A/N: And here we are at the end (unless I manage to put together an epilogue by Friday - no promises, mind). Thank you all for taking this journey with me and for your continued support. Cheers, S.C.

Saturday, 26th December 2009

It's been a wonderful break from reality and part of her is loath to leave this place behind, but needs must and, much as she would like to, they can't live their lives away from the Grid forever. Not yet, at any rate, though perhaps one day, when Harry's had enough of politics, intrigue, and betrayal, and he's ready to settle down to a more sedate pace of life... Maybe then she can have her elegant, simple life back, with a man she loves this dearly.

"Alright?" he asks, glancing over at her before returning his gaze to the road.

She sighs. "Fine, just..."

"Reluctant to return to reality?"

She smiles, turning her head to look at him. Such a wonderful, remarkable man. Her heart fairly sings with happiness. "Yes," she says simply.

"We'll do this again, Ruth. I promise."

She lifts her hand to gently stroke his cheek. "You're wonderful, d'you know that?"

He glances at her again, smiling as he turns his eyes back to the road. "I try."

They continue on in silence for a bit, then she says, "Will you be at choir on Tuesday?"

He hesitates. "No. I think it's best if I stick to my normal... behaviour. It would be unusual if I did and it might draw attention to how close we've become. I know how much you love to sing. I wouldn't want to deprive you of the pleasure."

She smiles softly at him. "I think I'm going to have to invent a boyfriend. For Grace," she adds, when he turns to look at her. "I don't want to pretend to be depressed and reserved any more, and besides, I dread having Derek try to flirt with me again."

He chuckles. "Poor Derek. Destined for disappointment."

"He's hopeless, Harry. He needs to take a course or something on the proper way to seduce a woman."

"Well, if you like, I could..."

"Don't you dare!" She slaps his arm playfully as his laughter fills the car, warming her heart to hear it. He chuckles sometimes, but he laughs so rarely that it's a wonderful thing when it happens.

"I don't want to go back to mine tonight," she tells him, making a sudden decision. "Can I stay at yours?"

"Do you even have to ask? You're always welcome in my home, Ruth," he replies, eyes shining with pleasure.

"Well, I didn't want to presume. I'll need to grab a few things first."

"That's fine. We'll stop by yours first."

She smiles, feeling a lot happier now she knows she doesn't need to part from him. She wonders what his home looks like now, wonders if his little dog, Scarlet, is still with him.

"Do you have pets, Harry?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Scarlet was getting on and I ended up giving her to Wesley Carter. He told me she'd passed away when I last saw him, a few months ago now."

She reaches over to squeeze his thigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. With everything that's been going on lately, I'm glad she had more stability in her life at the end. I wasn't home enough for her and she always adored Wes. They... It was good for both of them after..." He tails off and clears his throat before he continues. "About your cats... I'm sorry, Ruth. I had every intention of honouring my promise to adopt them, but the day you left I got word that Catherine was in trouble. She was in Lebanon and it took me weeks to find her, sort everything out, and bring her home safely, and in the meantime-"

"It's alright, Harry," she reassures him quickly, giving his thigh another squeeze. "It was a silly thought to begin with. I didn't want to leave and it felt comforting, somehow, to think my cats could be with you when I had so stupidly let the opportunity slip through my fingers like that."

"I would have liked to have them with me."

She turns to look at him, surprised but pleased to hear him say that. Perhaps that's a present for next Christmas – a puppy and a kitten to live with them and keep them both company. If things continue as well as they have been between them, she doesn't see herself keeping her flat for very much longer. They've lost enough time as it is and she no longer wants to live alone after Cyprus. She rather got used to company and it feels far too lonely to come home to an empty flat at the end of a long day. Far better to come home with Harry, make dinner together, share a glass of whiskey as they unwind from the trials of the day. There wouldn't even need to be any conversation. Just being together would be enough, touching, holding each other.

"What are you thinking that makes you look like that?"

"Like what?" she asks, frowning at him.

"Blissful."

She smiles. "You, actually. Us. Coming home together after a long day and cuddling on the sofa with a glass of whiskey each, just being there for each other."

"I like the sound of that," he murmurs.

"Mmmm," she hums. "Me too. We're not there yet, but soon. Hopefully."

"Hopefully," he agrees, coming off the motorway and turning the car towards home. Her home this time, where she will quickly pop in to pick up more clothes, maybe a couple of days' worth so she doesn't have to go home tomorrow either. Then they can spend Sunday together, part of it on the Grid as she's sure Harry will want to check in and get caught up on some paperwork – it wouldn't be a bad idea for her to catch up on some of that either – but the rest pottering around Harry's house perhaps, taking a walk, perhaps cooking some dinner together. Then they can sleep in Harry's bed and wake up together, have breakfast, get ready for work together. She might even let Harry's driver give her a lift in that morning. That'll prove to Harry beyond a shadow of a doubt that she's not planning to run from him again.

She smiles and turns to look at him again, eyes softening with affection. "I love you," she says because it's true and because it's easy now to say it.

He smiles and glances at her once more. "Hoping for a repeat performance of this morning?" he teases.

"Always," she replies, earning her a warm chuckle from him. "Do you have any food in the house?"

"Some. Why do you ask?"

"I'm hungry. I'm wondering whether it's better to cook at mine and eat there before we head over to your place."

He smiles. "Either way suits me. Let's see what you have in and play it by ear."

"Sounds good," she agrees, turning back to look out the window. He's so reasonable. She always believed he'd be a difficult person to live with, but that doesn't seem to be the case. So far he's been relaxed and happy to go with the flow, like George, only better.

Poor George. She really wishes she'd never met him, but she's done blaming herself for the actions of Mani, McCall, and Hillier. Still, it's hard not to let the memories get her down, especially when she finds herself feeling so happy. She's always felt guilty about that – so much suffering in the world, why does she get to be happy?

"I love you too," Harry says, drawing her thoughts back to the present. She smiles wanly, allowing him to take her hand in his when he reaches for it. He brings it to his lips, not saying anything. She knows he can tell when she begins to feel melancholy and she can't even begin to express how grateful to him she is that he doesn't try to cheer her up or make her smile or do any of those things that most people think necessary. He just lets her be, but he joins her there, offering himself to her in a thousand silent ways, content to just be there for her if she needs him.

She feels tears spring to her eyes and roll down her cheeks, a mixture of grief and gratitude churning inside her. He squeezes her hand, then lets it go, needing to change gears now that they're nearing her flat and there are more roundabouts, crossroads and traffic-lights to negotiate.

"We're here," he says eventually. Turning off the engine, her uneven breathing loud now, in the stillness. He reaches his hand up to wipe away a tear before murmuring softly, "Come on, Ruth. Let's get you inside. You'll be more comfortable there."

She nods, wiping at her cheeks, attempting to get her emotions under control again. The cold air cools her tears and, by the time they get inside, she's done crying.

"Tea?" he suggests, kindly.

"I'll make it."

"You'll supervise me," he counters. "I need to learn where the tea things are kept."

"You already know that, Harry," she points out.

"Then just sit and keep me company."

She does, taking a seat at the kitchen table and watching him as he moves around her kitchen with confidence, like he's always belonged there. It's actually quite an erotic thing, she realises, to watch her man do such a domestic task like making her some tea.

"You're turning me on," she tells him, watching with satisfaction as he turns in surprise to look at her.

"By making tea?" he sounds completely flummoxed.

"You're taking care of me and you look very sexy in that jumper, not to mention your gorgeous arse, and that pout when you're concentrating."

He shakes his head in bemusement before returning to the kettle, lifting it and pouring boiling water into their waiting mugs, then going over to the fridge for the milk.

"At least life is never dull with you in it, Ruth," he says, placing a steaming mug in front of her and taking a seat across the table from her.

"I doubt your life is ever dull, Harry. That's part of what you enjoy about it – the Grid, I mean, MI-5."

He tilts his head forward to concede the point. "Are you going to drag me back to your bed?"

"Not a chance, I'm famished, and besides, I'd rather not have to get up again after."

He smiles, clearly pleased. "That makes two of us. The days of making love on the carpet are long behind me."

"I've never understood the point of that," she confesses. "Unless, there's a power-cut, I suppose, and the only warm place in the house is in front of the fire."

He chuckles, eyes softening with fondness. "Ever the practical one, eh Ruth?"

"I'm an analyst. I have to be. You're the romantic."

"We compliment each other then."

"Yes." She smiles, gazing at him over the rim of her cup. "Anyway, enough of that. Time to cook dinner. Are you helping?"

"If you like, though I'd be equally happy to sit here and find out if you working in the kitchen turns me on like it does you."

She swats his arm and demands, "Up, you lazy so-and-so," which earns her a laugh and a warm embrace as he steps forward and draws her into his arms, his lips pressing against her forehead as she sighs and relaxes into his embrace.

"And to think that just a few days ago I wouldn't have dared to do this," he murmurs, reaching down to kiss her lips.

She hums, enjoying the feel of them against hers, their plumpness, their softness, the way they convey exactly what he's feeling.

"No," she agrees when he pulls back. "But then, you're a master seducer. You took your time, but I think you knew exactly what you were doing."

He grins, looking pleased. "I haven't always got the timing right with you, Ruth, but I try. I'm glad it paid off in the end."

"So am I," she agrees, gazing into his eyes for long moments before recollecting herself. "Food, Harry. Now. I'm famished."

"Right," he says, switching gears effortlessly. "Let's see what you have in the fridge."