North Yorkshire cottage – 12 days later, and 26 days after Harry had reunited with Ruth – 7.20 am:

Harry awoke to an empty bed. Imagining Ruth may have gone to the loo and would soon be back, he waited for her. And waited. After twenty minutes of waiting, he slipped into his bathrobe to cover his nakedness and went downstairs. He found Ruth curled up on the sofa amongst a tumble of cushions, her feet tucked under her. Like him, she wore only a robe. She seemed preoccupied, so he let her be. The combustion stove had not yet been lit, leaving a chill in the room. Despite this, both Scarlet and Fidget had settled together on the hearth. Harry busied himself lighting the stove, and stacking logs against one against the other so that they would eventually catch and burn. When he'd finished, he stroked Fidget's fur, scratched Scarlet's ears, then washed his hands over the kitchen sink before he joined Ruth. Looking at her more closely, he noticed that she had drawn one of the cushions close to her and hugged it to her like she'd been thrown into the ocean and it was her lifebuoy.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked, as he sat next to her, but not close enough to be touching her.

Ruth turned her head to look at him, and he could see the redness from tears already shed. Her face showed that look he had once known all too well - the look of struggle and trouble and pain and indecision. "Harry, what have we done?" she said, somewhat cryptically.

"But Ruth, I thought you were happy. What's happened? Tell me." So I can fix it, was his unspoken thought. He glanced around, checking that there were no newspapers or phones, or notes under the door.

"I am happy. That's the problem."

"But how can being happy make you cry, sweetheart?" Privately, he wondered if she was pre-menstrual, but he dare not mention it, not if he valued his balls.

That is when she turned her body to face him, putting aside the cushion she'd been holding. "Can't you see, Harry? Being happy puts us at risk."

"I know that. But we've talked about this. We agreed that being together like we are is a position of strength for us. Anyone who wants to get at me – or you - will try anyway. If we're together under the same roof, we're safer."

"That's not all. When I was in exile, how was it for you?"

"It was hell, Ruth. I didn't know whether you were alive or dead. I didn't know where you were, whether you were healthy, happy, safe, or whether you may have met another man. I was constantly worried for you. And I missed you. I won't do that again, no matter what happens."

"I missed you too, Harry. I can't help but think that us having this much happiness will have a price ….. somewhere down the track." Her eyes again shimmered with unshed tears. Harry moved closer to her, and she allowed him to draw her to him.

"Is that what's troubling you, Ruth? Because you and I both know that we make our own happiness, and the only price we pay is the commitment we have to being together always, and believe me, that will be hard work, no matter how much we love one another. Don't you think that being apart for so long was price enough? If dues are to be paid, then from where I'm sitting ours have been paid in full."

For a long while, Ruth said nothing more. He held her with both arms, and she nestled against his chest, the place in the world where she felt safest. They both knew that such luxuries as early-morning cuddling would be rare once they returned to the Grid. After some time, she again spoke, but this time without the high emotion of her earlier outbursts. "I'm quite afraid of going back home and back to work," she said at last. "I'm afraid we'll drift apart."

"Because of work?"

"Because of work. We used to misunderstand one another so much, Harry."

"This time will be different. We'll be together in the evenings, and we'll be sleeping in the same bed, like we are now. There'll be time for talking things through."

"But what if one of us dies, Harry? I don't think I could bear living without you if you died, and I'd hate to die myself and leave you all alone. I don't think you'd cope very well with losing me again."

Harry kissed the top of her head. "And what if we grow old together? What then? What if you're so scared of what might happen to us that you don't fully enjoy what we have now? That would be a bigger tragedy, don't you think?"

Ruth nodded. He was right, of course. She knew he'd help her see things clearly. She snuggled closer to him, slipping her arms round him beneath his bathrobe. Without giving it much thought, she found her hands wandering over Harry's bare skin until she reached his lower back, where his buttocks began to rise.

"Ruth," Harry said quietly, his lips close to her ear, "your hands are turning me on. Is that what you want?"

"Why wouldn't I want you? I'll always want you."

He pulled away from her so that he could look at her. "I don't want us to get in the habit of using sex as a distraction from the real issues. It might make us feel good, but we run the risk of never getting to the core of what bothers us."

Ruth took her hands away from Harry's body, and let them rest in her lap.

"I'm not rejecting you, Ruth," he continued. "What red-blooded man wouldn't want your hands on his skin? I just think it's more important that we get to the bottom of why being with me scares you so much. Why are you so afraid of being in a committed relationship with me? I can't wait to live with you, to love you, perhaps to marry you some day …... when you're ready. I've waited a long time to be with you, Ruth. I'm not about to walk away from this."

Ruth sat back against the sofa, her legs curled under her. He thought she looked about fourteen – scared and vulnerable. Her sadness hurt him deeply. He had only ever wanted to make her happy. He watched her in silence until she spoke.

"I've always wanted this, Harry," she began, her voice quiet. "For almost as long as I've known you. And I want all the same things you do – a life spent with you, living together, sleeping together, marriage, perhaps children some day. Wanting something so much is dangerous for me. It's like …... with the wanting comes a kind of …... opposing force, where …... what I want immediately disappears from before my eyes. It dissolves."

"Is that the real reason you turned down my second dinner invitation?"

It was then that she looked at him, her face sad, but her eyes clear. "Yes," she said, almost inaudibly. "Yes, that's the real reason. We had such a good time when we went to dinner together. It was wonderful, so much better than I'd expected. I hadn't expected we'd have so much in common. I knew you'd somehow be taken from me …... or go off me."

"So all that about people talking about us …... the fear of humiliation …..."

"That was real for me, too, but it was also an excuse. That isn't really the reason I'm scared now. I've gone past worrying what others think. I hate it that I think like this, but I do. Every time something good, something wonderful happens in my life, I wait in dread for it to be taken from me."

"Do you think," he said carefully, aware that he was about to tread on delicate territory, "do you think that maybe you chose to go into exile because we were getting closer?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but …... you're probably right."

"So," he continued, "you chose to be away from me – perhaps for years – rather than being with me. You chose sadness and loneliness over risking getting closer to me."

"Put like that, it sounds quite …..."

"Self-defeating, Ruth."

"I wouldn't blame you were you to say it sounds insane."

"No, I wouldn't call it that. It's how you protect yourself. It sounds almost like you can't accept happiness in any form. I just want to make you happy …... and to keep you safe. It's a bit hard to do if you keep working against it."

Harry knew that he had to acknowledge this side of Ruth's personality. Perhaps it was as a result of her father dying when she was so young, but he wasn't about to open that door; he'd wait for her to lead the way into any discussion about her father. He loved her as she was, not as he wanted her to be. She was the woman he loved and had chosen to commit himself to for life, and he had to accept that there would be times like this. He drew her face around to look at him, as he leaned towards her.

"Ruth," he said, "I'm not God. I can't guarantee anything, but I can try to make our lives as safe and secure as possible. I'm sure that I can guarantee that I'll love you for the rest of my life, no matter what happens. And should we be blessed with children, then I'll do everything in my power to keep all of you safe."

"I know," she said. "I'm just being silly. I didn't want you to know I felt this way, which is why I came downstairs."

"I'm glad you told me. We have to be honest with one another." He drew her into a soft kiss before he continued. "Ruth, there will be times when we'll be scared of losing one another. Every time I see another man look at you with appreciation I want to kill him with my bare hands."

"But men don't look at me in appreciation Harry - other than you, of course."

"Sweetheart, believe me, they do, and my worst nightmare is you going off with one of them when you realise I'm too old for you, and that you're ready to update to a newer model."

Ruth smiled, the first smile he'd seen from her that day. "That's a ridiculous idea! As if I'd want anyone other than you. You must be out of your mind, Harry."

"I am." He leaned across to kiss her, and this time the kiss became something else. "Upstairs?" he said, and she nodded.

North Yorkshire cottage – 7 days later, and 33 days after Harry had reunited with Ruth – 8.41 pm:

"It's not too late to change your mind, Ruth. I'm sure we can find a pub in Whitby with good food and a spare table for two with a view of the harbour lights."

"This is our last night in this cottage, Harry. I'd rather spend it here – alone with you - even if we only have eggs for dinner." Ruth looked wistfully into the fire and sighed.

"I know you'd rather we stay cocooned here forever, Ruth, but Real Life calls."

"I know. I know." She turned her body slightly so that she could lean into Harry. He responded by putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to him. He was going to miss this cottage, this room, this sofa on which they'd so often sat together and exchanged secrets and intimacies, the stuff of lovers who are discovering what is hidden beneath and behind that which takes their breath away. They had each shared parts of themselves with the other, secrets they'd never told another living soul. They would never forget the five weeks they'd spent in this place so far distant from their normal lives. It had been during those five weeks that their lives had changed, and their life-long love affair had been born.

They went about their evening as they usually did, but both knew that everything would change once they were back in Harry's house in London. More than that, once they began work the following week, there was the risk that they would immediately drift apart, the nature of their work sucking the love and compassion from them as surely as it had those who had gone before them. As they prepared to retire for the night, they both knew that once they were upstairs in their bed they would make love. After Harry had secured all the doors and windows, he led Ruth upstairs, her hand in his.

They undressed slowly, almost reluctantly, and slid under the duvet naked. Harry was already partly aroused, the promise of sex being enough to stir him. Ruth silently thanked whatever gods were responsible for him having retained his healthy libido into middle age, and hopefully beyond. The only concession they'd had to make to his age was that his recovery time was not as it had been when he was younger. Once under the duvet they drew together to hold one another. They stayed that way for a long time, no words being necessary.

It was Ruth who reached up to kiss him on the mouth, and so the dance began. They took their time, knowing that this was to be their last night in this bed, the same bed in which they had made love for the first time. They lay side-by-side facing one another, and when it was time to come together, Ruth slipped a leg over his hip to bring him closer to her, close enough for penetration. Their eyes never left the other as he began to move inside her. "I love it when you're inside me," she said quietly, and her words left him feeling too emotional to offer a reply. He gazed into her eyes, and his own eyes said everything his voice could not. He felt strong on this night, like he could last a very long time, taking her to climax again and again. She deserved this from him. It would be his gift to her.

While moving slowly and steadily inside her, he leaned towards her and kissed her deeply, their mouths open and eager to give and receive. While he thrust his tongue against hers, his fingers vibrated against her clitoris, resulting in the first of her climaxes. She experienced two more in quick succession before he felt himself reaching a level of excitement that he'd only rarely felt in his life, and then not since he'd been young and virile. He stopped moving for a time while he deepened their kiss, then moved his mouth along her cheek to her ear, where he whispered his love for her, telling her over and again how he loved her, worshipped her, and longed for her. It was only when he again began moving inside her that they – together – increased speed, and brought about his climax.

Fully exhausted, as it had been an emotional day and evening, they fell asleep still joined.