Harry

She's not doing well. Physically, she's okay, and she'll make a full recovery, but I don't like that haunted look in Ruth's eyes. It worries me. I know it's the baby and the loss but she's not really confiding in me. She's locking it away and I hate that. I'm bringing her home this morning, even though the hospital would wish for her to stay at least another day. She's insistent that she wants to come home, so much so that she's agreed that I can take care of her. And I think she wants to be in the same house as me, I hope so anyway.

I've just driven over to her flat, to pick up some of her things she's asked for, clothes and books mostly. Now I'm heading to the hospital and my phone rings. I answer it, keeping it on speaker phone.

"Mm?" I'm not in the mood for a long conversation and I know it won't be Ruth calling me when she's expecting me in less than twenty minutes.

"Harry, it's Towers." Oh. I don't want to argue with him. I'm so tired that verbal sparring with the Home Secretary really doesn't hold any appeal to me. "Look, I received your letter of resignation. I understand, what with Ruth's… injury that you'd want time off, but…"

"It's not relating to that," I say. "We were leaving anyway. We've both had enough of the mess of MI5. We've done enough."

"Well, I know things are difficult at the moment, and I'd like you to reconsider." I say absolutely nothing. Neither I nor Ruth will be reconsidering. We'd both quite like to get out alive. My silence seems to confirm the worst for him and he sighs. "Harry, I hear that you've employed outside help to deal with our friend Levrov. I'd like to be updated and… you know what, never mind." I smile ruefully. Having Towers in the dark is probably the best on this one, but I know that Levrov will not be living for much longer. Even if I forget about the business with Elena, it's clear that he's been running unofficial agents all over the world for his own personal gain. It has little to do with Russia's best interests in the long term, and he needs to be dealt with. Permanently. It was the last thing I'd done before handing in my resignation. Well, that, and decommissioning Ruth after she'd insisted yesterday. I'm glad she wants us to have a life together, a life free of the lies and secrets of MI5. I'm lost in my fantasies of the life we will have that I miss what Towers says next.

"Sorry?" I ask blankly.

"I said I hope Ruth recovers fully," Towers repeated. "And I don't have any chance of persuading either of you back, do I?"

"No," I say after a moment. I don't like speaking for Ruth but that seems like the safest answer under the circumstances, and I'm fairly sure that's what she'd tell him.

"Harry, I don't know if our paths will ever cross again, but I'm always at the end of the phone if you need anything. I mean that."

"Thank you," I say, honestly. For a politician, he's a good man. And I know he means it and there aren't many people left alive who would try to help me if I were in trouble. It's good to know he's there. "I have to go," I say. "I'm driving into the hospital now."

"Okay," he says. "Take care of yourself Harry."

"And you," I say. I end the call and I wonder absently if I'll ever speak to him again. I shake my head and concentrate on parking the car before going to get Ruth.


I open her door and I'm pleased to see that she's awake, and she smiles when she sees me. "Hi," she says. I lean over her and kiss her softly before drawing back.

"You look a bit better today," I say. She does, her eyes are brighter and her face has lost that chalky whiteness that frightened me so very much when she was unconscious for so long.

"I feel bad," she says. "But I can talk today without it hurting as much, so that's progress."

"Are you being discharged today?" I ask. The doctors aren't happy about letting her go, but I know Ruth's stubbornness and insistence could very well win out.

"Yes," she says, proving me right. I almost smile, but I hold it back. I'm worried about her being out of hospital, but I'm also very pleased that she has the energy to fight with the doctors about her condition. I clearly didn't hide my smirk well enough because she asks, "What's that smile for?"

"I thought you were dying a few days ago," I say. "It's wonderful to see you fighting to go home and get out of hospital, that's all."

She reaches for me and her hand curves around my cheek gently. Her palms are warm for the first time since she was shot and it feels like she's coming back to life. "It wouldn't have been a bad way to go, Harry."

"What do you mean?" I ask in shock. Of course it would have been, plus several decades too soon.

"Dying in your arms, knowing I was loved, the fresh air on my face. I can think of worse ways to die. Much worse ways."

I take her hand tightly in mine and squeeze. "You're not going to die for a very long time," I tell her. "And I want to go first. I'm much older than you, it's only fair. I never want to fear losing you like that again."

"Okay," she says. "You can go first." I kiss her once more and she smiles tiredly. "Can you help me get dressed?" I nod and unzip the holdall.


I park the car outside my house and look to Ruth. She's fallen asleep on the drive over and she looks so peaceful. I know she's tired and I'm very reluctant to wake her, but it's the beginning of November, and she'll get cold if she stays in the car for much longer. "Ruth?" I say lightly, a hand on her shoulder.

"Mm?" she says, waking up. "Oh, sorry."

"Don't be," I say. "I'm glad you're sleeping."

"It's the drugs," she says. I know she's right, as the doctor had warned us that sleeping and tiredness would be a side effect of the medication she's on. "I'm sorry," she says again, this time more seriously.

"For what?" I ask bewildered.

"Losing the baby." She's biting her lip and looking down into her lap and I reach for her hand, squeezing it tightly.

"It wasn't your fault," I say. "Do you want children?" I ask gently before I can talk myself out of it. I probably shouldn't be bringing up this subject now, but I can't help it.

"If you'd have asked me a month ago, I'd have said no," she says, still looking down into her lap. "I don't know, on the one hand of course not. I don't want to give up twenty years of my life to raise a screaming baby. But I'm so… hurt and disappointed… and sad that I lost this one. I guess… I don't know what I want." She looks up at me, her eyes damp as she tries not to cry. "What do you want?" I have no idea how to answer that. I want Ruth to be happy, but I'm well aware that that's not really an answer. It's also far too early in our relationship to be talking about children, really, but that's not the point either.

"I've never really considered more children," I say slowly. "If it had happened, it would have been a good thing. A very good thing," I say honestly. I would have been thrilled to know that we were to have a child. "I would have been over the moon."

"Oh Harry," she says, shaking her head sadly.

"Lets get you inside," I tell her, thinking it's probably best to change the subject. She nods and wipes her eyes impatiently before getting out of the car.


Thank you for reading this far. This story is coming to a natural end, so there won't be many more chapters. I will probably try the first person again for other stories though, as I've enjoyed writing this way a lot.