Another multi chapter fic from me. Set during Ruth's exile and is a little AU in places. Enjoy.

Ruth closed her eyes as the aeroplane's engine came to life and the aircraft began moving slowly on the runway for take off. It was now too late and she had no choice any longer. She was going back to England. Right or wrong, now that the plane was moving she could stop second guessing her decision. She was going home. The thought buoyed her up, but also terrified her. She was supposed to be dead after all, and if authorities discovered she wasn't, there was a very real chance she'd end up in prison. Even though she was avoiding London, it was still dangerous. Maybe she shouldn't be going back to the UK, but she reminded herself that it was too late.

Ever since she'd left London, Ruth had felt a pull towards the city. Towards him. Not a day went past when she didn't think of him. Was he even alive now? If Harry had died when she was out of the country… She swallowed uncomfortably, because that was an ending to their story that she couldn't bear to contemplate. Because Ruth leaving on an early morning boat to France couldn't be the end for them, could it? In the past three years, she'd never let him go. She couldn't accept that she'd never see him again. Her leaving the country after one date and a couple of kisses could not be the end of their relationship. While they might not have had a long personal relationship, Ruth knew perfectly well that she loved him, and that love was stronger than anything else she'd ever felt for another man. It didn't matter how long the relationship had been at the time, she loved him. And it was only in the few short weeks before her abrupt departure that she'd realised her feelings were not one sided.

No, she couldn't even begin to think about the possibility of his death. It couldn't happen before she'd seen him at least one more time, illogical as she knew that thinking was. She'd had enough of death without attempting to face Harry's as well.

Harry poured himself a large whisky as he sat down behind his desk. A hard day. But lately, they'd all been hard days. He missed her. It had been three years since he'd last seen her. Three incredibly hard years of absence. He missed her personally so much, but also professionally as they'd not been able to find a long term or competent replacement. So Ruth's desk had an almost constant change of staff.

There had been one woman who was more than adequate but… she'd had more than a passing resemblance to Ruth and every time she turned and her dark hair caught the light, Harry's heart would leap even as his brain told him that Ruth was far away. He'd had her sent to section A, and called in a favour so that she'd been paid much more than her current position. After all, it hadn't been Sophie's fault that she looked like Ruth.

Ruth might be dead by now, he thought as he took a healthy gulp of whisky. She might have been dead for years and he'd never know. He couldn't find out without causing dangerous waves and people paying attention to Ruth's location that he'd rather leave her alone. But that meant he had no idea where she was. It was a dangerous world, and he knew that better than most. Had she even been able to set up a new life when she'd left London? Had she made it?

He sighed, feeling very tired and old. It was the not knowing which hurt him the most. Had she met someone else? Married? Had children? The thought sent ice flooding through him, but he wanted her to be happy at the same time. It was a very strange feeling, because he felt angry at the thought of her being with another man, but it was very probable that he'd never see her again, so why shouldn't she try to move on? He himself probably should have moved on for a while now. He'd tried to a couple of times. He'd used aliases and gone to bars for some human interaction. Maybe he hoped for comfort too with the women he found. But his heart hadn't been in it, and nothing more than a deep feeling of shame had ever come of those few nights, and he'd given up on hoping for someone else to distract him from the pain of Ruth's absence.

Harry was beginning to worry that he was losing the image of her. After so long, he was struggling to remember the exact shape of her cheekbones, the expression in her eyes when she looked at him was starting to lose it's clarity. Little pieces of her were being lost to his memory and he wondered if one day he'd have nothing left of her but his emotions and the few photographs he had.

He didn't particularly like the photos he had of her. They didn't capture her spirit, and whenever she was aware of a camera her expression became fixed. Which meant all of the images he had of her were a little flat. They didn't really match up with the Ruth he loved, or the woman in his memory.

There was a light knock on his door, bringing him away from his maudlin thoughts and Malcolm came in, a thin file in his hands. He looked worried and was chewing his bottom lip nervously.

"Sit down," Harry said kindly. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thank you," Malcolm said, hovering by the chair, but staying standing.

"Oh God, what is it?" Harry asked. He'd never seen his friend looking this anxious, and with what they'd been through over the years, that was worrying.

"I… er…" Malcolm said, tailing off. He took a deep breath before starting again. "I have a list of passports that I'm following. I'm sent an alert when one of them goes through passport control."

"I know," Harry said. "Who's travelling here that shouldn't be?" he asked, cutting to the point he assumed Malcolm was getting to.

"She's travelling under an assumed passport, but I'm the only one who knows the name on the false passport. Well, false passport is probably the wrong term, it's a real passport, just with a false identity attached. It was arranged…."

"Malcolm, who is it?" he asked.

"Ruth. Ruth's coming back to England."