11 days after the bombing, 4.43pm, the day of Ruth being taken hostage.

Harry sat beside Ruth in the back seat of the car. His driver, Mike, had wrapped Ruth in a blanket, and she appeared to be lost inside it. He couldn't even hold her hand, as her whole body was enveloped in the blanket, and only her head stuck out the top, a beautiful butterfly still cocooned. He thought about wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, but he wasn't even sure she'd want that. As if she could sense his thoughts, she suddenly leaned across and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Hold me, Harry," she said. "I need to know you still love me."

He did as she asked, drawing her as close to him as he could, although the blanket provided a barrier between their bodies. "Of course I still love you," he growled "Why wouldn't I?"

There was a long silence, one of Ruth's silences, during which he could feel her weighing and measuring what she would say next.

"You once told me I was a born spook. But today I managed to get myself kidnapped and held hostage, so that all the available resources of Section D and CO19 were needed to find me and save me. That's the second time that's happened in less than five months." She hesitated, but Harry knew she had not finished speaking. "I'm beginning to feel like a …... liability."

"Jesus, Ruth," Harry replied, "that's ridiculous. I – we would have gone to the ends of the earth to rescue you. It was Tariq who did most of the work, you know. He's going to be a really good technical analyst when he grows up."

Harry felt Ruth smile into his shoulder. "You guys are so hard on poor Tariq. I think he's lovely."

"I know you do. You think everyone's lovely." He reached down and kissed the top of her head. "I need to tell you," he continued, "that we have to stop by the hospital on the way home to get you checked out."

She sat up and looked at him. "No, Harry, no. All I want is a long hot bath, some good food, and then bed. I don't wish to be prodded and questioned."

"A clean bill of health is a condition of you returning to work. And I'm taking you back to my place afterwards. I need to look after you. I need to know you're safe."

He expected her to argue about this, to fight for her independence and her right to sleep in her own house and her own bed. All she did was nestle back into his arms.

.

At the hospital Ruth was examined and given a MRI scan. She complained constantly, but Harry would have been disappointed had she not. Ruth never seemed to want the attention she deserved. He was planning to change that.

"Ms Evershed," began Dr Chandra once she had examined the results of the MRI, "you've been very lucky. There's no serious damage to your ankles or your wrists, although you should expect bruising in the next 24 hours. There's also no visible trauma to your skull, and more importantly, your brain tissue, although should you experience any nausea, vomiting or worsening of the headache, then come in immediately. I'll give you some pain killers. No more than 6 in any 24 hour period. Other than that, I'd suggest you stay with her, Sir Harry. She'll need someone with her for the next few days. I'm going to recommend you both take the next week off, and after that, I'd suggest you take some leave, Ms Evershed." Dr Chandra looked at Harry as she said, "The psychological scars will take longer to heal than the physical ones. She'll need you to be there for her."

Harry nodded gravely, but inside himself he was skipping and singing. "Of course," he replied gravely.

"I'm alright, really," Ruth said weakly. Harry covered her hand in his and smiled at her.

.

Harry's house: 6.55pm

At his house, Harry ran a bath for Ruth, then he left the bathroom to give her some privacy while he went downstairs to prepare their dinner.

After putting the beef casserole in the oven, he climbed the stairs to the bathroom, and knocked on the door.

"Ruth – do you mind if I come in?"

"Come in, Harry," he heard he call out.

Ruth was submerged in the water, her chin just above the surface. Despite the intimacies they had already shared, the events of the day left him uncertain as to how he should act around her. While in the car, she had assured him that there had been no sexual abuse, apart from some taunting from her captors. It was also clear to him that she felt responsible for her own capture and kidnapping. What he did, how he treated her in these first delicate hours was paramount to her full recovery.

He went to grab the chair near the wall, but she lifted her hand out of the water and beckoned him closer.

"Come here and talk to me, Harry."

He ventured closer to the bath, not sure about how close would be considered too close. Would she mind him seeing her naked? He was a man, after all, and men had captured her that day and beaten her.

"Closer," Ruth said, eyeing him carefully.

If this was some kind of test, then Harry believed he may be failing it badly – yea, miserably. He stepped next to the bath, looking down at her.

"That's right," she said, "now sit down so that our faces are at the same level."

He obeyed her, removing his tie, then opening the top few buttons of his shirt. Ruth smiled at him as he performed these most everyday of tasks.

"I love it when you do that," she said.

Harry let himself slip to the floor, and he sat next to the bath so that he and Ruth could connect at eye level. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked carefully.

Ruth shook her head. "Maybe some time. When it's not all so …. so …."

"OK, that's fine," Harry replied. "I don't want to rush you. So, what did Towers want?"

"You were right, Harry. He offered me a job. Head of Intelligence at the Home Office."

"You should take it," Harry replied quickly.

"I'll have to think about it." With one hand she began flicking water out of the bath so that it splashed Harry's shirt. He grabbed her hand in his and drew it to his lips. "I want you to treat me normally," she continued. "I'm not made of glass."

"Will you promise me, then, that you'll tell me if ever I do or say anything which you find …... unsuitable, or makes you feel uncomfortable. I don't wish to hurt you any more than you've already been hurt." Again he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers one by one.

"I was worried about you the whole time, you know."

"You were worried about me? Ruth, you should never worry about me -"

"I always worry about you. You're so emotional, Harry, and you don't even know it."

Ruth sat in the bath, and Harry sat on the tiles beside the bath. Their eyes locked, and they needed no words. The day's events had changed them. Their love, their loyalty to one another had been tested, and so far it had passed the test. Harry took the hand he held in his and rested their hands on the side of the bath. It had been a difficult day, and there was so much they had yet to discuss. They each leaned back – she against the tiles at one end of the bath, and he against the tiled wall beside the bath at the opposite end – and closed their eyes. Despite his efforts to imagine something pleasant like Ruth's face as they made love, or Ruth's face as she chewed the end of a pen, Harry's mind suddenly overflowed with images from the day ... Ruth as she had been helped out of the abandoned building by Alec, the slight bruises already appearing on her cheek and beside her eye.

"Harry," he heard Ruth's voice, and he opened his eyes to see concern in her eyes. "Harry, what's wrong? You're crying."

"Am I?" he said, letting go of her hand, and wiped his eyes with both his hands.

"What is it?" Ruth persisted.

"What is it?" he said. "Today I thought I'd lost you again. You were gone for over five hours." He again felt the tears building.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"What for? Ruth – darling – you didn't get taken on purpose. You didn't stand on that footpath with your thumb out, and hail a kidnapper. What happened to you was devastating to all of us, and not just to you, and not just to me. I know it happened to you, but we all felt so helpless. Had it not been for Tariq's initiative, we might still be on the Grid trying to figure out what to do next. When it came down to it, I was useless. I was so upset I could barely think straight."

"Harry, had the tables been turned, I would have been just as paralysed. Anyway, I'm here now. It all ended well."

"Yes it did. But we have to face the elephant in the room."

"Which is?"

"You got taken today because of me. Because of your relationship with me. Because certain people know that the most effective way to hurt me is to take you from me and threaten to hurt you. That, combined with my deplorable inaction today leads me to only one conclusion."

"What are you saying, Harry?"

He again lay back against the tiles and sighed heavily. Looking across at her, he waited, perhaps for her to understand what he was about to say.

"No, Harry, you can't. You can't let the bad guys win. You have to stay on the wall."

"Why? Until one of these days someone kills you? Is that what I have to do?" He suddenly sat up, his back straight, his grasp on her hand so tight it almost hurt her, his eyes blazing. "Is that what my job means? Because if doing my job puts your life at risk, then it isn't worth it. I couldn't bear losing you, Ruth, not after today, and not after all this time. No job, no matter how important, is worth that. I'm handing in my notice. It's time for me to retire."

Harry again sank back against the wall, while Ruth looked at him, not sure how best to respond. From past experience she'd discovered that a determined Harry was an immoveable object.

"Are you hungry?" he asked at last.

"Famished," she replied.

After an early dinner, Harry cleaned up after them and washed the dishes, while Ruth curled up with Scarlett on the sofa in the living room. The day's events had exhausted her, but she still wanted their evening to be as normal as possible. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to treat her like she was an invalid. She also didn't want him to feel he needed to retire because of her. She didn't want that responsibility. He was about to join her on the sofa when the front door bell rang.

"That's most likely Erin," he said, leaving the room to answer the door. Within a minute he followed Erin back in the room.

"I brought some of your things, Ruth. Harry said you'd need a few changes of clothes. I hope my choice meets with your approval. Oh, and Calum got you a replacement phone, and he managed to get your voicemail messages off your old SIM before he deactivated it – just in case."

"Thank you, Erin. That's very kind of you, and thank Calum for me as well."

"And she also brought us company," Harry announced, carrying Fidget in his pet carrier.

"He proved a bit hard to catch," Erin smiled, "but when I told him where I was taking him he seemed to understand. And I packed some of his food along with your things."

Ruth was overwhelmed, and gulped hard to hold in the tears. Seeing her discomfort, Harry kneeled beside her and grasped her hand.

Erin hesitated, assessing the situation before she continued. "Liam O'Dell had quite a lot to say once he came out of surgery. Grier had used Mullen and his mates as guns for hire, mainly to get us off his back, and of course, Mullen had his own axe to grind with you, Harry. Grier thought that a Northern Ireland connection would be more effective in changing your mind. So we have enough on Grier to haul him in. O'Dell has helped us locate him." Harry nodded before she continued. "O'Dell will not be charged with kidnapping because he gave us enough on Grier for us to arrest him, but he will be charged with something more minor, and he'll no doubt have to do time. Oh, and I took the liberty of ringing the Home Secretary to inform him of the day's events. He was shocked and sends his best to you, Ruth. I told him you were here at Harry's. I hope I didn't give away too much by telling him that. I think he might send you flowers, Ruth. He …..." She hesitated before continuing. "I'll leave you two to it," she added. She left before Ruth could thank her.

"That's so kind," was all Ruth managed to say.

It was barely 9:30 when they climbed the stairs to bed. Ruth was yet to see Harry's bedroom, and yet she was about to spend the night – and several more nights, it seemed – with him in this house. In a way, she had already moved in with him. All it needed was the rest of her clothes and her books, and she was permanently under his roof. She was not about to resist this if it came to it. She needed Harry, and she believed that he needed her just as much, perhaps even more.

She traded Harry's spare bathrobe for her lime-green flannelette pyjamas, and slid under the duvet – on the side away from the door, since Harry still insisted on being in charge of keeping-the-bad-guys-away. After his shower, Harry stepped into the bedroom wearing black track pants and a pale blue t-shirt, and lifted the duvet on his side before he slid into bed. They lay side by side but not touching. Through the mattress Ruth could feel the tension in his body.

"Harry," she said, "it's fine for you to touch me. I need you to touch me."

"I don't want to …. hurt you, Ruth …... after today -"

"After today, I need you more than ever. I need to know that I'm loved by you. I need to know that your love ….. is …... unconditional."

Harry turned towards her and put his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. She nestled against him, her fingers absently tracing along his collar bone.

"You know I love you, Ruth."

"I keep thinking about today …... and what if …... what if they'd – you know – raped me …... would you still want me then?"

"Fortunately we don't have to have that conversation. It's you I love, no matter what. I don't like talking about this."

"Neither do I," Ruth replied, "but I think it's necessary – a conversation we have to have."

"I love you whatever happens, Ruth. There are no conditions on love."

She snuggled into him, her head finding its natural resting place in the curve of his neck between his chin and his shoulder. "That's what I wanted to hear." She breathed in the fresh smell of him, and pushed the length of her body against him. She wanted to feel part of him, she wanted to be swallowed by his strength and his steadiness, his loyalty and his love for her.

Harry was not planning to make love to Ruth again until she was ready. He was used to waiting for Ruth, so if that meant they did not make love for another two weeks, he'd accept that, and willingly exhibit patience and control. It's just that Ruth had just pressed the length of her body against him, and despite there being two layers of material between them, his body was reacting in a way which was natural and healthy. He pulled away slightly, but then she pressed further, until his growing arousal was resting against her pubic bone. He was almost certain he felt her pull away slightly, and then back against him, only harder and closer. He almost managed to stifle a groan. "Ruth," he whispered, "don't!"

"I just need to feel you, that's all. I need to know for sure that you still want me."

"God," he breathed, "if you only knew how much I want you. I always want you. But I can't have sex with you tonight, Ruth. Not after what you went through today."

"I know," she answered. "I just want to feel you. It's hard to explain."

"Just remember that my dick has a mind of its own, and there's a point beyond which it takes over. I don't wish to reach that point tonight. I want to stay in control – for both our sakes."

Ruth pulled away slightly with a `sorry'.

"You don't have to do that," Harry countered. "Just don't do that grinding thing you seem to like …."

"And that you obviously hate so much -"

"Well, no," he said, "but I don't want to jump you right now."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

"We'll see." Harry was worried that Ruth was sitting above what had happened to her that day. She was acting almost as though she'd already put it behind her, and was moving on. Experience had taught him that it would eventually catch up with her when she least expected it.

Suddenly Ruth sneezed. "Pardon me," she said, and then she turned towards the side of the bed and opened the bedside drawer in search of a tissue. She had the drawer open and her hand inside it before Harry could stop her. "What's this then?" she asked, lifting from the drawer her torn knickers from the day of the bombing of the Russian embassy. "Harry, why have you still got these?"

"I thought I'd keep them as a memento."

"Are you sure they're not for -?"

"Ruth! What are you suggesting?"

"A man on his own, a pair of knickers, a happy memory, who knows where that might lead?"

"I have you, so why would I need to resort to making love to a pair a knickers? Put them back, Ruth. The tissues are kept this side." Harry leaned over and grabbed a handful of tissues from the drawer on his side and handed them to her.

Not long after, Harry turned out the light and again settled beside her. This time he turned her so that his body curled against her back, and she tucked her bottom into him. He buried his face in her neck, hoping their night together would be peaceful and without incident.

"You're keeping them?"

"What," he replied, "your knickers?"

"Yes."

"I thought I might."

"You sentimental old softie, Harry."

"Enough of the `softie', Ruth."

"Soft heart, but hard -"

"Good night, Ruth."

"Good night, Harry."