"Have you been discharged?" Ruth said some time later when she couldn't stay silent any longer.

"No." Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I told them I wanted to stay overnight."

"Feeling sorry for yourself?" Ruth asked, her voice measured.

"Something like that," he agreed reluctantly.

"Do you need to be in hospital?" she asked quietly, her eyes lingering on the fact that he was still in his usual grid attire.

"Not particularly," he said shrugging.

"Then I'm going to take you home." She spoke firmly but gently.

"Ruth…"

"What?"

"Don't do this because you have to," he said. "I don't want you to feel obligated."

"I do not feel obligated to you," she said, finally letting go of his hand. "But I am going to help you. Because I want to. And your stubbornness won't stop me."

"Okay," he said quietly. "Come back." She hated the pleading note in his voice, and she guessed he hated it too. She sighed slightly before leaning over him and kissing his lips briefly. He reacted almost instantly.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, her voice soft. "But I have to get your discharge papers."

"Okay," he said. Harry stilled and closed his eyes as Ruth left. He felt so desolate and lonely. How could he not be able to see? Something so fundamental. Something everyone took for granted. And because he'd been serving his country he now couldn't see. Harry sighed. Now he'd need a carer, and Ruth being a good woman wouldn't leave him because of this. She'd be stuck with him. He could feel the tears welling but he refused to cry. He didn't know who was watching.


"Sign there," Ruth said gently. She guided his hand to the line in question and she saw a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Harry," she said warningly. He signed, quite respectably and then the doctor took the clipboard.

"Right Mr Pearce. I'd like to see you again in a week to check."

"I'm blind. Is there any point prolonging it?" he asked sharply.

"All the same," the doctor replied calmly. "I'll see you in a week." Harry almost grunted in reply. Ruth gripped his arm tightly. The doctor and nurse left the room.

"We're alone," she said. "You can shout and be a moody git."

"I don't want to shout," he said. "I just want to see."

"I'm taking you home," she said firmly. "Do you have any whisky?"

"Er, yes," he said, thrown off track for a moment. "You want a drink?"

"No," she said. "But I have a feeling you will want one when you get home."

He actually smiled at that. "Yes, you're right," he said. "Come on."


"Two steps," she said quietly, heading up to the front door. "Give me your keys." He did and Ruth felt an explosion coming. He hadn't said a word on the drive home from the hospital and she could tell he was going to start shouting. She was bracing herself to not react to anything Harry might shout at her, because she knew he wouldn't mean it. Ruth led him to the sofa and he sat down. She saw a decanter of whisky and poured him a generous measure. "There you go," she said quietly as he wrapped his hands around the glass.

"Thank you."

"Do you want something to eat?" she asked as he took a gulp of whisky.

"No."

"Do you want to talk?"

"No."

"Do you want to shout at me and smash your house to pieces because of how unfair life is?"

"Yes," he said, an echo of a smile on his face. "But I don't want to upset you and have you storm out either. I know this isn't your fault, I just feel so angry."

"I think a little anger is acceptable," Ruth said, sitting down next to him. "Shout. Scream. Or let it go."

"I'm not ready to let it go. Come on Ruth it only happened a few hours ago."

"I know," she said. "I'm waiting for you to explode."

"I can't shout at you," he said after a long pause. "I can't drive away the one person I've got."

She smiled at him. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, almost out of habit. They hadn't been together for very long. Only a handful of dates, but there was no one in the world he would rather be with. Her touch against him made his anger almost completely fade away. She felt good against him. He leaned away from her to put his whisky glass on the table. He'd done this often enough that his hand found the table easily. Then he gathered Ruth to him firmly, his hand on her waist. Ruth smiled into his shoulder. This was very comfortable. For about five minutes until Harry started becoming stiff.

"Tell me what's wrong," she said firmly.

He sighed. "I want to see you," he said quietly. "As I can't manage that, I wanted to touch you. But then I thought that might be overstepping."

"You can touch me if you like," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I didn't mean it quite like that," Harry said smiling.

"Mm," Ruth said. "A girl can dream." He chuckled and then shifted slightly, so he could smell her hair. His hand drifted over her hair and then gently over her face. His thumb traced her lips and she opened her mouth, kissing his skin. Harry smiled at her, but his gaze was heartbreakingly absent. He wasn't looking directly at her, a couple of inches to the left. No, don't think that, she said to herself. She found a distraction in the fact that Harry's palm carried on moving. Down her neck, hovering on her pulse for a moment. Her pulse which was thundering, and she hoped he didn't notice, although he probably did. But he said nothing as his palm moved over her shoulder and then down her arm, pausing at her wrist before he took her hand tightly in his.

"Thank you," he said, voice slightly husky. The moment was broken by Harry's stomach growling.

"I'm making you something for dinner," Ruth said. "No matter what you think, a diet of whisky isn't good for you."

"Fine," he said. "Can you put the news on or something?"

"Of course," she said, doing what he'd asked quietly before going through to the kitchen.


Thank you for the reviews so far. Hope this chapter lives up to expectations :)