Harry started the kettle at ten. He knew Ruth would be a bit late. He'd have been shocked if she arrived right on time. It didn't even occur to him to expect her at ten.

Billy the big orange cat amused himself weaving between Harry's ankles and batting at his trouser leg. That made Harry smile. He was a sweet thing, and Harry would happily take any distraction from his anxious worries.

And how could he not worry? More likely than not, Ruth would not change her mind, and she would be coming here any minute to end their engagement once and for all. As much as he wanted a different outcome, as much as he wanted to pray to a god he didn't believe in that they could be happy together, Harry knew better. He knew Ruth better, and he certainly knew his own luck better. Thanks to karma or whatever else, Harry Pearce was not meant for happiness. Ruth had believe that about herself for far too long. About the two of them together. Maybe she was right. After all, Ruth was usually right about things.

The kettle was ready just as the doorbell rang. Only about four minutes late. Something of a miracle. Harry stepped over Billy to get the door.

"Good morning," Ruth greeted, fidgeting awkwardly at the door.

Harry gave a tight smile. "Come in. I put the kettle on. Would you like tea?"

"Sweet tea, I think," she said, hanging her coat by the door and following him into the kitchen.

If she wanted sweet tea, that meant bad news. They'd always have a very English cup of sweet tea to comfort themselves during difficult times.

But before Harry could comment on her choice, Billy interrupted by meowing loudly.

Ruth let out a little gasp. "Billy!" She recognized him immediately. She turned to Harry, her eyes narrowed unhappily. "You didn't tell me you adopted Billy. We were going to get him together."

"It was always my intent for us to have him together. I thought that's what we were going to talk about today," Harry responded, frowning right back to her.

She stared at him, searching. As was so often the case, Ruth's emotions were written on her face. Eyes wide and sad. Lovely mouth tipped downward, lips parted slightly as she tried to find the words to say in response.

After a moment, though, Harry gestured to the kitchen table. "Sit. I'll make the tea." He turned away without letting her respond. He busied himself with the tea things, adding sugar to each of their cups. Harry wanted to put some whiskey in his, but it was a bit early in the day for that. And if this went as he anticipated, Ruth would leave soon and he could drown his sorrows in scotch after she left.

A cup of tea in each hand, Harry made his way over to the table where Ruth was, unsurprisingly, cuddling with Billy on her lap. She thanked him for the tea when Harry put it in front of her and she smiled. "He's so lovely, Harry."

And Harry felt his heart break a little more.

Ruth gave Billy another scratch behind the ears and then lifted him off of her. "Stay down there, Billy," she instructed. "Harry and I need to talk."

Harry sipped his tea and waited. Ruth had a sip of hers as well. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before lifting her gaze to meet his.

"I'll start, shall I?"

He nodded.

"I've thought about this a lot. Especially since last night. I hardly slept, actually, worrying about what I was going to say to you today."

Harry steeled himself for the inevitable. She had searched for a way to try and let him down easy. There was no easy way. Nothing would make this any less terrible than it was certainly bound to be.

Ruth started wringing her hands as she started again. "I just don't know what to do, Harry."

It was in his mind to interrupt and tell her that she should come live with him, should marry him, should go back to the way things were just a few weeks ago when they were happy. And it took everything in him to stay quiet and to wait for her. To give her the opportunity to speak. To not push her as was usually his first instinct to do.

And then Ruth surprised him. "I want us to be together. I…my god, I love you so much, Harry. I don't know what to do, being without you. I don't want to be without you."

"So don't," he said, unable to help himself. "Ruth, you know I love you, and I'll do whatever I can for us to be together."

"I know," she answered. "And that's just it. I know you'd do anything for me, but I can't help feeling that it's not good for us. I still don't know how we can do the work we do when we love each other so much. It's…Harry, it's dangerous. If Mani could manipulate us like that after we'd been apart nearly three years, if Mace could use me to get to you, what will happen when the world knows that we're actually together? What could happen when I'm your wife? There would be a target on both our backs, and never mind us, but think of how many other people could be endangered because of it."

Harry furrowed his brow. He understood what she was saying. Of course he did. But it was strange to him that she could miss the most fundamental flaw of her argument. He needed to point it out to her. Or rather, have her follow the logical steps to discover it herself. "If we end our engagement here and now, are you going to leave England and start a life somewhere else?"

"No."

"Are you going to leave MI-5? Leave Section D?"

"No."

"Then what would be different if we're happy and together versus if we're apart and miserable? Mani is proof enough, Ruth, that no matter where either of us is or what we're doing, there is a chance that we could be in danger. Getting married might increase the risk, I'll grant you that, but us not getting married won't take the risk away," Harry explained.

"I can't deny that, I suppose," she conceded.

"What do you need, Ruth?" he asked, almost begging. "What can I say or do to help convince you that you don't need to be afraid?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I've been trying to figure that out for weeks. Even before I..."

"You've been pulling away. I've noticed."

"I know. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt either of us. I just couldn't think of any other way forward."

Harry huffed in frustration. "Why must you insist on unhappiness?"

Ruth fell quiet. Her eyes were cast down at the teacup she had abandoned. She eventually said, in a soft, barely audible voice, "I don't want to be unhappy. I think I just…don't know how to be happy."

"I'm not sure I do either. But I'd like to try. Together," Harry answered.

She looked up at him again. "You'd do better to love someone else, Harry," she said sadly.

"I haven't got a choice in the matter at this point, Ruth. And even if I did, I would still want to love you. I like loving you."

"Even when I'm making us miserable?" Was that a hint of teasing? Harry couldn't be sure.

He shrugged and told her, "I find that everything worth having, everything good and truly important, is always hard-won. The things that really matter are worth a bit of misery to have."

Ruth swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. "Harry, could you stand up, please?" she asked.

Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and Harry still hadn't gotten a straight answer from her as to what they were going to do. He pushed his chair back and stood up. "Why do you want me to stand?" he asked.

She stood as well, looking small and delicate and only a foot away from him. She wiped a stray tear. "It feels like something silly Jane Austen would write but I wanted you to stand so I could fall into your arms."

Harry didn't need anything more than that. He didn't even need her to fall into his arms. He took a step forward and pulled her into his embrace.