A/N: Thanks to all who have read this fic, and especially to those who have reviewed.

Harry's and Ruth's house - 6 months after the hotel bombing – 7.15 am:

Harry had worked until 1.30 am, and so he'd given himself a late start to the day. He was hoping for a morning cuddle with his wife, but she was nowhere to be seen. Being so close to giving birth, he was hoping she'd be having a long lie-in. Suddenly his head cleared, and he imagined her lying on the kitchen floor in labour. He shot out of bed, threw on his robe, and hurried downstairs, only to find Ruth sitting at the kitchen table, also wearing her robe, a mug of tea in her hands, while she sang quietly to herself. Harry watched her from the doorway, still beguiled by her, still deeply in love with this extraordinary woman who, by some miracle of fate, had agreed to join her life with his.

"Come in, Harry," she said. "I'm singing to our child. He seems to like it."

"He?"

"I woke up from a dream. It was so vivid. Danny came to me – just like he looked when he was alive – and he told me we were about to have a little boy." She turned and smiled at him, her face as beautiful as he'd ever seen it, her eyes a clear grey-blue, the most honest eyes he knew. He hoped their child would have her eyes. "Danny said our little boy has been waiting a long time to come to us, for us to get our acts together. Those were the exact words Danny used. He said: Your little boy has been waiting for you two to get your act together. He's been waiting for you and Harry to be his mum and dad. He'll he Harry's boy. That's what Danny said to me in my dream …... and I believe it. Isn't that a miracle, Harry?"

Harry nodded, unable to speak for how moved he felt. Ruth's pregnancy dreams were the stuff of fantasy novels.

"We'll be finding out soon," Ruth continued. "I think he'll be born today."

"Go on."

"I feel different today, Harry. I feel the same way I used to feel when a big operation was about to start. All anticipation and a fast heart rate. There's something in the air."

It had taken him a while, but Harry had adjusted to Ruth's pregnancy personality. She'd become wise – or at least, wiser – and philosophical. One day when he was in a lighter mood, Lucas had said, "You're our resident Yoda, Ruth," and Harry had had to have the reference explained to him by Beth.

"I can't believe you haven't seen Star Wars, Harry," she'd said, incredulous.

"I have enough excitement every day in this place."

"But you have a son, don't you?" she continued. "Didn't you ever take him to the movies?"

"I was never home long enough to take him anywhere," Harry said, his voice sounding regretful.

On the day that Ruth had assured him their child would be born, Harry went to work as usual, only he started at eleven o'clock to compensate for his long day the day before. The first thing he did was to tender his resignation, effective in two weeks, and considering he was taking two weeks parental leave, his time left on the Grid could be counted in hours. He still had a lot of leave owing to him, and so was planning to take leave in lieu of working out his notice. The Home Secretary did not argue with his decision, and Harry walked away from the meeting feeling lighter and happier. Harry was also aware that the Home Secretary had been grooming Julian Sevigny, from Section C, to take over as section head of Section D. In the end, everyone was happy.

At 4.15 pm his phone rang.

"Ruth? Are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, "but I thought I should tell you that around an hour ago I went into labour."

"An hour ago? Why didn't you tell me then?"

"It's rather slow at the moment. I thought I'd wait a while, until the contractions were stronger. I know that you want to be involved, so that's why I'm ringing now."

"I'm coming home."

"Harry! There's not a lot happening yet. My water hasn't even broken. When it does, things are bound to speed up."

"I'm coming home. I need …... no, I want to be with you. This is an important event for us, Ruth. Things here are quiet. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Harry turned to Beth, who had overheard most of his side of the conversation. "Ruth is in labour," he told her, failing to keep the smile from his face.

"Then go, Harry. Why are you hanging around here?"

He was about to enter the pods, when Beth called out to him. "Let us know how it goes, Harry. Tariq has been running a book on the baby's sex, and weight, and all that stuff."

Harry nodded to her before he entered the pods. His life was about to change.

Harry removed his shoes, his tie and his jacket and lay back against the cushions on the sofa, with Ruth resting against his chest. He supported her with his arms around her, and his knees either side of her. He instructed her to use his body to help her through the contractions. In between contractions they talked. They were each aware that this was to be the last time they'd be in their house together and alone. From now on, there would always be a child somewhere in the house with them. This both thrilled and terrified Harry.

"Do you ever think back to the first time we met?" she asked him, her head resting on his shoulder, having breathed through the last contraction, knowing that it would be around fifteen minutes before the next one.

"Often," he replied. "I'd never met anyone like you. You fascinated me right from the beginning."

"And I thought you were an arrogant prat, but a very sexy arrogant prat."

Harry laughed softly into her hair, hardly believing this was happening to him, to them.

"Looking back at who we were then, it's almost impossible to believe that we've ended up here, on this sofa, with me about to give birth to our child."

"You make this sound like a prison sentence, Ruth, but I know what you mean."

"I never saw myself having children, Harry. That is, not until we began having sex."

"You do know that the two are connected, Ruth."

She slapped him hard on the thigh. "Ouch!" he said.

"You didn't invent sex, Harry. Your parents were doing it long before you were born."

"Not a mental image I relish right now, Ruth."

"You do realise that this child inside me will be equally grossed out at any mention of us having sex. As the years go by we'll have to make love on the sly, and quietly, or else he'll be scarred for life."

"You're sure it's a he, aren't you?"

"Totally. I trust Danny."

It was then, at 8.50 in the evening, that Harry and Ruth settled on a name for their baby.

They had a light dinner of cold chicken and salads, and Harry drank a glass of wine. He then found a mattress protector in the hall cupboard, and placed this over the mattress on their bed, covering it with towels. "Just in case your water breaks," he explained.

After her next contraction, a relatively mild one, Harry suggested a slight change in approach.

"Do you trust me, Ruth?"

"You know I do."

"Just tell me to stop if you want me to stop."

Harry stacked pillows against the bedhead, and leaned back against them, instructing Ruth to again lay between his legs, her back against his chest, her head on his shoulder. As she did that, he very gently he untied her dressing gown and opened it at the front, his face next to hers. His hands then began the familiar dance across her skin, taking in her neck, collar bone, breasts – fully engorged with milk for her baby – her swollen abdomen. He lightly flicked her nipples with his thumbs, drawing a murmur of pleasure from her lips. He worshipped her abdomen with his palms and fingers, bringing his right hand under the swelling of her belly at the same time as he turned her face to kiss her deeply. Her moans gave him permission to continue. He spent the next contraction rubbing his palms over her abdomen, as though supporting the weight of the child inside her. Soon after the contraction was over, Harry's fingers found her clitoris, and he stimulated her gently.

"God, Harry," Ruth said, leaning her head back against him, her lower body squirming.

"Enjoy it, sweetheart," he murmured close to her ear.

Ruth's orgasm was deep and long-lasting, and he kept up the stimulation throughout, until she asked him to stop.

"That feels …... amazing," Ruth said at last. "I hadn't planned on that."

"I read somewhere that orgasm during labour releases endorphins and facilitates labour."

"I don't know about that, but it certainly took my mind off the prospect of pushing a watermelon out through my vagina."

Harry couldn't help but laugh softly, his face buried in her neck. "I love you," he said quietly.

"And right now I love you, too, Harry, but once this baby is trying to burst its way out of me be prepared for me to feel otherwise. I will assure you in advance that any expressions of hatred of you are likely to be temporary."

A half hour later, Harry brought her to orgasm again, and soon after that her waters broke, and that was the cue to get her to hospital. They were both grateful for the hours they'd spent home alone during Ruth's early labour. It had been a special time, one which they would refer to often in the years ahead.

Harry stayed with his wife throughout her labour. He held her hand, wiped her forehead, gave her drinks, and encouraged her to breathe through her contractions. Occasionally she swore at him, especially when the contractions were deep and painful, and he sounded annoyingly cheerful and encouraging. Just after 8 in the morning, she gave the final push which forced their son out of her body and into the world. As the baby was taken by staff to be checked over, and after the afterbirth was delivered, Ruth collapsed into Harry's arms and cried with happiness and exhaustion. He held her until she settled.

Once he'd been checked by a doctor, the baby was handed back to Ruth for his first feed. Harry sat beside her, speechless with wonder and close to tears. He'd not been in the country for the births of either of his older two children, and so he was grateful to have been involved in the birth of his third child. After the baby had finished feeding at Ruth's breast, she was wheeled back to her room and she slept for a long time. Harry held his son in his arms and the two stared at one another.

"Welcome, little man," Harry said, rocking the child, kissing his cheek and forehead. "I'm your Dad, and that beautiful woman over there sleeping is your Mum. I believe you've been waiting for us."

Once his wife and son were sleeping, Harry went home. He needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a few hours sleep, but before he fell on the bed to sleep, he sent a multi-media message to Beth, Tariq, Lucas, Malcolm, Catherine and Graham – a photo, taken by a nurse, of Ruth, he and the baby. The message he included with the photograph was: Daniel Harry James Pearce, born at 8.06 am, weighing 7 lb 1 oz. Ruth & Daniel well, Harry over the moon!

This is the end of this fic.

Part 3 of the trilogy – called "Inside The Vortex" - will be up soon...