3:

It was difficult to sit on his hands in regard to the Ruth situation. Harry didn't sleep very well, so he was grumpy and irritable at breakfast, and he was even more so when he dropped Lucy off at preschool. He went home and sent off a few rapid-fire emails with his former team on the Grid, asking if he were to find Ruth Evershed, exactly how much trouble would she be in, how difficult it would be to clear her name and redact the records after this length of time, etc. And he took a fucking nap before it was time to go pick Lucy up for the afternoon.

By the time he was splashing on aftershave and adjusting his tie to get ready to go meet her at Chelsea Market, Harry had definitely had time to calm down and relax. Of course, all he could really think about was how beautiful she still was. Time hadn't been so kind to him, but she was like music to his soul. He wondered briefly if she would be offended if he asked about the scars on her face, but then decided that it didn't matter.

In the bigger scheme of things, that didn't matter at all.

What mattered was that he had found her – Ruth, his Ruth, the other half of his soul that had been wrenched away… he'd found her again. That thought both made him giddy with joy and fraught with panic. And Hope…

Hope was his child.

No child of his should ever have pink hair, he decided. It just wasn't done. He would mention it to Ruth, and maybe that would be an end to it.

He took extra pains to look nice – no polo shirt and jeans like normal, no, he was in a nice crisp burgundy shirt, gold patterned tie, and a grey cardigan. He wanted to show her that he really still was Harry-of-the-Grid, no matter how many years went by.

"Hot date?" Catherine asked, grinning over his shoulder into the mirror.

"If you must know, I'm meeting a former colleague from Five," Harry muttered, making a face as he checked to make certain he was clean-shaven and hadn't missed a spot. "So I cannot look like I've spent the afternoon baking jam biscuits."

"Speaking of, those cooking classes you've been taking have really paid off – those jam biscuits are delicious. Maybe you could bring your friend around and stuff them full of them."

He laughed nervously. "I'm not certain she would appreciate that very much."

"She?" Catherine perked up. "So this really is a date, isn't it?"

"You can meet up with old friends and not call it a date," Harry sighed. "Not everything is about sex."

"Oh, I know it." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Well, you get my seal of approval. You look quite dashing, dad."

His control wavered for a moment, then he said, "You know I haven't seen anyone socially since Ruth."

"It's about time you started," Catherine replied. "I know you loved her and all, but… it's been sixteen years, dad."

"It's been almost six for you," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I've got time yet. You, not so much." She gave him a hug and retreated. "Have a good time, don't do anything I wouldn't do – and try to remember your diet before you put back on all the weight you've managed to lose chasing my kid."

"I'll behave," Harry promised. "We're meeting at the Market – do you want me to pick up some fresh fruit and veg?"

"Oh, that would be great, dad – and maybe some of that watermelon and mint juice?" Catherine grinned at him.

"You know I can't resist a good juice," he teased, glancing at his watch. "I'd better get going or I'll be late."

He strolled leisurely to Chelsea Market, enjoying the cold evening air. He was getting used to the cane, and it didn't feel quite so much like a hinderance anymore. He waited outside the south entrance of the Market, hoping he didn't look too nervous. He politely held the door for anyone coming in, hoping that Ruth would hurry up and get there.

At six thirty, he was just about to give up when he saw her jogging up to meet him. "Sorry I'm late – don't ask," she breathed. "I hope you haven't been waiting outside in the cold all this time, Harry."

"I'm fine," he said, the corner of his mouth twisting into a touch of a smirk. "Late as usual."

"I'll have you know, I'm usually pretty punctual," she said, taking his arm. "Now, dinner. I've got to bring something back for Hope – she likes the taco place."

"I've got to bring back some produce for Catherine," he said.

A small smile crept onto her lips. "I feel stupid for not realizing before now," Ruth said as they went inside. It was a large crush of people and it took a while to get their food and find somewhere comfortable to sit. But once they were part-way into their meal, Ruth cleared her throat and said, "We're leaving on Monday."

His eyebrows leapt into his hairline. "Why?"

"Because we've been here three years, and that's too long for two people who are trying to evade a ring of spies that are trying to kill them," Ruth said, smiling sadly.

"Ruth, it might surprise you to know that no one is looking for you – but me. And, somehow, miracle of miracles, I've found you when I was about to give up all hope." He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "I've been in contact with Five via email today and we can reinstate your identity and get your passport and everything –"

She shook her head. "What's done is done, Harry. I got chewed up and spit out."

He took a deep breath. "Maybe so, but you don't have to run anymore, do you? Not now." It hurt him, shocked him to the core, that she would so callously run away from him.

"Harry, it's very hard to take you seriously when you've got a bit of sauce dripping down your lip," Ruth sighed, reaching over to swipe at him with a paper napkin. "Remember that time we got Chinese takeaway and I…"

"Kissed my errant sauce away," he finished for her, his tone softening. "Ruth, please don't leave. Not now, not when we've just found one another again. Three weeks together was enough to know that I would never want anyone else the rest of my life."

"I have to do what's best for Hope."

He flinched; ah, yes, there was the rub. Misguided maternal protectiveness, directed straight at him with all the force of a nuclear missile. "Have you told her yet?"

"That you're her father? She might have guessed last night when you shoved your tongue down my throat." Ruth finished her vegan sushi burrito and sighed. "Harry… I'm all she's ever had. I can't just throw you at her and go, 'play happy families'."

He looked like she'd just slapped him. Ruth took a mental step back and closed her eyes for a long moment. "I'm sorry, that was… uncouth of me," she said softly.

"No, I'm surprised: it was very truthful and I hadn't thought very much about how much this will affect Hope." Harry looked down into his drink and sighed. "I was just so glad to see you, I just thundered in like an elephant."

"You look very nice tonight, by the way," she murmured. He was fitter since retiring, and the change had done him good. He looked very swanky in that kind of way that made her want to tear off her knickers and show him a hell of a good time – god knows she hadn't felt that urge in years. The last time had been just a couple of days before her exile had begun. It had been a hell of a three weeks between Havensworth and that boat taking her away. "Very debonair."

"Catherine thought so, too," Harry said. "Wished me good luck on my date."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I was meeting an old friend from Five. The truth." He looked back up at her. "Ruth…"

"Mary. I go by Mary now."

"You are Ruth to me," he said softly, reaching over to touch her cheek. She flinched, pulling back, unwilling to let him have that part of her yet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

She inhaled deeply, pushing back the pain. She'd been captured by MI-6 agents in Italy early in her exile, tortured for information, her face superficially cut to ribbons on one side. She'd just discovered that she was pregnant and it had been a hell of a time getting away from them and giving them the slip again, but she'd managed to do it. Once she'd healed, the scars were a badge of honor: she had survived and learned not to take anything for granted again. "Not your fault," Ruth said.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind about leaving?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I got served an eviction notice, due next month. I'd have to find somewhere to go anyway. Now's a good time."

"Why are you being evicted?"

She shrugged. "They're bringing the whole building down and putting up luxury condos instead," Ruth said. "So, you see…"

"We've got room," Harry said. "We've got four empty bedrooms – you're welcome to them. It's my house: Catherine pays utilities and things and I take care of the taxes."

"I couldn't."

"Forgive me for being selfish right now," he said, his face morphing profoundly into sadness, "but I don't want to lose you again before we've found one another properly, Ruth. Before we can give this – us – a chance."

"It's not just about us anymore, Harry," Ruth sighed. "We have a daughter. I have to do what's best for her." It had been a long time since she'd wanted to do anything selfish, but right now, all she wanted to do was take Harry home with her and shag him senseless until they were both spent. But with Hope in the equation, she couldn't even contemplate it.

"I would never ask you to do anything but that," Harry said quietly. "Just think about it, though – I can't believe for a second that you want to leave everything behind again and start all over."

She looked down at her fingers, twisting her napkin nervously. "No, I'm not exactly eager for that," she murmured.

He stood up and held out a hand. "Walk with me – let's do the shopping and take Hope her dinner." It was simple, it was plain, it was elegant. She took his hand and held it as they walked around the Market, making purchases. He had a shoulder bag for his, and she carried Hope's tacos in a paper bag.

It was enjoyable, just being with him again. Who knew that they would just be able to pick up right where they'd left off so long ago?

He walked her home, then awkward silence descended. "Should I go up and say hi?" Harry asked.

"No, she's… worried that you'll think less of her because of what happened last night," Ruth said softly. "But I'll tell her you said hello."

"Ruth, I know I am not… exactly emotionally effusive," Harry began, "but I love you and have done for quite a number of years. And if you run away, I will use what little clout I have left with the intelligence community to hunt you down – and then I will make sure you never get away again."

She cracked a smile and said, "If it was just me, I'd have you upstairs right now and we'd be fucking on the futon."

"Ruth!"

She had the decency to blush a little. "All right, well… how about this? I will think seriously about your offer to move in. But the problem with Hope and the captain of the football team isn't going to go away so easily as my eviction."

"Next time," Harry said, "I will break him like an egg." There was something hard and predatory about that remark, like the old, blood-thirsty Harry brought back from the dead. He paused, then cleared his throat. "May I kiss you good-night, Ruth?"

She nodded and, oh, lordy, that kiss – oh, that kiss…

She actually wobbled as she let herself into the building. Like a fucking teenager, she wobbled.

She took the elevator ride to calm down, bringing herself back to center and relaxing for Hope's benefit. "Hi, baby, I brought your tacos," Ruth called as she stepped into the apartment. She wasn't expecting to find Hope curled up into a little ball in the bed, sound asleep. She sat down beside her daughter and stroked her back, wishing she could make it all better.

Hope, Harry, Cotterdam, the whole lot.

She just wanted something good, something pure, something untainted and lovely.

It was difficult to keep smiling when the whole world was throwing shit at you.