'Come on Dimitri, you can tell me,' said a much happier Catherine, who had consumed more wine than her Dad would have no doubt have told her was good for her, as she and the aforementioned Dimitri giggled their way through the washing up. She and Beth had very quickly realised that both Dimitri and Jean Paul were both vying for Catherine's attention so had become a double act, that had Harry known would have made him smile. Beth needed some light relief to blank out the horrors of the day and determined not to talk about work had skilfully led their two male companions into endless France v England and gender debates. Catherine was after all her father's daughter and very quickly cottoned on to what Beth was doing and became a very competent ally in the let's get the boys wound up competition. A larger than was necessary takeaway and several bottles of wine later, by which time it was approaching ten thirty, Dimitri suddenly realised that if he didn't call a taxi now and take Catherine back to the safe house, that he'd be in trouble with a capital T. Catherine though was enjoying herself for the first time in weeks and was in no mood to be leaving.
'We daren't call your father now, he and Ruth will have been in bed for ages,' from Beth, caused the French half of Laurel and Hardy partnership to choke on his wine and contemplate the merits of channel swimming, as Catherine pulled out her phone and sent her Dad a text. 'Having a lovely evening, hope you are too, see you in the morning.'
A previously concerned and more than repentant Harry had already been in bed for a couple of hours prior to receiving his daughter's message, by which time Catherine could have told him that she was joining the service and he would have given her his blessing, such was the contrast in how he now felt after what had been the most extraordinary of evenings. His and Ruth's determination to sort this out once and for all had had them both realising for a second time in as many hours, what idiots they had been. A pyjama clad Ruth in pain and clearly distressed, had kick started what had been the most open and frank conversation they had indulged in during the entire five years that they had known and loved each other.
Harry had been putting the finishing touches to their dinner that consisted of an omelette and salad, when Ruth walked in through the kitchen door and flung herself into his arms, wincing as the pain in her shoulder and arm kicked in again. Kissing her clearly wasn't an option when half her face was swollen and discoloured, so for the next few minutes whilst their omelettes proceeded to go cold, he just closed his eyes and held her with his face buried in her hair until she calmed.
'I was so scared that I'd lose you Harry,' she finally told him, after he'd said that he was sorry and he knew that this was all his fault,' for the umpteenth time.
Cold omelette or not, neither of them had eaten since breakfast and they were both really hungry, as Harry discovered and microwaved a couple of shop bought crumbles and some custard which took Ruth a lot longer to eat than him, before telling her to go and sit down on the sofa whilst he made her a cup of tea. Unlike the washing up in Dimitri's flat, theirs stayed undone. Harry had an important conversation that he wanted to embark on, assuming that Ruth was prepared to listen.
'I've been an absolute idiot and I'm so sorry,' he told her, as he sat at one end of the sofa with a pillow across his lap where Ruth's head rested with her eyes closed. He'd turned on the fire, so even though they were in the safe house as to opposed to Harry's home where ideally they would have both preferred to have this conversation, it still felt intimate and cosy. Their two guards knew by now that once Harry and Ruth left the kitchen that the sitting room was out of bounds, so other than to say goodnight they had complete privacy.
Cotterdam, Mani, George and Nico were the sum total of the torture that they had been put through and all of it Harry blamed on himself. But it wasn't until that evening that he had voiced it to anyone other than Ros and now she was dead as well. Ruth knew nothing about Ros's involvement in Yalta and how Harry and Adam had forgiven her and moved on or how much he had come to rely on her since Adam had died. Now though as she listened to him, she finally understood why it had been at Ro's funeral that he had made the decision to propose to her and why it had affected him so deeply when she had turned him down. 'I don't want this for me and certainly I don't want this for you Ruth,' suddenly made sense and the fact that he hadn't told her that he loved her, paled into insignificance.
'Sorry, I need the loo,' he told her clearly upset when he finally stopped speaking.
'I'm sorry too,' Ruth told him, when five minutes later Harry appeared again with another cup of tea and settled back down next to her. 'Can we go to bed Harry, this sofa isn't very comfortable,' was said because she was building herself up to answering the ultimate question and in truth she wanted Harry to be similarly undressed and to kiss her, whether it hurt or not. He'd had a shower and changed at Thames House in what was nicknamed The Toff's Bathroom, so it would be a case of who got into bed first, rather that her waiting or worse still falling asleep when she really needed them to continue this conversation.
A gentle and loving Harry who by this stage would have given her the world had she asked him for it, was more than happy to get an early night despite the fact that more than a cuddle obviously wasn't on offer, as he said goodnight to their minders and told them that Miss Evershed and he were going to bed. He felt liberated, free from the repression that had held him back and dogged him for years. Malcolm had been right he conceded, they so needed to be having this conversation.
For however long it took and bearing in mind that they had gone to bed before nine, lying side by side, Ruth on her back propped up with pillows for no other reason other than it was the most comfortable and Harry lying on his side facing her in a semi darkened bedroom, Ruth poured out her heart to him.
'Cyprus was a fantasy Harry that was never going to last, I should have realised that, but I never stopped loving you Harry, not for one second,' she told him. 'It's the guilt I suppose that I still feel about George and Nico that's been holding me back, that and the fear that if we ever did get to where we are now, that something else would happen and that I'd lose you all over again.'
'And now, what is it that you want now Ruth?' Harry asked her, still confused as to what she was trying to tell him and oblivious to the fact that she wanted him to propose again.
'Ask me again Harry.'
'What do you want now Ruth?' would have had her rolling her eyes if it hadn't hurt so much, despite the pain killers starting to kicking in. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him that she wanted him to ask her to marry her again and that she would say yes this time, but she couldn't torture him any longer as she looked at his beautiful and gentle face that was pleading with her in the semi darkness.
'Harry I want you to ask me to marry you,' was as far as she got, before his lips descended on hers and it became a case of pain what pain?
'You said yes Ruth,' he whispered, as they snuggled down together with a blissful calm enveloping them, brought on by the realisation that they had finally committed to what they both wanted.
'You're right, I'm going to marry Harry Pearce, I'll need to tell my boss in the morning,' she whispered back, running her fingers through his hair as he lay gazing at her with a look of pure longing in his eyes.
'If I wasn't marrying Harry then I'd probably marry him, he's quite sexy you know,' she continued the banter as their mutual desire rose, but given Ruth's injuries probably wasn't a sensible idea.
'For Christ's Harry I'm not at death's door and I'm on pain killers,' had Harry's resolve crumbling and Ruth's pyjamas becoming an unnecessary hindrance, as he made good his promise to love and obey, until exhausted they fell asleep.
Walking onto the grid the following morning determined to keep their news to themselves until the current Op was over, proved more difficult than they had imagined, as the younger members of their staff plus of course Catherine, waited for what they imagined to be at least a stern glare and in Dimitri's case, a 'right royal bollocking.' Not so as it turned out, as Harry wished everyone good morning and marched into his office without another word, which left Ruth feeling as though she was carrying a giant banner announcing their engagement, muttering something that sounded like 'so much for solidarity' as she headed for the kitchen to put the kettle on. The newly formed partnership of Beth and Catherine exchanged a glance before they followed Ruth, with the explanation to the others that Ruth with her injuries shouldn't be making the drinks and that they'd see them in the meeting room in ten minutes.
'Harry seems to be in a good mood this morning,' was Beth's attempt at interrogation, after both she and Catherine had asked Ruth if she was feeling any better.
'Yes,' said the usually eloquent Ruth by way of an answer, before they were interrupted by Dimitri sticking his head round the door and telling them to hurry up, as Harry was already in the meeting room. She was off the hook, at least for the moment.
'John although he's still in intensive care had come through his operation,' Malcolm told his relieved audience, 'so providing that there aren't any unforeseen setbacks he should make a full recovery,' had Harry determining to go and see him later.
'My visit to the mortuary, threw up some interesting anomalies,' chipped in Dimitri, going on to explain that both the assailant and the other person who had been gunned down were thought to be British, whereas the weapon as well as the phone appeared to be French.
Callum who had stayed on the grid long after the others had gone home had been waiting for his moment to shine. He wasn't part of Harry's band of brothers or whatever they liked to call themselves, but he was enjoying his time at five and hoped that if he proved himself to be useful that Harry might try and extend his stay.
'There is one discernible fingerprint which the boys in the lab are trying to match,' he told them, 'but as yet we haven't come up with a name. What I can tell you though is that according to the call log, this phone has travelled to and from France and the UK on more than one occasion and there's one particular number that has been called, more times than I've had hot dinners.'
'Which is?' asked Harry, who sitting next to his now fiancée had inadvertently yawned, which had resulted in what appeared to be a knowing look between Dimitri and Beth.
'Does anyone recognise the name Samuel Williams?' Callum asked them.
'Ruth, Beth, get on to that if you would please,' Harry asked them, before going on to tell Dimitri to go back to the mortuary and tell them to get a move on with the autopsies, they needed to know who both these men were,' before he dismissed the meeting but asked Callum to stay behind. 'Work with Jean Paul on this would you and use his resources, he may be able to help us with the missing link.'
Through the entire meeting Malcolm had sat patiently waiting and still hadn't budged from his seat. Harry had been his boss since he had arrived at Thames House more years ago than he cared to remember and with Colin now gone was the closest thing that he had to a friend. He had watched over the years as Harry and Ruth had skirted around each other always seemingly self-destructing and unable to take that final step. Something had changed though he had picked up on it when Harry had asked Ruth to follow up the lead. It was the way that he had said her name. He wasn't being nosey and he would never betray a confidence who on earth did he have to tell anyway? After a short pause, Harry smiled at him and saved him from having to ask the question.
'I can see that you want to ask me Malcolm, so yes we're absolutely fine. Once we get this wretched Op out of the way, I promise you that we'll invite you to dinner, now though we need to get on.'
Beth had never sat at Ruth's desk but sitting next to her searching through the hundreds of faces of people called Samuel Williams, she realised how perfectly placed it was in terms of looking into Harry's Office. Ruth wasn't her usually keeping it together self this morning, she was edgy and the astute Beth felt pretty sure that it had nothing to do with the fact that she had been beaten up by a park bench. Besides which they had all expected Harry to lay into Dimitri the moment that he had laid eyes on him and that hadn't happened.
'I hope Harry wasn't too angry that Catherine stayed over at Dimitri's, we just lost track of the time,' she told her. 'We actually had a great evening with a bit too much to drink if I'm honest and there were all sorts of confessions, you know what it's like, how about you?'
Ruth could see where this was leading and she could also feel her face starting to flush as yet another set of faces filled her screen. Not only that, she knew that Harry's eyes were locked on her, even though she wasn't looking at him. This was so not what they had discussed and he wasn't making it easy or the one that was being given the third degree.
Had she continued in the same frame of mind, she would have quite likely confessed to Beth what had happened, but an hour later by which time they had had a break before resuming their search on the screen, she clicked onto the next page.
'Harry,' she shouted in a way that no one else had ever been able to get away with, as he bounded out of his office and lent over her shoulder, astounded by a face that neither of them had seen for the best part of four years that filled the screen.
'Fetch Callum and Jean Paul,' he said turning to Beth, 'we need to find out where this bastard is.'