A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed. I am fascinated by your reactions ... as well as some of the possible solutions to Harry's dilemma. Such `solutions' are all the more interesting to me because I had the whole story written before posting, and there *is* a solution (one which does not necessitate the taking of lives!)


The next time it happened, Harry knew he was dreaming.

He had been avoiding Ruth at work, and trying to be as business-like as possible whenever he'd had to interact with her. Suddenly, he had no hope for them, and he hated how empty this left him feeling. More than that, he felt saddened by the confusion on her face whenever he fobbed her off, or walked past her desk on the Grid without acknowledging her. He'd even considered inventing a new woman in his life, but that would be too cruel, even for him, and he was not sure he could carry that off effectively. His head could do it without thinking about it, but his heart …... well, his heart was still in pieces from when she'd turned him down. We move on from this. Who was he kidding?

The dream began in the same way …... the thumping in his head, the voices weaving in and out of the percussion section, the black and white lava lamp in front of his eyes. This time, the only word missing was `honeymoon'.

Nurse Wridgeway took his temperature, and Dr Murali Rao spoke to him about his injuries.

"You've been lucky, Harry," the doctor said.

"Ruth?" Harry struggled to say her name. "My ….. my wife."

"There was no-one with you, Harry. And your …... your records make no mention of a wife. I'm told your car was a write-off."

Harry nodded, relieved that the only thing which had been destroyed was replaceable. He lifted his left hand, and there was no ring on his finger.

He awoke from his dream gradually, with none of the shock of the first dream. As his consciousness slid into the present, he knew that he had to keep away from Ruth. That was the key to keeping her alive …... and he must keep Ruth safe. He couldn't live with himself were something to happen to her as a result of her association with him.

It was only after waking from this second dream about his post-accident self that Harry recognised that he had been gifted the power to change his future. To him, it was clear what the dreams were telling him.

He got out of bed, and wandered into his en suite bathroom, performing his usual early morning rituals without thinking about them. He loved Ruth with everything he had, but he couldn't allow himself to get close to her again. He wanted that more than anything, and she seemed to want to heal the rift between them which had begun the day of Ros's funeral …... the day he'd proposed to her.

Why had he proposed to her? He looked at his image in the mirror while he was shaving, taking care to not nick his skin.

Because he wanted her in his life. Because he loved her. Because he knew she loved him still. Because he was scared …... that were he not to have acted then, she could be the next of his team to die unexpectedly.

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. He wanted her close to him – in his house, in his life – and yet while being that close to him, she would be more likely to be in danger, so how can he expect to keep her safe? That question was a step too far for that time of the morning. For the time being, he knew what he had to do.


Harry had two days straight of meetings, and it was only on the third day that he had time to call his team together for a meeting.

"Where's Ruth?" he asked, once they were seated around the table.

"She went home early yesterday, and called in sick this morning," Beth reported.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Flu, I think. She's barely left her room."

"You mean you don't know? You share a flat with her, and you don't know what's wrong with her?"

He saw the look pass between Beth and Dimitri. He also knew that Beth and Dimitri were spending time together outside of work. Ruth had hinted that Beth was rarely home, and why.

"I don't interfere in her life, nor does she in mine," Beth replied carefully, and Harry decided to drop it.

He was distracted throughout the remainder of the meeting. Ruth was sick, Lucas was God-knows-where. His team was falling apart. On a positive note, Tariq's findings were creating a 3D picture of the movement of money around the world. Harry thought the lad would do well in the field of finance, but he seemed to enjoy his digital spy work.

Despite an urge to do otherwise, Harry didn't ring Ruth. He knew her. She'd be back at work in a few days.

And she was. Ruth only took off two full days, and when she returned to work, she worked as hard, and with as much dedication as ever. Harry was businesslike, and often abrupt towards her, but she seemed to not notice, and if she did, it appeared to not bother her. They continued in this way for another three weeks.

It was a Friday night when only Harry and Ruth and Tariq were left on the Grid. Harry deliberately stayed in his office, poring over a pile of files which Ruth had delivered to him in late afternoon. He barely heard the office door slide open, so that by the time he looked up, Ruth was standing in front of him, across the desk from him, her eyebrows knitted in concern. She waited until she had his full attention.

"Harry," she said seriously, "we need to talk."

Oh, God. He hadn't planned for this eventuality. He believed that Ruth would be hurt, but she'd get on with her job, and leave him alone. That way, she'd be free to live a long and fruitful life …... without him. He stared at her, not sure how best to respond. No man alive knows how to respond to the words: `We need to talk.'

"Could we …... could we have a drink together? A coffee and a bite to eat. I've noticed you not eating …... and …."

Harry wanted to say no – his head said Nooooooo! But his heart, on the other hand, was curious, and Harry was a believer in following one's curiosity.

"Just give me fifteen minutes, Ruth, and then we can go somewhere nearby."

He hoped that by agreeing to join her, to talk to her – alone – that he wasn't somehow leading her to her death.


They each ordered coffee and a small bowl of pasta.

"What's this about, Ruth?" he said after some time. They each picked at their pasta, the silence between them eating away at their appetites.

"I want to apologise to you."

"Whatever for?"

"I know that turning down your proposal of marriage hurt you, even though you didn't show it at the time. It's now clear to me how hurt you are, and I'm sorry if I caused any of that."

Harry had no reply to that. What was there to say?

"I know how you behave when you're hurt, Harry. You crawl back into your cave."

"You make me sound like a bear."

"Yes, you're a lot like a bear. Combative, grumpy, ferocious, noisy when disturbed, but you can be really sweet, too."

"Sweet? No man wants to be thought of as sweet, Ruth."

She smiled at him, then dropped her eyes, and played with the spoon beside her cup of coffee. "I …. I'd like to apologise for anything I may have said which has hurt you. I often speak without thinking …... and I've thought a lot about this. I miss you, Harry. I miss our closeness. I miss …... what we had, and what we ... might have had."

Harry sighed heavily. He couldn't keep pushing her away. He couldn't. It was hurting her, and it was hurting him …... and if he was being honest, it was exhausting him. "What do you propose, Ruth?"

"I'd like it if …... if we could be friends."

"I can't just be your friend, Ruth. I can't be …... satisfied with that. I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all, but …. I need more than friendship." So much for good intentions.

"Harry, has something happened …... just lately? You've pulled away from me only in the past few weeks, since I had the flu. What's different? Tell me."

Harry was mirroring Ruth's movements, tipping the spoon one way, and then the other, watching it to see what was reflected in its rounded silver surface. He decided in that moment that he needed to be honest with her.

"I have something to tell you, Ruth. I need to know that you won't laugh at this."

Ruth nodded, and so Harry told her about the dreams.