Author's Note: Firstly, thank you for the lovely reviews, I appreciate them greatly! Also, I neglected to mention that this is a sequel of sorts to my story "Couplehood", although you could read this on its own.

After a solitary dinner, Ruth spent her evening trying to decorate for the upcoming holiday, but was distracted by thoughts of Catherine's news. There's not a whole lot of decorating to do anyway, she mused. She managed to unearth a box of her ornaments that have been in storage for years; she knows that Harry hasn't done a tree in ages and doubts if he has any ornaments to speak of. She wonders how he will handle seeing Graham. In all the time she has known Harry, she can count the number of times he's mentioned his son directly on one hand. But she is aware that he tries to call him at least once a month, and has been discretely checking police files for any mention of his name. She also knows that Harry bitterly regrets his failure as a father, and she's thankful that he and Catherine have managed (for the most part) to mend fences. From the bits she's gleaned from Catherine, though, she suspects a similar truce with Graham may be harder to come by.

Giving up on rearranging their meager Christmas cards for the third time, Ruth decided to take a long, hot bath and go to bed. Harry had texted to say the DG needed a "quick word" with him, but she knows from past experience that there is no such thing. He would be in Whitehall until late, and at least one of them needed to be rested for the morning briefing.

When Harry finally leaves the building, the wind has picked up considerably and it's bitterly cold. He drives himself home, vowing to himself that he'll buy Ruth a pair of gloves so she'll stop nicking his. He can't help but smile to himself when he thinks of her and wonders whether or not she's waited up for him. He entered the house as quietly as possible, just in case she's sleeping and was glad he did so when he realized she went to bed. She left a light on for him in the sitting room, and he noticed right away that there is an unfamiliar box in the corner. Although tired, he knows he's still too wired for sleep, and curiosity is getting the better of him anyway. The box is full of ornaments, and they are so Ruthin style, he can't help but smile. They are well-loved, and he wonders if some date back before her father's death. There are delicate snowflakes, some silver pinecones, and even an enameled set of figures representing the twelve days of Christmas. My true love gave to me… He hasn't bothered with a tree in years, for no particular reason except it seemed like a silly self-indulgence when one lived alone. But this Christmas is unlike any other, and makes a promise to himself for tomorrow.

She heard the tiniest click of the lock when he came in, but only because she was listening for it. After awhile, the downstairs lights were turned off, and he padded upstairs.

"Hi."

"Hi. I thought you'd be asleep."

"Bad day?"

"Hmm." It was more a sigh than a direct acknowledgement.

"God, Harry, you're freezing!" Despite her protestations, she pulled him closer.

"Sorry." He thought about the marked difference between his situation now and his first marriage. Back then, a late work night would have resulted in silent recriminations as opposed to acceptance and a welcoming embrace. He ever so softly kissed the nape of her neck, and whispered,

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Everything."

She smiled, and soon after the rhythm of his breathing told her he was asleep, she drifted off as well.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was only a week to go until Christmas, and Harry earlier in the week had relented about decorations on the Grid. Even Ruth hadn't anticipated the sight that greeted them when they emerged from the pods. Lights twinkled from previously dark corners and tinsel framed the computer monitors. Harry followed Ruth to her desk, then promptly kissed her in such a way that made Ruth's toes curl.

"What was that for?" she asked.

She followed his glance up above their heads and spied some mistletoe hanging down.

"Remind me to thank whoever put that up later," he chuckled, but made a note to himself to keep a particular eye on Dimitri.

It was a hectic day, and as it wore on even the decorations couldn't improve the mood. An important asset had gone missing, and efforts to locate him were proving difficult, hampered by bureaucracy more than anything else. On the plus side, a small terror cell was shut down, but the resulting debriefings and paperwork were likely to keep everyone running around until well after the new year. Harry left the Grid around lunchtime to rattle a few politicians and was gone much longer than Ruth had anticipated. By the time things had settled down a bit, it was already nearly seven. Bringing more files with her, she strode into Harry's office. He looks adorable when he's rumpled, she thought.

"Tell everyone to go home, Ruth."

"Are you sure?"

"There's nothing anyone can do until I smooth things over with the Home Secretary anyway. I'm on my way over there now, we can start fresh in the morning."

"I'll see you at home then," she gave him a quick kiss.

"Hopefully, you won't have to wait too long."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ruth's nose was assaulted by the scent of evergreen as soon as she opened the door. In the corner of the sitting room stood a gigantic Christmas tree, already in its stand. How much do I love him? Harry must have bought it while he was away at lunch and she marveled at how he got it through the doorway.

She was contemplating what to do about dinner when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. She thought it must be Catherine, although she usually called first. She must have looked shocked when she opened the door and saw who was standing there; the young man was taken aback for a second.

"I'm sorry, I was looking for Harry Pearce."

She would know those eyes anywhere. There was no doubt in her mind whatsoever that it was Graham on their doorstep.

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