A/N: The Beggars' Rest pub exists only in my imagination. Thank you to readers and reviewers of this small story.

As has always been the case, Kudos still owns Spooks and the characters.

The Beggars' Rest pub – London W12 – Tuesday 5th January – 6.34 pm:

Harry had convinced Ruth that they needed to eat out. She had complained, stating that it was an unnecessary expense, especially when she had ample food in the flat. Harry's will and strength of purpose had won over Ruth's logic, based on her misguided sense that they must always choose the most economical alternative.

"I'm glad you insisted we come here," she said once they'd finished their first drink, and Harry had perused the menu, reading out his favourite dishes, along with a commentary, just in case Ruth needed help with her choice. "This place is … nice."

"You haven't been here?" She shook her head. "But it's hardly more than a twenty minute walk from your flat."

Ruth looked down, feeling embarrassed by what she was about to say. "I'd seen it while riding on the bus, and thought it appeared a little .. dangerous .. like a drug den."

Harry also looked down, attempting to suppress his smile. "As you can see, Ruth," he said, glancing up at her, "it is a fine and respectable public house." To add emphasis to his reply, Harry sat back in his chair and looked around him. The room was perhaps only one third full, and he had chosen a table for two near the wall, away from the bar and quiet enough for them to converse in peace. The wall lights were chrome fitted against dark walls, and glowed like a ship's lights on an indigo sea. "It has .. atmosphere."

Ruth nodded, smiling. She loved it when Harry teased her, his manner more flirtatious than teasing. "You've been here before," she said.

"I used to frequent this pub .. a long time ago, in my days with MI6. It was .."

"A meeting place for spies?"

He smiled and nodded. "It was somewhat grungier then. It had a reputation which kept decent people away. Now .. it's .."

"Fine for decent people like us. No spies, no drugs, no dodgy dealings."

"I didn't say that, Ruth. I suspect that in the back rooms deals of the dodgy variety are still made." Ruth looked around for the door to any such back room, but all she could see were directions to the loos.

Harry placed their food orders, and when their meals were delivered they ate in near silence. Once their empty plates were removed Harry ordered another bottle of wine – this time a Pinot Noir from the south-west region of France – and they sat back, sated and relaxed.

"Do you want to know what was in the letters from Christina and Nico?" Ruth asked at last, having conducted a long internal discussion with herself about whether it was even Harry's business to know. She had decided that it wasn't, but to keep the lines of communication open between them, she needed to at least make him an offer.

"I'm curious, of course, but it's also none of my business," he replied, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

"Did Christina .. resist meeting you? Did she ..."

"Argue?" Ruth nodded. "Not really. I told her my name was Martin Palmer, that I worked for the British government in London, and that I was a long time friend of yours, and that you had no idea I was in Cyprus, and that I was .. trying to bring you some .. closure .. a sense of peace."

"And she bought that?"

"I believe so. All except the name I used was the truth, so I suppose she recognised my .. honesty." Harry took a sip of his wine, and then placed his glass on its coaster. "I also believe that she was looking for her own place of peace."

"Did she know you were a spy?"

He sighed, looking around as he thought about her question. "The exact nature of my work was never mentioned. If she suspected I was, she never said."

Ruth nodded. "Her letter was surprising. I half expected her to accuse me of causing George's death. Christina can be quite volatile, although Theo – her husband, and George's brother – is gentler, quieter."

"A marriage of opposites."

"Yes." Ruth concentrated her gaze on her wine, which she intermittently sipped, and then she'd move the glass slightly, as if to place it in the exact centre of the coaster. "She was rather understanding .. about George, which surprised me. It seems she's had time to consider the experiences of everyone .. involved in George's death. She even thanked me for caring for Nico as I had. She said she was sorry things had turned out this way, and some time in the future, when Nico is older, she suggested that he might like to visit me in London .. if that is his wish."

As she'd been speaking, Harry lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "That's rather .. positive."

"I'd like that, if Nico were open to it. Also, you would have to … I'm sorry," she said, looking down in embarrassment, "I'm assuming a lot there."

"Not at all." Harry had felt a warm rush suffuse his chest as she'd begun to imply that he might still be in the picture some time in the future, and that he would also have to agree to and accommodate Nico's visits. "I would never stand in the way of Nico staying with you .. with us ..."

Ruth smiled into his eyes. So little had been said, and yet so very much. "Nico's letter was more … reserved. He asked how I was, and then said he missed his father very much, but he would still like to hear from me, because I remind him of his last days with George. Oh, and he's doing well in school, too, especially in Maths." Ruth momentarily dropped her eyes. "Just like his father."

"He began school again this week after the winter recess. I didn't get to see him or speak to him. Christina is very protective of him, and I can't blame her for that. I suggested that he have an email address so he can write to you, and she thought that a good idea. I suppose she has to run that by Nico - and Theo - before she does anything about it."

"Christina is quite technologically skilled. She's responsible for the website of their olive oil business. Theo and Christina run it with her brother, Stavros, and his wife and son. I imagine she'll be the one to decide when it's safe for Nico to again contact me."

Harry detected the heaviness and sadness in Ruth's body as she spoke. He longed to be able to love her enough to take away all the pain and the bad memories, but he knew that this was impossible. All he could do was to love her as best he knew how. "Do you plan to reply to Christina's letter?" he asked.

Ruth nodded. "I might take a week or two to work out what I want to say, and how best to say it. I'll have to word it carefully. I don't wish to appear too eager, and .. nor do I wish to open old wounds."

Harry took his time to reply to her. "As I see it, Christina has offered you, if not the hand of friendship, then .. at the very least it's a peace offering which you need to accept with both hands."

And so the subject of Cyprus and Nico and Christina Kyriakou had been exhausted .. for the time being.

Back in Ruth's flat, Harry was unsure of what he should do. Ruth seemed to expect him to stay, while he thought it best he go home to his own house. They had not long returned to her flat when Ruth began to make a pot of tea for them both.

"Perhaps I should go now," Harry said, hesitating just inside the kitchen doorway. "It's almost eleven."

Ruth turned to look at him, surprise in her eyes. "Why? I thought you might want to .. stay the night."

There. It had been said, The words neither of them had been brave enough to articulate. Those words had been wafting in the air around them ever since Harry had arrived at her door. Like the first wisps of snow of the season the words `will you stay the night?' had been continually falling around them, melting the moment they'd reached the floor, unseen and unheard.

Harry took a seat at the table. He had to think about this. He had the next day free, but he was due back at work the day after, and he had still to unpack from his holiday and launder his clothing. He looked up into Ruth's eyes as she placed the pot of tea on the table between them. She sat down, having placed cups and saucers in front of them. "The tea needs a minute or two to brew," she began, avoiding his eyes.

"What do you mean, Ruth?"

"Well, you know that leaf tea takes -"

"Not the tea. I want to know .. exactly what you expect were I to stay the night .. here."

"I'm not sure, really. I was hoping you had a clearer idea. I thought you could sleep in the spare room. It's not that I don't want you to share my bed, because .." Ruth's words faded as she realised she had given herself away.

"Wouldn't it be a lot easier were I to simply .. go home?"

"It might be easier, but we've never been easy. We always take so long to say the simplest things to one another, and we've taken .. years to get here .. to this kitchen, talking about sleeping arrangements."

Harry sighed heavily. He wanted to stay, but he still didn't know what that meant. He decided to drop the subject. Perhaps the situation would resolve itself. And still he had no idea what Ruth expected of him. They sat over their tea, saying little of consequence, each hoping the other had a more concrete plan for `them' than they did, each deliberately sliding around the subject of work.

"Let's sit on the sofa," Ruth suggested, after Harry had sighed for at least the fifth time. He was relieved. He just wanted to sit close to Ruth, and to not have to consider what they should be doing at whatever stage their relationship had now reached.

They settled together on the sofa, the teapot having been emptied while they'd been sitting at the table. Harry slid his arm along the sofa behind Ruth, while she leaned close to him, but not quite touching. After a few minutes of silence he turned towards her, pulling her against his side with his hand. To his relief she nestled into him. "This is nice," he said. "I could get used to this."

Ruth looked up into Harry's eyes and he reached down to kiss her gently. Then he kissed her again, and again. The kisses were becoming progressively more passionate, even urgent. Ruth pulled away, her eyes on his, waiting for his disappointment to show. "Too much?" he asked.

"No, but perhaps your timing could be better." Harry twisted his mouth to one side, and Ruth sat up and away from his embrace. "I have to work tomorrow, and to my practised eye you look out on your feet." He nodded. "I'll go upstairs now and make up the bed .. in the spare room."

Harry allowed his body to relax, and he slid sideways against the cushions at one end of the sofa until he felt comfortable. As disappointed as he'd felt when Ruth left the room, she was right. His few days in Cyprus had been stressful and ultimately exhausting, and during the time he'd been there he hadn't slept well. It could easily have turned out very badly, and the risk of him coming home with nothing was high. He closed his eyes and sank against the cushions.

When Ruth returned to the living room she touched Harry's shoulder, but he was in a deep sleep. She hurried back upstairs to grab a spare duvet to throw over him, and then she retired to her own room. At least he was still under her roof.

When next Ruth returned downstairs it was a little before six in the morning, and Harry was still asleep. She crept into the kitchen to make herself some tea, and then she showered, dressed and was about to leave for work when she decided to leave Harry a note, sliding it under his phone on the end of the coffee table, her spare front door key beside it. Dear Harry, she wrote, work beckons, so as much as I would love to join you on the sofa, I must go. Just pull the front door closed when you leave. Alternatively you are welcome to stay, but if you do I expect a hot meal when I arrive home. Ruth xx

She had worried about the kisses at the end of her note, but she knew he'd like them, and not be offended. She was about to open her front door to leave when she returned to the living room to add a PS. When you wake, she wrote, I'd be happy were you to ring me. x PPS. The key is for you. xx

Thames House - later that morning:

Ros was conducting an informal meeting in the meeting room with Ruth, Lucas and Tariq when Ruth's phone rang. She took her phone from her pocket to check the caller. "I need to take this," she said, glancing at Ros. "It's about my .. heating." She rose from her chair and moved to one side of the room, hopefully out of the others' earshot. All three pretended to not listen.

"Hello, Ruth speaking."

"Are you missing me?"

"I'm at work -"

"I know that."

"- in a meeting."

"Bad timing on my part, then."

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"I just had the sudden urge to tell you .. something ..."

"Something? What kind of something?" Ruth had lowered her tone to a whisper.

"I thought it was high time I told you .."

"What?"

"... that I love you."

Ruth emitted a small gasp. "I already suspected that."

"So .. you can't say it back?"

Ruth heard the smile in his voice. "No. As I already told you, I'm at work, and will be until at least six o'clock."

"So .. should I end this call before they all try to listen in?"

"I think it might be too late for that," she said, looking up to see three sets of eyes watching her.

"I'll get off, then. I'm at my house and I was just a bit .. bored."

"That sounds fine. I'll see you then." And Ruth quickly pressed End Call, and tucked the phone back in her pocket. She had only just sat back down again when her message tone sounded. She looked up apologetically, and getting a curt nod from Ros, she opened her phone and read the message: Have I told you lately that I love you? Ruth felt herself smile, a blush beginning to form at her throat. Again, keeping her eyes down, she stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

"Right, we're all okay with our tasks, then," Ros said, before standing and turning towards the door. Lucas was already on his feet, ready to accompany her. "Er, Ruth .." she said, turning.

"Yes?"

"When is Harry due back? Is it tomorrow or the day after?"

"How should I know?"

Lucas quickly drew Ros out of the room, allowing the door to close behind them. "Not very subtle, Ros," he said, hurrying her along the corridor to the Grid, his hand at her back.

"I wasn't trying to be."

"Ruth may well have been talking to her plumber."

"So how come she didn't once mention the words: boiler, heating, or the key's under the mat?"

"I don't have all the answers," Lucas said in a loud whisper, "but I'm prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt."

"She said the call was about her heating, and if my knowledge of code is up to date, that means she was talking to Harry."

"And how do you make that connection?"

"Keep up, Lucas," Ros said, striding towards her desk, leaving Lucas standing there wearing a bewildered expression. He thought he was keeping up.

Back in the meeting room Tariq was gathering together his various sheets of paper when he looked across the table to where Ruth sat, distractedly fiddling with her pen. "It's all right, Ruth," he said kindly. "I must be the only one around here who knows the truth; that you and Harry are just good friends." Then he got up and left the room.

Ruth sat stunned. What had just happened? She had no idea. Perhaps Harry might know. For the first time in many years, she longed for the work day to end. Only eight more hours and she'd be home, and with any luck Harry would be there, dinner at the ready. She gathered her things and hurried from the room, smiling to herself. The phrase, `hurrying home to Harry' had rather a nice ring to it.

Fin