*Spoiler* - if you want a happy ending, don't read on...

"Harry?" Ruth murmured weakly, raising herself onto one elbow and glancing around the room.

"I'm here, Ruth," he took a step forward from the doorway, allowing the door to slip shut behind him as he made his way to her bedside and sank down by her, "I'm here."

She lay back down, her skin having grown pale at the effort of moving. She was slimmer now than she had been in a long time, but not in a good way – her cheekbones were gaunt, and her fingers bony. The colour in her eyes was dull and cold. But still her lips twitched in a weak attempt at a smile as she reached out for Harry's hand.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned in a light tone, sandwiching her hand between both of his and stroking it tenderly.

"Not bad," she'd replied in the same manner as she had every day for weeks now. She wasn't one for exaggeration, wasn't Ruth. She preferred to shuffle away into the background; all this fussing made her feel uncomfortable.

"You look tired?"

"Just a little."

They'd both known the prognosis long before any doctor had got around to telling them. Deep down, they'd known. But the despair lost guessing at something was nothing compared to now.

Harry was so used to controlling, and demanding... nobody stopped until he'd got the result he wanted, and he'd stop at almost nothing to get it. But now? What could he do now? He saw her strength slipping away each time he visited, saw the anguish grow in her expression. And he was powerless to do anything about it.

"Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Thank you, but I'm fine. They're not so bad here as you might imagine," she attempted another weak smile, but it fell to a grimace. What was there to smile about now? "I even had a croissant this morning."

He just held her hand tighter. Each time one of his officers died, he felt a section of his heart splinter away. Not only were they brilliant spies who were consequently to be replaced with inexperienced graduates, but they were his friends too. For Harry, that seemed rather an odd prospect, but he'd loved every single one of them. And Ruth...Ruth was on a different scale altogether. He'd have no soul left at this rate. "I had a boiled egg."

"With soldiers?"

"With soldiers."

Ruth nodded, content at that. She took comfort from everyday things now; a merely trivial comment to keep her going through the hours of loneliness and dejection. "So, how's work?"

"Not bad," Harry reverted to using her approach, only his tone wasn't quite as convincing. He could've said 'brilliant' or 'terrible' for all the difference it made; Ruth could read him like a book anyway, and his voice and expression told her it hadn't been the greatest of days.

"Are Dimitri and Tariq coping okay? How's Erin?"

"They're all good. Dimitri seems to have calmed down over Beth; he's busy conferring with Six about a secondment for a pretty young girl over there. Tariq was out in the field yesterday, chasing through the woods and covering himself in mud – suffice to say he loved it. And Erin...well, Erin's Erin, I suppose. I think they're coming to visit you tomorrow, as long as nothing crops up."

"And are you okay?" Ruth's eyes grew serious, boring into his, "I mean really?"

"Yes; Fidget and Scarlet are getting along famously, and..."

"No, Harry. Not the pets - I trust you to take care of them. You."

Harry gave a deep sigh, registering just how determined she was to discover the truth, "I'm fine, Ruth. Missing you. Wishing we had more time together. But fine."

"Maybe it wasn't meant to be like that."

Harry nodded slowly. Why did you never realise how much you needed someone until they were gone? Why couldn't the words be found to express your love until it was too late? "You do know..."

"Yes, Harry. I know." she never let him say the words he so desperately wanted her to hear. Three words could mean so much. But she didn't want him to say it – it pained her too much. It brought her back to the regrets of those evening rooftop conversations. To the graveyard that crisp morning. A turn around the grounds, he'd said. What she wouldn't do to have that conversation again...

"That's all that matters, then. As long as you know, I can rest easy."

They both knew he wouldn't. He'd lie awake late into the night, staring up at the darkened ceiling, running the events of the day through his head, and trying to make sense of it all. But he could never keep Ruth from his thoughts for long. Her soft voice, her warm eyes, her subtle intelligence...

Ruth felt a single tear trickle down from her eye. However much she tried to stay optimistic, the realisation that she was dying was a difficult one to absorb. Never again would she set foot in the building she'd grown to love; Thames House. Never again would she chatter with her colleagues, or wander into Harry's office, or discover a lead worthy of pride.

But hadn't she done enough of that already? Her entire life had been given up to her job. She'd loved it, even the hard parts. But hadn't it been enough? There was a time for everything. And now was not for working.

"It's okay, Ruth," Harry reached up and smudged the tear across her cheek, saving her the bother of raising a hand. Indeed, she didn't think she had the strength to move at all any more.

Her eyes flickered for a moment before settling shut; her hand fell down from Harry's grasp and settled on her stomach. Wasn't this the time to go? "Harry..."

His eyes grew wide as he realised exactly what she was suggesting. She couldn't give up yet, she just couldn't. She still had life in her, still had so much she hadn't done, hadn't said... It wasn't fair for her to leave yet.

But it was her decision. Power lay far from him; he could reach out for it all he wanted, but he was useless in altering any of this now. And, if she felt ready, shouldn't he support her? He could miss her afterwards; he could curl up in bed with her photograph, or speak his feelings at the inevitable MI5 memorial service. But now? Now he had to follow her lead. He had to back her. And for that, he had to let her go.

"It's okay, Ruth. I'm here." he couldn't find any more words to speak. What was there left to be said? Except...

She twitched in response to his movement, too weak to reopen her eyes, but still aware. "Harry, please."

He cupped his hand around her cheek, savouring the warmth of her skin against his. Gulping back tears, he stroked a strand of her wavy hair back from her eyes, smoothing it down across her forehead. Then he spoke, those three words hurting more now than anything he had ever said. "I love you, Ruth. I love you."

"I love you too." for a moment, a shadow of a smile crossed her lips. It was all over. Nothing was ever perfect; she had many regrets, but now she could die fulfilled. Harry loved her, she loved him. And they both knew it. That bond was stronger than death.

She relaxed against Harry's touch, her chest ceasing to rise and fall as she finally fell away from the pain and sorrow, and into a world of peaceful oblivion. And, for the first time in so, so long, Harry fell down by her bedside and wept.

XxXxX

I still don't own Spooks - probably a good job given what I've just written! ;)

Wondering now if I might do an epilogue – the funeral, and Harry by her grave afterwards...thoughts?

Thanks for reading – please review xx