I'm struggling for HR ideas and this came out. The ending is a little weird but hope its okay anyway...

Harry woke up to a thumping headache and his doorbell ringing repeatedly. Groaning as he got off the sofa he opened the door without looking at the intruder. He knew who it would be. Erin followed Harry through to his kitchen where he stood looking out of the window silently.

"You look terrible," Erin said honestly, looking at his bloodshot eyes and clothes that had clearly been slept in.

"Thank you for that Erin. Did you want anything?" Harry still wouldn't turn and look at her.

"You have to go today," Erin said quietly.

"No I don't," he replied firmly. "I'm not going."

"Go and get dressed Harry," Erin replied. "You can't stay here and wallow, not today. Its her funeral."

"You think I don't know that?" Harry said in a deathly quiet voice. "For the last few days I have been thinking of nothing else, believe me. Her death, the way she looked as she took her last breath. The fact that she was dying in my arms far too early. Before we could ever really be together. I cannot go to her funeral Erin. I'll be at the church and then what? See her being buried in the cold earth? Knowing the entire time that it should have been me. I should have been the one Sasha attacked. That its my fault she's dead. I can't do it. I can't watch the love of my life vanish from me all over again. I'm not that strong."

"You need to be there," Erin said not giving up as easily as Harry would have liked. "You are the only person she would really want there in the first place."

"Goodbye Erin," Harry said, trying to close the conversation.

"I have something for you," Erin said. Harry turned and looked at her, curious in spite of himself. She held out a letter with Harry written on the envelope. He took it and then felt his heart stop. It was Ruth's handwriting.

"Where did you get this?" Harry asked in an awed whisper.

"We had to clean out Ruth's desk. The new analyst moved in yesterday." The look on Harry's face made her silent for a few seconds before she continued. "I know you hate that but terrorists don't stop for grief. Anyway, nothing personal was there, except this. So I thought I'd hand it over to you before you drown yourself in whisky." Harry knew how much Ruth would have hated his recent tendencies towards alcohol and he felt slightly ashamed of his behaviour. Harry held the letter like a bomb that could go off at any moment, staring at his name written in her hand.

"Look, I'm not telling you that you have to show up at Ruth's funeral, especially if you're not ready," Erin said quietly. "I think you should but it isn't my decision. I am telling you that you cannot drink yourself into an early grave. She would be so…"

"Disappointed, yeah I know," Harry finished for her. "Have you read it?" he asked, not knowing what he wanted the answer to be.

"No Harry I haven't, but knowing both of you even for a brief time, I have a fair idea of what it might say." Erin smiled sadly. "I should go. I'm going to be late if I don't make a move. You're sure you won't come?"

"I'm sure," Harry said with conviction. "Thanks for this," he added indicating the envelope.

"Bye," Erin said, closing Harry's front door quietly behind her as she left. Harry sat at the kitchen table, turning the letter over in his hands, knowing that she had touched the paper. She had chosen the words to say to him. Words which had never been spoken, and now never would be. He took his time pulling the letter out of the envelope, wanting every moment to last as long as possible, knowing this was the last time he would ever hear from her. Slowly unfolding the paper he began to read.

Harry,

I have no idea if I will ever be brave enough to give you this letter, which begs the question why am I writing it? The honest answer is I don't know. But I've started so I'll continue. Neither of us ever really say what we mean and I'm getting tired of it. We both skirt around the truth that neither of us has enough courage to say. Then whenever we try and get things out in the open, something happens to get in our way and we're back to square one. I cannot believe how many years I have wanted nothing else but you, and still nothing has happened between us. Here I go again, talking about anything else rather than the real reason I started writing. The words I desperately want you to know. I love you.

There, its finally said. I love you. I have since the moment I tripped over my files in that briefing all those years ago, and I probably always will. I can't see it changing any time soon at the very least. I might have too high an opinion of myself regarding you, but I believe you love me too. I hope I'm not wrong. It would break my heart if I am, which is one thing that stops me from giving this to you. If I did and my dreams of us together were broken beyond repair, I don't know how I'd ever recover. It might make me weak and cowardly but it is at least honest.

Another honest thing I've been fighting is how incredibly jealous I am of Elena Gavrik. I hate how jealous I've become of someone I didn't even know existed in your life until a few weeks ago. She's known a side of you that I don't think I ever will. And I hate her for it. Even though logically I know she's a Russian and your enemy… I don't know, maybe I'm just hoping, talking myself into thinking that you no longer care for her. But Elena is not the reason I decided to write this. Its you and me.

It will always be there between us won't it? Missed chances and opportunities that never fully materialised. So I wanted to tell you as simply and plainly as I could. I love you with all my heart.

Yours always, Ruth.

Harry carefully folded it back up and slipped it in its envelope, a lump in his throat. He wondered how long that had been hidden in her desk. The very telling thing was that even when she'd been transferred to the Home Office she'd left the letter there, thinking he would eventually uncover it and read it. She had wanted him to know how she felt. She had been brave enough to take the first step, and now that he was finally reading it, it was far too late.

Wiping the tears from his eyes he made a decision.

Darkness was falling as Harry approached Ruth's final resting place. The freshly turned earth hit him harder than he expected it to. Her dead body was only a few feet away from him, in the ground and seeing it like that… the powerful reality of the moment took his breath away. He lowered himself and rested the small bouquet of white lilies on the dark earth.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you earlier," he said quietly. "I didn't want to face everyone at the funeral which was selfish and cowardly. Both of which are so unlike you. Ruth, you never deserved any of this. I'm so sorry that this was your fate when it should have been mine. I'm more sorry than you could ever know." Harry stopped speaking, debating what to say to her.

"Today, your name went on the wall in Thames House. I haven't been to see it yet, because I can't bring myself to look at your name etched there. The cold finality of it. Its different from seeing you here, because even if I'm delusional, I believe you can hear me. Even though you've gone from life, I hope your spirit or soul, whatever you'd like to call it can still hear me. I love you Ruth. Always did do and no one has ever touched my heart the way you did. My cold, cynical and jaded heart was always yours."

The silence in the cemetery was only broken by a solitary owl hooting in the night. "That's all I really came here to say, and now I've said it I'm going to leave you in peace. I can't stay here looking at your grave for too long. If I do I'll fall apart. Goodbye Ruth. I love you." Leaving the flowers on her grave he turned and left the love of his life alone.

As the tears clouded his eyes he failed to see a faint figure of a woman at the gate of the graveyard, her outline slightly blurred. He walked past her without even seeing her, brown hair swaying lightly in the breeze, her shockingly blue, incredibly sad eyes watching him walk down the street.

"I love you too Harry," her ghost whispered, invisible tears trailing down her cheeks. But she remained unheard by the man she had given her heart to in her own lifetime. "I'll see you again, I promise," she murmured before her ghostly form vanished into the wind.

Twenty years later Harry let out his last breath one cold snowy morning. Opening his eyes that day he saw Ruth's ghost, who had a tiny smile on her face and was holding out a hand for him. He looked into her eyes for long seconds. Much bluer than they had been in life, he thought. Realising what her appearance must mean, he hesitated only for a second before moving towards her. He reached for her hand and the instant their hands touched, skin on skin Harry Pearce's heart stopped beating. They were together as they were always meant to be.