Saturday, August 25th, 1984 - London

"Ruth," Malcolm calls through the open window as he spots her on the bridge, leaning over the railing.

She turns around, and seeing him, moves over to his car and gets in the passenger seat.

"I brought your handbag and coat," he says, indicating the bag on the floor.

"Thanks," she murmurs, picking up her coat and slipping it on. She was starting to feel cold out there on the bridge.

Malcolm drives to the next red traffic light, and then turns to her and says, "I was thinking. Would you like to go somewhere else? He's in emergency surgery right now, and they won't let us see him even when he gets out. Neither of us are next of kin, and we'll have to wait until the morning for Jack to throw his weight around a bit." He notices her worried expression and adds swiftly, "If you want to go, I'll take you. I just thought that getting a bite to eat might be more constructive than sitting in a hospital waiting room, worrying. Jack said that he'd let me know as soon as he hears anything."

The light changes and he drives on while Ruth thinks over his proposal. A bite to eat... She was supposed to have dinner with Harry today and instead... Tears spring to her eyes and she tries to blink them away. Perhaps it would be better to not be in the hospital with nothing to distract her. "Okay," she murmurs eventually.

"Is there any place you'd like to go?" he asks. Ruth shakes her head and he nods, "How about fish and chips?"

"Okay," she replies, not really caring where they go.

Malcolm nods and drives off towards a nice fish and chip shop he knows.

She feels much better now that she's had something to eat. She didn't want to of course, but Malcolm managed to cajole her into trying the food. She'd given in to him in the end because he was trying so hard to cheer her up and stay positive.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," she smiles sadly. "I'm not very good company right now and you're trying so hard."

"Don't be stupid," Malcolm frowns. "Trying to cheer you up is helping me no end in pushing aside my own worries about Harry. But you know, he does seem to have the luck of the devil. I think he'll pull through. He always does. I expect he'll outlast Jack himself and live to take over the position when he moves on or retires."

Ruth smiles at his words and is surprised at how much better they make her feel. The fish and chip shop was a good idea. It's small, busy, and full of life as people come and go, having a bite to eat, or picking up their takeaway. It would have been awful to sit in a classy restaurant where everything's calm and quiet.

"You're a good friend, Malcolm," she says. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Just don't give up hope," he replies.

She nods and murmurs, "You know, don't you? About us."

"I know about Harry's feelings, but I didn't know there was an 'us'," he says with a blush.

She looks away as tears spring to her eyes and replies in a shaky voice, "There is since last night."

"I'm glad," Malcolm smiles and reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. "He'll need your help when he gets out."

She nods and they finish their meal and return to the car.

"Do you have someone you could stay with?" he asks quietly. "I can offer you the sofa bed at my place, but it's not very comfy. I don't want to leave you alone in an impersonal hotel tonight."

"I'll be fine, Malcolm," she replies. "I'm actually staying in Harry's guest room." Malcolm raises his eyebrows at her in surprise and she elaborates, "When Harry drove me home that first night after going to the George, we discovered that the hotel I was staying at wasn't as safe as it appeared to be in the day time. It was late so he just drove me to his house. The next day, his kids arrived to stay for the week, and what with that and the long working hours, I just stayed."

"Well," Malcolm says, "I still think it would be best if you're not on your own."

"I'd like to stay at Harry's," Ruth murmurs. "It would make me feel closer to him."

Malcolm studies her for a moment and then says, "Well, if you're sure."

She nods so he starts the engine and drives her home. When they reach Harry's house, Malcolm gets out and walks her to the door.

"Thank you, Malcolm," she says.

"I'll ring you the moment I hear from Jack," he replies.

"Yes," she nods. "Please do. It doesn't matter what time it is. I'd like to know right away."

"I promise to ring you the moment I hear anything," he smiles. "Goodnight, Ruth, and don't hesitate to phone me if you need anything."

"Goodnight, Malcolm," she replies, leans forward, and kisses his cheek.

He blushes, and giving her a lopsided smile, he turns and walks back to his car. Ruth watches him go for a moment before closing the door and locking it. After taking her coat and shoes off, she goes straight upstairs to get ready for bed. She knows that if she lingers in the downstairs rooms, she won't be able to hold back her tears as the memories overwhelm her.

She snuggles down in her bed, but she can't settle. She tosses and turns for a while, but she misses him so much and can't stop worrying about him. She sits up in bed and swings her feet out, slipping them into her slippers. Picking up her pager from her bedside table, she walks through her door and along the corridor, pausing in front of his room. She stands there unsure of whether going in would be a gross violation of his privacy. Eventually she decides that, if their roles were reversed and she was lying in a hospital bed instead, she wouldn't mind if he entered her room to seek comfort, so she turns the handle and pushes the door open. She steps into the doorway and flips on the light. His room is neat and orderly as is every other part of his house. The walls are a warm cream colour and the furniture is simple and made of solid oak, but despite its dark colour and solid appearance, it's not imposing but light and elegant looking. Against one wall, there's a large wardrobe with a chest of drawers next to it. His bed is large, queen size, and has no foot-board, though it has a solid head-board. The bedside tables are small, and on each one there's a lamp with an old fashioned lamp shade with tassels dangling from the edges. In the corner of the room, by the window, is a rocking chair with a floor lamp beside it and a foot stool in front of it. She walks up to his bed and runs her hand over the bed covers. Which side does he sleep on, she wonders. The box of tissues and telephone on the left bedside table suggests that he sleeps on that side.

"Oh, Harry," she murmurs. "Please be okay. Just, please be okay."

She feels the tears come, and this time, she doesn't have the energy to fight them, so she lets them fall, and as the sobs wrack her body, she lies down on his bed and curls herself up into a ball. When her tears finally stop, she continues to lie there quietly, too exhausted to move. She shivers from the cold, and forcing herself to get up, she puts her pager on the bedside table, pushes back the covers and gets into Harry's bed. His scent lingers on his pillow, and as she rests her head on it, it envelops her, comforting her, and allowing her to finally fall asleep.