Meeting room – The Grid, Thames House, London – 4 days later:

"Are there any questions?" Harry asks his team, now slightly diminished, due to Ros' `death', and Ruth being late on her first day back from leave.

Harry fills in his team on the events that had occurred in Warwickshire. His team appear to accept it without question.

"Will Ros come back to us?" Lucas asks, with a nonchalance that doesn't fool Harry.

"I don't know. I need to contact her …... some time. For the time being, she and the former Home Secretary are to be considered dead."

"Nicholas Blake's body has been found," Beth says quietly, her eyes on Harry.

"Yes," Harry replies. "His death was …... unfortunate."

"I can't see anyone wanting that job, then," Dimitri Levendis quips, a smile on his face.

"Our new Home Secretary is William Towers. I have a meeting with him this afternoon. I believe he's a good man."

"They're all good men to begin with," Lucas muses.

"Sorry I'm late."

All eyes look up to see Ruth breeze into the room. She smiles at everyone, but avoids Harry's eyes. They've barely managed more than a few brief phone conversations in the three days since they returned together to London, chiefly because Harry has been at meetings for much of the time he has been back. As usual, their relationship has had to be put on hold. Harry gazes at her, no longer caring if his interest in her is noted.

"Ruth, can you stay behind? The rest of you are dismissed."

"But, Harry, there's still -"

"Later, Tariq. I need to debrief Ruth."

Tariq leaves to room, closing the door behind him.

"That's an interestingly prophetic word for …... what we still have to do, Harry."

Harry is not especially amused. Perhaps the reason he and Ruth had not until now got together is because his job generally drains everything he has – his mind, his energy, even his body – so he seldom has anything in reserve for her …. for them. He squeezes the bridge of his nose between two fingers, closing his eyes as he does so.

Ruth sits in the chair beside him, and after a quick glance towards the door, she puts her hand on his back, and begins a gentle, circular movement over the middle of his back with her open palm. He opens his eyes, and looks at her …... really looks at her.

"I've been neglecting you, and I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"I find it interesting that we had more time for one another in the middle of that operation than we do when we're back here."

"I want that to change, Ruth."

"So do I. Can I come around tonight?" She can hardly invite him to hers …... not with Beth being there.

"Of course you can." Harry opens his jacket, and takes a key card from the inside pocket, and hands it to Ruth. "I've had this in my safe at home, and I've been meaning to give it to you. When I had the new security system put in, I was given two cards …... one for me, and one for …... my `better half', the installation guy said."

"Thank you," Ruth says, picking up the card, and turning it over. "So ….. I'm your better half."

"Always." His gaze is so intense, that Ruth has to look down at the card. "It's yours," he continues. "I want you to keep it. I'd also like it if you come to my place tonight. I'd really like it if you stayed the night …... it being Friday."

"Will you be working tomorrow?"

"I'll probably put in a few hours, but not until the afternoon. I've spent every waking hour of the past three days either on the Grid, or in a meeting. I think I can manage a night and a morning with you."

Knowing this will most likely be the only time they spend alone before that evening, Ruth reaches up with her hand, and cups his jaw. Harry reads her signal, and leans towards her to kiss her. It is a chaste, but rather lengthy kiss …... for a Grid-stolen kiss, that is.

"Now …... I have to do some work," she says, getting up, and placing one last brief kiss on his temple before she leaves the room.

Harry smiles at her parting back, wondering how it is even possible that this remarkable woman loves him.

Ruth had let herself into Harry's house, knowing that she has a keycard entry to his house for this very reason. In her carry-all, she has clothes enough for the weekend, and for work on Monday. So …... she and Harry are about to spend the weekend together …... three nights and two days. It will be the first proper test of their compatibility. Her first decision is where to put her bag – in the spare room, or in Harry's room. He'd told her to make herself at home, so she climbs the stairs, and opens all the doors off the hallway, until she comes to the room at the very end. This one is clearly Harry's room. There is a queen size bed, neatly made, and the room smells of Harry – his unique combination of soap and cologne, and underlying it all is his natural body smell. Ruth puts her hold-all on the floor just inside the doorway, but to the side.

By the time Harry comes home, it has gone 9 o'clock, and Ruth has eaten a serving of the beef and vegetable soup she'd prepared. She sits with Harry as he eats his soup, along with three slices of buttered toast. When he has finished, he sits back in his chair, and looks at her.

"Thank you, Ruth. I was famished."

"Clearly."

"Towers – the new HS – has instructed me – and you, if you'd like – to visit Andrew Lawrence. He'd do it himself, but he'd rather someone who has a history with Lawrence. I thought I'd wait until Andrew is out of the clinic. I rang Ros, and she has suggested we both visit them in two weeks. She sounded rather …..."

"What?"

"If I didn't know her better, I'd say that Ros sounded smug."

"Oh, I think Ros and smugness are regular buddies. Are she and Andrew …...?"

"I didn't ask, but it's unlike Ros to be as caring of someone in her personal life unless she is emotionally attached to them. She can be very protective of those she cares about, as I found out after the Havensworth conference back in 2006, when she bawled me out about her father's gaol sentence. Alternatively, she may simply be keeping an eye on him."

Harry tidies the kitchen, while Ruth prepares a bath for them, finding some fresh towels in the airing cupboard. They climb into the bath together, and this time there is no embarrassment about naked flesh. They each openly assess the body of the other, and then exchange smiles of pleasure and approval. As they had done while in Nuneaton, Ruth leans back against Harry's chest, and he encircles her with his arms, briefly kissing her cheek near her ear.

They speak little, and after ten minutes or so, Ruth feels Harry relax, his arms suddenly heavy against her, and his breathing becoming deeper and slower. He has fallen asleep.

Ruth leaves him be until the water cools. She then gets herself out of the bath, dries and dresses herself for bed, and then wakes him, and helps dry him, and then dress him in track pants and a t shirt. He speaks little, and Ruth knows him well enough to recognise that he is in need of at least ten hours sleep. She helps him into bed, and then kisses him goodnight, before she puts on her bathrobe, and heads downstairs to watch some TV.

There is the barest glow of pre-dawn light from the bedroom window when Ruth feels Harry's arms snake around her waist. She had been in that pre-waking slumber state, where dreams are the only reality there is. No sooner does she remember that Harry and she are sharing his bed, and that this is occurring in their real lives, than she is awake. She places her hands over Harry's hands, both of which are sliding under her t shirt towards her breasts. She slowly turns in the bed so that she is facing him. His face is close to hers, and he appears fully awake.

"Is this the right place, the right moment?" she asks, suddenly a little nervous.

"I believe so," he says, reaching out and gliding a thumb from her cheekbone, all the way around the line of her jaw, up her chin, and to her lips.

Harry's thumb gently traces the line of her lips, while she watches him, drinking in the details of his face. Neither wants to be the one to push things further, to appear greedy. There is immense enjoyment to be had in anticipating what is to come.

Very carefully, Ruth reaches out and places her hand behind Harry's head, her palm against the side of his neck. She then winds her index finger through his hair – around and around – until she can feel the bare skin beneath. She rests her fingertips on the skin of his neck, and slides them downwards, her skin barely touching his. His eyes hold hers, and then he shudders as her fingers trace the skin of his neck, and around to his throat.

It is Ruth who reaches up to kiss him, and it is Harry who relaxes against her as the kiss becomes less tender, more intense. Harry winds his arms around her, and pulls her against him, as she lifts his t shirt with her fingers. Ruth thinks it's time his shirt came off. What follows is a flurry of hands under clothing, pushing, pulling, lifting, until they are both naked …... together …... under Harry's duvet.

Harry pushes down the duvet to expose their upper bodies. "I need to see you," he says.

Ruth feels him push his knee between her legs, so that her growing heat rests on his bare thigh. She hears a moaning, and realises that it comes from her own throat. Opening her eyes, she sees Harry watching her, pupils fully dilated, gazing at her with wonderment, lust, love, and everything in between.

How could she have thought him to be too shut down, too emotionally stunted to be her lover? Maybe she is the emotionally stunted one.

"You can't possibly know how long I've been dreaming of this, going through it in my mind when I'm meant to be in a meeting, or trying to fall asleep." He then leans down and takes one nipple in his mouth, running his tongue around it, while he repeats the action with his fingers on her other nipple.

All Ruth is capable of doing is running her hands all over his body. When she is satisfied she has touched him everywhere from the waist and above, she moves her hands downwards, firstly over and around his buttocks, and then to the front of him, where she feels his heat, his desire, his size, his immense strength. He is ready for her, and it surprises her to admit that she is also ready for him.

She is about to say, `Let's get this over with," but stops herself just in time. It's just that there has been such a buildup – years – and they have each anticipated this moment for every one of these years, each believing that it would never happen for them.

"Are you ready, Ruth?" he whispers against her skin. "I'm …... I can't wait much longer."

There are no fancy moves, nor awkward positions. Ruth rolls on to her back, and he hovers above her, his weight on his elbows.

When they come together – rather slowly and carefully – there are tears, his as well as hers. And then he begins to move inside her, slowly at first. He needs to set up a steady rhythm, and not finish off quickly, as he may once have done, when he was younger. Ruth matters. He loves her. He is loving her. At last.

Nothing about their first time is perfect …... other than it happened, and neither had believed it ever would. They lie together afterwards, arms loosely around the other, both unable to speak. Sometimes – at times like this – there are just not enough words in the English language to describe their joy.