It wasn't as if she wanted to refuse him, she was missing their newly found intimacy just as much as he was, but the doctor had been adamant that until he told them otherwise, that sex was off the menu. And on that morning, for the first time in years, Ruth had revisited the days when she'd wound her scarf nervously in her fingers and kept her head down throughout the entire conversation.

'Ignore it,' Harry groaned, when the phone rang and she made a move that would have taken her out of his arms, where he'd been idling the last few minutes away by running his fingers through her hair. Life was finally on the right track and the day that stretched ahead of them had been planned to be one without interruptions and the promise of decisions made. It stopped ringing only to start again a few moments later when Harry found himself listening to the Home Secretary.

'Sorry,' he mouthed at Ruth who rolled her eyes and unwillingly dragged herself out of his arms and bed to go and put the kettle on, as Harry prepared to face what they both hoped would be his first and last day back at the office.

'Bearing in mind the delicacy of what we're going to discuss, it's probably wiser if Miss Myers and I avoid the Home Office and you Thames House Home Secretary,' Ruth heard him say, as he struggled to straighten his tie until she mouthed 'let me do it,' with Lawrence having asked him how he was progressing and suggesting that perhaps they should meet. With that agreed, it was half an hour later, having promised Ruth that he'd take her out to dinner that evening, that he and Ros were heading for the less tempting promise of breakfast, courtesy of the Home Office's budget at a small hotel in Kensington.

For The Home Secretary to have admitted that his predecessor had been party to a plot, that had it succeeded would have constituted treason, brought the government to its knees and seen the country plummeting into chaos, and Five that one of their longest serving officers had gone rogue with a vendetta that she'd been planning for years, successfully running rings around her colleagues for decades before she'd eventually shot herself, was in nobody's interest, most of all theirs. Walls tended to have ears and skeletons invariably came out of cupboards years later, had seen them shaking hands and agreeing that there should be no documented evidence whatsoever about the recent events. What was done was done, another secret to be quietly buried, known only to those who'd born witness.

'We're all agreed then, sleeping dogs are best left sleeping,' Lawrence said, shaking Harry's hand before ringing the bell and ordering them more coffee.


In answer to Andrew Lawrence's first question, Harry continued to progress very nicely thank you as his headaches continued to diminish. A follow up visit to see the consultant had given him the all clear, bar what was causing Harry's frustration for another week, a visit to say thank you to the doctor who had treated him at the scene and a huge amount of TLC and doing as Ruth had been telling him had seen to that. One thing though still lay quietly dormant beneath the surface, the where do we go from here question, and it had reached the stage where Harry was desperate to get that resolved.

During a long chat over a shared bottle of wine with Ros, on an evening when Ruth had gone over to see Jo, the subject of his resignation and his deep seated desire that the service should be left in her capable hands had been aired. He trusted Ros almost more than he trusted himself he'd told her and he knew that it was time to go. Life was tenuous to say the least and who knows how many years he had left, was something that Ros had rubbished, more in an effort to control her overriding emotion that she would miss him, rather than her believing that this was true. Section D without Harry at the helm still terrified her, but she'd accepted his reasons and the confidence he had in her without recourse.

'No extravagant goodbyes that would embarrass Ruth,' he'd made her promise, 'just a small and inconsequential cheerio at Thames House over a cup of tea with their colleagues or a drink at the George, was what he wanted,' she'd agreed to, then unlike his other requests, had dismissed the moment that she'd walked out of the door.

'Bollocks to that,' she said to Malcolm when he asked her what Harry wanted in the way of a send-off, 'you know them better than I do Malcolm, arrange something.'

Malcolm didn't do arranging other than the roster as to who would call in to ensure that his dear old Mum had eaten her dinner on days when he'd had to work late, so it was another two weeks, by which time Harry had handed in his resignation, to the delight of the DG that he was finally going to be free of Harry bloody Pearce, the sincere regret of the new Home Secretary but with the added bonus that he was going to see Ros Myers on a regular basis, that the evening that he and Jo had put together came to fruition.

'Jo and I would like to take you both out to dinner tomorrow, we can't let you slip away without a proper goodbye,' Malcolm told them, when he called round unannounced on his way home, adding that they'd booked a table at The Palace View Hotel, which was by no means as grand as its name suggested.


That or part of that long awaited conversation had been decided and in a couple of days time, he and Ruth were heading to the Yorkshire coast to see Harry's father, who was more than eager to meet Ruth, he was ecstatic. Years his son had been on his own and in his opinion which was closer to the truth than Harry would have ever admitted, was losing his touch with reality. Living at work rather than at home, only occasionally answering his phone calls and telling him that he was fine, when he knew he wasn't. Everyone knew when their child, whatever age they were was lying to them, and Harry's father might be loitering in his late seventies but he wasn't a fool. It was the way that Harry had said her name when he'd called to say that they wanted to come and see him, it was wonderful. 'Don't go to any trouble Dad, we'll sort it out when we get there,' everything was we or us, in a conversation that had lasted longer than any they'd had in years. If he'd been able to, he'd have jumped for joy he felt so happy.

He'd known for years what Harry did for a living. Catherine his own private little spy had told him when she and Graham had been small and had arrived like a parcel to spend their summer school holiday with him, during the time when he and their mother were settling their divorce. She was a wonderful granddaughter, still visiting him and always sending him a postcard from where ever she was, but was she aware of this new development in her father's life, probably not? Maybe it was his turn to have a quiet little word?


'Sorry Ruth, but I just need to pop into Thames House one more time,' Harry told her, as they drove across London on their way to the restaurant. He'd been in a couple of days earlier and said his goodbyes and as far as Ruth was concerned the last time was just that. Wearing the new pale blue print dress that he'd insisted on buying her, going out to dinner, something that they'd only managed to do twice in the entire time that she'd known him and by her calculation they were already running late, which was entirely his fault. Free from the shackles that had prevented him doing anything strenuous for weeks, her coming out of the shower smelling like a spring morning had been his exact words, had seen them climaxing until she'd barely remembered what her name was, never mind having the strength to get ready to go out. That Harry was fit and well again and that his moans were of pleasure not pain were in no doubt, as he'd tempted her back into the shower again and with the water cascading over them had brought her shuddering to the point of wondering why on earth they were going to waste the rest of the evening in a restaurant. Now though when they were actually on their way she was looking forward to it and he wanted to put a damper on the evening by going into work, why?

Dressed as they were, going onto the grid meant that they'd stick out like a couple of saw thumbs, but Harry grabbed her hand and avoiding the lift, Ruth quickly realised where he was taking her.

'I need one last look at the view,' sounded quite reasonable, as he wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulders, in fact it appealed to her as well and surely Malcolm and Jo wouldn't mind if they were a few minutes late?

Nothing had changed and she'd been so distracted by the realisation that it had been more over three years since she and Harry had last stood there, that him easing her round until she was facing him, took her completely by surprise. Gone was the hesitancy and the talk of bread sticks, this was totally different, he was the Harry that had told her on endless occasions that he loved her and made love to her with a gentleness that only she could comprehend. Passion and a determination to make her happy he had in bucket loads and it was this Harry that was looking at her now, with his mind firmly made up.

It had to be here, he'd dreamed about it for years as without preamble he took a deep breath and asked her to marry him.

It wasn't that Ruth flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him wasn't enjoyable because it was, but he'd been hoping for a yes that he could actually hear. Ruth spluttering 'happy tears and she was worried about what was happening to her makeup,' wasn't the reaction that he'd been expecting, as he reached for his hankie and gently wiped her eyes. But he'd done it. He'd finally asked her in the place that meant more to them than anywhere else on earth.


Standing enjoying a drink at the bar, in the small hotel where Malcolm and Jo had booked a table, Ros, Alec, Tariq sporting a camera and John, were contemplating the evening ahead. In the foyer, Malcolm and Jo were waiting, the former praying that Harry would accept their gesture for what it was, and not blow a gasket. No fuss he'd said and no fuss was what they'd planned, just a quiet meal and the chance to say thank you and good luck for the future, from their colleagues and friends who cared about them, and in his case loved them.

That Ruth looked, well stunning was Jo's first impression, as she walked through the door, wearing a dress that was so unlike anything that she'd ever seen her wearing, with Harry's arm firmly around her waist. But it went deeper than that, there'd been a shift in their relationship, she could sense it. Not only that, she was surprised that despite Harry's insistence that they didn't want any fuss, as the evening wore on they were both taking this much more formal gathering in their stride, plus at various points during dinner, Ruth appeared to have lost the ability to disguise the way that she felt about Harry. Had the others noticed were they even interested? Quite probably they were all spies for heaven's sake. In their days on the grid, Ruth had always been the tactile one, whereas Harry had been the cause of many a wager as to how many hours a day he spent gazing at Ruth, compared to his files. Not now so it seemed, as Harry's hand sought out Ruth's across the table and he could barely take his eyes off her, she was getting his almost undivided attention, and wow she'd only just noticed it, Ruth was still wearing the ring, surely they hadn't had they?

Not easily put off, she waited until the meal was over and they'd transferred to a small private lounge to enjoy their coffee and relax. So when Harry had briefly deserted Ruth to go and chat to John, she swooped.

'I love your dress, that colour really suits you,' she said as a throwaway remark that she hoped might elicit a clue, carefully guiding Ruth away from Tariq and Malcolm who were heading towards them. A look that she hoped said 'girl talk' seemed to do the trick, as she nudged Ruth to a quiet corner and persuaded her to have another drink and tell her about their fast approaching visit to Yorkshire.

Ruth might have had too much to drink and be walking on air at the prospect of being married to Harry, but she recognised digging when it happened, and Jo was currently wielding what Ruth determined to be a wasted spade.

'Harry hasn't seen his father for years and as I've never been to Yorkshire it seemed a good idea that we go there for a short break. After that who knows, but I'll find a way to keep in touch, I promise,' and Jo was far from being satisfied.'

'Seriously, you're expecting me to believe that's it, come on Ruth you're glowing.'

They'd discussed telling everyone and had decided that they'd wait, but this was Jo, the only person apart from Harry that she'd ever confided in and she was leaving her hanging, it wasn't fair.

When they did get married wherever that was, she and Malcolm would be invited, in fact they'd be essential. Who else did they know who could be witnesses other than two poor unsuspecting souls who wouldn't even know them?

'Let's get a breath of fresh air,' Ruth suggested.


The following morning.

'I fancy taking the scenic route,' Harry told her as he ignored the M1 Motorway sign that indicated The North and turned onto a quieter road that would take them across country, and if he had his way would involve an overnight stopover.

'Delaying tactics?' she asked him, having spent most of the previous evening when they'd been packing, talking about his father and how he was another of his relatives that he'd pretty much abandoned, or at least thought he had.

'Maybe, but it's only a day Ruth and I'd rather be spending it with you,' said everything, as they pulled off the road and unloaded the picnic that Ruth had prepared and found a quiet spot to sit beside a river.

'I told Jo,' she confessed wanting to tell him sooner rather than later.

'Good because I told Malcolm, ridiculous aren't we?' And Ruth started to laugh.

Lunch over, Harry's grand plan that they'd delay their arrival in the heart of the North Yorkshire Moors by another day, was jilted somewhat by the lack of traffic and by mid - afternoon he'd run out of excuses as to why they shouldn't arrive at his father's house well before dinner time. Ruth who had been quite calm until they'd stopped at a roadside tearooms close to Rosedale Abbey, where Harry had suggested that maybe she would like a tour of the ruins to delay the inevitable whatever the hell that meant, had worked herself up into a frenzy. If what Harry was saying was to be believed, she was beginning to wonder why on earth she'd agreed to this trip in the first place.

She'd tried, 'I'm sure he's lovely,' to be told, 'He's unpredictable, you never know what he's going to do next, he's hard to read and that makes it worse,' almost had her saying 'now who does that remind me of?' But she just nodded and kept silent, rather than poke the snake any harder. She knew they were getting close, signpost after signpost decreased the miles and impossible though it was, the tension in Harry was rising even higher. Until without any warning as they reached the brow of the hill he stopped the car and the atmosphere changed.

'Before we get there I just want to show you something,' he told her grabbing her hand and helping her up onto the grassy bank. Clover, thrift and broom, clinging to the hedgerows with a scent that took Ruth back to her childhood, but in a landscape that was so different to anything she had previously seen, filled the air.

'It's beautiful Harry,' she told him, leaning back into him, as they gazed over the moorland that he hadn't seen since he'd been the young man that had headed south.

'Why did I ever let you go Ruth?' he asked her in a voice filled with emotion.

'So that you could find me again?' she suggested.

Harry took a deep breath, a wave of nostalgia enveloping him. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to belong and have someone who truly cared about him and over the next hilltop less than a couple of miles away, for better or worse, his father was waiting.

Was he ready for this, he had no idea?

'Better go then,' he told her, squeezing her hand.