Author's Note: M-rating for this chapter

Summer 2006

Harry had been trying to get ready for bed, to shed his suit and with it shed the stress of the day. There were few things more loathsome to Harry than babysitting petulant politicians. But to get the Havensworth Agreement signed would bolster African economies, and with better economies came better governments, and with better governments came stronger international defenses from terrorism that threatened their shores. And so here he was, devoting his team's efforts to the summit.

There was an awful pounding from some hideously loud music playing down the hall. After the exhausting and stressful day he'd had, Harry needed to get a few hours of rest which would be precluded by the hammering baseline. Without further thought, Harry left his room to bang on a door in protest.

As he made his way down the hall to where the noise was coming from, he saw Ruth leave her room. Their eyes met across the corridor. Harry felt like a magnet was pulling him toward her. She herself took another step or two in his direction.

"The music woke me," she explained, gesturing awkwardly to the door behind her from whence the music emanated. "Never really gone in for Europop."

"Looks like you weren't sleeping at all," Harry replied in a low tone. "Nor was I." They were only two paces apart now. She looked unspeakably lovely, her hair and her skin soft and a bit tired, her loose patterned blouse and flowing skirt gently covering her lush body. A body Harry had seen and touched and worshipped and missed so much he wanted to weep.

"It's the Italian trade minister," Ruth informed him, still somehow talking about the music, despite her entire face betraying her feelings of devotion and panic bubbling inside her in equal measure. "He's apparently a bit of a party animal. Caused a scandal at an EU conference last year dancing to the macarena at the last night banquet."

Harry approached her slowly. She didn't turn away. She let him walk right up to her. If only she'd let him hold her, let him kiss away that fear the way he used to. But always before, that fear had been of things outside, things that threatened her from which he could protect her. She used to turn to him to soothe her worries; now he had become the cause of them. Harry would have given anything in that moment to just talk to her away from spooks and artifice and intrigue, just sit and talk and figure it out together the way they used to do with everything else. He wanted her. He needed her. Oh Christ, he loved her so much he could barely breathe with the pain of it.

She searched his face for a moment, likely seeing the bald display of emotion he didn't want to hide from her. Her eyes roved over his neck and chest, exposed by the three buttons undone on his shirt. But then she averted her eyes, as usual, and turned away. "I'll get the management to ask him to turn it down."

"Ruth," he began, begging her not to go.

"Goodnight, Harry," she replied firmly as she went back into her hotel room.

Harry sighed and remained in the hallway, staring after where Ruth had run away from him. He felt almost as though she'd rejected him again. It wasn't as pointed this time, but his raw nerves made him more vulnerable now. His whole body ached with want of her. To hold her and kiss her and make love to her and just be near to her when she smiled. Oh, if only he could make her smile.

Defeated, Harry trudged back to his own room. Alone. He could sleep for a while and escape the hopelessness in his heart, this sinking feeling that he would never again feel as whole or as happy as he had when he was with Ruth.

Not a moment later, as soft knock sounded against his door. He'd only managed to kick off his shoes and undo one more button from his shirt. With a groan of annoyance, Harry went to see who was there.

To his eternal shock and delight, it was Ruth. He opened the door immediately. He had no words. He merely gaped at her as she walked into the room, and he closed the door behind her.

"I was hoping we could…talk," she began, worrying the hem of her blouse between her nervous fingers.

"Talking would be good," he agreed.

Ruth took a seat on the edge of the bed, her hands still fidgeting and her eyes darting from him to the floor and everywhere else. Harry moved slowly, as though any sudden movement would send her bolting away again. He sat down beside her. Near enough that he could reach out and touch her but not so close that he might frighten her off.

She turned to face him, shifting her body so one knee was bent and resting on the bed and the other remained on the floor. A small flutter of hope rose up in Harry's heart.

"I left my phone in my room," she blurted out. "I mean, I didn't think it would be too terrible. I just didn't want Malcolm or anyone to…to know I was here with you."

Harry was reminded of when he'd been suspended, when she had snuck though his back garden to visit him at home because seeing him on the bus had made her miss him. Perhaps their meagre interaction in the corridor had inspired the same in her.

Ruth continued on, "It's just utterly mad, really. I can't quite wrap my head around it. And you can imagine how much that upsets me. It's all so…I don't know, there's just quite a lot to unpick," she rambled.

Harry spoke softly. "Like what, Ruth? Tell me what there is to unpick, and we can work through it together. Just like with any other problem, just like we always do," he offered. This, after all, was just what he'd hoped would happen. He just needed her to tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. He so desperately wanted to fix it.

Ruth was regarding him with a very analytical scrutiny. Her gaze took in his whole face, every part, and down his neck and chest and belly and to his lap. "You're not an unappealing man, but you're certainly no male model. You look your age. The lines on your face. The padding 'round your middle. The sparseness of your hair. Properly middle aged," she proclaimed.

"Hmm, thanks," he grunted, not at all pleased at that assessment, accurate as it may have been. Good lord, was that what this was all about? She wasn't attracted to him? What was the sex, just pity?

"But I find you utterly beautiful," she said, ignoring his response. "I have to stop myself every moment I'm near you from just reaching out to touch you, to fold myself in your arms and to trace every single line and scar on your body and just feel you, every part of you."

"You do?"

Again, she ignored him. "And that horribly annoying thing you do, being grumpy and sarcastic, making stupid jokes at inappropriate times? Why on earth do I always smile? It's awful!"

"I like to lighten the mood. I like to make you smile," he explained, wholly unsure of where this rant of hers was going.

"It just makes no sense!" she huffed.

"What, that I like to make you smile?"

"Harry, it makes absolutely no sense that I am madly in love with you!"

In that moment, Harry was rather certain he'd suffered a massive stroke and died right there. The shock of her declaration, seemingly from nowhere, was quite possibly more than he could bear. "You…you are?"

Ruth just barreled straight through, as though her words had not just turned his entire world upside down and inside out. "I thought it was just some stupid infatuation at first, due to my attraction to strength and authority. But we got to know each other and we got so very close and all those feelings never went away. Quite the opposite, actually. I am absolutely in love with you and I just can't quite figure it out."

"I think it's worth exploring, don't you?" Harry asked, managing to get a word in edgewise.

Looking up from her wringing hands, she asked, "Explore how?"

"Oh now you listen to me," he replied sarcastically, just managing to resist rolling his eyes.

She paused and told him in a rather serious tone, "I always listen to you, Harry."

They watched each other quietly for a moment, loathe to break the sparkling stillness between them. This magic moment, when she finally regarded him with affection once more, affection he now knew to be love. "What would you like to do with this situation, Ruth?" Harry finally asked her. "Seeing as you're madly in love with me and I am hopelessly in love with you?"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you really? You shouldn't just say it because I did. Not if you don't mean it."

"Of course I mean it. I'd have thought that was obvious. Some spook I am, can't even hide my feelings for you," he grumbled.

"You've done a rather good job of it so far."

"I dare say you're the only one who hasn't noticed. I'm unfortunately not very subtle, staring at you from my office and standing far too close to you at every opportunity."

"I suppose that makes us quite the pair."

"I'd like to think so, yes."

She sighed. "I really had no idea."

"Ruth, I hope you don't think I'm the sort to ask out just anyone. What did you think that dinner was? And…and after?"

"The sex?"

"Yes, Ruth, the sex."

"I just…I don't know, Harry, you've not got the best track record with things like this. That night was the best of my life, but after people started talking about us, what Malcolm said…"

"Malcolm?!"

"He wanted to wish us well. But I panicked. I just thought that they'd all see what I didn't want to admit, that I was just a convenient bit of skirt with a crush on her boss."

"Ruth, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you are nothing close to convenient."

A small smile appeared on her face.

"Oh, there it is," he breathed in awe.

"What?"

"Your smile. I've missed it." Harry couldn't resist reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over those perfect smiling lips.

"Are you saying I should smile more?" Her eyes flashed dangerously.

He chose his words carefully. "I'm saying you're very beautiful and you have a smile that makes me very happy, and I would like to try to make you smile as often as I can."

The smile returned and she nuzzled against his touch. "I love you, Harry," she told him, turning her face to kiss the palm of his hand.

"And I love you, Ruth," he told her in return. The sinking feeling of hopelessness in his chest had been replaced with a soaring warmth of joy he had never before felt.

Ruth leaned in, taking his face in her own hands to kiss him. Harry wasted no time pulling her into his arms and onto the bed. They lay side by side somewhat oddly, their legs hanging over the edge as their kiss deepened and their hands explored skin underneath clothes.

Rather abruptly, Ruth pulled away from him. She stood up and pulled her blouse up over her head and pulled her skirt down to pool at her ankles. Harry leaned on his elbows, watching her undress, feeling his happy heart thundering with erotic anticipation. One of these days, Harry wanted to undress her himself, but for now, Ruth seemed to have a plan in mind, and Harry would follow her lead.

She was entirely naked when she came to where he sat and unbuckled his belt. She pulled his shirttails from his trousers and undid all the buttons, leaving him to take the shirt off while she yanked his trousers and trunks off his legs. And when they were both bare, Ruth came to stand in front of Harry, giving his shoulders a small shove. He lay back in the middle of the bed and Ruth crawled over to join him. He watched her in amazement, this bold Ruth he had never quite seen. She straddled his hips, leaning over his chest to cover him in wet open-mouthed kisses.

They'd barely even got started, but Harry was overcome with his need for her. "Ruth," he growled, pulling her face up to his so he could kiss her properly, their tongues surging together as they swallowed each other's moans of arousal. Harry could feel her hot and wet on his lap. His hands wandered her breasts, squeezing and massaging her in the precise way that made her moan even louder and grind her hips against him.

Ruth pulled away from his kiss, panting. "Please, Harry," she begged. "I need you." She raised herself up on her knees and, Harry took his hard cock in hand to line himself up at her entrance. He teased her with his tip, spreading her wetness until she sank down on him. The gasp that escaped her lips when he was fully sheathed deep inside her nearly made him come on the spot. Ruth took her time, savoring their union. But Harry was getting impatient. He pushed himself up so they were sitting face to face, his feet planted on the bed behind her with his knees bent. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Ruth used her knees as leverage and began moving herself up and down. Harry met her rhythm. Every movement between them seemed to coax him deeper inside her. All he could do was rock back and forth, holding her tight.

In that moment, Harry was certain that he'd never been so close to another human being in all his life, physically and emotionally and romantically and every which way two people could be together. The beating of their hearts thundered like the drumbeats of destiny. Their panting breaths and the sheen of perspiration that coated them both had turned the air thick with intimacy. And somewhere in the haze of lustful pleasure clouding his mind, Harry somehow felt as though their bodies curled around each other had intertwined their very souls, ensuring that this moment would bind them inextricably together.

Ruth's movements had turned quicker, more erratic. She fluttered and clenched around him as her orgasm pulsated through her whole body. She gasped at the overwhelming pleasure, but did not stop moving. Not until Harry followed her over the precipice, groaning with bone-deep satisfaction at spilling inside, did they slow and still.

Harry could no longer remain upright. He kept Ruth enveloped in his embrace and tilted their joined bodies to the side so they could lay together. Her face was buried in his neck, his buried in her hair. And unlike their first time in bed together, when Harry had kept his inner mantra inside his mind, he breathed against her, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

He felt Ruth tighten her hold on him and nuzzle closer at his words.

Eventually their heartrates and breathing returned to normal. Harry was soft inside her, and his arm was falling asleep from her weight lying on it. As much as he despised the necessity of it, Harry pulled himself away from her, separating their bodies.

They readjusted their positions so they could cuddle together more comfortably. Harry sighed as he held her once more. "Christ, Ruth, don't ever leave me again. I don't think I could bear it."

"I won't," she assured him. "I don't think I ever could. But don't you ever let me go."

A memory popped into his mind. "I promised you that before. We were lying in bed."

Ruth nodded, remembering as well. "The day Danny died. I was so upset, and I made you promise to never let me go, and you did."

"And I mean to keep that promise. I will never let you go, Ruth. I love you far too much."

"And I love you. But unfortunately, I have to get back to my room." She pulled herself out of his arms and got up from the bed.

Harry rolled over to watch her get some tissues from the nightstand to clean herself up and then gather her clothes. "Must you?"

"I left my mobile," she reminded him. And we have a complicated day ahead of us. We need to sleep, and unfortunately, we need to be in separate rooms."

"You're right," he agreed begrudgingly. "But perhaps when we can escape Diaspora…"

She turned back to him with an adoring smile. "Yes. When we're back home. We can…we can make this work."

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

Ruth disappeared into the loo for a moment. When she returned, she was dressed again. Harry had put his trunks back on and was sitting back on the edge of the bed, where they'd started.

"I'll see you in the morning, Harry," she said, giving him one last kiss and whispering, "Sweet dreams, my love."

She hurried out of his room and back to hers. Harry just sat there, unsure if perhaps this was all just a very sweet, beautiful dream. This night would surely be his fondest dream for the rest of his days.