Disclaimer - Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC

A/N - This is very much Ruth and Harry. AU set post 5.4. Unbeta'd so blame me for any mistakes.

For Em x

The Grid's lights have switched to energy saving mode and most of the desks are now in darkness. Ruth presses her fingers against her temples in a vain attempt to relieve the headache that started earlier. The lure of home and a hot bath is becoming overwhelming and she sighs as she picks up the assortment of documents and passports stacked on the end of her desk. All she has to do is lock them away and the end of her long and demanding day will be in sight. As she enters the forgery suite, everything slips from her grasp. She feels a prickling sensation at the back of her eyes and hot tears start to drip down her face.

Harry watches her as she trudges past his office. She looks pale and drawn. He knows something is wrong; even a simple conversation has seemingly taken all her strength today. He is out of his chair and striding across the floor towards the forgery suite before he can change his mind.

She doesn't know he is standing behind her, saying her name. She only becomes aware of his presence when she feels his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her round to face him. She can't speak and he doesn't question her. Instead, he pulls her towards him and holds her.

Taking her into his arms is an instinctive reaction and he will deal with the consequences, of which he is certain there will be several, later. For now, he just wants to concentrate on how tightly she is clinging to him. Her face is pressing into his neck and he can feel her tears running down his skin, into the collar of his shirt.

Ruth doesn't know how long she stays in Harry's embrace. Time no longer seems important to her. The only thought in her head is how safe she feels pressed against his body with his arms wrapped around her. Not quite the only thought. She wonders, hazily, why he is doing this. She rejected him but he is there, giving her comfort. He's holding on to her in more ways than one.

Eventually, she pulls away from him but his hands remain on her shoulders, keeping a physical connection.

"Th-thank you," she whispers.

"You don't have to tell me but I'm guessing you're not upset because of this," he gestures towards the papers strewn over the floor.

She makes a choking noise, which could be an attempt at a laugh. "No. It's…it's stupid. I'm stupid."

"You are not stupid." His voice is gentle but the underlying sentiment is clear.

She nods shakily before sniffing and rummaging through the pocket of her skirt for a tissue.

"Here," he pushes a handkerchief into her hand. "It's clean."

She takes it and dabs at her eyes. Then she moves away from him and blows her nose. When she turns around, he is crouching down, collecting up the documents she has dropped. Wordlessly, she helps him.

-x-

As they stop at the traffic lights, Ruth studies the queue of people at the bus stop. Usually, she would be with them but instead she is in the warmth of Harry's car. She is grateful for his offer of a lift home; an offer he makes from time to time but she declines. She sniffs, quietly, and dabs at her nose with his handkerchief, which she still seems to be clutching. She's vaguely aware of him moving and his fingers curl around hers, just for a moment.

The journey passes in silence; they are both lost in their own thoughts. They have so much to say to each other but neither of them know where to begin.

-x-

"Come in." She leaves the front door open and walks purposefully down the hall, forcing him to do as she asks. His hand rests on the latch long after it has clicked into place as he considers the recklessness of what he is about to do.

"Tea or coffee," Ruth calls from the kitchen.

"Tea, please."

There is the sound of the kettle being filled and a rattle of crockery. He takes off his coat, hangs it up and heads towards her.

"I've run out of milk, sorry." Cupboard doors are frantically opened and closed. "There's some powdered stuff somewhere. At least I thought there was."

"It's OK, I can have coffee-"

She has stopped the hunt for the elusive dried milk and is leaning heavily against the counter with her back to him.

"Ruth?"

There is a loud sob. "I'm sorry."

For the second time that evening she is in his arms, crying. He doesn't want to upset her further but makes it clear that he would like an explanation.

"But first," he says, gently, "you will go and have a shower and get changed, and I will get some milk."

She rubs a shaky hand over her face and nods her agreement.

-x-

Ruth pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, trying to take in the scene in front of her. The table has been laid and there is a bowl of salad in the centre of it. Harry has removed his jacket and has a tea towel slung over his left shoulder. He is busy at the stove but senses her presence and turns around.

"Feeling better?"

"Y-yes." She takes a couple of steps into the room. "Um, what are you doing?"

"Making us something to eat. You don't mind do you?"

There is something sweetly appealing about his uncertainty. "No, it's fine. Thank you."

"Sit down then, it's nearly ready."

She does as she's told. "I think you bought more than milk," she teases him, knowing full well she did not have the ingredients for the omelette he places in front of her.

"Your fridge was bare."

She shrugs. "I didn't get around to doing any shopping over the weekend."

He shakes his head. "And you thought I lived on tinned tuna and crisps."

She acknowledges his comment with a slight smile. "I'm not usually this disorganised."

"I know. Your organisational skills are one of your virtues."

She looks at him, trying to gauge if he is making fun of her. There is something in his eyes that she has seen before; a softness that reminds her of his dinner invitation. The memory causes a stab of pain in her heart and she does what she always does: changes the subject.

"This looks good. Is being able to cook one of your virtues?"

He laughs, softly. "Probably my only one."

She makes a start on her food. "This is good."

He watches her eat. "You didn't have any lunch, did you?"

"Neither did you."

He doesn't respond immediately; he knows this is her way of deflecting the conversation away from herself so he lets the silence linger on.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, eventually.

Ruth concentrates on the food in front of her as she speaks. "No, I didn't have any lunch." She looks up at him for a moment. "Just like you."

"You're right, as always."

"Is that another of my virtues?"

He is visibly amused. "Absolutely."

She tries not to smile but he sees the corners of her mouth turn up.

Thanks for reading. More soon.