A/N: Final chapter. Thank you to all who have read and reviewed.

Eleven days later:

Harry wearily drags himself upstairs to his bedroom, where he shuffles off his clothing, draping it over the armchair beneath the window. He knows he should hang his suit, but he'll do that after his shower. He walks into the en suite, and turns on the shower, standing under it while the warm water soothes his tired muscles. He has spent his first five days on the Grid – working five hours each day – and he is due to have the weekend off to recover, because next week he'll be spending seven hours a day at work. He loves the work, but his body needs a rest. And he longs to see Ruth. He needs her near him as much has he needs food to eat, or air to breathe.

They'd only seen one another in passing, and at the end of each of his five-hour shifts he'd gone home to rest. After dinner each night, they'd talked on the phone, but they'd not spent any time alone together since the day before he went back to work. Then, Ruth had come around on the Sunday night, and they'd eaten a simple dinner of steak and salad, and then watched a movie on TV, before she took a taxi home so that he could have an early night. Now – five days later – he longs to see her. He may be tired, but he needs to see her, and to be alone with her, and he is in need of more than just a few kisses from her. Two days earlier, he'd given her a spare key to his house, suggesting that she visit some evening, but she hadn't yet used it.

He has rinsed the shampoo from his hair, and is running his hands over his body, seeking sore spots – and there are still several, mostly down his left side, from where he hit the road - when he feels a response in his body which he hasn't felt in more than two weeks. It is welcome, of course, but he'd rather Ruth was with him, and they could make the most of the stirring between his legs. He spends a moment considering the wisdom of taking some extra shower gel in his hands, and washing himself down there, and seeing what happens. He knows what will happen. The problem as he sees it is that it will happen all too fast, and then he'll be left feeling empty. Thinking of being with Ruth, imagining she is the one giving stimulation to him, is not the same as having her with him, her body close to his, her hands on him …... loving him, bringing him to climax.

He decides against self-stimulation, preferring to wait until Ruth is with him, and so he is in the process of turning off the water, when he hears her voice from the doorway.

"Sorry," she says, standing in the open doorway, her eyes looking him up and down while he turns from the taps, naked, and with rivulets of water running down his skin. "Sorry, I'll go downstairs and -"

"Ruth," he interrupts, as she turns, "I didn't hear you."

Ruth stands in the doorway, her back turned to Harry. "I was knocking on the bathroom door, as I could hear the water running. I thought that if I -"

"Ruth... please turn around."

Ruth turns slowly, her eyes on the floor, and then she lifts them straight to his eyes. To Harry, she looks embarrassed, and he doesn't wish to embarrass her.

"Look at me. Look at my body." Ruth's eyes gradually leave his, and slowly travel down his body to his feet, and back again, hovering a little longer on his genital area than any other. "This is me. If you choose to be with me, this is who I am, this is my body. I'm far from perfect, but -"

"I think …... I think you're really lovely," she says quietly. "For a man your age, you're …... rather nice." He notices her eyes again travel to his genitals. "You're better than nice. I'm ….."

"You're what, Ruth?"

"I'm impressed, Harry. You're rather …..." And then he notices that her cheeks are flushed, and she is clearly having difficulty in knowing where she should look. That's enough of my naked body for now, he decides, and grabs a towel from the towel rail, and quickly ties it around his waist. He then steps close to Ruth, and with his hands on her shoulders, he bends to her and kisses her. It is a chaste kiss, and he keeps his body away from hers …... just in case. They have plenty of time for that later.

All he can think as she leaves the bathroom to go downstairs is that he is eternally relieved that he chose to not masturbate while in the shower. Had he, she would have walked in on him, and the shared discomfort may have thrown them back into the embarrassment and misunderstandings of their early years, before Ruth had gone into exile.

They share a ready made pasta dish for dinner. All Ruth has to do is heat it up, and open a bottle of wine. She can see that Harry is weary, and should probably have an early night.

"Is it alright if I stay the night with you?" she asks, once they've finished eating.

"I'd love that, Ruth."

"It's just that I brought with me a few changes of clothes. I thought – if you're happy with it – that I could stay for the weekend. If you think that's too much, then -"

"It won't be too much. I've been thinking about having you stay here with me for …..."

"For how long, Harry?"

"For years. It feels like for my whole life that I've been waiting for you to turn up at my door."

"Just not your bathroom door."

"Having you at my bathroom door was very nice. I have no complaints."

"And can I share your bed?"

"I didn't give you my house key so that you can sleep in the spare room."

Her smile is wide as she looks at him across the top of her wine glass. This is them – stumbling along, often awkward, easily misdirected, but with just enough regard and respect for themselves to draw them back together every time.

Harry is already in bed while Ruth showers, and then dresses in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. She'd considered wearing a camisole, but wants to be sure about what Harry has in mind before she shows up in his bedroom in a semi-transparent garment.

"Should I take this side of the bed?" she asks, standing beside the bed, clearly nervous about getting under the covers.

"You can take whatever side you like, Ruth." Harry is lying on his side, his head propped on his hand, his elbow on his pillow.

He watches her closely as she removes her bathrobe, and slides into bed beside him. She is not dressed in a provocative manner, and he likes that. She could have worn a nightgown, or a see-through something-or-other, and had she, he'd have had a lot of difficulty in holding back his natural responses to her. He realises that he has little resistance where Ruth is concerned. She watches him watching her, as she turns over in bed to face him.

Matching his posture, she lifts herself on an elbow, and leans towards him to kiss him on the lips. Despite his exhaustion, Harry feels his body responding to her kiss. Her lips are soft and pliable, and he can imagine her other lips, just as soft, just as …... oh, no you dont, Harry. He pulls out of the kiss, and lies back on his pillow, taking one of her hands in his.

"As much as I want to continue this, and see where it goes, I …... I shouldn't, Ruth. I need to sleep first."

"I know that. I can see how heavy your eyelids are. It's just that when we were in the bathroom earlier, I detected …..."

"Movement?"

"A little, yes."

"If we postpone this until the morning, then the source of that movement will be refreshed and much more willing to ….."

"Rise to the occasion?"

Harry kisses her hand, and then places it on the mattress between them. "I can guarantee there will be a healthy degree of elevation, one which will ensure that …..."

"Conjugation takes place."

Harry chuckles quietly, recognising that Ruth is no longer embarrassed by the subject matter.

"Just so long as we -"

"Don't have to spend all weekend speaking in euphemisms."

"Oh, I can assure you that for much of this weekend, Ruth, you will not be speaking at all. I can -"

"Guarantee that?"

"Absolutely."

"Then, why are we talking about this? Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

Fin