A/N: Thanks so much for the support for this fic so far, and for your lovely reviews.


The closer they got to Buckinghamshire, the quieter Harry became, and he was almost certain that Ruth had noticed. They'd begun the journey in rather high spirits, the prospect of a day away from Thames House, and terror threat reports, and meetings which seemed never to end, a reason for celebration. It was only as they drew away from Greater London that the real reason for the day out began to weigh heavily on them both.

"Harry," Ruth said at last, after a long silence, "talk to me. I know you're worried, but I can't be a support for you if you don't talk to me."

He darted a quick look at her across the short space between them, and he hoped she couldn't see how very afraid he was.

"I know you're scared, Harry. It's not unmanly to feel fear."

"I know."

"Then tell me. A problem shared is …... well, you know the rest."

"You …... you don't have to do this. When, a couple of weeks ago, you said …... what you said, then that meant that …..."

"It meant I wasn't about to marry you. It didn't mean I don't care about you, and I wasn't sounding the death knell to our relationship."

"So, what is our relationship, Ruth? Because I have no idea."

"It's whatever we agree it is. Last night, and again today …... I'm keeping you company, and …... supporting you through a difficult time, but I can't do that if you won't talk to me."

Harry remained silent for some time, mulling over how much he should say to Ruth, and what the hell she'd meant by what she'd just said. He was not used to sharing his fears and his feelings, and yet …... and yet, he wanted to. Very much.

"I …... I'm," he began, "really worried about this psychiatrist, Ruth."

"Go on."

"He probably knows my son better than I do. I'm afraid …... he'll suggest I stay away from Graham …... that I'm a damaging influence."

"How can he suggest that having not yet met you? All he has is your wife's opinion."

"Ex-wife. Jane is very much my ex-wife."

"I know. Sorry. If you want me to be with you while you speak to the psychiatrist, then I will, even though …..."

"Even though we're not married."

"Yes." Her voice was quiet, the word sliding out in a sigh. In that moment, Harry hoped that Ruth was beginning to regret her decision of two weeks earlier.


"This is Ruth Evershed," Harry introduced her to Dr Felix Graham, "and I'd like her to be with me while I speak with you."

"That's fine with me," the doctor said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he had an abundance of energy. He was a slightly-built man of short stature, and when standing next to him, Harry looked like a giant. "I welcome partners of clients, although you're not exactly a client. Come in. Come in."

Harry looked sideways at Ruth, who appeared unfazed by the doctor's assumption that she was his partner.

"Sit down. Here, we'll sit over here. It's much more comfortable."

The doctor – too young to have the responsibility of his son's recovery on his small shoulders, in Harry's opinion – indicated that he and Ruth should sit together on a small sofa near the window which overlooked the grounds, while he occupied a chair opposite. When Harry and Ruth sat down, their hips and knees touched, and he was even more surprised when Ruth grasped his hand, and laced their fingers. He knew that she was offering him continued reassurance, but it felt nice, and in a part of his conscious mind, he could imagine that they really were partners.

"Let's not beat around the bush," Felix Graham began, "after all, it's Sunday, and you no doubt have better things to be doing than talking to me. I brought you here, Harry, because I think that your son's recovery cannot be assured unless he forms a more stable and regular relationship with you."

Harry felt Ruth squeeze his hand, and he squeezed hers back. He wanted to smile, laugh, and even to cry, but he held on to his self-control.

"I have asked Jane to not visit your son today. My opinion is that he has become overly dependent upon his mother, and that has prevented him from forming a healthy adult identity. It will take him some time to find out who he is, and an essential part of that process is to get to know you as his father, and as an equal, Harry. Will you be prepared to do that?"

Harry nodded, and allowed himself a small smile. He looked down at Ruth, and she was smiling up at him. He'd never wanted to kiss her more than he did at that moment.

"I'm not saying it will be easy. Graham harbors a lot of resentment in relation to the time you put into your job, the long absences from home, and he has even told me about your affairs." At the mention of the affairs, Felix shot a quick look at Ruth, who, to her credit, remained impassive, still grasping Harry's hand tightly in hers. "I suspect that Jane has been his main source of information about you. It's time that you took over as that source of information. He needs to know the adult you are, and he needs to know that you care for him, and don't judge him."

"When can I start?"

"Today, if that's alright with you."


Thirty minutes later, Harry entered his son's room. Ruth waited in a family room, and Felix Graham watched Harry and Graham through an observation window. Harry thought it a strange situation, but he'd been assured by the psychiatrist that Graham had agreed to this. He'd also been given a list of instructions about what he should and shouldn't say.

"Imagine you are two men who are meeting for the first time, because in some ways, that is what you are. Don't bring up the past …... not unless he does …... and don't ask why he took heroin. I doubt he even knows. Yes, he's mad at you. Let him be angry with you, if that's what he needs. This visit isn't about you – it's about him."

Felix's final instructions had been fair, and Harry hoped he could remain calm.

"Remember how much you love him," Ruth said, her hand grasping his, just before he entered Graham's room. "The fact that you love him is all that matters, Harry." She then dropped his hand, and said `Go', as he hesitated at the doorway.


They left the hospital immediately after Harry had spent forty minutes with his son, and then had again spoken with Felix – this time in private.

"I'm starving, Ruth. Shall we have lunch?"

They chose a small pub in Uxbridge. The weather was fine, but overcast and cold, so they found a cosy booth in a corner of a small bar, one with an open fire in the middle of the room.

"Ploughman's?" Harry asked Ruth.

"I could eat a horse," she said.

"I don't think they serve horse."

"Alright, then. I'll settle for a ploughman's. Do they do a ploughwoman's?"

"I doubt it. What you don't eat, I'll polish off for you. I haven't eaten since …..."

"My bacon and eggs last night?"

Harry nodded, and then walked to the bar to order their drinks and food.

They talked little while they ate, although Harry really wanted to share with her his meeting with Graham.

"Are you going to tell me about it, Harry?" Ruth said once they'd finished eating, and they were each sipping a white wine.

"It was …... awkward and difficult, but at least I held my temper. Graham accused me of being a distant and tyrannical father – he called me an arrogant, know-it-all prick – and I let him say what he had to say. Felix had already told me that I shouldn't try to defend my past actions, and there's a lot Graham needs to get off his chest. I suppose that makes sense, so I listened to him, and most of it wasn't easy for me to hear." Harry took a sip of his wine before he continued. "I told him I was sorry for being an absent and disinterested father, and that I was prepared to begin again. I asked him did he wish to see me again, and he said he did. He wants to see me twice a week – on Wednesday evenings and on Sunday afternoons."

"Harry …... you are going to have to make those visits with Graham top priority, ahead of national security, and in order to achieve that, you'll have to -"

"Delegate. Yes, I know."

"Were you to miss even one session with him, he'll probably shut you out all over again. You need to know that when you walk away from MI-5 – when you retire – you won't have to think about national security, but you'll need your family – your children, and their children, should they have them."

"I know. Aging has led me to valuing my children. I have so many regrets, Ruth."

"Don't regret, Harry. Live."

"I'd like to live better than I have in the past. I'd like it were …... you to be part of my life, too."

"I already am."

"Not just as Florence Nightingale, Ruth."

"Is that what you think I am?"

"You've been incredibly supportive, and I don't know that I could have done what I did today without you. You're a wonderful friend."

"Oh, Harry, we're so much more than friends. We always have been."

Harry put down his glass, and watched Ruth's face, in an attempt to read her. "But …... only two weeks ago, you said -"

"I know what I said. What I needed to have said at the time – and didn't because I didn't quite know what the missing ingredient was – that we should spend some time together away from work, getting to know one another away from surveillance vans and national emergencies. And then, last night …... you turned up at my house in need of me. It was without doubt the most wonderful thing you have ever done, Harry."

"But …... I was tired and I didn't make much sense, and I wasn't handling my son's drug situation at all well …... and I ate all your food."

"That's what I mean." Ruth reached out across the table, and took his hand. "You needed me. The man who asked me to marry him didn't really need me. He may have wanted me – as a companion, and for sex – but he didn't need me. When you turned up at my place, Harry, upset and grief-stricken over your son, you showed me your heart, and that's what I've needed to see. I needed to see you, Harry."

Harry was speechless. Without words. Overjoyed. Elated.

And very much in love.