A/N: Hilariously ironic dedication at the end to avoid spoileriness. Thank you for waiting and for all your reviews. I love you more than you'll ever know for supporting this story!

Ten

Christmas day passes in a blur of food and happiness and photographs and laughter, and before anyone really knows where the day has gone to, 'Doctor Who' has finished, and Catherine and Graham are practically falling asleep on the sofa, wedged between Harry and Ruth. Feeling the children's breathing get heavier, Harry turns to Catherine, who is cuddled up beside Ruth, and says "bed time, Cathy?". His daughter sleepily attempts to protest, but Ruth takes her hand, and, smiling at Harry, pulls her to her feet.

"Why don't you shoe me your room, Catherine?" Ruth asks, "I bet it's lovely."

"Pink," Catherine says, her monosyllabic reply a clear indication of her true tiredness.

"It sounds beautiful. Come on." Ruth allows the sleepy little girl to lead her up the stairs and into a bedroom which looks like it ought to belong to a Princess; Harry's little Princess, she guesses. As she asks Catherine about her things, Ruth sees him carrying his sleeping son past Catherine's door and across the landing. She catches his eye, and smiles.

Feeling a little sleepy herself, although it is only seven o'clock, Ruth helps Catherine into her pyjamas and follows her through to the bathroom, listening as she chatters about her strawberry flavoured toothpaste. Catherine pushes the door open gently, and the sight that greets them causes a fresh cloud of butterflies erupts in her stomach: Harry is sitting on the edge of the bath, with a now awake Graham in his lap, coaxing his son through the evidently difficult process of cleaning his teeth. Until today, the image of Harry as a father had never (well, rarely, at any rate) crossed her mind. The picture before her eyes now is almost enough to change her whole world-view completely: if the fearless, fierce and honestly amazing Harry Pearce can fill these boots, she's clearly been seeing things wrongly for a while.

"Daddy!" Catherine squeals, launching herself at the sink and the strawberry toothpaste with a little too much ferocity. Ruth raises her eyebrows and slowly sinks down onto the edge of the bath, beside Harry. "I don't think she needs any help, after all..." Ruth breathes, watching Catherine run around. This moment is something she could never have imagined. She feels like part of this family; of this world. She can, in her mind's eye, see herself living this life, with Harry, and for a moment, it scares her. Catherine hugs her in the same way as she hugged her father before she skips, sleepily, off to bed, and for a second, Ruth believes it's real: this is her life.

The moment passes, though, as she shuts Catherine's door and remembers that she's only here for one day.

Almost sadly, she pads back down the stairs and into the living room, where she stands for a minute, glancing around and feeling almost lost. In one day, her way of seeing things has changed so dramatically, and a thousand different futures seem ready to present themselves – and yet she's still not comfortable enough in this house to sit down on the sofa uninvited.

Harry appears behind her in the doorway a minute later and pulls Ruth from her reverie. She glances round at him, startled, and smiles slightly: "sorry," she whispers, "I was in a world of my own."

"Was it nice?" Harry asks, passing her to collect a number of empty cups a coffee table.

"Perfect," Ruth smiles, serenely, "bizarre, but perfect."

"Christmassy?"

"Mmm." She intones, following him through to the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, no," Harry insists, "I can cope."

"I know you can cope," Ruth smiles, "I don't doubt for a minute that you can cope. I just want to help, too."

"Really, Ruth!" Harry laughs, "I enjoy it."

"What, washing up?"

"Yes." He replies, earnestly. "Washing up keeps me human. My children keep me human..." He almost adds you keep me human, but he thinks that might be a step too far.

"They're wonderful, Harry. They really are."

"They like you."

She smiles at this, hitching herself up so that she's sitting on the sideboard beside the sink, watching him: "I like them," she tells him. She pauses for a moment, and he stops washing, watching the thoughts creeping across her face. Eventually, she says "tell me about them."

"It's a long story, Ruth." Harry warns, not entirely reluctant.

"I want to know, Harry. You know everything about me. I want to know you – the real you."

"Really?" he asks, with a lopsided, half-smile.

"Yes." She says, "I really do. I've had a wonderful day today, Harry, and I can't thank you enough... but tell me a story. Tell me your story."

"Alright," he says. "I'll wash and tell the story; you dry and listen."

Ruth hops of the counter and crosses round Harry, pulling the tea-towel off his shoulder as she does so. She sticks her tongue out at him, laughing as he rolls his eyes, and the story begins:

"I met my ex-wife, Jane, when we were both young and so naive. We were first years in the same college at Oxford, and... well." He smiles, ruefully, "you can imagine what happened. It was a bit of a whirlwind – my first real experience of love, and hers, too. Apparently, though, I didn't pay much attention in biology... we had Catherine pretty sharpish, and so I did the noble thing, and proposed. Jane dropped out of her degree to have Cathy, and I don't think she ever really forgave me. But then she got pregnant with Graham, and it was all alright again... except that I'd graduated and decided to follow my Dad into the army. I was deployed to Afghanistan, and I suppose that's when The Affair started, although I'm not really sure... I only found out when I was seconded into Section D as a junior field officer (this must have been three years ago). There was this woman in Section F, Juliet Shaw (the Wicked Witch of the West – you've not met her yet? Lucky you!) who apparently had the hots for me... well. She kissed me on the steps one day, and Jane was passing and suddenly it all came flooding out. Of course, it was my fault, for being 'with' Juliet, and for getting Jane pregnant, and for going to Afghanistan, and..."

He pauses for a moment, feeling Ruth's eyes on him. She's staring, wide-eyed, and he supposes that he can't blame her. It is a complicated tale.

"Well." He says, "it was all over pretty quickly, then... Jane fought hard for custody, and it seemed selfish of me to argue. You can never have a stable home life in the Service."

"Washing up." Ruth comments, seemingly absently, but Harry understands entirely.

"Washing up." He echoes. "Anyway, Jane has a habit of forgetting to mention when she wants me to look after the children, so that's why I only just found out that I was getting Christmas with them..."

"You should have told me, if you didn't want me to come..." Ruth whispers, staring sadly down at the washing up.

Harry wipes his hands on a towel and reaches out to cup one of her cheeks in his hand, stroking his thumb across the blush rising in it: "I did want you here, Ruth." He says, "I do want you here. I wanted you to meet Cathy and Graham. I wanted you to know my story. I wanted you to forgive me, and I wanted you to trust me again."

"I do, Harry," she tells him, "I do."

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Camillo, for the most brilliant comment ever, "Woot! A Harry who has't been through a divorce or made a fool of himself over Juliet." How I giggled ;)

Sorry for the delay – Happy New Year, and pretty please review? Love xx