A/N: Sweary word warning...

Harry's house – 6 weeks later – evening:

That was it, then. They were giving him a choice after all. He poured himself a generous measure of Glenfiddich, his second for the night. He'd not seen Ruth since she'd stormed away from him through the front door of Malcolm's house weeks earlier. The prospect of never seeing her again frightened him, and at the same time left him feeling hollow, empty, worthless. He is worth less without her in his life. She always made him feel he was better than he really was. He needed music. He was in a Mahler kind of mood, so the 1st Symphony, the `Titan', it was.

Harry was lying on his sofa, his head resting against the pillows, feet up on the armrest, the third glass of Glenfiddich next to him, just within grasping distance, Mahler washing over him like waves breaking on a beach, when he heard a noise at the back door. Scarlet jumped up and trotted into the kitchen to investigate. Then he heard a voice calling his name. He knew that voice better than any other; it was the voice that called to him in his dreams. He followed Scarlet to the kitchen to see her sitting on her haunches, her tail wagging in welcome, to none other than Ruth.

"Harry," she said, looking up at him, "you should lock your back door at night. I could have been anybody."

"Most people knock before they come in."

"Some social conventions are unnecessary."

He smiled at her, happy for her to be there, although afraid of why she was there.

"I brought us some dinner," Ruth added, raising two carry bags for his inspection. "I hope you like Indian."

"Everyone likes Indian, Ruth. Are you expecting company? You've brought enough for at least eight people," he said, as she began to lay out the foil-covered containers on the table.

"I know you," she said. "I doubt you've eaten a decent meal in weeks."

Harry turned on the light, and both he and Ruth squinted as the light assaulted their eyes. "I'll turn on a couple of lamps instead," he said, switching on a lamp in the kitchen, and one top of the dresser, just outside the kitchen door. "That's better," he said, after turning off the main light in the kitchen. The room glowed with soft and mellow hues.

"Do you have wine, Harry? You appear to have started early."

He went to the refrigerator, and took out an Australian Chardonnay he'd been saving until he had someone to share it with. "I only had a couple," he said defensively.

"A couple of rather large glasses, perhaps."

"Maybe."

Ruth found where he kept the plates and the cutlery, while he took two wine glasses from an overhead cupboard.

"This is nice," he said, as he tucked into some naan bread. "I hadn't expected to see you."

Ruth stopped rearranging the curried lamb and rice on her plate, and looked across at him. "I thought you deserved an explanation. But first, I'm here to talk you into withdrawing your resignation. I have the Home Secretary's blessing. Why would you resign, Harry, if they're willing to reinstate you as Section Head?"

"Because I couldn't bear to work beside you if you don't want to be with me. After our last encounter, I was sure it would be easier on both of us were I the one to leave. I think I need a change. Perhaps a change of scenery altogether. Speaking of which, why are you really here? After the last time we saw one another, I thought the last person you'd want to see would be me."

"Ah," she said, putting down her fork, and taking a sip of her wine. "I've been thinking." She twirled her glass, so much so that he was afraid she'd tip it over. "It occurred to me that I've lost a lot of people in my life – my father, Danny, Adam, Zoe, Zaf, Jo, and even Ros and Lucas – and I couldn't bear to lose another one. I don't want to lose you, Harry." Her eyes seemed mesmerised by the wine swirling in her glass. "I was rather hard on you that day at Malcolm's. I hadn't expected the grand declaration of love from you. We're not normally like that …..."

"No, we give away state secrets and fake our deaths for one another. We never engage in anything so crass as face-to-face declarations of undying love."

She glanced up at him and smiled. "You caught me off-guard, a bit like the time you asked me to marry you. If you want the truth from me ….."

"I do, Ruth."

"I got scared. You can be quite a force of nature when you get going. I found you quite …... intimidating. I kept thinking that if this is what you're like when you tell me you love me, then what would a life with you be like? What would you be like in bed?" She dropped her gaze, suddenly embarrassed by the images her words invoked. "I was sure I couldn't handle all that ….. that passion. There have been times when you glow with it, like you're radioactive. That's a ….. a scary prospect for someone like me, Harry."

"I can't hide it or suppress it. That's how I feel about you, Ruth."

"That seems to be how you feel about a lot of things. I've seen you shed tears at the prospect of unnecessary loss of life, I've seen you enraged at your operatives when they take short-cuts, but the way you were when you told me how you felt about me .… and then when you kissed my hand …." Ruth shuddered at the memory. "Harry, you were …... incandescent."

"How do you want me to be?"

"I have no problem with how you are, it's just that I can't believe that you feel that way about …... about me. I have difficulty accepting that amount of love from you. I'm so very ordinary."

"Ruth, ordinary is something you could never be. You are without doubt the least ordinary person I know. You are brilliant. You are sensitive and compassionate. You are the kindest and wisest person I've ever met." He stopped, breathing deeply, and when he again spoke, his voice had deepened. "My last thought before I go to sleep is of you, and my first thought as I wake is still of you. But just loving you from afar is no longer enough for me. I want more." Harry took a large sip of his wine, and swallowed. "I want your body as well. I want to love you in every way there is. I'm not a monk, Ruth."

"Apparently not."

"If that's a dig at what I unwisely told you, then I deserved it."

"Malcolm told me why it was you did it – with that woman – and why you told me about it."

"You've talked to Malcolm?"

"We met for coffee last week. He was worried about you, and wanted to put a few things into perspective. Strangely, I can understand why it was you slept with that woman. I'd never given much thought to how you would have reacted to me being with George. In your shoes, I'm sure I would have felt the same."

"I didn't sleep with her, Ruth. I left her bed almost immediately after we fucked." He notice Ruth recoil at his use of the word. "It was just a fuck, Ruth, and all it meant to me was to remind me of how much I didn't want her, and how much I wanted you ... how much I wished I'd waited for you."

"Have you seen her again? Will you see her again?"

"No, I haven't, and no, I won't."

They spent a few minutes in silence, eating their meal, and contemplating where to go next.

"What was her name?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"So I can stop referring to her as `that woman'."

"Her name is Meryl."

"Right. That's what Malcolm said."

"Why did you ask me if you already knew?"

"I wanted to see if you'd tell me the truth."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"No reason. I have just one question. How come you remember her name if all you had together was a meaningless fuck?"

Harry felt himself pull back slightly at her use of the expletive. The word sounded so wrong when coming from her lips. "I like the name. I had a thing for Meryl Streep after I saw her in Sophie's Choice." He looked across the table at her to find her smiling at him. He smiled back.

After they'd eaten, Harry opened another bottle of wine, this time a Chablis, and they sat together on the sofa, the only light coming from a standard lamp in the corner of the room. Ruth noticed how tired Harry looked. Suddenly, she was prepared to wait no longer. She slid across the sofa until their thighs touched, then she turned to face him, and took his face in her hands, and turned him towards her. His hair was longer than he normally wore it, and before she did anything else, she ran her fingers through the hair above his ears, and around to the back of his head where it kicked up in a curl. Just before she touched his lips with her own, she saw a deep sadness in his eyes. Treat this man gently, he's not as tough as he'd like you to believe, she thought, before she drew him towards her and kissed him. It was a soft and gentle kiss, a kiss of exploration, but beneath their mouths they both felt the tension of the passion they'd each held in for years. They both drew out of the kiss, and then their eyes met. They smiled at one another, and Harry put his hands either side of her face, and dipped his head towards her for another kiss. This time, they opened their mouths so that their kiss was deeper, more urgent, and intimate. This was not a destination, but it was a beginning.

"You can't possibly know how jealous I've been feeling," Ruth said, as she drew away from the kiss.

"Of what? Of whom? Not Meryl, surely."

"Yes. She had something with you that I've never had."

"I've never denied you, Ruth. Had you come to me and said, Let's go home to your place and make love, then I would hardly have said no. You forget that you kept running away from all that."

"I know. But I also thought – stupidly, as it turns out – that you'd wait for me until I was ready."

"I would have, Ruth, but I'm also human."

"So …... if I opened your zip now, and …... touched you there …."

"On my penis."

"Yes ... there …. would you jump into bed with me?"

"If you were a willing participant, yes. The only difference would be that your attention would be very welcome, and I'd want us to spend the rest of the night in one another's arms."

"Okay. I think I get it now."

"Stay with me, Ruth. Stay the night in my bed with me. I don't care if we remain fully clothed, and we do nothing more than kiss and cuddle."

"Wouldn't you want more? Wouldn't you want it all?"

"Yes, I would."

"Then, why are we still downstairs? We both have work to go to tomorrow. We haven't much time, Harry."

"Are you sure about this, Ruth?"

"I've never been more certain about anything in my life."

A/N: This story can easily be left there (and possibly should be), but I couldn't help myself. Final chapter coming up.