Still not mine; still unbeta'd.
By the time they leave Ruth's flat, it has started to snow again; thick flakes that swirl through the air, seemingly defying gravity.
"It's been a long time since I've seen a white Christmas," Harry announces, his voice muffled by his scarf, which partially covers his mouth. "They're something of a rarity in London."
"I'm getting used to them," Ruth replies, quietly.
Though not intended to, her words are a painful reminder of how far apart they have been, and not just geographically. Unable to find any suitable response, Harry says nothing, and the pair of them continue walking, in silence.
The paint on the doors of the community centre is peeling in places but the slightly tired appearance is not repeated inside. Brightly coloured decorations have been strung across the ceiling and the walls are covered with an assortment of Christmas scenes that are clearly the hard work of local children.
Ruth looks around the room. "That's Sophie." She points to a tall, dark-haired woman in her mid-fifties, who is deep in conversation with a younger man. "When I introduce you, what do I call you?"
"John," Harry replies. "I know, not very original."
His comment is met with a slight laugh. "Don't worry about that. Come on; time to say hello."
He's surprised when she takes hold of his hand, her fingers curling gently around his, but says nothing.
"Elena!" Sophie greets Ruth warmly. "I'm so glad you could make it."
"I'm happy to be able to help out."
"Bless you; you have such a kind heart," the older woman replies.
Ruth blushes. "Er, I hope you don't mind, I brought a friend along. This is John."
Harry shakes hands with Sophie. "Very nice to meet you."
"You too," she replies. "I didn't realise Elena had anyone visiting her."
"Last minute change of plan," Harry explains, not entirely untruthfully.
A male voice calls out from the kitchen.
"Forgive me," Sophie says. "My nephew, Karl. He is doing the cooking this year. He's a bit nervous, I think. I don't know why," she says, lowering her voice. "He's in the Navy. He makes meals for hundreds of people at a time!" With a laugh and a shake of her head, she excuses herself.
"She seems very nice," Harry remarks.
Ruth nods. "She is."
---
The time passes surprisingly quickly, and the first people in search of hot food and company arrive as the volunteers are just finishing setting up. They stand, self-consciously, near the doors until Sophie spots them. She's kind and welcoming but not patronising. Within a few moments, she has them smiling and offering to help.
"Sophie's got quite a knack with people," Harry quietly remarks to Ruth as both of them stop for a moment to catch their breath.
"That's why she gets all the difficult customers to deal with at work. She's able to charm the most obnoxious of people."
"She'd be quite useful at the JIC," Harry says, winking at Ruth.
---
As he's clearing a table, Harry's attention is drawn to a young, blonde woman, who is desperately trying to comfort a crying toddler. He puts down the plates he's carrying and crosses the room towards the pair.
"Oh dear," he says, "the food's not that bad is it?"
The mother, who looks close to tears herself, starts to speak quickly, forcing Harry to ask her to slow down. His German is good but he is more out of practice than he thought.
"S-Sorry," the woman apologises. "The meal was very good, thank you. My daughter is upset because of this." She holds out a small piece of plastic - an arm from the doll the child is clutching. "I can't fix it and it's her favourite."
The note of desperation in the mother's voice and the little girl's tears are heartbreaking.
"Shall I try?" Harry offers, smiling at them both.
It's a fiddly task but eventually he manages to reattach the doll's arm. The smile he gets from the little girl when he returns her prized possession to her is beautiful but stirs up suppressed memories, which he quickly pushes aside.
The child's mother thanks him, profusely.
"You're welcome," he says, and gently squeezes her hand.
His actions have not gone unnoticed by Sophie. "Your friend seems to have quite an affinity for children. Does he have any of his own?"
The question is innocent enough but Ruth is filled with unease as she considers how to answer.
"He does, yes, but they're grown up," she eventually replies, hoping she's said the right thing.
There is a pause as Sophie studies Ruth, intrigued by the slight flush on her friend's face. "I think it's time for you and John to eat," she says, after a few moments.
---
Harry watches as Ruth distractedly pushes her food around her plate.
"Something wrong?" he asks.
"I er…I hope not." She gives him a nervous smile.
"Tell me."
She clears her throat and her gaze drops to the table. "Earlier, when you were talking to that woman with the little girl, Sophie asked me if you had any children." Ruth stops, risks a quick look at him. "I-I told her you did, and that they were grown up. I'm sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. I don't know-"
"It's fine."
The soft tone of his voice is reassuring and relief replaces the fear that's been making her stomach twist and knot.
"You're sure?" she asks.
"Yes." He reaches across the table to take her hand in his. "How much detail did you go into?" At her confused look, he continues, "number of children, boys, girls."
"Oh," she laughs, embarrassed at her lack of comprehension. "I didn't go into specifics."
He nods. "Three of each then; that sounds about right."
The remark is delivered completely deadpan and for a moment she thinks he's being serious.
"I think that might be overdoing it a bit," she replies, trying, and failing, not to smile.
---
It's nearly ten o'clock when they leave the community centre. The snow has stopped and the night air feels painfully cold after the warmth of indoors. Sophie asks if they want a lift but Ruth declines, saying she wants to stretch her legs.
"Did you really want to walk?" Harry asks, once they are out of sight of the other volunteers.
"Yes," Ruth replies, resolutely looking straight ahead.
He waits to see if she will say anything else.
"It wasn't just that," she volunteers, a few moments later. "I would've felt obliged to ask Sophie in for a coffee and then make polite conversation when all I really want to do is shut the door on the world and…be with you.
The last few words are said so quietly he only just hears them.
"I'm glad you refused the lift," he says, deeply touched by her admission.
---
Harry tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn. "Sorry. It's not the company, believe me."
"I should think not," Ruth teases. "It's been a long day," she adds.
"You'd think I'd be used to those."
Ruth smiles at the comment and then swallows down the last of her whisky. "Tonight, Harry; you don't have to sleep on the sofa."
It's not an overt invitation but the meaning is clear.
"Sure?"
She nods.
By the time Ruth has finished in the bathroom, Harry is already in bed, apparently asleep. She stands and watches him for a few moments.
"S'alright," he mumbles, when he senses her presence. "Was just warming the bed up for you." He shifts across to the other side of the mattress.
"You could have stayed where you were," she says, feeling guilty at having disturbed him.
"It's your bed."
She gets in beside him, settling into the space where he'd lain. Her bed feels decidedly warmer and more welcoming than it usually does.
"Cuddle?" he asks, peering at her through half-closed eyes.
"Please."
He's reaching for her before the word has finished leaving her mouth and she presses herself against him, carefully entwining their legs. She slips her hand under his T-shirt and he sighs, softly, as her fingers trace random patterns on his back.
They sleep soundly in each other's arms, for once untroubled by dreams and regrets.
Thanks for reading. Next chapter a bit sooner I hope. :)