A Nice Day For a Funeral

[Nathan Godfrey]

It was a gentle reminder - or a test, perhaps - but it worked. The grip of Nathan's reluctance and concern eased just a little. He still didn't like it: he still wasn't comfortable with both Harriman's travelling so far out of reach, but Tom hadn't been far off in his guesses that even in their custody there was no guarentee that they could keep them safe. Maybe Tom's friends at Treadstone would be enough; and at least in LA they'd be together, one way or another: knowing the agency, they'd probably try to increase their chances of thwarting Hurucan by spreading the siblings across different sites. At at time like this, no family should be divided any more than was necessary.

Nathan sighed, and bowed his head slightly in surrender. "You're both as stupid as your father," he muttered. "Lets just hope you're as lucky as he used to be, too."

He glanced behind him, surveying the crowd for the grieving widow. His orders were to take her to her parents to collect her daughter, and then take them both to the safe house where Jason was in hiding. She caught his gaze with an expectant look; he answered her unasked question with a nod.

"Be safe, both of you," he said, turning back to the siblings. He fixed Tom directly with a knowing look. "And give my regards to Surge."

[Tom Harriman]

Nathan disappeared without another word, leaving Tom to squirm internally a little at having been out-done on the know-it-all stakes. That was the problem with spooks in his experience - not only did they have the irritating mystery surrounding everything they did; their access to classified files gave them an unfair advantage when it came to omniscience.

"Lets get out of here," he said quietly, putting his arm around his sister's shoulder. "I can't stand funerals at the best of times: I'm certainly not going to hang around at Jason's when he isn't even dead."

He scanned the crowd again, a few people still paying more attention to them than he was comfortable with. "Come on," he said a little louder, for the benefit of the eavesdroppers. "Lets get you home."

[Kat Harriman]

Kat let Tom lead her away from the relatives, trying as hard as she could to keep up the illusion that she was still mourning for her brother. It wasn't hard as it turned out: the relief was enough to dislodge a few of the tears than she hadn't managed to muster earlier, and the fear of knowing that out there somewhere was a seemingly unstoppable man intent on killing her for reasons she wasn't allowed to know was enough to keep her trembling.

But somehow, she knew it would be alright. She knew full-well that it was immature of her to think that: but there was something about being with Tom that made her feel safe. She'd still been in single figures when he'd left home, and as the years had gone by, she'd seen him less and less. In her mind though, everything about him became magnified: he'd become her hero - a fearsome soldier who fought for his country oversees; an eminent scientist making breakthroughs in distant lands.

It was only now that she realised how poorly she knew her brother: how she'd created this idolised version of what he was in her mind, without having any understanding of who he was. Questions flooded her mind; too many to ask, or at least not at once. As they approached the car however - it was hers, but Tom had insisted on driving, for various macho reasons - there was only one question that it seemed right to ask.

"So Tom," she called, climbing into the passenger seat, smiling a little as his American-polluted mind almost made him head for the wrong side of the car. "I was wondering."

"Yeah?" Tom muttered back, paying more attention to working out where the ignition was on her 'silly little car', as he'd called it.

Though she kept her face perfectly neutral, Kat couldn't help the hint of mischief that crept into her mind as she asked -

"You got a girlfriend yet?"