Ruth came to, feeling groggy and sore in a very delicious way. She opened her eyes and saw Harry, peacefully sleeping next to her, no sign of the passionate way they'd started their morning. After a moments consideration she pulled down the duvet several inches, wanting to look at him. His left shoulder had a puckered scar from the shot that Tom Quinn had fired at him. But apart from that she didn't know the history of any of his scars. And she wanted to. She wanted to know everything about him, all of his history before he met her. There was a thick curving scar on the right side of his chest. It was white and the skin had been horribly damaged at one time. Before she could stop herself she ran her index finger across it.

"A curved axe."

"Hmm?"

"You were wondering what caused it," he said opening his eyes. "An axe. And I was bloody lucky to live through it."

"What happened?"

"You tell me about your gunshot, and I'll tell you how the IRA found out I was a spy."

"I didn't think you'd notice," she said, taking her hand away from him.

"Oh Ruth," he said quietly. "I'm interested in more than just this." His hands had wandered, one on her breast, the other between her legs and he stroked her gently, as if emphasising his point. "I want all of you, and when you're naked, I do look at everything. Earlier this morning I noticed that little round mark there." He touched the inside of her upper arm gently. "And I know what a bullet wound looks like. When were you shot?"

"It's not a great story," she said. Harry waited and she sighed. "I don't even think it was meant for me. I was in Istanbul and stupidly went out at night. I got into a bad part of the city and gunshots rung out. I collapsed onto the ground, waiting for them to leave as I guessed they weren't after me. And the blinding pain in my arm meant a quick getaway was impossible. They left, and I got the hell out of the city. I couldn't go to hospital because all gunshots have to be reported to the police. I was supposed to be dead and I didn't want questions asked. So I took a ferry to Cyprus. By the time I got there I knew I needed medical attention. It was infected and throbbing like mad. So I went to a hospital. And… met George."

"Ah," Harry said delicately. "Did he help you?"

"Yes," she said honestly. "I was blathering a bit and he told the nurse in Greek to get him some drugs to calm me down. I replied saying I didn't need anti psychotics. What surprised his was I spoke Greek. Anyway, I don't want to talk about him."

"Fine," Harry agreed. George wasn't his favourite topic of conversation anyway.

"The axe," she prompted.

"Mm, okay," Harry said. "I'd infiltrated an IRA cell. It was only meant to be a short undercover operation because they were planning an imminent attack. They needed someone who could give them access to the British government, so I posed as their way in. I…" he paused and looked horribly guilty. "I had to shoot someone to gain their trust. I still can't believe I did that. I… justify it by knowing that hundreds would have died had that bomb been planted. And the government would likely have fallen too. It's a pathetic reason," he added with heat.

"Who was he?" Ruth asked quietly, holding back her judgement. He didn't need judgement from her, he'd clearly already condemned himself. She also knew instinctively that Harry wouldn't have killed a woman, which is why she assumed the victim was male.

"He used to be an IRA member, but he'd become disillusioned with their methods to make their point. He tried to leave."

"But they asked you to kill him instead."

"Yes," Harry said. "I was young and I didn't know what to do. I had someone listening in from MI5 and I was ordered to do it. Ordered to kill him. I'd like to think of left to my own devices I wouldn't have done it, but that's a lie. I knew we couldn't lose the operation, so even without being told, I'd probably have done it." He looked away from her. "I'm horrified about what I did. Do you want to leave? Now you know?"

"No," she said. "Ever since I started working for you I knew you'd killed people."

"Yes," he said. "But its usually my life or theirs. In that case it's an easy decision. It's instinctual, you don't even think about it at the time. This… I don't know Ruth."

"Did you save lives?" He nodded. "That's why you did it. Did he have family?"

"No. A loner. He didn't have anyone. I didn't know that at the time though." He sighed. "It doesn't even matter really." He fell silent for a long time, and she knew he was blaming himself.

"The axe," she prompted.

"Well, we foiled the plot and got hold of the bomb," Harry said briefly. "It didn't take them long to work out I was a spy. I had backup coming, but not quickly enough. O'Connor was the leader and he got very angry. Thank God he didn't have a gun to hand otherwise I wouldn't be here. We were in a small outbuilding and there was an axe resting against the wall. He grabbed it and swung it at me. If he had known what he was doing, he'd have caved my chest in. As it was, he only gave me a glancing blow. Even so, it caused enough damage and bled badly, as well as almost knocking me unconscious. I collapsed on the floor, playing dead and he was done with me. He just argued with his compatriot. Then I must have passed out. Next thing I remember is waking up in hospital, my wife cursing over me about how stupid I was. Careless, irresponsible."

"Wasn't she glad you were okay?"

"Oh I think she was," Harry said. "But rather than show her relief, she'd rather shout at me to cover her fear." He was suddenly struck by a thought. "What would you do? If I was injured in hospital?"

"Hold your hand and pray," she said.

"Pray?"

"I'm not religious and I don't think I believe in God at all, but at times like that I think… you could use all the help you can get. So yes, I'd pray."

"You're… a remarkable woman," he said. "Not even criticising me for that man I killed?"

"I think you feel guilty enough about that without my help," she said accurately.

"Mm," he said. He stroked her back for long silent minutes and she enjoyed his touch. "Do you want to come back to work."

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I'm not sure. At the moment, all I want to do is lie in bed with you."

"Shall we think of that later then?"

She rolled on top of him, pushing her bare body against his. "Definitely. I'm busy right now." There wasn't anything sexual in the movement, it was simply lying against each other, bare skin to bare skin. There was something comforting in the contact when, for so long, they hadn't even been able to see each other. Harry's arms wrapped around her, holding her close as her head rested on the axe scar. She closed her eyes, as did he, both content to simply be with the other. It didn't matter what the future may bring, or what had happened in the past. Because whatever it was, they would face it. Together.

The end.

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