Same day, 8th June, 11:30 pm

Harry wipes the tears away roughly and squares his shoulders, causing Ruth to pull her hand away. He misses her touch immediately, and not for the first time, wishes that he could pull her close and never let her go. He clears his throat instead, and turning to face her, he murmurs, "I'm sor-" But he never gets to finish his sentence as her finger presses gently across his lips to silence him.

"You apologize too much, Harry," she smiles, despite the tears that are shimmering in her eyes.

He holds her gaze for long moments as he wages an internal battle against his desire to pull her into his arms, his self-control rapidly slipping away.

His lips move gently in a motion reminiscent of a kiss, and she suddenly realises that her finger is still pressing lightly against them. She lowers her hand slowly to her side and clears her throat. "Now, when's the last time you slept?" she asks. He shrugs. "I thought as much. You should go to bed, Harry."

When he doesn't move, she reaches for his hand and takes the empty tumbler out of it, placing it on the table, and taking his hand in hers, she begins to lead him to the stairs. He follows her mutely, exhausted from three days of working without sleep and the recent release of his pent up emotions.

Once inside his bedroom, Ruth says, "Go have a hot shower, Harry, and then I promise to give you a demonstration of one of my many hidden talents."

He turns to her, startled by her statement, and murmurs, "Ruth, I don't think that's-"

"Harry!" she exclaims in exasperation as it becomes obvious where his thoughts have headed, "I am not talking about sex!" Then seeing the flash of pain in his eyes despite the astonished expression on his face at her mention of the word sex, she adds gently as she lowers her eyes to look at her hands, "Not that it wouldn't be nice if we..." She clears her throat and looks up at him again. He's staring at her in surprise and there's a warmth in his gaze that wasn't there a moment ago. She wonders briefly how he cannot be aware of how much she wants him, and she has to fight down the urge to tell him all the hopes she entertains for their future together. Knowing that he's exhausted right now and so this really isn't the right time for that, she forces herself to continue. "I was referring to a back rub. You're dead on your feet, Harry, and I'm going to take care of you, just like you took care of me and our little one over the last two days by sending me home to rest despite my protests. So be a good boy now and go have that shower." She's relieved to see a small smile appear on his lips.

"Nobody's called me a boy in a very long time, Ruth," he says as he shrugs off his jacket and slips off his tie.

"That's because they don't know you as well as I do," she smiles and takes his jacket and tie from his hands before turning away from him towards the wardrobe to hang them up. "Sometimes, Harry, you act a lot like one."

"And you're an expert, are you, Ruth?"

"No, though I did have one for a year or so," she murmurs quietly, "and I can tell you that he also didn't understand the importance of a good night's sleep, and if I'd let him, he'd have been up all night, every night reading." She turns back towards him and notices him watching her with a look of regret on his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but she doesn't let him. "Don't apologize, Harry. What happened, happened, and all we can do is try to deal with it and move on. Now, stop stalling, and get in that shower. I'm going downstairs to get my bag."

So while Harry's in the bathroom, Ruth goes back downstairs, and after washing away the remaining traces of her tears at the bathroom sink, she enters the kitchen to get a bowl and see what oil she can find. She's pleasantly surprised to find a small bottle of olive oil. She pours some oil into the bowl and carries it upstairs along with her bag. She's just turning down the covers when Harry re-enters the room. Ruth smiles at him and moves out of his way as he gets into bed and lies down.

"Now take your shirt off and roll over," she murmurs and when she sees him about to protest she adds with a smile, "I promise to behave like a perfect lady and not take advantage of you, Sir Harry." He sighs, and removing his t-shirt, he lies down on his stomach.

Gently Ruth rubs oil onto his back and begins to massage the tension from the muscles in his shoulders, very much enjoying having the opportunity to touch him like this. Giving Harry a massage has been a fantasy she's entertained for many years now, and of course in her fantasies, the massage always progresses into something much more enjoyable for both of them.

Feeling the desire begin to bubble up inside her, she makes an effort to rein in her wondering thoughts and says, "Bloody hell, Harry. No wonder you can't sleep. There are so many knots here that I'll need a whole troop of scouts to help me unravel them."

He chuckles lightly and then moans in pleasure as she begins to work on him in earnest, putting to use the massage skills she'd learned in Cyprus at the hospital where she'd worked. She'd been a little bored, to tell the truth, in her simple, elegant life after a while, and she'd taken classes in healing during her free time; massage, Aromatherapy and Reflexology to be precise.

"You're right, Ruth," he murmurs after a few minutes. "This is some hidden talent you have, though I fear that no one will take me seriously tomorrow when I turn up at work smelling of roses."

"Lavender, Harry," she smiles, "to help you relax and sleep. And don't worry, by tomorrow the smell will have dissipated. Though personally, I think that the great Harry Pearce could turn up smelling of a veritable garden of flowers, and no one would dare bat an eyelid let alone refuse to take him seriously."

"You're good for my ego, Ruth."

"Right now, I'm trying to be good for your health, Harry, so shut up and go to sleep."

"Yes, Mum."

Ruth chuckles. "That's more like it," she says and sees him smile.

Though Ruth's touch had served to make Harry more tense initially, and he'd had some difficulty in controlling his desire to turn around and kiss her senseless, he slowly begins to relax as her fingers expertly probe his tense muscles, and by the time Ruth finishes massaging his shoulders and back, he's succumb to his fatigue and fallen asleep. Gently she pushes the covers over him and begins to massage his feet, paying careful attention to all the areas she's learned about in her Reflexology class, especially those in which there is tension.

When she's completed her task, she's exhausted but satisfied that she's helped him relax and get some much needed rest. She lies down next to him on top of the covers and watches him sleep for a few minutes. It's wonderful to have the opportunity to study his face without being under the scrutiny of his keen, hazel eyes. His is not a particularly handsome face, but it's one she loves so dearly, and as she lies there studying his features, she realises that it would be quite something to have the opportunity to do this every night and finds herself fervently hoping that, one day soon, she will.