A/N: This fic began as a result of a (slightly ridiculous) plot bunny which simply wouldn't leave, and it has taken all my powers of self restraint for it to not become a ridiculous, over-the-top one shot. My aim was for quirky (and there should be a genre called `quirky'), but still treating H & R seriously, and with respect – a tricky balancing act. This is more gentle, heart-warming nonsense than it is humour.

"I've just received an email from St Thomas' Hospital," Beth says in a monotone, her eyes on her monitor. "This sounds like Harry. Mid-50's Caucasian male, balding fair hair, stocky build, knife and bullet scars on torso …... er …... there's more .."

"Yes, what?" Dimitri is curt, even angry. It was he who had allowed Harry to leave the Grid …... when he knows he should have been the one to go in his stead.

"There's something else …... a description. It's …... er ….." Beth looks up, and her eyes take in everyone …. everyone other than Ruth, who is busy at her terminal, trying hard to not listen, trying even harder to not panic.

"It's …... a bit personal."

"If the guy's dead, how personal can it be?" Dimitri again, tactful as ever.

"It's …... this man is circumcised."

There is a long and articulate silence on the Grid …... a pause in the passage of time. Ruth's head is down, but she can feel they are looking her way. Or perhaps very deliberately not looking her way. "Then it's not Harry," she says quietly. "He's not circumcised."

Three heads swivel, six eyes look her way. Three sets of synapses crackle into overdrive, but only one mouth speaks.

"How do you know that?" asks Tariq, whose desk is closest to Ruth's.

"How do you think, Tariq? Jeez." Beth rolls her eyes.

"Beth's right, Tariq," Ruth says quietly, calmly.

"You all know I'm circumcised, and yet none of you have seen mine," continues Tariq.

"You're Muslim, so naturally you're circumcised," Beth snaps, wishing Tariq would get the hint and shut up. "Harry isn't Muslim -"

"And he's not Jewish, either," Tariq adds. "Nor is he East African …."

Beth again rolls her eyes.

"It's alright," Ruth cuts in, suspecting that Beth's irritation is being fed by embarrassment. Ruth doesn't wish her any further discomfort. "I have …... seen ….. what it is you're talking about. That dead man at the hospital can't be him. Okay?"

Ruth looks at everyone, taking them in with a quick sweep of her eyes, before she drops her gaze back to her monitor …... on which she is having more and more difficulty in concentrating.

"Does that mean -?"

"Tariq," Beth says, exasperated, "drop it, alright?"

"I'm going to the canal," Dimitri says, throwing on a jacket as he leaves the Grid.

There is nothing else to be said, nothing else to be done. Ruth does what she knows will get her through this crisis, both immediate, and in the long term. She works.

"Do you need me to stay?" Beth asks, once six o'clock comes around.

"No. I'll stay here. Harry will come back here first before he goes home."

"You really believe that he's uninjured …... that he's alright?"

"I have to, Beth. I have no other option."

"And if he doesn't come back?"

"Then I'll sleep on the sofa in his office. I'm staying here until he gets back."

"Right," Beth replies. "I'll be sleeping away from home tonight, so if you and Harry want to use the flat -"

"Thank you, Beth. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Beth leaves, and Ruth is alone on the Grid, waiting for Harry, hoping he will soon return. She goes back to reading some transcripts. The activity will occupy her thoughts, leaving little room for worrying.

Once Beth has left the Grid, Ruth again tries calling Harry's phone. Still nothing. It goes straight to voicemail, and this time, she leaves no message.

Almost another hour passes before Ruth looks up to see Harry entering the Grid. She smiles at him, and feels her shoulders relax for the first time in over four hours. He, on the other hand, appears stressed and tired. After nodding towards her, he walks straight into his office, and so Ruth gets up and follows him, closing his office door behind her as she enters.

He is leaning, his hands against the edge of his desk, his head dropped forward so that his chin rests against his chest. Ruth steps close to him, her hip just touching his thigh, and gently rubs his back with her palm. Her hand circles his back, over and over. She feels him shudder under her touch, and then he turns, and wraps his arms around her. Ruth slides her arms around him underneath his jacket, and pushes her face into his neck, where she detects a hint of perspiration mixed with his cologne. She briefly kisses the skin of his neck.

"Hard day?" she asks.

"Mmm, a bit," he replies.

They continue to hold one another for a few more minutes, until Ruth suddenly has a mild coughing fit.

Harry pulls away from her, his hands still on her waist, waiting until she stops coughing. "Do you mind if we skip going to dinner tonight?" he asks. Even his voice is tired.

Ruth shakes her head. "I'd like to spend the night with you, though. I …. need you near me tonight."

Harry places a soft kiss on her lips, before he drops his hands, and turns towards the drinks cabinet. "I could do with a drink."

"Me, too."

They sit close together on the sofa in Harry's office. They do this most nights, but especially after a stressful day. They sit side by side, their thighs touching, each enjoying the warmth of the other. Ruth is waiting for Harry to share his strange afternoon with her. It is normal for him to take his time.

"I need to get a new phone," Harry says at last. "Khawaja threw mine in the canal. By now it's probably buried in the sludge at the bottom."

"I need to let the others know you're alright," Ruth says suddenly, taking her phone from her pocket. "I'll send a group text to everyone who was here this afternoon. Dimitri is probably still looking for you."

Ruth quickly composes the text: Harry's fine. He's back on the Grid. Once she'd added the recipients' names, and then pressed Send, she puts the phone back in her pocket. "Sorry," she says, looking up at Harry apologetically.

Harry is looking at her with a mix of wonderment and admiration. "You were worried about me?"

"Of course we were. And it wasn't just me. We all were. You said you'd be no more than an hour, and then after two hours, you were not answering your phone."

"It was in the canal."

"I know that now. Do I need to know what Khawaja wanted?"

"Not really. I think he just wanted to insult me. It's apparent he's had someone watching me."

"Do you consider him dangerous?"

"Were he dangerous, Ruth, I wouldn't be here with you now. He plays games. He just wants me to know that he knows where I go, and what I do. In the grand scheme of things, he's small fry."

"His record shows him to be just a small time criminal, Harry. Perhaps you should have allowed Dimitri to go."

"He doesn't wish to speak to Dimitri. It's me he wishes to insult."

"I'll get Tariq to keep an eye on him. And I'll ring Tariq later, and ask him to pick up and prepare a new phone for you."

"Thank you, Ruth." Harry tops up his own glass, and then Ruth's. He sips his drink slowly, and then reaches out with his free hand, and grasps Ruth's hand. "Did I miss anything while I was out?"

"Not really." Ruth takes a sip of her drink, and then puts it on the floor by her feet. She turns where she sits, and places her free hand over Harry's, capturing his hand between both her own. "There is one thing, though. The others now know about us."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up, and he looks into Ruth's eyes, his face an expression of concern. He knows how important it has been for Ruth that their relationship remain a secret. He would be happy for the whole world to know, but Ruth is nervous of unwanted attention. He also suspects that she is not terribly sure that he will still love her long into the future, despite his assurances that his last thoughts on earth will be of her. "What happened? Is it Beth? Did she find out?"

"Beth rang around the hospitals …... she was checking to see whether you'd been admitted …... and then one of the hospitals sent an email with the description of a John Doe." Ruth lets go of his hand, stands, and walks to Harry's desk, turning on his monitor. "Here. Perhaps you should read the email for yourself."

She stands aside to allow him to lean down to read, his hands resting on his desk. "That sounds exactly like me," he says quietly.

"Read further. There's one detail which is not you."

"Jesus, you're right. How did Beth know about that?"

"She didn't. None of them did. I had to say that it couldn't possibly be you …... because of …. that."

Harry stands away from his desk, and turns Ruth to face him. He is smiling widely. "Ruth …... are you saying that you told the other members of Section D that you happen to know I'm uncircumcised?"

She nods.

Harry gives a short, embarrassed laugh. "So …... did they know what you meant by that?"

"Everyone except Tariq. Someone is going to have to explain this to him, and it won't be me. I had to announce to the whole Grid that I'd seen yours."

She looks up at Harry to see that he is beaming. While she is deeply embarrassed at having to admit to having seen Harry's penis, he is thrilled - proud even - that she has announced this to the others. It is in moments like these that Ruth realises what strange creatures men are, and how she will never truly understand what makes them tick.

Harry slides his arms around her waist, and reaches down to kiss her. His lips are soft, and his touch is gentle.

"What was that for?" she asks, once he has pulled away, his arms still holding her against him.

"I'm so very proud of you."

"Well, don't get too excited about it. I still have to face them all tomorrow."

"Ruth …... darling …... by tomorrow they'll have forgotten about it."

"I really hope so."

A few minutes later, they leave the Grid hand in hand, and head to Harry's house.

They are lying together in bed, he curled around her back, his face close enough to her neck for him to be able to kiss her should he need to. They had bought a takeaway meal on the way home, and eaten it in front of the telly, before climbing the stairs to shower, and then bed. They have kissed and cuddled, but both are too tired for sex.

"Ruth," he says quietly against her neck.

"Mmm?"

"Before we …... before we first undressed in front of one another, did you …... imagine what I'd look like naked?"

"Of course I did."

"And when you first saw me naked …... were you …... disappointed?"

"No, I wasn't. I've told you before …... I love your body."

"But …..."

Ruth turns suddenly, and faces him. "Yes, Harry, I thought about what you'd look like naked. I imagined you …... everything, in fact …... and you're much better, much more …... than I had imagined."

"So, you're happy with me …... physically."

"That's what I'm saying. I'm happy with you …... all of you ….. every inch of you."

"So …... being uncircumcised helps."

"I guess it does." Ruth smiles, then reaches up to kiss him, and then turns back on her side, resting her back against his chest, and tucking her buttocks into his groin.

"But …... did you sit at your desk all day – like I did – imagining us together?"

"Yes …... I did, and it was very distracting."

"It was, wasn't it? How did we ever get any work done?"

"God knows, but we need to sleep now if we're to get any work done tomorrow."

"I still sit at my desk and think about you …... I think about what we might be doing when we get home at night. I look like I'm reading reports, but I'm imagining us ….. together."

"Harry …..."

"I know, I know. Do you think about us like that, Ruth?"

"Yes …. I do …... and I'm afraid that the others will be thinking about us like that as well."

"I'm sure they have their own lives to be thinking about."

"I suppose you're right. Harry …..."

"What?"

"Go to sleep"

He kisses her neck, and then relaxes against her. "Goodnight, Ruth."

Next morning, at Ruth's suggestion, she and Harry walk on to the Grid together. They part at the door to Harry's office, and Ruth crosses the floor to her desk. Ruth quickly looks to the others, all of whom are at their desks, concentrating hard on their monitors.

Well, that's strange, for a start.

She powers up her computer, and opens her translation files. She is sure she can feel everyone's eyes on her - Dimitri, Tariq, Alec and Beth – she is sure they're all waiting for the right moment to pounce. Ruth gets to work, but not before she quickly glances up to look at Harry, who is on the phone, his forehead furrowed. The Home Secretary, no doubt.

"Ruth ….." Tariq says from his own desk.

"Yes, Tariq." She can speak, but she simply can't look at him.

"Have you seen -?"

"Tariq!" Beth's voice is stern, parental, warning …...

"I was just going to ask her has she seen -"

"Tariq!"

"- my green USB drive. Jeez."

"It's on the floor under your desk, Tariq."

"Thank you, Ruth," Tariq replies with a smile. "At least someone got a good night's sleep last night."

Once again, like aural snow, a deafening silence falls.

Ruth can't look at anyone …... she simply can't.

Searching for support, she glances towards Harry's office to find him looking her way, and as their eyes meet, they both smile. As long as Harry loves her, Ruth is sure she can handle anything her work colleagues throw her way. She widens her smile, hoping Harry can read in her eyes her depth of love for him, and then she drops her eyes to her monitor, and gets back to work.