"I'm not saying I hate Christmas, Ruth."

She gave him a look like she didn't quite believe him.

"It's just that Christmas is more for kids and since my children spent most of their childhoods hating my guts, I don't have a whole lot of good memories about it…Well, until now." He pulled her closer, and ungracefully kissed her hair.

They had been walking hand-in-hand and Harry had led them away from the throngs of holiday shoppers.

"You still haven't told me what you'd like for Christmas," she continued.

"I have all that I want, Ruth." He was fiddling with the engagement ring on her finger.

"Charmer."

"Took you long enough to succumb to my charms, though." he grinned.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Harry managed to sneak in just before the music started, no thanks to the JIC chairman. Ruth tried to hide her disappointment when he had told her he wouldn't be able to make it. He hated letting her down, and consequently spent most of the day rearranging his schedule. He'd probably pay for it the rest of the week, but he didn't care. It was crowded, and the church interior was aglow and smelled vaguely of evergreen. It struck him that this was probably the first time he had been in a church and not for a funeral in a very long time.

The choir stood, and in one voice, the concert started. His eyes found her amongst the sopranos, and he tried, in vain, to pick her voice out from all the others. She had pulled her hair back, and she was beautiful. She sang with a great deal of concentration and something else that he couldn't immediately put his finger on. Sometime during the second piece it struck him – passion. She was happy, and his heart rejoiced in that knowledge. The music was very good, and after awhile, he felt the stress of the day slough off of his frame. For the first time in a long, long while the music of peace and joy that was surrounding him actually meant something to him. Against all odds, she had spotted him the crowd sometime during the Magnificat, and he couldn't help but grin back at her as a ghost of a smile crept across her face.

The concert was over, and the crowd had started filing slowly out. Harry was content in a way that only being able to unabashedly stare at his beloved for over an hour could produce. He picked his way through the throng towards her, and when he was close enough, he could see her questioning glance.

"I managed to move some things around," he shrugged. He took her hand, and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Ruth! Are you coming?" one of her choirmates asked above the thinning crowd.

"They're doing drinks across the way, do you…?"

"If you'd like."

They were walking slowly to the pub, trailing discreetly behind the others.

"What do this lot know?" He asked, indicating the group ahead of them with a nod of his head.

"Just that I'm a researcher for a big firm in the City."

He glanced sideways at her and she shrugged,

"I purposely kept it vague, I didn't want to get tripped up later."

Curiosity surrounding the well-dressed man accompanying Ruth was high amongst the other members of the choir. Ruth was well-liked, but she kept herself to herself, and even those who professed to know her well, didn't really know that much about her life outside of the choir. They knew that her job was demanding, and she had to miss rehearsals on occasion because of work. One of the other sopranos' observational skills would've made for a good MI-5 recruit.

"I swear she has an engagement ring on her finger."

For someone who professed to hate receptions, Harry was doing a good job at working the room. Ruth had introduced him, and her heart fluttered a little bit when she did so; this being the first time she could say, "This is my fiancé." She shouldn't have been surprised at the ease in which he unwound his legend to her friends. He apparently was a banker in the City, and often had to travel abroad. Ruth made a mental note to remember that for the future. After talking a bit about the music (and here she was disproportionately proud that he was holding his own with the conductor about some somewhat obscure opera), the joint inquisition began.

"So, how did you two meet?" Ruth was tempted to tell the truth, if only to see Harry remove that smirk off his face. She decided to do one better.

"It's a long story. Harry tells it much better than I do, don't you, dear?"

He nearly choked on his wine at the uncharacteristic endearment. When he had gained his composure, he proceeded to tell the most complex, ridiculous anecdote of his entire career.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ruth was on her way home, arms filled with grocery bags, when her mobile rang. Unceremoniously dumping the bags on the pavement in front of her, she dug her phone out of her pocket.

"Hi, Catherine."

"I've done it!" Harry's daughter crowed.

"Done what?" The possibilities were mind-boggling. Ruth sometimes envied Catherine's spontaneity.

"I've finally convinced Graham to talk to Dad."

Ruth was speechless. She knew that Graham's stubbornness to respond to any of Harry's attempts at communication where only matched by the depths of Harry's regret over his son.

"Ruth, are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry…" Ruth's silence started to worry Catherine.

"Did I do the right thing?"

"It's just that it's a bit of a shock, that's all."

"I just want to stop being the intermediary."

"I know. It'll be fine, as long as your father doesn't die from the shock."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

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