A/N: A bit of fluffy nonsense with no point to it at all, and not to be taken seriously! Just an excuse for some pointless smut.

A plot bunny got stuck in my head and wouldn't let me go, ergo …... it's not my fault!

Monday 1st May:

Being at home had been fun at first – all those books to read, all those cupboards to clean out which she'd been meaning to clean out for years – but the novelty was fast wearing thin. It had been four weeks since she and Harry had been suspended – she for twelve weeks, and he indefinitely – and five weeks since the Cotterdam fiasco. Ruth was wishing she'd never run into Mik Maudsley on the morning he'd chosen to throw himself under a train. She wished she'd overslept. She wished she'd taken the bus.

She missed going to work, she missed her work, she missed those she worked with. She missed Zaf and Adam and Jo and Malcolm, and there were even days when she missed Ros, but most of all, most of all …...

She missed Harry.

In her long nights alone she'd contemplated all things Harry, and decided that when and if they met again, she'd do things differently. She was now prepared to meet him at least half way. He was obviously attracted to her. She could see that. Everyone could see that, and she was attracted to him, too, perhaps too much for her own well-being. She'd never quite known what to do about Harry, but now she was forbidden from seeing him, or from having any contact with him, she was becoming much clearer about what she'd like to do about him. Not only had absence made her heart grow fonder, but it had also cleared her head.

She was sitting on her sofa, a half-full glass of merlot in her hand, when the front doorbell rang. The one person she wanted at her front door was the one least likely to be there. Ironically, the person(s) she least wanted to be there were the ones most likely. There was a car outside her house at all times, and in it at least one Internal Affairs goon sat, watching her front door. No doubt Harry was under similar surveillance.

She opened the door to a courier, the name tag on his chest declaring his name to be Todd, and his employer Across Town Couriers. "Delivery for Ruth Evershed," he said, thrusting a PDA at her for her to sign.

"Who's it from?" she asked.

"No idea," the young man replied. "Someone else sends `em, I deliver `em. That's how it works."

Ruth signed, and took the parcel from him. He was down the footpath and into his van before she'd closed the door, but not before she'd checked that the IA car was still across the road. It was, and the driver had his head buried in a newspaper.

The parcel, wrapped in heavy brown paper, was the size of a thick paperback novel, the kind sold at airports. She tore off the paper to find a cardboard box. She removed the lid, and inside, nestled amongst styrofoam packaging, was a mobile phone, a charger, and a hand-written note on a piece of card. The note read: This phone is safe to use – protected network, unlimited usage. Only one number is programmed into it, and this phone's number is programmed into a similar phone in the possession of the other party. Enjoy. Regards, Malcolm.

Of course, without ringing the `other party' she didn't know who it was, but she had a fair idea all the same. Ruth sat the phone on her kitchen table while she cooked her dinner and sipped her wine. She regularly glanced at it, perhaps expecting it to suddenly disappear. Or ring, hopefully. After she'd eaten, and then washed her dishes, she poured herself another glass of wine, retired to her sofa, and waited. And waited.

Of course, she was free to ring him. Phones worked like that – calls in and calls out. She picked up the phone, preparing to ring him, when it rang.

"Hello?" she said, afraid that it wouldn't be him.

"Ruth." Only one person said her name like that, with deep, rich molasses tones that vibrated through her body, even to her toes, and the tops of her ears.

"Harry! It's so good to hear your voice."

"And you too, Ruth. I've missed you. I've missed everyone, but mostly I've missed you."

"How are you, Harry?"

"Bored, frustrated, angry. Apart from that, I suppose I'm good."

There was a long silence while Ruth wondered what to say next. She already sensed a powerful connection between them, and felt the same panic she'd experienced that night at Havensworth. She didn't quite trust herself to handle such intimacy with a man like Harry. Somehow, he always made her feel that she was out of her depth, and struggling to keep her face above the water, while he stood on the shoreline watching her from a safe distance.

"I missed your birthday," Harry continued, his voice low. "I have something for you, but I didn't know how to get it to you without it being intercepted."

"You didn't have to get me anything, Harry."

"I know I didn't, but I wanted to. How was your birthday?"

"The same as any other day in the past four weeks. Lonely."

"I wish I could have been with you."

"I wish that too. It would have been nice to have had company."

She heard Harry say something to someone in the background.

"Do you have someone with you?"

"Only my dog, Scarlet. She's sitting beside me wagging her tail, hoping I'll let her talk to you."

Ruth laughed lightly at the image of Harry with his little dog. "It's sad that I don't talk dog and she doesn't talk human. I think your dog and I might get on well."

"I'm sure you'd get on well. How have you been filling your time, Ruth?"

"Reading, cleaning out cupboards. I never thought I'd ever say I was tired of reading, but I am. I miss work, and I miss everyone at work."

"Have you missed me?"

"Of course, Harry. You're normally at work, and I miss everyone at work. Therefore, I must miss you."

"Mmm, not good enough Ms Evershed." He sounded grumpy.

"Give me time, Harry. I'm still getting used to hearing your voice."

Their conversation continued for another half hour. They covered safe topics, and caught up on how they'd each occupied their time during the previous four weeks.

"Was it your idea for us to have these phones?" she asked him.

"No, it was all Malcolm's, I believe, although I smell a Grid plot. We gave ourselves away to them at the time of Maudsley's suicide."

"We also gave ourselves away to each other, Harry."

"Yes, we did, didn't we?" Harry's voice was gentle, but deep.

The intimacy had returned, and again Ruth felt afraid. She was afraid of where this was going. She was afraid of what Harry wanted and expected of her. She was afraid she'd lose herself to loving him. She was afraid of how much she already loved him. She was afraid of going beyond the point of no return. She was afraid she was already beyond that point …... out of her depth and drowning.

"I'd like to talk to you every day if that suits you, Ruth."

"I'm not going anywhere for a while, so yes, I'd like that."

"Until tomorrow then."

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Ruth."

She closed the phone quickly, not wanting to wait on the line listening to his breathing. It was almost too much for her. Would she talk to him again tomorrow night? Of course she would. She was already counting the hours.