A/N: Still M-ish.


Harry wakes early, remembering he has a busy day ahead of him. He stretches his body under the duvet, and then notices two things – the first is that he is naked, and the other is that Ruth's body, also naked, is curved into his belly, her back towards him. He really should get out of bed, but he slides his arms around her waist, and pulls her closer, so that her bottom rests against his genitals.

He remembers the night before, and how kisses and intimate caresses had been accompanied by declarations of love. He'd meant every word. He hopes she did also. In the dawning of a new day, he wonders if he'd rushed things with her, giving in to his baser drives, just because while here, they are tucked safely away from the Grid, away from prying eyes, and the overactive imaginations of their colleagues. He hopes Ruth will not view his words of love to her as an excuse for sinking himself inside her.

He hadn't had any grand plan. It had just happened. A spontaneous intersection of desire, emotion and opportunity.

It is years since he's told anyone he loves them. It's years since he's been in love. Perhaps not since Juliet, and then, he's not sure that he'd ever loved her. It was just words spoken to a woman – part of a formula for seduction - to ensure she'd continue to have sex with him. But he loves Ruth, and has for some time. He has loved her for well over a year, even without having had sex with her.

Which is a first for him.

He had viewed her as being too young, too delicate – untouchable - for someone like him. He loves women, but he has used them for sex, and sex alone, and a man like that doesn't deserve a woman like Ruth …... except that she'd wanted him, and had smiled into his eyes while they'd made love, and nothing in his life will ever be the same again. He can never be the same again.

Harry feels Ruth unfurl her body against him, sliding a hand back to glide over the skin of his inner thigh. He gasps as she moves her hand upwards, until she touches him on his most sensitive of skin. She turns her face to look at him, and smiles as he grows under her touch. So much for good intentions.

Ruth rolls on to her back, and he moves to cover her, taking his weight on his elbows. They kiss, softly and gently at first, and then the kisses become intense, and heady, and when her tongue touches his, her hand again reaches for him, and begins sliding up and down his length …... slowly …... frustratingly slowly. He pulls out of the kiss, and watches her face, her eyes bright, her mouth curved in a smile.

"I was never pretending, Ruth. I didn't have to pretend."

Ruth removes her hand from him, and winds her arms around his neck, her fingers lightly massaging the top of his spine, sending light shivers down as far as his thighs. "Neither did I," she says. "I meant every word. I meant it all."

"And it won't change when we leave here."

Ruth watches his face, searching for a sign that he is not being genuine. Were he her, he'd be watching him, too. Harry knows men who work in the security services, many of whom would think nothing of sleeping with a younger – and eager – female colleague, and then dumping them the minute they get back to work, or the minute the woman wants more than just casual sex. He used to be one of those men. Since Ruth, he is no longer. He may lie for a living, but he cannot lie to her.

He sees her open her mouth to speak, and then stop, as though pulling back her words.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice little more than a whisper.

Ruth glances up at him, and then her eyes slide away. "I can't believe …... this."

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, you could have anyone …... but you say you want me …. love me. Why?"

"Why?"

"Men normally don't notice me. I'm not glamorous, I don't come on to them, and stroke their egos …... or anything else." She looks at him, then, and smiles, wrinkling her nose. "I don't …... play the game …... I'm not …..."

"Is that what's worrying you?"

She nods.

"Ruth, I find you to be the most intriguing, engaging, intelligent ... elusive …... and sexy woman I have ever met. You fill my thoughts, my dreams – both day and night. It's because you don't play the game that I find you so ... beguiling. I've never before met anyone like you. You've never come on to me, or ... or played mind games. You're extraordinary, Ruth, and I feel privileged that you want me, too." He waits until he has her eye contact, and then smiles. "Does that answer your question?"

She nods, smiling, and he can feel how her body has relaxed beneath him. He reaches down to kiss her, and feels her hands grasp his shoulders, her fingers gliding along his skin, so that he shivers with pleasure.

When at last he slides inside her, she watches his face, and sighs heavily. Then they move together …... like they've been making love together for years.

In his head they have been.

He knows he shouldn't have allowed last night to happen, just as he knows he should have left the bed when he awoke this morning, before he allowed this to happen. But he can't resist her, and why should he? Self control, self denial. Only a few weeks ago he'd said those words to Ruth. They were true once …... but not now, not where she is concerned.

Harry remembers the Christmases of his childhood, when he'd been given sweets by his grandparents and aunts and uncles. His mother had insisted he only be allowed a few each day, and that he should save the rest for another time – some time in the future. That is where he first learned self control and self denial, but the image of those sweets, the taste of them, had begun to occupy his thoughts more than it should. One day he had climbed on to a chair to reach them, where they'd been hidden in a cupboard above the cooker. He'd grabbed all that remained, taken them down to the back of the garden, and stuffed himself with them.

He is still that small boy, and Ruth has become the sweet he craves. Keeping her at arm's length has only sharpened the craving.

Why shouldn't he have a life? Why shouldn't she? Why shouldn't they?

And then he feels her contracting, tightening, undulating around him, as she sighs his name. He lets go …. and all is blessed release. He groans her name as he sinks into her and stays there. Her hands grasping his back, and her legs wrapped around his waist hold him deeply inside her.

This is them - a new and sweet coupling - and more than anything, he hopes that they will last.


They are eating breakfast in near silence when Ruth's phone rings. She mouths `Colin' to Harry, just before she answers. He listens to her side of the conversation while she winds the ends of her hair around her fingers. He smiles at that simple unconscious act. It is yet another thing he loves about her.

"All the people at the dinner check out," Ruth says, after she ends the call, and then sips her tea. "They're all who they say they are, and they all have legitimate addresses. None of the sixteen couples at last night's dinner have purchased electronic devices …... or imported furniture. And the medical records back up what Nikki Hancock told me. Did I tell you what she told me about her husband?"

Harry shakes his head, still marvelling at how animated Ruth becomes when she is swept up by something which interests her.

"They haven't had sex for eight years. Nick's medical condition has rendered him impotent. Most of the men in that room last night are similarly affected."

Harry sighs heavily. Those poor men. "It makes what we did last night, and then again this morning all the more …..."

"Wonderful, Harry. What we did was wonderful. I wouldn't change it for anything."

Harry nods, smiling into her eyes. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Colin has looked into this Pablo. His real name is Peter James, and he's – using Colin's terminology – a nutter, but he's a Cambridge educated nutter."

"The very worst kind."

"That's not all. He gained a double first in Chemistry, and while in the army he worked as an Ammunition Technician, which is a fancy term for -"

"Someone who knows bombs – both the building, and the dismantling."

Ruth nods. "Colin has also ordered and paid for a rental car for you. It will be delivered here at three o'clock today. He also suggests that using the pen camera will be a give-away with this lot, so he's attaching a shirt button camera, and this shirt will be delivered here late this afternoon, along with instructions on how to activate it. Even if the button is torn from the shirt, once it's activated, it will still record both audio and video."

Harry lifts his eyebrows in a question. "There's more, isn't there?" he asks.

"Given the location this meeting is to take place, and the instability of their leader, he suggests that you have back-up ready at the site. If the men you are meeting tonight know who you are, then they won't be asking questions."

Harry sits back in his chair, his expression one of resistance.

"Harry, I have an investment in you remaining alive and well. I don't even want you going there tonight."

"Ruth, you know why I have to do this, and the reason it needs to be me."

"I'm not questioning your suitability. I know you're the best person for the job. It's just …... I can't bear it were something to happen to you, especially now."

"I have every intention of being careful."

"I should hope so, too. How would you feel were I going in there tonight?"

Harry looks across the table at Ruth, shocked by her honesty. "I'd be terrified."

"So you see …... what it is I'm saying?"

He nods, reaching across the table for her hand. Ruth meets his hand with her own, and they grasp the fingers of the other. While Harry watches Ruth's face, as she suppresses her clear concern for his safety, he is reminded of Jane's reaction whenever he'd go on a tricky mission. She'd express such scorn for what he did, calling it `playing boys' games with all your spy friends'. He can see now that Jane just may have been afraid for him, but had difficulty in expressing how she really felt.

This revelation is one he plans keeping to himself.


Harry is dressed in his new pale grey shirt. He wears an old pair of faded black jeans, and his favourite jacket – a very well worn leather jacket. His phone is in the inside pocket of his jacket, and he's practised turning the button camera on and off. There is a remote mechanism which Colin has attached to a belt buckle. Harry wears the belt with his jeans.

"Perfect fit," he says, as he buckles his belt.

"What did you expect? Your team are professionals, Harry."

"I know they are."

"Remember to turn it on as you leave the car," Ruth reminds him.

They have gone over the verbal signals he should give – from `sweet' for everything is fine, to `Now!' for send in CO19. They have tested the recording device, and it has been clearly received by all the terminals on the Grid, and by Ruth's laptop in the office of the safe house.

After he'd thought about it for a while after they'd finished breakfast, Harry agreed for Zaf and three junior officers to set themselves up around the proposed meeting place. They are to dress as residents of the housing estate – in track pants, hoodies, trainers and baseball caps – in an attempt to blend in. Once that is arranged, Ruth breathes a little easier.

Harry estimates that the drive to the housing estate will take a half hour, so at five minutes to nine, he checks that his phone is on, and that he is carrying identification for Will Garside. He turns to Ruth, who is standing close beside him.

"Alright?"

"No, but the sooner you leave, the sooner you can be ….."

"I know. And I will be careful, Ruth. I want to come back to you just as much as ….."

Ruth nods, and looks at the floor. She can barely look at him. When she does look up, she sees that he is beginning to lean towards her. She reaches up, and kisses him, her hand on his chest. It is a quick kiss, the kind married couples exchange before they each leave for work.

"I'll see you soon, Ruth," he says, and then he is through the door, and all she can see is his departing back.

"You'd better," she says, but he doesn't hear her.