5

Note sure whether to make this the last chapter or whether to add one. In a way it could really stop here…anyway thanks for the comments, which make it all worthwhile!

HRFan

Shock 4.

Her words, softly spoken, make him aware of the bitter wetness of tears in his eyes and on his eyelashes. And he no longer has the will and strength to fight, and brush her question away. 'So it appears', he says instead in a low voice, with infinite lassitude.

'But Harry, why…'

'What's going on?', he asks at the same time. 'Why have you come back?'

'My purse…' she gestures at her desk.

He looks down, and notices her black purse by his hands. Wordlessly he picks it up and hands it over to her, bone-tired. She reaches out, and their hands touch, and it reminds him of that moment, years ago, on a late night bus – another brief contact, another missed opportunity because of his fears and limitations…

And suddenly, he's had enough. This time, he doesn't let go of her hand, but instead gets up and faces her. 'I don't want you to go, because I love you. It's as simple as that really. I've loved you for years. As you know.' He shakes his head. 'And you know, the worst of it is…'

'Do you?', she interrupts.

'Do I what?'

'Love me'.

Her eyes are suspiciously bright, and incredulous, and she's let her purse drop on the floor. 'Of course I do, Ruth. Didn't you know it? I made my feelings so clear, after Jo died.'

'Yes but…after that…' She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts, unable to believe that happiness might be within her grasp. 'I tried to comfort you, on the roof', she says sadly. 'The day of the hotel explosion…I put my hand on your arm and you brushed me aside. And three months ago…that night…you rejected me too. I tried to explain but you wouldn't listen. I felt cheapened and humiliated', she adds bitterly.

'Oh Ruth', he whispers. 'I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. I never meant to do that.'

'So why did you do it, then?', she asked painfully, 'It'd taken me years, and killing someone, to get to that point so why didn't you take what I was offering?'

He brings her hands to his lips, noting that she hasn't told him she loves him, and yet deriving comfort from the fact that she is not pulling away from him. 'What did you want from me that night?', he asks gently.

She looks at him, and feels the slight tremor in his fingers, and she knows that she owes him to be honest with him, just as he has, finally, been honest with her. 'I wanted…comfort. Reassurance.' She can sense him stiffen underneath her. 'And your love', she says at last. 'When I saw you in that room…' Her voice breaks. 'I was terrified. And then he went for you…' Her eyes are glistening with tears. 'I still have nightmares about that night, you know. I dream that I'm losing you, that you're gone, and I haven't even told you that I love you, and…'

Wordlessly, he craddles her head in his hands and kisses her eyelids, his lips following the trace of her tears down her cheeks. He hovers above her mouth, waiting for her to acquiesce. She weaves her arms around his back. 'I wanted to feel you', she whispers, 'I wanted…I needed to feel that you were alive, to…to feel your warmth…do you understand?'

His soft sigh brushes against her lips 'Forgive me…please forgive me for misunderstanding you so completely. I…..All of that..it didn't occur to me, you see. I thought you wanted us to be friends and nothing else. And also….' He rests his forehead against hers. 'I didn't want to make love with you like that. I've thought about it a lot, you know… the two of us, together…intimate. But I want it to be with joy and love and commitment…not after something so horrendous as death. Especially for the first time…'

She smiles at him, a teasing, playful glint in her eyes. 'Oh really? You've thought about it?'

He smiles back, his mouth still tantalisingly close to hers. 'Oh yes. More often than I could possibly tell you…' Her eyes darken, her breathing quicken, and he gives in to temptation. Slowly, he brushes her lips with his, without applying any pressure, waiting for her to open up to him. When she does, holding him so tightly that he can feel every curve of her body against his, he gives out a long sigh – the sight of someone who has been looking for home for years without realising it and finally found it. His hands are roaming on her back, welding her hips to his, until the pull of desire becomes so strong that it can no longer be ignored. He pulls away from her without breaking contact. 'I want you', he says simply. 'More than I have ever wanted anyone. And I love you so much….I can't even imagine what it would be like, to live without loving you.'

'I feel the same…I always have really.' She strokes his cheek lovingly. 'Harry.'

'Yes?'

'It's close to 11pm and I'm starving…shall we…?'

He bursts out in laughter. 'Let's grab something from the kebab van down the road. And then I'll have you driven home. But tomorrow, I'd like to take you to diner. Properly. If that's alright?' he asks hesitantly, still unsure of himself.

She reaches up and kisses him. 'Definitely alright.'

He plays with her fingers. 'You know….we don't need to rush, I mean, we've waited so long, it doesn't matter whether we…but I want you to know…I don't want us to..' He stops helplessly.

She smiles gently, made aware of how difficult it is for him, still, to express his feelings clearly. 'I understand', she says softly.

'You do?'

'Yes. What you mean is that you love me, you want to make love with me, you now see that I love you too, and are entirely happy to wait until we make love until I am absolutely ready, though neither of us is getting any younger so perhaps we could try not to wait for another three years.'

He chuckles. 'How on earth did you manage to read that off my thoroughly inarticulate statement?', he asks, genuinely impressed.

'I'm an analyst. Besides…', she grows serious. 'I understand you. I think.'

'That you do' he murmurs in a strangled voice. 'Come on, let's go and get something to eat.'

She picks her purse up. 'Oh shoot!'

'What?'

'I'm supposed to start at GCHQ tomorrow!'

'Do you want to go back? No, I thought not. Don't worry. I'll sort it out.'

'But they'll be really angry! We can't just…'

'We can', he says firmly, 'besides they owe me a few favours.'

She shakes her head. 'God. The world you inhabit…movers and shakers…'

She weaves her arm in his as they leave the Grid. 'Harry?'

'Mmmm?', he asks in pure contentment.

'I haven't given you my response.'

'Uh?'

'About this waiting/not waiting thing.'

He stops walking and turns to her. 'You don't have to give me a response', he insists, 'I don't want you to feel under any kind of pressure, or…'

'Which day is it tomorrow?'

He stares at her, dumbfounded. 'What?'

'Thursday. Tomorrow is Thursday. Good.'

Now he's lost. 'Good? How? I mean. What does the fact that tomorrow is Thursday have to do with us…'

She beams at him, with a wide, open smile which melts his heart. 'I always change the sheets on Thursdays.'

'You always…ah. I see', he says slowly, hope filling his eyes.

'Is it alright? I mean, I don't want you to feel under any pressure and…'

He silences her with a kiss so deep, so thorough, that when she comes up for air, her head is spinning. 'Tomorrow', he says hoarsely. 'God I love you.'

'I love you too.'

They smile at each other, happy, at peace with themselves and one another, the retreating sound of their footsteps echoing, in perfect harmony, down the long corridors of Thames House.