A/N: Thank you to all who have followed this, and especially to the kind reviewers. This was written as something light, but unknowingly it became something a little more meaningful for the characters. This is the final chapter.

Once she is in his arms, Ruth quickly calms, surrounded as she is by his warmth. Harry decides that he should simply hold her against him, enjoying the closeness. This is the longest they have spent in an embrace, and he is not about to end it. He also decides it is best he not speak.

It is several minutes later when Ruth mumbles something against his shirt, so that he is not sure he hears her correctly.

"What?" he asks.

Ruth pulls away from him slightly, and says again, "How many were there?"

"How many what?"

"Women you've cared about."

"I don't know, Ruth. I wasn't counting."

"That many?"

"No. Not many. Other than you, maybe three, but you are the one with whom I wish to spend the rest of my life."

Harry looks down to find Ruth watching him carefully. He'd like to kiss her, but he knows she'd not appreciate that. She'd accuse him of trying to manipulate her. He watches as she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

"Here," he says, taking a clean handkerchief from his trousers' pocket and handing it to her.

They draw apart while Ruth wipes her eyes and blows her nose, and Harry fills the kettle and sets it to boil, while he opens cupboard doors in search of cups and tea and sugar. Once the tea is made, they sit across the table from one another and drink their tea. Their words are few and light, while their thoughts are heavy.

Once he finishes his cup of tea, Harry looks at the clock on the microwave, stands, and takes his cup to the sink.

"It's time I went home," he says, not looking at her. He is about to turn to face Ruth, when he feels her standing close behind him, her palm resting against the middle of his back. To him, her touch feels intensely erotic. Harry takes a breath to calm himself.

"Please don't go," she says quietly, her breath on the back of his neck, like a summer breeze warming his skin.

"I don't want to go," he replies, equally as quietly, leaning so that his back is pressed against her front.

"Then why are you?"

"I thought it the right thing to do."

"This is me, Harry. This is us. We need this. We don't have to do the right thing when it's not the right thing for us. We don't have to do anything tonight. It's late. But we need to spend the night together. We need intimacy. I need you with me. If we're going to work as a couple, we have to begin somewhere … some time, and we have to do more than just talk about it."

Very slowly he turns to face her. Three steps forward – two and a half steps back. This is the way it has always been with them. Sometimes old habits are hard to change.

Ruth lifts her face to his, and kisses him. It is like a goodnight kiss, only longer.

"I'm going upstairs to get ready for bed. I'll have first use of the bathroom, and I'll put out a new toothbrush and a towel for you. Then I'll go to bed. You are most welcome to join me. I'd like it were you to join me, but I'm not about to beg. This is one decision you'll have to make on your own."

She then steps past him, and leaves the kitchen. By the time he hears the water running in the bathroom upstairs, Harry is still standing in the kitchen where she'd left him. He takes a deep breath, and looks around the kitchen, and through the window into the black night beyond. The very last thing he wants right now is to leave Ruth and head home alone. He knows that were he to not take up her offer for him to join her in bed, she would not ask him again - ever - which would spell the end to any chance they have of being together. He finds it unbearable to imagine that some time in the future there may be no shred of hope left for them. He must be brave and give them a chance.

Harry waits until the water has stopped running, and then he climbs the stairs.

Once she hears Harry using the toilet and the taps over the hand basin, Ruth closes her eyes. She is lying on the far side of the bed, her back turned towards the door. When he joins her in bed, she doesn't wish to appear too eager. It is clear Harry is afraid of taking this step with her, but why that is he has still not said.

At last, the other side of the bed dips as he slides under the duvet, and shuffles towards her. Ruth rolls over to face him, so that their bodies touch, and their faces are close enough for them to kiss. Harry leans towards her to touch his lips on hers. It is a chaste kiss, but it is still rather nice, and Ruth enjoys it. He slides his arms around her, so that her head rests against his shoulder. Ruth remembers being with George, and the times when he and she had slept like this. She closes her eyes, attempting to erase the memory. George is dead. Harry is alive. She was grateful for George, but never loved him quite like she loves Harry. Harry has been part of her for longer than even she knows.

They remain in an embrace, until she feels him relax against her. Ruth wonders for a moment whether the spirit of Ros Myers has been with them that night, calling out to them through the veil, pushing them together, taunting them for being fearful. `It's just life', she'd say. `It's not that complicated, so just get on with it.'

"Harry ..." she says, "can you tell me why you're afraid to take this step with me …... with us? You seem afraid of intimacy, and yet …... I know you want us to …..."

Harry coughs to clear his throat, as though he is about to make a speech, and then she hears and feels him sigh. "Is this the right time to be talking about this?"

"Yes. It is. We have to address this before we go any further."

A full minute passes before Harry replies. "I've thought about this …... since you said no, and since …... you turned down the second dinner invitation, and you walked away from me that night at the Havensworth summit, and then you chose to go into exile." It is clear to Ruth he is getting a little worked up, but trying to stay calm. "Ruth, where you and I are concerned, you always leave me. If we … make love, even if we only do it once, your leaving me will be so much more painful. I've already lost so much in my life …... I don't think I could bear to lose you again."

Ruth waits, but he has said his piece. She reaches up to take his face in her hands, and then she gently places her lips on his. He responds to the kiss, but she can feel him being careful.

"Thank you …. for your honesty," she says, once they have pulled out of the kiss, and her head is again resting against his shoulder. "I needed you to tell me that. You've been protecting yourself. That is something I can relate to."

"You don't think I'm being paranoid?"

"Only a little. I lost you too, Harry. It wasn't easy wandering around Europe, knowing I couldn't talk to you, and in all probability, would never see you again. All I can say is that I am now prepared to commit to you, and that if we're parted some time in the future, it won't be my doing."

Harry responds by pulling her closer to him, so that they both lay on their sides facing one another. Her body curves against his, so that they touch all the way from their heads to their feet. When they again kiss, she pushes her pelvis against him in an unconscious demonstration of want. She feels the shape of him inside his trunks as he slowly swells against her lower abdomen as the kiss deepens. His hands seek bare skin under her camisole, the fingers of one hand pressing under the waistband of her pyjama pants, gliding across the skin of one buttock, while the thumb of his other hand glances over her nipple, causing her to gasp, and so he pulls back from her, and she grasps his shoulders to prevent him moving any further away from her.

"I'm …... I'm trying to not go too far tonight, Ruth." He looks at her, his desire clear in the darkness of his eyes. "Tomorrow night I'd like to take you to dinner, then come back here – or to mine, I don't much care, so long as there's a warm bed handy – and then we can …... take this step …... together."

She nods, disappointed, but knowing he's right. It's been a stressful evening, and they are both tired. For now, being together in bed is enough. Harry has already removed his hands from inside her clothing, and he has placed one hand on her hip and the other on the mattress between them. She kisses him again, a soft touch of her lips on his.

Harry closes his eyes, relieved that he had decided to contact her tonight, and even more relieved that he chose to stay and share Ruth's bed. He knows there will be times when either one or both of them mess this up, but they will get through it …. like they always have. He now knows for sure that he and Ruth are happier together than they are apart. Together they may sometimes be a bit uncoordinated and clumsy, but apart they are both completely lost.

"I can't wait for tomorrow night," Ruth says sleepily, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

"Me too," he replies, and he means it.

He and Ruth are no longer an `almost'... they are very nearly complete. Harry's last conscious thought before he falls asleep is that he no longer feels afraid.