And where do you think I went last night, dear readers? That's right! To all the places (well most!) where H/R are in my fic! Although I've worked in the city and am a native New Yorker, just writing about the city gave me the urge to do a little sightseeing again! I took pix as well. And will try to post a link as soon as possible. Please keep checking, if interested. (Or I will tell you where/when next chapter) Anyway...

-8-

They skate on and on...

But reality intrudes or rather, the crowds. In fact, with barely an inch to spare and the ice no longer smooth, ice skating becomes merely wishful thinking. And so, after the umpteenth time of being bumped, the most recent time seriously competing with their earlier spill onto the ice, Harry turns to Ruth. But before he actually says anything, she simply nods and says, "Yes. It's time. "

He nods as well, smiling at her. Reluctantly, they move off the ice and back to the skating hut, still holding hands. Once again reality imposes its will; dropping hands, they exchange their skates for their own shoes, heading towards their lockers for the rest of their belongings.

'You must be hungry," he says to her, sitting on the bench and slipping his shoes back on. "You hardly ate breakfast."

"I'm really not hungry. But I could use something hot to drink." She replies, sitting right next to him.

"Tea?" He asks before standing up.

"Hot chocolate," she smiles up at him. "With whipped cream."

"That sounds good."

She stands up then and together, they head towards Celsius, the glass enclosed restaurant just feet away from the ice. The restaurant has two levels, with outdoor and indoor seating. As they climb the few steps up, they see that affixed to each small table is a heat lamp.

"Oh, "Ruth says, looking at the heat lamps, "that's a great idea."

Harry nods. "It is." So they sit there above the ice, a perfect view of the tree all lit up in blue and white lights, drinking their beverages, the heat lamps warming them. After looking at the skaters for a while, she turns back to her hot chocolate, blowing on it. The soft white peaks are already melting into the chocolate. But when she takes a sip, a bit of cream sticks to her lips. Her tongue darts out, and she licks it off quickly. When she looks up, she sees that his eyes are on her, a sly smile on his face.

"What?" she says. "Do I still?" And she licks her lips again.

He shakes his head, his smile making him look years younger. "No." He simply says. Then he takes a sip of his coffee, but his eyes never leave her face.

"Harry. I warn you. I better not." Despite her words, her eyes sparkle.

"You don't. Really." But he adds under his breath, "More's the pity."

She widens her eyes.

He shrugs. "I like the way you... ...never mind," he says. And takes another sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering.

She looks down for a moment, a slight blush on her checks. Then carefully taking another sip of her hot chocolate, she fixes her eyes on him. He's still smiling, watching her. They sit there, then, sipping their beverages, the heat lamps warming them along with their smiles.

When they finish, he says, "What would you like to do next?"

"Well," she says, "I've always wanted to see the Empire State Building. And it's right here. I mean, nearby. For the view you know, "she adds. He doesn't say anything to that, a distant look on his face. She is about to speak when he finally says, "Yes, the view. I'd like that very much."

Both say nothing for a moment, perhaps thinking of another view that has become their own, thousands of miles away.

They head down to 34th and 5th Ave and when they get there, they crane their necks up at the building. "This is more than 1250 feet or, 381m metres above Manhattan, and was for decades, " she says, "the tallest building in the city. That is of course, until the twin towers were built. And now that they," and she drops her voice, "were destroyed, well, it's once more the tallest building here in the city."

Neither speaks. Then Harry sighs just a bit. She nods just a bit. They stand there in silence for a few moments as if paying homage to the thousands of lives lost on that tragic day not so very long ago.

"Well," he finally says, turning towards her. She nods. And moments later they head inside. After they wait on line and pass the security check, they take the lift, and passing the 89th floor observation deck, continue on to the 102nd floor observatory, the penultimate level from the very top. They step onto the deck and look out. The panoramic view is magnificent. They can see all of lower Manhattan, its boroughs and a bit of Connecticut as well. In silence, they stare out and beyond, taking note of the horizon curving against the brilliant blue sky. They are so close to one another that they can hear the other breathing. Harry reaches for her hand. She takes it.

She draws closer to him; so close, in fact, that their shoulders touch. Then as one, they turn towards one another. Their eyes meet. He moves in just a bit closer. She does too. He moves in even closer and begins to lean in towards her. Her eyes begin to close.

"Come back here!"

Ruth's eyes snap open. They both take a step back as a little boy, no more than three, his woolen hat askew, runs between them. "Sorry!" His mother, presumably, calls out, passing between them as well in in pursuit of her wayward child. Ruth and Harry watch as the woman finally catches up with the boy moments later. Harry clears his throat. Ruth says nothing, but there is a definite flush on her checks. Both turn back to the view. They are no longer close; their shoulders no longer touch; and they no longer hold hands.

Finally, still gazing out, he says, "Is there anything else, Ruth, you'd like to see? Or are you tired?"

She looks at him then, "Well, yes to both, actually. But I think fatigue is winning out."

"Good," he says now looking at her as well. "I mean, not good. I mean. You know what I mean."

"Yes." She says, laughing softly. "I do. It's been a long day." As they head back down in the lift, she says, "In fact, maybe we should head back to the hotel. I think all that ice skating wore me out."

He looks her over. "We could take a cab if you're tired." he says. She doesn't say anything until they reach the bottom and step outside once more. She looks doubtfully at the traffic, now barely moving down the avenue. The cross streets are even worse. Traffic cops are now in view, using lighted batons to give some sense of order to the crowd for both pedestrians and drivers, growing larger it seems as the day grows shorter.

"I don't think we'd get there any faster," she says, still looking at the nearly still traffic, barely moving at all.

"We could take the tube-"

"Subway," she says, automatically. "Sorry. Didn't mean to correct—"

"Don't be." He says and smiles. "I depend on you to keep me informed, you know."

"Well," she says, "nice to know that I'm needed." She begins to study a store widow all dressed up for the holidays. When he draws near her, she looks up and says a little too brightly, "I don't mind walking, really. Do you?"

"No." He says, shaking his head. He leans in a bit towards her. "About before. About being informed. I only meant…"

"It's fine, Harry. I know what you meant. But thank you. " And she reaches for his hand. And the smile on his face lights up the avenue.

Moments before they step into the Plaza, she says, "There is one more thing I really would like to do, though."

"What is it? Or where, rather?"

"But tomorrow. Not today."

"But tomorrow is the -"

"Ball. I know. But it's near our hotel. Or close enough."

"What is it?"

"Tomorrow."

He stops just steps from the hotel. "Now you've intrigued me."

"Good," she says. They walk up the steps, no longer holding hands. But they still walk close together. When they finally reach their room upstairs, Harry uses his card to open the main door, Ruth standing at his side. The bed, as ever, looms before them.

"How are you sleeping?" He asks as they enter the room. "I mean," he amends, "how is your bed?" He makes a face at that as well.

"It's fine." she says, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I only meant…" He stands there, an uncharacteristic look of helplessness on his face.

"My bed is fine, Harry. Thanks." She says, smiling a bit. "And yours?"

"Fine." He says. "No bedbugs."

"Bed bugs?"

"Remember last night you mentioned…"

"Oh…right. I did. I'd forgotten about that actually." She pauses before going on. "You didn't worry about that all night did you?"

"I was out like a light," he says." Not quite looking at her. "Jet lag, you know."

"I see." She says. And nothing else for a few moments "Well," she finally says, "I think I'm going to lie down for a while."

"You should. I think I may as well."

"Well…ok." She says and begins to turn away towards her room.

"Um…Ruth?"

"Yes?" She says, turning back.

"I ….enjoyed myself today."

"I did, too."

"Would you... I don't know if you have plans for the evening…"

"What kind of plans would I have, really?"

He shrugs. "I don't wish to presume."

She simply smiles, waiting.

"Later on. I mean. Dinner. Would you like to have dinner. Together? A little later. After your rest?"

"Harry. I'd love to." She says, now smiling brilliantly. She turns away again and then stops once more, looking back at him. "You know where to find me, of course," Then turning from him at last, she goes into her room for good, gently closing the door. But does not lock it.