A/N – Three-shot set some time after season 9. Not season 10 compliant. All about New Years Eve, with spooks, scrabble and a little forgiveness for my favourite spooks couple. Harry/Ruth rated T. Hope you enjoy.

Silver.

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Five letter word

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It had been an odd New Years Eve, on the Grid. It was half past eleven and, as of yet, nobody had tried to blow up London.

With only skeleton staff on duty, Ruth had expected the worst to happen, at any minute. As the day dragged on, however, not a single bulletin popped up on their screens. The system had remained entirely devoid of assassination attempts, or bomb materials going missing, or persons of interest appearing in public places. The threat level had remained low. The nation's terrorists, it seemed, were taking the year off.

As the evening drew in and it became obvious that no imminent danger was happening, Harry had sent most of the staff home, under strenuous warning to remain sober, as they were still officially 'on-call'. A few tasks had remained open, of course, so team members without family volunteered to stay behind. Ruth was first to sign up. She could not remember a year when there had not been a high priority threat on New Year's Eve. Being on the Grid as the bells went off was as much a tradition, to her, as a glass of Champagne.

Almost all of Erin's team stayed behind, for pretty much the same reason. Dimitri's parents were away on holiday, Tariq's girlfriend was working and Calum, like Ruth, had no family to speak of. Erin was the only one who had headed home. She had little Rosie, of course.

Ruth sighed, feeling a rush of envy towards the younger officer. Erin would be at home with her mum and her daughter, curled up on the sofa. As much as Ruth liked to pretend that family holiday scenes were not her cup of tea, she sometimes longed for that closeness. Ruth knew it was partly her fault, that she was so isolated. The job was one thing – the long working hours were ridiculous – but it had been her choice not to get back in contact with her family, when she had returned from being officially deceased. At the time, it had seemed logical. The explanations and lies had not seemed worth the hassle, especially when Ruth partly expected she would die properly, in the future. Now, she was not sure she had made the right choice.

A sigh escaped her throat. She was becoming maudlin, with the lateness of the hour.

Sitting on her left hand side, Tariq caught her eye and motioned towards the board game on front of them. Dimitri and Calum, sitting on Ruth's other side and directly across from her, were watching her too; all waiting for her to take her turn. Ruth sighed. She had never been much good at Scrabble – more to do with terrible luck than her vocabulary – and New Years' Eve Scrabble wasn't shaping up to be much better. She was already lagging behind by thirty points.

"Going to make a move?" Tariq asked.

"If I must."

She placed an 'ed' on the end of a word, earning enough points to elicit a groan from Tariq, who was losing even more drastically than she was.

"This isn't fair." The young technical officer grumbled. "This whole idea was mine and now I'm losing..."

With the complete dearth of threats to deal with, the spooks' evening had been spent finishing off mountains of post-op paper work. Dimitri, always the first to tire of report-writing, had disappeared through to the storage unit and begun rooting through Malcolm's old boys' toys. At the bottom of the pile, he came across a box marked (in typically Malcolm fashion) 'retrofitted spy-ware'. Inside were some bugged board games, made during Ruth's early days at MI5, for a sting operation.

Ruth had smiled when Dimitri brought out the 'Scrabble' box. She remembered laughing about it with Zoe and Danny, on a late night not so unlike this one. In a fit of nostalgia, she had told the new team the story; of how the operation had gone terribly wrong and all the bugged 's' letters picked up on was a recording of foreign dignitaries 'getting it on' in the meeting room. They chuckled, all imagining Harry's face as he listened to the recording.

It had been Tariq who had suggested playing a game. At first, the rest of the team had been hesitant, but he had asked with such uncharacteristic enthusiasm that nobody really had had the heart to say no. So here they were, nearly half an hour later, in the midst of what was becoming the most laboured-over game of Scrabble in Scrabble history.

And, somehow, it was Ruth's turn again.

She frowned down at the board. On her right, Dimitri leant back in his chair, arms folded across his chest; clearly smug after fitting 'ensconce' onto the board for upwards of eighty points. Tariq continued to gripe on her left and blame his low scores on bad letters. Calum drummed his fingers excitedly against the desk, beckoning Ruth to make her move.

"Come on, Evershed, thrill us with your wordplay."

"I'm doing my best." she grumbled in reply.

Ruth scanned her letters. They were a rum lot, really, mostly vowels. She got the feeling that the rest of the team were expecting her to win the game, what with her background in classics and her mental collection of completely useless trivia. They would be sorely disappointed. Ruth toyed with her letters, sizing up her options. At the moment, she could either place them down to form a slightly rude word, or one which would only earn her single-digit points. Deciding that her self-respect was probably more important than winning – and knowing that she would probably never catch up with Dimitri's score anyway – she put down 'eon'.

Dimitri looked disappointed. Clearly he had been spoiling for a race to first place.

"I suppose that will have to do," he sighed, writing down her meagre score of nine.

The game continued, sliding slowly from the seriousness, with which it had all started, into the general mirth that happened whenever Tariq and Calum got together, socially. As the pair argued over the validity of urban slang as legitimate words, and Dimitri and Ruth laughed along, the pod doors swished loudly behind them. Everybody turned to look, as Harry walked back onto the Grid.

Conversation faltered. Ruth glanced over at her colleague's faces. They were frozen in a unilateral expression of unease. The reason, she suspected, was that nobody really knew whether or not Harry would approve of their little New Years' celebration. Ruth, who knew that Harry liked to relax with a Scotch, while doing his paperwork, hardly suspected he would fire them on the spot. Then again, she had been wrong about Harry before. Scrabble might be his deepest hatred. Idle officers on New Years' Eve might enrage him beyond all mortal limits.

Ruth watched his face carefully as he entered, but picked up only the briefest hint of surprise, before impassivity slid back into place. Harry nodded to them all.

"Good evening, everyone."

A chorus of 'Hello Harry's and 'Hello Sir's came in reply.

"I trust nothing too sinister has happened, during my absence?"

Ruth considered making a joke about how Tariq had made tea, but held herself back. Conversation with Harry made her feel anxious. The two of them had not properly spoken in weeks. Things were not right between them, not since the Albany fiasco.

To her great relief, Dimitri spoke up, to fill the silence.

"Nothing sinister at all, sir." he swivelled around in his chair, to face Harry. "Erin and the others left a couple of hours ago. It's been as quiet as a churchyard."

Harry pulled off his gloves, slowly, scanning across their faces.

"Right, well enjoy your game," he glanced down at the board, "but remember that paperwork better be finished the next time I see you all."

Yes, Sir, they chorused – yes, Harry.

"I expect very full, very detailed reports on my desk by noon on the Second." He warned them and then added, as an afterthought. "Or I'm sending Ruth back to GCHQ."

His remark was greeted by a few chuckles and one or two glances over at Ruth, just to reaffirm that it was a joke.

Ruth rolled her eyes, but felt a curious mix of emotion well up within her. It was the first time he had initiated any form of social contact, since the day he had been suspended. This was primarily due to the fact that Ruth had been ignoring him.

When she had first returned to the team, after Cyprus, Ruth had thought there could be no future possible, between her and Harry. She had retreated into herself and pushed her boss as far away as she could reach. It had been only very gradually that things had changed, between them; a process taking place over months, rather than weeks. A few touches, a few glances held when nobody was looking, had slowly changed her mind. In fact, Ruth had almost convinced herself to give them another chance. Then, Ros's death and the proposal had happened. And after that, when they were only starting to recover some semblance of normality, Albany. Their situation had been highlighted, neon bright, in Ruth's mind. People like them had no future. What was the point in tasting love only to have it snatched away?

After Albany and Harry's suspension, Ruth had withdrawn completely. She had not answered any of his calls or emails. She had made only a perfunctory appearance at his tribunal. Harry had been saved due to his involvement in some business with the Russians, another peace-making deal, which came to nothing. One more double-agent captured, one more conspiracy overturned, Ruth and Harry had found themselves back on the Grid; back in the same position they had been before but with the added complication of knowing what had gone on, between Harry and Elena Gavrik. An asset, turned lover, turned double-agent betrayer.

Ruth set her jaw. More lies. More reasons for her to be angry with him.

Anger was the primary emotion running through Ruth, for the past few weeks. Rich, textured, multi-layered anger. She was angry at everything. She was angry that Harry never told her anything about his past. She was angry that he had put her above National Security and then tried to excuse his actions with love. She was angry that he had proposed to her at a friend's funeral, when she was emotional and vulnerable. She was angry that he done it before saying what he wanted to say, all years ago, on that sad, cold pier. She was angry because he had no timing or tact, and because he was as emotionally forthright as a stone, and for numerous other reasons. And...

...she was angry with herself, because she had already forgiven him, for all of it.

Ruth took a slow breath and tore her eyes away from Harry, to look around herself.

Barely five seconds had passed, since she had drifted off into her thoughts, but those five seconds had left her exhausted. The anger made her head throb and her muscles ache. Shoulders dropping back against her computer chair, Ruth folded her arms across her belly, comfortingly. She was too tired to think about the anger any more. Besides which, she did not want to. Her resolve had been fading, over the past couple of days. Not talking to Harry was awful. The two of them had been moping around each others' vicinity for weeks, neither plucking up the courage to either apologise or argue. She ated it. The warmth she had felt, when he joked to her, had reminded her of everything they used to be. Ruth wanted that feeling back.

Next to her, Tariq leant forwards, breaking her train of thought.

"Come join us, Harry," he called over, to his boss. "New Years Eve Scrabble, winner gets the last chocolate biscuit. There's only half an hour of 2010 left. You don't really want to spend it making calls and chasing paperwork, do you?"

Everyone looked to the boss.

"I don't know, I should really..." Harry dithered, glancing over at his office and the foot-high pile of files sitting on his desk.

"Come on, Harry." Tariq threw him a trademark cheeky grin. "Festive spirit, team bonding and all of that!"

"Just half an hour, Harry." Dimitri joined in.

"Haven't you already been playing a while?" Harry asked, glancing down at the board, full of letters.

Despite his hesitance, Ruth expected that Harry did want to join them. He may spend most of his working life behind a thick pane of glass, holed up inside his office, but she knew that Harry was never happier than when he was with his team. She never saw him more in his element than when he was on Grid floor – except, perhaps, when he was there to greet all of his officers, returning safe after an operation. Ruth knew that Harry cared for them. He would lay down his life for them. Yet, he did not seem capable of showing that, in any meaningful way.

She suspected it was probably this same incapability which had kept her and Harry apart, all these years.

"You can join Tariq or Ruth and make a team." Dimitri suggested.

"Yeah, they're rubbish." Calum seconded.

"Lies." Ruth commented, lightly,

Harry's eyes swept slowly across the team and onto her. His expression was veiled, but at least he was not looking at her with that sullen resentment he had been harbouring last week. Though he was doing his best to look as composed as ever, Ruth could tell that he was as tired as she was.

She sighed. The time had come to make amends. She hated feeling angry, hated working in a silent cold. Something about tonight felt hopeful. It was New Years' Eve, after all, a time for renewal and second chances. Perhaps, tonight, she could take a step towards him, instead of away. Maybe, she could start to fix things – mend the burnt bridge, or whatever the metaphor was. She might be ready to try that. She certainly did not want to keep walking along this path they were on.

"Come on, Harry," Tariq wheedled again.

"Well, I suppose the paperwork could wait."

Still, Harry hovered near the pods. He looked like he was hanging back out of courtesy, unsure, perhaps, if Ruth would be okay with him joining in.

Ruth felt the urge to reassure him that she was.

"You can join my team." She told him softly.

The words came out a little too softly. There was a pause, where Ruth could have overcompensated and added something else, in a louder tone – a joke, perhaps, to make light of the moment – but she didn't. Tariq shifted uncomfortably. Dimitri's stare became politely focussed on his hands. Calum seemed to be the only one who did not sense the delicacy of the moment. He just looked between Ruth and her boss and gave them both a wide smile, before pronouncing;

"There you go, Harry, you've got a team mate. The pair of you should be able to take on Dimitri's preposterous lead."

The tension was sharply broken. The team laughed, together. Dimitri scoffed and muttered something to the effect of 'not likely'. Tariq threw some derogatory comment to Calum and Ruth felt a flutter of nerves rush through her, as Harry nodded his head at the lot of them.

"Well, I suppose I could spare a few minutes." Pulling off his outer coat, he made his way across the Grid and drew up a spare computer chair, on Ruth's right-hand side. Laying his coat over the back, he sat down and asked, into the space between her shoulder and her ear; "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

The intimacy of the moment gave Ruth more of a thrill than she cared to admit – and rather more than she expected, after the animosity that had been brewing between them, over the last few weeks.

"Probably, yes." She blustered out a reply.

Gathered around the table, sharing the same letters, Ruth and Harry were seated rather closer than they usually allowed themselves to be. Ruth felt her skin prickle, body tensing in response to his slightest movements. As Harry shifted in his seat, the back of their hands brushed, causing Ruth to swallow, hard. Show some control, she berated herself, surreptitiously pinching the skin on her inner arm. She had decided that she should start talking to him again, not jump into bed together! Another brush of his arm, however, threatened to banish all logical thought.

Ruth barely managed to disguise her sigh of longing inside one of boredom. It had been such a long time since they last touched. She missed that particular game of theirs; leaning over one another to get a pen, letting their fingers touch for a bit longer than they needed to, as they handed over a file. She missed the contact. It was a stupid thing to say, she supposed, after having pushed him away like she did, but true nonetheless. Ruth sighed. She could have had more than this – they could have been more than this. Harry had offered her that. He had offered her all of himself, quite unreservedly. It was only her cowardice and childish anger which had left her seeking contact in the brush of the back of their hands.

"Shall we?" asked Dimitri.

"Yes, of course." Ruth cleared her throat, looking back down at her collection of vowels and her single consonant.

She could feel, very acutely, Harry's gaze on the side of her cheek. It felt like her skin was on fire, as if he was physically touching her. This was ridiculous, she thought. She should be plugging through MI5 databases, in search of rogue terrorists. That was her New Years' tradition – not playing Scrabble with bloody Harry Pearce. A little bit of her reared up in reflexive anger, but the feeling died away as his skin brushed against hers again. Ruth glanced down, just in time to see Harry's fingers move away from her wrist.

"What?" She asked, looking back up at him. Her voice was only a little breathless.

"You can use those four, under the 'G' on dragon." He pointed at their letters, looking a tad pleased with himself. "Triple letter score."

The pleasure in his eyes was enough to warm her. Despite not entirely meaning to, Ruth smiled.

"I've got a better one, but thank you."

"Going to share?"

"I might." She joked, sounding far more nonchalant than she felt.

"Teammates, Ruth." He reminded her.

"Not sure I trust you not to sabotage the game, so that we'll all get back to our paperwork."

Harry smiled, the first honest smile he had given her in a long time.

"No sabotage." He told her.

"You promise?"

"Promise."

His eyes flashed.

Her heart skipped a little.

Tariq cleared his throat. The pair startled and looked around. All three of the younger men were watching them.

"Come on, Ruth and Harry." Calum said, brightly. "We haven't got all night."

Hurriedly returning her attention to her letters, Ruth picked up four and placed them on the board, spelling out the word 'naive'.

The game continued. Her score was noted down and conversation sprung up again, between the boys. Ruth picked up more letters. Dimitri put down something brilliant, winning him thirty points. Calum put down something really quite rude, winning him twenty three. Tariq sat for almost a whole two minutes, trying to figure out something that did not look like Czech. Ruth watched them all with a fixed smile, aware of Harry's eyes resting on her face the entire time. His gaze had not left her since she had placed her word on the board.

Okay, so it was a spot of blatant flirting, spelling out 'naive' – especially when his word would have got them more points – but it was New Years' Eve. Wasn't a spot of flirting, between two old friends (or ex-friends, almost-lovers, friends-again, or whatever they were) allowed? She had decided that they should try and reconnect, that she should try to build a bridge over the gaping chasm between them. What better way than to remind him of the good times? The simpler times, when she was naive and he was a little braver.

Ruth glanced over at her boss, meeting his eye for a split second. His expression was guarded. Even if his heart wanted to believe her intent, his mind was clearly telling him not to get his hopes up. It would be logical not to, Ruth reasoned. None of their previous flirtations had amounted to anything serious. Why should Harry believe her playfulness now, after her weeks of cold, towards him? She felt a twinge of guilt for confusing him like this. Maybe they could talk later, and she could explain.

"Ruth?"

"Yes?" she turned quickly back to him.

Reaching slowly over her, he rearranged the letters on their small wooden bench. His forearm was pressed softly against hers as he reached. Ruth did not move away, or forwards. She focussed all of her attention down on those letters, as if the adrenaline pumping through her would go away if she ignored it hard enough. It did not.

Harry pointed out the position his word would take, on the board.

"Good?"

"Very good." She conceded. "Seasoned player, are we?"

"Better than you. You should have taken my advice on the last round. We would have got double the points."

Ruth got the feeling she should have taken his advice weeks ago – years ago. She should have accepted that second date. She should have let him tell her that he loved her, on that pier. She should have said 'yes' when he asked her to forgive him, 'yes' when he asked her to marry him, 'thank you' for what he did, with Albany. She had wanted to. Why had she let insecurity and anger come between them? They were better than that. She was old enough to know better.

"I know." She told him, quietly.

To draw her mind away from the metaphorical implications of their game, Ruth scanned her eyes back across the board. Tariq was arguing with Calum over the validity of American spellings.

"It's an American game!" he insisted.

"So do we miss out random 'u's whenever we please, now?" Calum asked. "How would you spell colour, Tariq?"

"I'm just saying, we should be allowed to spell it either way."

"That is completely cheating!"

"No, it's completely fair."

Harry stepped in, separating his young employees, and calling a vote.

Tariq lost unanimously.

"Well, it was worth a shot." Dropping the 'z' from his word, the young technical officer entered the correct spelling and collected his smaller score. Reaching into the bag for more letters, he announced that there were none and the game was now, officially on its final legs. "It's a sprint to the finish." He told them eagerly.

Ruth chuckled.

Harry's body was relaxed beside her and their next word was nothing special. They were too old for sprinting and she was perfectly happy just to sit here, the back of her hand laid against his, on top of the table. They had ended up sitting that way so naturally that nobody had noticed – not that it mattered if they noticed, Ruth reminded herself, they all knew anyway. What was the harm, then, in allowing a little contact? It made her feel better. It made her feel warm. She was pretty sure it made him feel better too. Harry's shoulders had relaxed, the tension that had been present in him earlier all but vanished.

They remained touching for the rest of the game. It made Ruth a little sad to think it, but it was the longest they had ever gone, without breaking contact.

In the end, Dimitri won, as expected, by a matter of fifty points. Harry's help, on the last few turns, brought Ruth up to third place, but Calum beat her to second. Tariq lagged behind, in fourth, with an appalling score of eighty-two. As grand loser, he was assigned the task of packing away the game while Calum and Dimitri went off to fetch celebratory cups of tea. While the younger man slouched off next door, to return the game to Malcolm's storage boxes, Ruth and Harry found themselves alone, still sitting side-by-side. Still touching.

Reluctantly, Ruth pulled back, disguising the movement as a sudden urge to reorganise her desktop.

Harry remained where she had left him, watching her quietly.

"It's almost midnight." he commented, after a few moments had passed and Ruth had shuffled all the papers that she could shuffle.

Ruth looked back, overcome by shyness. When he said 'midnight', her mind had immediately flitted to 'midnight kiss'. She wondered if her thoughts could have possibly shown on her face. Part of her hoped that it did. She was so tired of acting cool towards him, so exhausted from all the anger. Tonight, Ruth thought she might sell her life down the drain, just to kiss Harry at midnight. He had soft lips. He felt so gentle, against her. They had touched only once, that way, but she could still remember every second of it. Most prominently, she could remember how alive he made her feel. Beautifully, poignantly alive.

How could she have been so angry that feeling alive had faded into insignificance?

"How long?" she asked him. "Until midnight?"

"Ten minutes, or so."

"Shame we'll miss the fireworks." She said, quietly.

"We could go upstairs, to the roof." Harry suggested.

Ruth must have looked surprised, because he hastened to elaborate, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"To see the fireworks, I mean. You can see right across to where they hold the street party. I went up there to watch, a couple of years ago, with Ros." he fiddled with his hands, a nervous tic she had picked up on, over the years. "It was really quite beautiful."

Ruth kept her lips sealed for a minute, not trusting the next words that came out of her mouth not to be 'I love you, I'm sorry, kiss me?' Eventually, she managed a very controlled "that would be lovely."

"Good. I'll tell the boys to bring the tea up." Harry made to stand, but Ruth reached out, her hand staying him.

"Shouldn't someone stay on the Grid?" she asked softly, not quite believing what she was about to suggest.

Harry frowned.

"You're probably right. They can draw straws."

"I mean, could we not-," Ruth paused and swallowed.

Harry lifted an eyebrow.

"Could we not go alone," she forced herself to continue, "to watch the fireworks." Her breath was coming shallow and fast. Her pulse was sickeningly loud in her ears. "I know the boys wouldn't mind and I'd... I'd quite like the chance to talk," she paused, and then added, hastily, "if that's okay, with you."

Eyes not-quite hiding his surprise, Harry nodded.

"That's okay."

"Okay." She smiled, nervously.

"Right."

She stood.

He stood.

They faced on another, slightly awkwardly. Ruth cleared her throat and tried to think of sensible things to say, then remembered that the roof would be cold, at this time of year. She turned, reaching for her coat with one hand as she scrabbled around her desk, for ID card, with the other. By the time she turned back to face him, Harry had managed to get both his coat and gloves – truly a man of many talents.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Ruth nodded, her heart beating hard in her throat. This could be the worst mistake she had ever made, or it could be the best one. Either way, she was determined to make it. They could not go one as they had been living – ignoring each other, working in cold silence. She wanted the old Harry and Ruth back. She wanted to feel good again. Following him over towards the pod doors, she stood close as they went through and headed out, down the corridor, and up, towards the roof.

She was sick of feeling angry. She missed him. Tonight, she would make things right again.

...

As their backs disappeared from sight, Calum and Dimitri emerged from the kitchen, bearing cups of tea.

"Where on Earth?" Calum looked around, to Harry's office and Ruth's desk. Neither of the older spooks were in sight. "Well, it looks like we're not going to need four cups of tea, after all." He rolled his eyes. "Where do you think they've they run off to?"

"Don't know..." Dimitri's mouth twitched up, into a smile. "Don't know if I want to know."

Calum's eyebrows rose.

"Seriously? Ruth and Harry?"

Tariq's head popped out from around the corner of his station.

"They've gone up to the roof," he told Dimitri, before turning to Calum. "And don't say you don't know the Ruth and Harry story." He said, with incredulously. "There is no way you've not heard about them, they're Section D's worst-kept secret!"

"Well, I know about Ruth and Harry," Calum said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, I know he traded some big-ass state secret for her life and got himself suspended for it. But I figured, as she's been glaring daggers at him since he got back, it must be some great, unrequited love story." His eyes lit up, as he glanced back towards the pods, through which the two senior officers had disappeared, and then turned back to Dimitri. "Are you telling me that Ruth and Harry is actually" he gave a suggestive nod, "Ruth and Harry."

Tariq and Dimitri exchanged a glance.

"Uh, honestly, mate, I have no idea." Dimitri told the new officer.

"Wouldn't want to ask." Tariq seconded. "Harry would probably kill us."

Calum looked over towards the pod doors, still clutching the two extra cups of tea.

"Well there you go," he said, almost to himself. "You learn something new every day, on this job. Well done, Harry..." He frowned. "...Shame we're missing the fireworks, though."

The three young spooks sat down at Ruth's abandoned desk, drank their tea and ate their biscuits. They chinked mugs at New Year and discussed ridiculous New Years' resolutions that they never would never keep. None of them was particularly interested in following their boss or their analyst colleague up to the roof, to watch the fireworks. There were limits, on how many new things they wanted to learn. Harry, interrupted in his pursuit of Ruth, was not one of them.

...