage. Honest, love, I do. However, I assure you that I would blend just as seamlessly with the yoga moms and the early morning runners wearing a t-shirt that was something other than gray," she elbowed him playfully.

How she loved to tease him.

Still a thrill even after all they'd been through.

"You've had so much on your mind. I'm clothed, aren't I? I'm not frolicking about in one of your under shirts and your pajama bottoms with the ties as tight as they'll go. You've taken good care of me and I am grateful."

"Come on then. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something we both like." She shrugged her shoulder, casual as could be about what sort of garment she might be referring to. "You know I am going to find some way to pay you back." She caught the back of his neck in the palm of her hand and grinned. Impish. Starry eyed. "Not out of some ill-conceived notion of accepting charity or any of that nonsense, we are together. It's different." This she said with confidence. Gareth Mallory had her. "But out of a desire to see the look on your face whenever you find a bill carefully pressed into your glasses case or snuggly wrapped around your favorite pen. Perhaps in lieu of a bookmark?"

They stepped into a promising little shop near the grocery store.

Vera checked prices and perused the sales. Even wealthy as she'd become, not that she had any of that to speak for, she'd never been too wealthy to appreciate a bargain. "From what you've told me of Q," who remained an enigma Vera had never met, but who was described variously as the 'Quartermaster,' the brains of the operation, and, once on the phone, by Ms. Moneypenny to Vera in a brief, non-confidential message for Gareth as he was on another call, as 'that stark-raving nutter spent two million research dollars on clicky-pens that explode and he did it without my signature,' "a frame may yet be enough to restore the Jaguar to its former glory."

So it was for a number of blouses, an acceptable black dress, and some pants.

A decent bra took slightly more effort, but Vera managed to do it right and rope Gareth into the selection process. "Black has always suited me. Or red." She considered a striking canary yellow and a rich purple silk. It would be subtle, certainly, but it felt like just the right color against her skin. What do you think? What are your thoughts on lace? This one fits, but do you think it's right for me?"

A woman in her mid-thirties remarked that the two of them were 'adorable.'

It was not until they left the shop that they saw it. It certainly had not been there when they'd gone into the shop—a sleek vintage Jaguar, the same make and model as Gareth's, with what Vera immediately recognized, from the silk scarf on the handle, was her own luggage just visible in the back.

There it was, parked right there in front of the shop as though they'd driven it to the shops themselves.

The car was in park, but the key was still in the ignition.

[dontcxckitup]

When they were finally finished with the clothes shopping and left the last store, Gareth’s hands were full with bags. Thankfully they weren’t all that heavy, but still a bit unwieldy. Grocery shopping, he realised, was going to be interesting. It had taken a while until they had everything Vera needed, although he had to admit he had pictured it to take a lot longer. Vera knew what she wanted, and she was rather quick to try the pieces on and make a decision – and although he wasn’t a big fan of clothes shopping, Gareth had willingly and happily given her advice. However, when the bra question had come up, he had only raised his brow. Did it really matter? No one would see the bras, anyway, and he preferred them on the floor rather than Vera’s body.

Actually, he also preferred his t-shirts on her rather than the ones his Chief of Staff had got her, but he could see why they weren’t made to be worn outside by a lady. They were mostly his old army t-shirts, some with holes in them. She did look great in his old ‘I hate sand’ t-shirt, although she was only wearing it at home. Home. It was odd thinking about it. It was his home, yes, but now it was also Vera’s. He had let that woman into his life, his house, and most importantly, his heart, still not knowing if it was going to last. Though when she had said they were together, his heart had leapt.

Now, it leapt because of other reasons. Gareth stopped in his tracks, having just stepped outside the store, staring at the car in front of them. As if it had magically appeared, poofed out of a cloud of dust while they had been busy discussing bras barely one metre away. Now, usually he would have looked at the car from every angle, considering it was the same model of Jaguar that his had been. But this was just more than suspicious.

The smile on his lips dropped as he stared at it. It had the exact same dark green colour as his, the same black leather seats. And then the scarf, and the luggage on the backseats. Immediately he became wary of their surroundings, eyes scanning the immediate buildings around them. The people passing by. They all seemed normal; tourists and Londoners alike, nothing out of the ordinary. “Vera,” Gareth murmured, automatically shifting to be in front of her, “we should go home.” He shook his head. “Q wrote just today the car is beyond recognition. The phone is in my left inner jacket pocket; get it and call Bond.”

[doctorveranair]

Vera knew she would not recognize anyone near the Jaguar, but she scanned the faces passersby regardless even as she felt for Gareth's cell. "This isn't your car," she clarified. The frame was with Q. They had been talking about it mere seconds before. "This is something else entirely." Her things were in the backseat. "A bribe?"

She shifted an armful of bags in her arm as she pressed Bond's contact. He was one of a select number of those available with just a tap even from the lock screen.

They walked back towards Gareth's house even as the phone rang.

"Bond."

Vera had never met the man, but she'd dealt with her share of Bond-like figures if Gareth's description was at all to be relied upon. "Yes. Hello. This is Dr. Nair." It seemed unnecessary to state the obvious, that she was calling him from Gareth's mobile. She gave their location, first. "M requests immediate assistance. The Foundation has made a... A delivery. A Jaguar appears to have been left for him. Exact make and model as the ruined one. It's a bit... My personal belongings appear to be in the back seat."

A group of joggers in t-shirts and leggings just like Vera's came racing through. There was a commotion of 'on your right' and 'on your left' and 'watch it!'

It would have been nothing, but Vera realized right away that it wasn't. There was a stinging at her upper arm, left side, where one of the joggers had placed his hand to slip past her. She grimaced, still on the phone, and spoke to both Bond and Gareth at once.

"Not good. I've just been... Something's wrong." Vera remained as calm as she possibly could, giving herself a visual inspection. "The injection site is small. It could be—"

Anything, really. But if they wanted her dead, was this how they'd do it? Really?

"Could be a tracer." Her head felt a little funny. Why hadn't she gone after the joggers? Where had they gone? "Could be something else." She took a step away from Gareth. "I need quarantine. We don't know what this is. This is not safe. Gare—Bond, M is not safe."

[doctorveranair]

Vera gave his calf a good, comforting squeeze.

She was quiet for a few moments, trying to come up with some witty rejoinder that wasn't an expression of envy that he could forget such a powerful sentiment when she herself was cursed with a memory that seemed never to let anything go. Quotes like that stuck with Vera for always. The same way she remembered Gareth's personal number from the first time they'd ever met, so too did quotes and lines hold fast in her unceasing mind.

"I'll let you have a reread when I've finished." It was a mild tease. She wished she'd never chosen Watership Down. Same as she wished she hadn't chosen Edgar Allen Poe and Virginia Woolf before Richard Adams.

Dark figures seemed to beckon Vera in times like these. She felt helpless to escape them and so she indulged them, instead.

For better or for worse.

Mostly for worse.

"Grocery shopping sounds divine." She shut the book gently and pulled herself up from the carpet beneath him.

There wasn't a doubt in Vera's mind that the Foundation was surveiling both her and Gareth. If they wanted to take her, they would.

-

Kindersley was, indeed, keeping a close watch.

He fully expected Mallory to make an attempt to spirit Dr. Nair into a new identity in some far flung city once the man finished pumping her for information and had his fill.

Of course, Kindersley was confident that he could snap Nair up at any time. He chose not to because, as an asset, Nair was currently more useful to the Foundation exactly where she was. She was healing up. Hiding out with Gareth fucking Mallory post GOI attack—and all sources indicated that the GOI still thought she was the Medical Liaison. Recuperating, certainly, but expected to return.

Still, he raised an eyebrow when his agent on the ground informed him that Nair and Mallory were leaving his home on foot, apparently headed for a grocery store.

"Tag her and dangle the carrot for Mallory."

-

Vera wore loose exercise clothing. Dark leggings. A gray t-shirt from a pack of gray t-shirts. Sneakers that were perhaps a bit too tight. They were the simplest things she could have asked for and they'd been delivered early in her stay—a mercy. For the moment, these clothes and the few things she'd been carrying that night were quite literally all she had to her name.

Of course, Gareth was far too important to take two weeks off and he could not bring her everywhere he went.

She had known that his house was being closely monitored, that she was supposed to be safe there, but she only felt safe when he was there with her. Even then, it felt like she was living on borrowed time.

"Maybe we could peek into one of the clothing shops? I'm a little down on gray and black gym clothes," she said hopefully. "I'll pay you back." This was added somewhat less hopefully. She couldn't access her accounts without giving away her location and she couldn't give away her location, even though she was confident that Kindersley knew where she was, because she was still afraid of the GOI.

Still, Vera took his hand as they walked.

The brisk midwinter air felt so good on her skin. All the better with Gareth to enjoy the sensation by her side.

[dontcxckitup]

The second they stepped out the front door, his mind was already reeling again, his gaze wandering around to scan the area. As the Head of MI6, this was pretty normal, though not in this extent. He really was getting paranoid. Gareth turned and took Vera’s hand, entwining their fingers as they were walking through the small black iron gate and down the street. Here, it was quiet. Barely anyone ever managed to get lost in this street. However, once they were on the main street, things looked different: that was were the tourists were walking on their way to Hyde Park and Kensington Palace, or to one of the countless of museums in the area. He couldn’t blame them, really, but he did enjoy the quieter rainy days, when the streets were emptier.

Gareth glanced down at Vera’s pants and the t-shirt as his gaze was wandering up, a mischievous little smirk tugging on his lips. “Why? Don’t you like looking like a generic jogger all day, every day?” he teased. Admittedly, though, it really was dull always wearing the exact same outfit, and for two weeks at that. Tanner could have really got her something else; then again, perhaps this was Gareth’s fault. Perhaps he should have asked a woman to get clothes for a woman, not a man; Moneypenny, for example. Just someone who had a better eye for these things.

“You don’t have to pay anything back.” Gareth shook his head, then leaned over to place a tender kiss on Vera’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking much about the clothing question. I should have taken better care of it.” There actually were women’s clothes in his house; but they were packed away in cardboard boxes in the attic, belonging to his late wife. Remnants he still, after decades, wasn’t able to throw away. And frankly, although he would have loved to give them to Vera, he thought it would be odd to see her in his wife’s dresses. He looked over his shoulder once more when they were rounding the corner. To everyone else they looked like a typical couple going for a walk; but he had a feeling they were watched by people he didn’t want in his life. “Q branch gave me an analysis on the car,” Gareth told her. “Or…what is left of it. I can have the frame,” he joked, although it pained him all the same.

[doctorveranair]

"Ha fucking ha, Gareth." Vera did a quick-footed little jog-in-place. "I understand the practicality of camouflage. Honest, love, I do. However, I assure you that I would blend just as seamlessly with the yoga moms and the early morning runners wearing a t-shirt that was something other than gray," she elbowed him playfully.

How she loved to tease him.

Still a thrill even after all they'd been through.

"You've had so much on your mind. I'm clothed, aren't I? I'm not frolicking about in one of your under shirts and your pajama bottoms with the ties as tight as they'll go. You've taken good care of me and I am grateful."

"Come on then. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something we both like." She shrugged her shoulder, casual as could be about what sort of garment she might be referring to. "You know I am going to find some way to pay you back." She caught the back of his neck in the palm of her hand and grinned. Impish. Starry eyed. "Not out of some ill-conceived notion of accepting charity or any of that nonsense, we are together. It's different." This she said with confidence. Gareth Mallory had her. "But out of a desire to see the look on your face whenever you find a bill carefully pressed into your glasses case or snuggly wrapped around your favorite pen. Perhaps in lieu of a bookmark?"

They stepped into a promising little shop near the grocery store.

Vera checked prices and perused the sales. Even wealthy as she'd become, not that she had any of that to speak for, she'd never been too wealthy to appreciate a bargain. "From what you've told me of Q," who remained an enigma Vera had never met, but who was described variously as the 'Quartermaster,' the brains of the operation, and, once on the phone, by Ms. Moneypenny to Vera in a brief, non-confidential message for Gareth as he was on another call, as 'that stark-raving nutter spent two million research dollars on clicky-pens that explode and he did it without my signature,' "a frame may yet be enough to restore the Jaguar to its former glory."

So it was for a number of blouses, an acceptable black dress, and some pants.

A decent bra took slightly more effort, but Vera managed to do it right and rope Gareth into the selection process. "Black has always suited me. Or red." She considered a striking canary yellow and a rich purple silk. It would be subtle, certainly, but it felt like just the right color against her skin. What do you think? What are your thoughts on lace? This one fits, but do you think it's right for me?"

A woman in her mid-thirties remarked that the two of them were 'adorable.'

It was not until they left the shop that they saw it. It certainly had not been there when they'd gone into the shop—a sleek vintage Jaguar, the same make and model as Gareth's, with what Vera immediately recognized, from the silk scarf on the handle, was her own luggage just visible in the back.

There it was, parked right there in front of the shop as though they'd driven it to the shops themselves.

The car was in park, but the key was still in the ignition.

[doctorveranair]

Two weeks passed.

Kindersley did not send for her. The GOI made no reappearance. Not to her knowledge, anyway.

She knew that some other agent must already be filling in for her. It wasn't as though medical anomalies ceased to exist just because Dr. Vera Nair was out of the game. But she sincerely hoped, whoever they were, they were treated well. She was optimistic about that. None of her known predecessors had been forced into the position, it was only Vera who had been effectively held hostage throughout her term.

In a sense, she was still a hostage. There was no news about Tom. None that she could find. None that Gareth had discovered and thought to impart.

And Vera wanted to be with Gareth. She wanted to stay with him.

But staying anywhere was hard. They had no genuine confirmation that she was safe in his home, certainly not beyond the gate.

Even in the overgrown garden, where Vera built a tiny house beneath the wild hydrangeas, a house that could only be seen when the two of them lay sprawled out on a blanket on the grass with their books, Vera had trouble feeling safe. She couldn't stop worrying that she'd gotten Gareth into danger—even more than his own occupation usually provided.

Vera curled her knees beneath Gareth's desk, the rest of her read one of his books in ray of sunlight.

One benefit of living with Gareth, staying with Gareth, at least, was that she had access to his library. Every once in a while, she'd sit up just long enough to rest her head on his thigh or read a passage aloud.

"'All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.'"

She had read Watership Down before. Long, long ago. This reading felt more timely than ever.

Now, every distant siren and knock at the door left Vera reaching for her weapon.

Just in case.

"I was thinking I might make biryani."

[dontcxckitup]

He barely looked up from the papers he was reading, though at the sudden change of topic, he did glance over at Vera as if he was looking at her over the rim of glasses. “...I don't remember that being in the book?” Gareth concluded the obvious. It was grim, though, wasn’t it? Surely there were more joyful books in his collection Vera could have picked instead of Watership Down, one of the most depressing books in existence. Especially in the dreadful situation they were currently in.

Gareth reached out, a gentle hand placed on Vera’s upper arm. It had been odd two weeks. Ever since they had left the hospital, he hadn’t been able to stop looking over his shoulder. Likewise Vera. His house was safe, he liked to think, but he was quite sure that whoever really did want to get in, was able to do so eventually. Weirdly enough, however, nothing had happened so far. He wasn’t sure what to make of it: glad that no one had attacked them, or prepare for the worst? Were they trying to have them think they were safe and become sloppy? Or had they really given up pursuing them? No, he couldn’t believe the latter. Why should they? Surely they were going to strike eventually. The question was, when? And how?

“Do you want us to go grocery shopping?” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Vera to return to the house; he was just scared for her. Scared that, in the one second he wasn’t looking, they were letting their guard down, they came out of their hiding and grabbed her. Of course they couldn’t live like this forever. Gareth closed the paper folder and opened one of the drawers of his desk, dropping it inside before he closed it and locked it. “We could…take a walk through the park to get some fresh air, if you like.”

[doctorveranair]

Vera gave his calf a good, comforting squeeze.

She was quiet for a few moments, trying to come up with some witty rejoinder that wasn't an expression of envy that he could forget such a powerful sentiment when she herself was cursed with a memory that seemed never to let anything go. Quotes like that stuck with Vera for always. The same way she remembered Gareth's personal number from the first time they'd ever met, so too did quotes and lines hold fast in her unceasing mind.

"I'll let you have a reread when I've finished." It was a mild tease. She wished she'd never chosen Watership Down. Same as she wished she hadn't chosen Edgar Allen Poe and Virginia Woolf before Richard Adams.

Dark figures seemed to beckon Vera in times like these. She felt helpless to escape them and so she indulged them, instead.

For better or for worse.

Mostly for worse.

"Grocery shopping sounds divine." She shut the book gently and pulled herself up from the carpet beneath him.

There wasn't a doubt in Vera's mind that the Foundation was surveiling both her and Gareth. If they wanted to take her, they would.

-

Kindersley was, indeed, keeping a close watch.

He fully expected Mallory to make an attempt to spirit Dr. Nair into a new identity in some far flung city once the man finished pumping her for information and had his fill.

Of course, Kindersley was confident that he could snap Nair up at any time. He chose not to because, as an asset, Nair was currently more useful to the Foundation exactly where she was. She was healing up. Hiding out with Gareth fucking Mallory post GOI attack—and all sources indicated that the GOI still thought she was the Medical Liaison. Recuperating, certainly, but expected to return.

Still, he raised an eyebrow when his agent on the ground informed him that Nair and Mallory were leaving his home on foot, apparently headed for a grocery store.

"Tag her and dangle the carrot for Mallory."

-

Vera wore loose exercise clothing. Dark leggings. A gray t-shirt from a pack of gray t-shirts. Sneakers that were perhaps a bit too tight. They were the simplest things she could have asked for and they'd been delivered early in her stay—a mercy. For the moment, these clothes and the few things she'd been carrying that night were quite literally all she had to her name.

Of course, Gareth was far too important to take two weeks off and he could not bring her everywhere he went.

She had known that his house was being closely monitored, that she was supposed to be safe there, but she only felt safe when he was there with her. Even then, it felt like she was living on borrowed time.

"Maybe we could peek into one of the clothing shops? I'm a little down on gray and black gym clothes," she said hopefully. "I'll pay you back." This was added somewhat less hopefully. She couldn't access her accounts without giving away her location and she couldn't give away her location, even though she was confident that Kindersley knew where she was, because she was still afraid of the GOI.

Still, Vera took his hand as they walked.

The brisk midwinter air felt so good on her skin. All the better with Gareth to enjoy the sensation by her side.

[doctorveranair]

Two weeks passed.

Kindersley did not send for her. The GOI made no reappearance. Not to her knowledge, anyway.

She knew that some other agent must already be filling in for her. It wasn't as though medical anomalies ceased to exist just because Dr. Vera Nair was out of the game. But she sincerely hoped, whoever they were, they were treated well. She was optimistic about that. None of her known predecessors had been forced into the position, it was only Vera who had been effectively held hostage throughout her term.

In a sense, she was still a hostage. There was no news about Tom. None that she could find. None that Gareth had discovered and thought to impart.

And Vera wanted to be with Gareth. She wanted to stay with him.

But staying anywhere was hard. They had no genuine confirmation that she was safe in his home, certainly not beyond the gate.

Even in the overgrown garden, where Vera built a tiny house beneath the wild hydrangeas, a house that could only be seen when the two of them lay sprawled out on a blanket on the grass with their books, Vera had trouble feeling safe. She couldn't stop worrying that she'd gotten Gareth into danger—even more than his own occupation usually provided.

Vera curled her knees beneath Gareth's desk, the rest of her read one of his books in ray of sunlight.

One benefit of living with Gareth, staying with Gareth, at least, was that she had access to his library. Every once in a while, she'd sit up just long enough to rest her head on his thigh or read a passage aloud.

"'All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.'"

She had read Watership Down before. Long, long ago. This reading felt more timely than ever.

Now, every distant siren and knock at the door left Vera reaching for her weapon.

Just in case.

"I was thinking I might make biryani."

[doctorveranair]

Gareth spoke her name and her spoke it gently enough to pull her, even for an instant, from that catastrophic maelstrom of bereavement.

She suddenly realized herself, looking down to the IV she'd torn from herself and taking a step back towards Gareth, towards safety, as she cowered from the nurse.

"I can replace it—"

"No," the nurse answered, not unkindly. "Lay back down. You need your rest, Mrs. Mallory. Let me."

Vera nodded mutely. She allowed the nurse to replace her line.

When the nurse finally left them, Vera turned her attention to Gareth. The pain in her eyes was simply impossible to miss. She was not wasting her energy on trying to hide it. "I'm trying, Gareth. I'm trying." Her voice cracked. She leaned her head back against the hospital pillow and tried.

Vera was silent, pensive for a long time. For some, she stared determinedly up at the tiny dots in the ceiling plaster, but for most, her eyes remained shut. She swept tears away, but not for long. After the fourth or fifth swipe, she gave up on that.

"I want confirmation." She swallowed. "I need confirmation before I give up on him. I just... I can't abandon my husband there's a possibility that he's still... Alive. Do you understand? Do you understand what I need?"

[dontcxckitup]

His gaze darted over to the nurse when he once again called Vera "Mrs Mallory", and he couldn't help but think that it actually had a nice ring to it. Of course, though, he also knew it was better to not get used to it - especially because he didn't think calling her by that name mad anything easier for Vera right now.

Only when she lay back down in bed, Gareth finally sat on the chair again, reaching out to gently take her hand in his. The grip loose, so she could just pull her hand out if she didn't want him to touch her. With his other hand he tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks once she had given up doing it herself. It broke him to see her like this. Usually Vera was the strong, content woman always with a remark on her lips. Seeing her like this, though...

Gareth nodded his head. "I do." And he did understand. Hell, when he had been told his wife had died, he had wanted to see her. He had needed the confirmation that it was really her, that they hadn't made a mistake, and even then, standing in front of her body, his mind had refused to fully accept the fact. "I will help you. I won't leave your side, Vera, I will...go with you and do everything you need me to do - unless you ask me to leave. Because I won't."

[doctorveranair]

Vera did not have the strength to grasp his hand tightly, but she tried. She wanted him to feel the fight still inside her. To know that she was still his own Dr. Vera Nair, even beside herself with grief.

Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper that only Gareth could possibly hear. "I can't return to them, can I?" If she returned, Kindersley would remove Britain from her route and if she dared to go against Foundation orders by insisting to meet with Tom in person, they would kill her and Tom, too, if he wasn't already... "It's a Catch 22. If I do return. If I do not return. Schrodinger's Tom. Help me. Help me."

Again, she began to weep silent, bitter, frustrated, exhausted tears. "Can I stay with you? Even just for a few nights while we figure this out. I'm not fit to return to service now. My alternate will need to tap in. If I go back now... I don't know that I'll ever see you again."

[doctorveranair]

Vera gaped. She wasn't trying to defend the Foundation. Far from it. What she was doing, what she was attempting to do, was to answer his own question to the best of her current ability—but her current ability was considerably diminished by fatigue, injury, and distress.

The problem was simple enough, though Vera struggled to grapple with it.

"Hope." Hope was all she had left of Tom Dalton. Her entire life seemed to hang by that single gossamer thread. And just like that, Vera felt that last thread tense with the burden of anguish.

It snapped.

Vera pitched to her side, nearly yanking out the IV in the process, and heaved. Her stomach expelled nothing whatsoever, but this grief was intolerable. Hope had been keeping her together for months. Hope that, by some miracle, Tom was alive and they would be together again if Vera could just behave herself as required. If only she could perform her duties. If only...

There was no reasoning with her now. Her hope, however wishful, however misguided, was shattered.

She lost herself.

She became unaware of her own actions, beyond control, as she removed the line and yanked herself out of the hospital bed. There wasn't thought in it. Vera had no plans. No idea where to go or what she was doing. She was sobbing. Clawing at the tangle of sheets and wire. Her grief was entirely in control.

A nurse trotted into the room with a clipboard. The man was surprised to see Vera agitated and out of bed. He looked first to see if her husband, Mr. Mallory, would intervene and he stood ready to call for assistance to get his patient back into bed.

[dontcxckitup]

That what he had asked was stupid, Gareth only realised once he saw Vera’s reaction. It hadn’t been the best moment to talk about her husband – but then again, when would have been? If not ripping the plaster off now, then when? “Vera…” Gareth tried, standing up immediately when she pulled the IV from her arm. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that wasn’t a good idea. He was quick to be on the other side of the bed, offering her support if she wished to have it. Right now, though, he figured she just needed space, even though that was a terrible idea. They were still not safe.

He shot the nurse a glance and shook his head. “Just…give us a moment.” He was almost begging the man, eyes pleading him silently. If even more nurses – or worse, doctors – came in, it would only worsen the situation and push Vera into a corner she sure as hell wouldn’t come out of anytime soon.

Gareth turned back to Vera, reaching out, his hand barely touching hers. “Vera.” Voice firm. “Look at me. Please. It doesn’t mean he’s gone, it just—” Well, what else did it mean? He shook his head again. “You need to consider all scenarios.” And most of all the one that Gareth hadn’t been able to keep his promise to get Tom out of there.

[doctorveranair]

Gareth spoke her name and her spoke it gently enough to pull her, even for an instant, from that catastrophic maelstrom of bereavement.

She suddenly realized herself, looking down to the IV she'd torn from herself and taking a step back towards Gareth, towards safety, as she cowered from the nurse.

"I can replace it—"

"No," the nurse answered, not unkindly. "Lay back down. You need your rest, Mrs. Mallory. Let me."

Vera nodded mutely. She allowed the nurse to replace her line.

When the nurse finally left them, Vera turned her attention to Gareth. The pain in her eyes was simply impossible to miss. She was not wasting her energy on trying to hide it. "I'm trying, Gareth. I'm trying." Her voice cracked. She leaned her head back against the hospital pillow and tried.

Vera was silent, pensive for a long time. For some, she stared determinedly up at the tiny dots in the ceiling plaster, but for most, her eyes remained shut. She swept tears away, but not for long. After the fourth or fifth swipe, she gave up on that.

"I want confirmation." She swallowed. "I need confirmation before I give up on him. I just... I can't abandon my husband there's a possibility that he's still... Alive. Do you understand? Do you understand what I need?"

[doctorveranair]

Her breath caught in her throat so harshly that it hurt, but she did not shy away. She leaned into Gareth, tense, terrified... Thinking.

"We speak on the phone once every two weeks." There was an uncomfortable pause. The next felt embarrassing to share. Humiliating. "Once a week, when I behave exactly as directed."

But when had she last actually seen Tom?

"They let us do video calls when I started." She swallowed. "For the first two months, we could see each other. Laramie took that away." At least he said it was his decision. "I challenged him. I snuck away from my guard to show him that I could." Her voice broke. "Only phone calls after that."

But when had she last actually seen Tom?

"I spent my last night in the States with Tom. We were in Foundation housing... A secured compound. I'm not certain where." Vera forced herself to remember. "Utah. I know we were in Utah. I was drugged. I can't remember how I got there except that it was dry and the highway markers were black and white with beehives. I... I put it together on the flight into Heathrow."

[dontcxckitup]

His grip around Vera tightened. If anyone were to enter now and drag her away from him, they had done it forcefully and kill him in the process, because he wasn’t going to voluntarily let go of her anytime soon. She had gone through too much already, and something told him that, if he let her go now, they wouldn’t get another chance of seeing each other. And no, he didn’t think the GOI were the greater threat here. It was actually The Foundation.

His brow rose. There were only horror stories about them, weren’t there? “You aren’t still trying to convince me what the Foundation is doing, is actually for the sake of humanity, are you?” Gareth asked quietly. “Vera, I don’t—I don’t mean to hurt you, or…try to drag you away from them, but…what makes you think he’s still alive? Those phone calls could be forged. And even videocalls…with the technology we have nowadays…”

[doctorveranair]

Vera gaped. She wasn't trying to defend the Foundation. Far from it. What she was doing, what she was attempting to do, was to answer his own question to the best of her current ability—but her current ability was considerably diminished by fatigue, injury, and distress.

The problem was simple enough, though Vera struggled to grapple with it.

"Hope." Hope was all she had left of Tom Dalton. Her entire life seemed to hang by that single gossamer thread. And just like that, Vera felt that last thread tense with the burden of anguish.

It snapped.

Vera pitched to her side, nearly yanking out the IV in the process, and heaved. Her stomach expelled nothing whatsoever, but this grief was intolerable. Hope had been keeping her together for months. Hope that, by some miracle, Tom was alive and they would be together again if Vera could just behave herself as required. If only she could perform her duties. If only...

There was no reasoning with her now. Her hope, however wishful, however misguided, was shattered.

She lost herself.

She became unaware of her own actions, beyond control, as she removed the line and yanked herself out of the hospital bed. There wasn't thought in it. Vera had no plans. No idea where to go or what she was doing. She was sobbing. Clawing at the tangle of sheets and wire. Her grief was entirely in control.

A nurse trotted into the room with a clipboard. The man was surprised to see Vera agitated and out of bed. He looked first to see if her husband, Mr. Mallory, would intervene and he stood ready to call for assistance to get his patient back into bed.

[doctorveranair]

The exhaustion and stress brought tears to her eyes. Her face was far easier to read than usual and his hand was her only real comfort.

She wanted so badly for a real rest, to find herself again. To think straight.

Right now, it was all muddled.

"I want to stay with you." There was a catch in her throat. Her soft voice was hoarse. "I do. I don't want to leave you, Gareth. I don't want to go back." And there she was, practically begging him not to make her return to the Foundation. Not to let her. But she persisted. "They still have Tom."

Vera cried.

She tried very hard to compose herself, but she cried. Her life was not her own. Never had been. Gareth was here and he was good and safe and she wanted to be with him, but she couldn't just abandon her husband. "They'll kill him, Gareth. They'll kill Tom if I don't cooperate."

She wasn't thinking ahead so much, incapable of it at the moment, but in the pit of her stomach she wondered, too, what the Foundation had in store for her after this. Would they still throw her out as bait for the GOI until they either apprehended the group or she died in their clutches? Would they even allow her to see Gareth after this?

[dontcxckitup]

It was scary to see Vera like this: broken, fragile, searching for comfort. Usually he just knew the other side of her, the strong one. She was kicking ass, so to speak, speaking her mind, teasing. Now she was only a shadow of herself, though, lying in that hospital bed and holding his hand. Crying. He squeezed her hand, showing her he was there for her, and he wasn’t going to leave her side anytime soon. Even if the Foundation came into the room right now, or that GOI, he would stand and fight tooth and nail to keep her safe.

The more it pained him that she was mentioning her husband again. Tom. The man he had never met, but couldn’t stand simply because he was holding Vera’s heart. They didn’t know if he was still alive, though; when was the last time Vera had heard from him? When had she last spoken to him, face to face? There was no proof of life whatsoever. Gareth had done his own digging, subtly of course, trying to not gain the Foundation’s attention. Step by step, bit by bit, trying to find out if Tom was still out there, or if the Foundation had long discarded of him and was just playing Vera. He wasn’t going to tell her, though, not as long as he didn’t know anything for certain.

Gareth sat on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand, and put his arm around her shoulders to pull her close to him. “When…was the last time you saw him?” he asked quietly, almost not daring to.

[doctorveranair]

Her breath caught in her throat so harshly that it hurt, but she did not shy away. She leaned into Gareth, tense, terrified... Thinking.

"We speak on the phone once every two weeks." There was an uncomfortable pause. The next felt embarrassing to share. Humiliating. "Once a week, when I behave exactly as directed."

But when had she last actually seen Tom?

"They let us do video calls when I started." She swallowed. "For the first two months, we could see each other. Laramie took that away." At least he said it was his decision. "I challenged him. I snuck away from my guard to show him that I could." Her voice broke. "Only phone calls after that."

But when had she last actually seen Tom?

"I spent my last night in the States with Tom. We were in Foundation housing... A secured compound. I'm not certain where." Vera forced herself to remember. "Utah. I know we were in Utah. I was drugged. I can't remember how I got there except that it was dry and the highway markers were black and white with beehives. I... I put it together on the flight into Heathrow."

[doctorveranair]

Vera put her free hand at the edge of her hospital bed. She didn't want to risk making Gareth feel uncomfortable in front of his people, but she hoped he would take it.

The nurses had done a decent job of cleaning her up. She'd let them. She'd also changed into the hospital gown in the small bathroom in what may have been record time, save that Vera realized she was moving more slowly than usual. Even when Gareth wasn't in her line of sight, she listened for him.

Her things were in a plastic bag at the foot of the bed. Torn blue dress and all.

Not quite all.

She returned her holster to her side as soon as the exam was finished.

"I'm not at my best," she admitted. "But I've survived worse." True, if not particularly enlightening. "How... How do you feel?"

Vera gulped. She took a few moments to try and work through the consequences of the evening. Kindersley had clearly lost control of the situation, had lost control of Laramie, but he would send for her. Right? They still had Tom. They still hadn't actually caught the damn GOI. Had they? No. Probably not.

"I don't even know if they'll try to pick me up tonight," they had enough cleanup to do and she was apparently out of the woods for the moment, "but I... I don't know if they'll..." She searched for the right word and lowered her voice that much more. "If they'll allow me to stay. Or how long they'll allow me to stay."

[dontcxckitup]

He reached out and took her hand, then sucked in a breath, his gaze on his hand holding Vera's for a moment. Then, after a few seconds of silence, he shook his head. "I don't care," Gareth eventually said. "I don't care if they...don't allow you to stay. They don't get to tell you or me what to do anymore." He gently squeezed her hand. There was so much more at stakes now, he knew; it wasn't just about Vera's safety, but also her husband's. Call him selfish, but Gareth didn't care about her husband, either. He just wanted Vera to be safe, he wanted to be with her, now even moreso than before.

"I won't let them close to you. I...I will take you with me and get you to safety." God, he had no clue how, but he refused to let her go. What if it was the last time he saw her? What if the Foundation didn't let her close to him again after tonight? What if the GOI got to her, and he wasn't there to prevent it?

[doctorveranair]

The exhaustion and stress brought tears to her eyes. Her face was far easier to read than usual and his hand was her only real comfort.

She wanted so badly for a real rest, to find herself again. To think straight.

Right now, it was all muddled.

"I want to stay with you." There was a catch in her throat. Her soft voice was hoarse. "I do. I don't want to leave you, Gareth. I don't want to go back." And there she was, practically begging him not to make her return to the Foundation. Not to let her. But she persisted. "They still have Tom."

Vera cried.

She tried very hard to compose herself, but she cried. Her life was not her own. Never had been. Gareth was here and he was good and safe and she wanted to be with him, but she couldn't just abandon her husband. "They'll kill him, Gareth. They'll kill Tom if I don't cooperate."

She wasn't thinking ahead so much, incapable of it at the moment, but in the pit of her stomach she wondered, too, what the Foundation had in store for her after this. Would they still throw her out as bait for the GOI until they either apprehended the group or she died in their clutches? Would they even allow her to see Gareth after this?

[doctorveranair]

Even once they arrived at the A&E, Vera was very quiet. It was unusual for her to let other health professionals completely take the reins from her—a sore spot—but she didn't have the strength.

No attempts were made to separate the two of them, thankfully. Both were requested to have a bit of a lie down and were treated for shock on top of everything.

Vera cooperated numbly so long as she could still see Gareth. Her stress levels soared whenever he stepped out of her sight. Even lying flat on her stomach while the medics redressed her calf, tethered to an IV, she watched him. Comforted by his presence and the fact that he was safe.

She only wished she knew what would happen next.

[dontcxckitup]

Thankfully Gareth wasn't injured (except for a few minor scratches here and there), so they didn't need to separate him and Vera and he could actually be with her the entire time they were taking care of her. Even if they had wanted to look at him in another room, though, he would have refused to leave, and when the police officers - finally a lot friendlier - asked about what had happened, they simply went into the corner of the room, fom where Gareth could still see Vera the entire time.

He only explained the necessary bits to the officers, only what he believed wasn't going to jeopardise their safety. His phone was thankfully working again, too, so he was sending Tanner a message telling him where to find him and Vera, and to come quick.

When the officers finally left him alone, Gareth pulled up one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs next to Vera and slumped down on it, exhaling slowly. It was only now that he finally felt the exhaustion weigh down on him, his eyes threatening to close. God knew what time it was, though, because he realised his wrist watch had been destroyed as well - he figured probably when he had jumped out of the church window and landed uncomfortably on the ground. He looked at Vera, too tired to even offer her a soft smile. "How are you feeling?" Gareth asked. "I...sent my Chief of Staff a message. They will be here soon." He shook his head. "I'm not going to let your people pick you up."

[doctorveranair]

Vera put her free hand at the edge of her hospital bed. She didn't want to risk making Gareth feel uncomfortable in front of his people, but she hoped he would take it.

The nurses had done a decent job of cleaning her up. She'd let them. She'd also changed into the hospital gown in the small bathroom in what may have been record time, save that Vera realized she was moving more slowly than usual. Even when Gareth wasn't in her line of sight, she listened for him.

Her things were in a plastic bag at the foot of the bed. Torn blue dress and all.

Not quite all.

She returned her holster to her side as soon as the exam was finished.

"I'm not at my best," she admitted. "But I've survived worse." True, if not particularly enlightening. "How... How do you feel?"

Vera gulped. She took a few moments to try and work through the consequences of the evening. Kindersley had clearly lost control of the situation, had lost control of Laramie, but he would send for her. Right? They still had Tom. They still hadn't actually caught the damn GOI. Had they? No. Probably not.

"I don't even know if they'll try to pick me up tonight," they had enough cleanup to do and she was apparently out of the woods for the moment, "but I... I don't know if they'll..." She searched for the right word and lowered her voice that much more. "If they'll allow me to stay. Or how long they'll allow me to stay."

[doctorveranair]

Her eyes opened a crack to look at Gareth as he mourned his car.

She wanted to offer him some sympathy. She could understand that the car was very meaningful to him. Painful to give up, and so suddenly, too, in an attempt to save her life.

But when she opened her mouth to say something, anything, words failed her.

Vera was shaken. The events of the day had not yet fallen entirely into place for her. In fact, in the moment, all she knew for certain was that she was in no state to practice medicine at the moment.

She was a soldier. She had experience. Laramie had not been a friend. Laramie had been a constant source of stress and fear. But his sudden death would take time to process. He would linger long after his blood washed away. The madness and terror in his eyes, eyes that Vera had only known as cold, would stick with her. She would always wonder if there wasn't some way she could have calmed him from his panic. If they couldn't have all three escaped with their lives.

Even after everything, Vera didn't believe Laramie had deserved to die. She seldom believed anyone deserved to die.

Vera looked at Gareth. She tried to comfort him with a smile, but when it failed to reached her eyes, she shut them once more.

The corner of her lip did quirk up when Gareth told the Chief Inspector that their 'marriage' was confidential.

"What all happened out there, then?" The Chief Inspector spoke with considerably more deference now. He was still agitated by the events of the evening, primarily the shooting, but now he also sounded embarrassed. "That man—"

He almost choked. That madman had been chasing the Head of MI6's secret wife. It followed, in his mind, that MI6 had been the ones hiding in the shadows to shoot the damned lunatic... But he had to wonder why they hadn't revealed themselves right then.

"Should we, uh..?" The younger officer was quite dumbstruck by the whole thing, and not great at saying less to learn more. "Should we call someone for you? Who was that man and who... Who killed him?"

[dontcxckitup]

“I believe it’s best you know as little as possible.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it to these people, he just really believed that, if they didn’t know who the GOI or the Foundation were, or Laramie, they were safer. No one would be after them because they knew too much. He looked over at Vera again. Even though Laramie had been a cold, brutal, asshole, Vera had still known him for quite some time. They had worked together. He couldn’t even imagine what it felt like for her now, witnessing him drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes, the lifeless eyes staring back at her.

He noticed the two in the front seats exchanging glances. “Just…drive us to the next A&E, if you were so kind. From there, I’ll take care of everything myself.” His voice was a lot calmer than before, his features softer. “I apologise for the ruckus we caused, it…wasn’t exactly planned.” In fact, everything had gone wrong tonight. He felt terrible. “But we didn’t see any other way, we weren’t able to contact anyone, so the best idea was to try and get your attention.” And they had. And boy, not in the way Gareth had hoped – but here they were now. And thankfully they weren’t far from the A&E, either. It was a small hospital, but was enough for them. They could finally take a look at the gash on Vera’s leg, provide them with a bit of warmth and perhaps one of those disgusting hospital coffees or teas, and a bloody working phone.

When they arrived, the officers were quick to finally rid the pair of the handcuffs, Gareth rubbing his wrist as the metal had uncomfortably cut into his skin. He immediately took Vera’s hand in his, offering her a small smile.

[doctorveranair]

Even once they arrived at the A&E, Vera was very quiet. It was unusual for her to let other health professionals completely take the reins from her—a sore spot—but she didn't have the strength.

No attempts were made to separate the two of them, thankfully. Both were requested to have a bit of a lie down and were treated for shock on top of everything.

Vera cooperated numbly so long as she could still see Gareth. Her stress levels soared whenever he stepped out of her sight. Even lying flat on her stomach while the medics redressed her calf, tethered to an IV, she watched him. Comforted by his presence and the fact that he was safe.

She only wished she knew what would happen next.

[doctorveranair]

Once the disparaging officer shut the car door behind her, Vera could only hear some of the discussion outside the car, but Gareth was led to join her quickly.

She was relieved, unfathomably grateful that they were both alive and together, at least, until Gareth spoke for himself. He stated his identity, but his attitude was poorly received. Perhaps he was too accustomed to being in command.

"It isn't fake," Vera replied carefully, with all the respect she could manage and still with that British accent. "I understand that it sounds quite outlandish." This she said with the air of a wife who had experienced such dumbstruck confusion before, though she was still extremely shaken. Vera suspected that even the Chief Inspector was too shaken to remember all his options. "The database in your car's computer may be able to clear this up. My husband really is the Head of—"

"Damn thing's been offline over an hour now." The Chief Inspector cut her off, but he got back into the car and gave the terminal a good whack. Percussive maintenance. He was still agitated. There was still a dead man on the ground and none of them dared touch him. "Blasted mobile's, too. We'll see if you really are the King of England at the A&E, Mr. Mallory." But even as he said it, the Chief Inspector looked haunted. Why would anyone lie about being the Head of MI6? It was too ridiculous a thing to lie about, and now of all times?

The Chief Inspector drove his car past the lead vehicle, leaving those two officers to the crime scene while he and the back up vehicle behind them sped on to the A&E.

Vera leaned back with her eyes shut.

It was easier that way. With the cuffs, she couldn't do anything about Laramie's blood on her face. It felt better to close her eyes than to keep them open as the blood and tears dried.

Less than five minutes later, the young officer in the shotgun seat began to receive all of his missed notifications at once. "PNC's back on, sir!"

They were beyond the scope of the signal jammer.

[dontcxckitup]

Now, Gareth wasn’t usually someone who liked to pull rank – unless it was necessary at work, of course – but these policemen were obnoxious, and it was just tiring to try and talk reason into them. For a moment he really just felt like closing his eyes, leaning back in the seat, and waiting for these idiots to figure it out themselves and then try to deal with the consequences. He glanced over at Vera and couldn’t help the small smile tugging on his lips. She looked like hell had chewed her up and spit her out, with the mud everywhere, her hair a complete mess (he could still see some leaves in it), and the blood now added to it. He was just glad it wasn’t her own. God, how much he had given to just reach over and take her hand now…

The calm moment was short-lived, though. His attention soon shifted to the front seats again. They were outside of the GOI’s zone; now they only had to stay there too. “Nothing ever happens in this area,” the Chief Inspector told them, his gaze darting to the rear-view mirror. “Does the burning car belong to you as well?” “Is it destroyed?” “Yes.” Gareth’s heart sank. He loved that Jaguar. It had been his for years. It almost felt like losing a loved one.

“Sir.” The Chief Inspector glanced over to his colleague who was holding up both Gareth’s ID card, and his phone, showing the flabbergasted man what he had found on the internet. The car nearly swerved into the ditch. “It says here you aren’t married.” “Confidential information,” Gareth told him quickly. “And…I would like to keep it that way.”

[doctorveranair]

Her eyes opened a crack to look at Gareth as he mourned his car.

She wanted to offer him some sympathy. She could understand that the car was very meaningful to him. Painful to give up, and so suddenly, too, in an attempt to save her life.

But when she opened her mouth to say something, anything, words failed her.

Vera was shaken. The events of the day had not yet fallen entirely into place for her. In fact, in the moment, all she knew for certain was that she was in no state to practice medicine at the moment.

She was a soldier. She had experience. Laramie had not been a friend. Laramie had been a constant source of stress and fear. But his sudden death would take time to process. He would linger long after his blood washed away. The madness and terror in his eyes, eyes that Vera had only known as cold, would stick with her. She would always wonder if there wasn't some way she could have calmed him from his panic. If they couldn't have all three escaped with their lives.

Even after everything, Vera didn't believe Laramie had deserved to die. She seldom believed anyone deserved to die.

Vera looked at Gareth. She tried to comfort him with a smile, but when it failed to reached her eyes, she shut them once more.

The corner of her lip did quirk up when Gareth told the Chief Inspector that their 'marriage' was confidential.

"What all happened out there, then?" The Chief Inspector spoke with considerably more deference now. He was still agitated by the events of the evening, primarily the shooting, but now he also sounded embarrassed. "That man—"

He almost choked. That madman had been chasing the Head of MI6's secret wife. It followed, in his mind, that MI6 had been the ones hiding in the shadows to shoot the damned lunatic... But he had to wonder why they hadn't revealed themselves right then.

"Should we, uh..?" The younger officer was quite dumbstruck by the whole thing, and not great at saying less to learn more. "Should we call someone for you? Who was that man and who... Who killed him?"