The walk from the car to the entrance to Grosvenor Square was tense, not because they were unsure about what they were doing, but because they were conscious of what was at stake. In more ways than one. If they were caught, it would be nearly impossible to explain. The Head of MI5's counter-terrorism department, and his senior analyst, blatantly downloading files from the CIA. It would most likely cause an international incident, not to mention the ramifications for their personal liberty.

Harry and Ruth had barely spoken after leaving the car, except to clarify once again the roles each would take. Ruth felt like all her senses were on fire. She could still feel Harry's arms around her, still taste him, and hear him saying, I love you. Harry felt like his body had gone into overdrive, and he wasn't sure how was he supposed to sweet talk the CIA when he kept replaying in his head, over and over, that kiss, and Ruth saying, Harry, I love you.

On arrival at Grosvenor Square, Harry brought himself back to earth and cautiously asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She nodded imperceptibly, focusing herself as she did so. "You?"

"Yes. Let's go." Harry led the way inside and asked for Garrett Reed, informing the receptionist that, yes, they were expected.

Over the course of the next half an hour, Harry used all his wit and wile to convince Reed that he was in fact perfectly well recovered, and intent on bringing the hotel bombers to justice. They moved seamlessly from discussing Harry's health to Nightingale, to the involvement of Sarah Caulfield and Russell Price in the hotel bombing. Ruth stayed quietly in the background, listening and analysing, until finally Reed, influenced by Harry, agreed to show them the CIA's internal CCTV footage of Caulfield and Price.

Reed guided them to a computer in the midst of an open plan office and sat down, entering a few keystrokes to bring the screen to life. Harry offered Ruth the chair next to Reed, and she sat down. Harry rested his hand on Ruth's shoulder while they waited for Reed to locate the files, and she felt a tingle of anticipation at his touch. Just as the first video appeared, she felt the pressure of his hand increase as he let her know it was time.

Ruth casually played with her watch and leant forward, placing her hand on the desk. Her wrist was just inches from the computer tower, and both Ruth and Harry were silently praying that Malcolm's ingenuity would pay off. The watch contained a microscopic hard drive, and a tiny wireless receiver and transmitter which had been activated when Ruth pressed on a segment of the wristband. Harry and Ruth feigned heightened interest while Reed talked them through the video footage, and all three theorised about how Caulfield and Price were recruited to the Nightingale cause. Meanwhile, the receiver was busily downloading data from the CIA mainframe.

In the week and a half after they had stood in the middle of the street and unexpectedly revealed the extent of their feelings for each other, neither Harry nor Ruth mentioned what had been said, nor their kiss. Both strangely nervous, they returned to dancing around their relationship and mostly focused their conversations on Nightingale, though both knew they were only delaying the inevitable conversation.

Malcolm's watch wizardry had done the trick and they now had mountains of data to wade through. Harry had agreed to bring Malcolm and Lucas into their confidence because without them, it would take a lot longer to make any headway. After Ruth had borrowed his watch, Malcolm was not surprised when told what had gone on. Lucas on the other hand, was, and even went so far as to remonstrate with Harry about being reckless. Harry allowed Lucas to sound off briefly, but made it clear he wouldn't be so accepting again.

The four of them spent the best part of ten days working through the information they had liberated from the CIA. Simon wanted the team working on the hotel bombing anyway, so all but Harry were able to integrate it into their work on the grid. Without giving away how they accumulated the files, Ruth was even able to pass some of the work onto Tariq, Beth and Dimitri. Simon remained blissfully unaware.

Although their intention was to identify players in the Nightingale conspiracy, their foray into the CIA mainframe was so deep, that the team identified more than enough material to give them an upper hand in future operations as well. Material of the kind that led Ruth to one night ask Harry, "Did you know that the Foreign Secretary had a ... er, a liaison, with the wife of Jeremy Cartwright's predecessor?"

"No-o-o ..." Harry drew out the word slowly. He looked appalled and excited all at once. "Do you mean to tell me that the supercilious Daniel Stewart actually let his guard down?"

Ruth tilted her head and raised one eyebrow at him, as if to say, you know exactly what I'm telling you. She watched as Harry turned what she'd said around in his head, and a look of concentration played across his face. That's one piece of information that is definitely going to be used one day, she thought.

Harry phoned Nicholas Blake as promised, and arranged to have dinner with Blake and his wife Julia on Friday evening. Blake reminded Harry that he was welcome to bring someone with him, but Harry avoided giving an answer one way or the other.

Ruth had continued visiting Harry after work, and they prepared and ate evening meals together, but for the most part, they remained focused on work or stuck to innocuous subjects which didn't call for them to divulge much more than the names of their favourite actors, or which books they had studied at school. Most days Ruth brought something with her. One night, an exotic cheese, and on another a bottle of good red wine – Harry was allowed to indulge again, within reason. Tonight she had brought the DVD of a movie they'd previously discussed, and which Ruth had promised to find so they could discover whether or not Harry's preconceptions of the plot were correct.

At the end of their meal, Harry loaded the dishwasher, making a joke about how domesticated he had become lately. Ruth laughed, and seemed more relaxed than she'd been in a while, so Harry decided it was as good a time as any to broach the subject they'd both been avoiding. If he was going to ask Ruth to accompany him to dinner with the Blakes, he knew it meant talking about everything.

"Ruth, we need to talk."

There was something in his voice that made her suddenly nervous, and Harry saw her anxiety, moving quickly to dispel it. "It's nothing … well, no, it's not nothing, but it's nothing to worry about. I just think it's time we talked … about us." He reached across the table toward her, offering his hand, and could hear his heart beating loudly. Come on Ruth, please don't let me down. Not now.

When she finally lifted her gaze from the table and looked at Harry, all Ruth could see were his eyes, gentle and full of vulnerability as he watched and waited for her. Oh, those eyes. She gave him a nervous half-smile. "Do you really think we need to?"

"Yes."

Ruth took a deep breath and accepted Harry's hand. "We kissed," she said, as their fingers entwined.

"I know. I remember." He grinned at her. "And you told me you loved me."

"Yes, I did. I do. And you said - "

"I love you."

Ruth smiled properly now, biting her lip and blushing. "What are we going to do, Harry? I mean, you and me, we … could we ..."

"We do whatever feels right, Ruth. And we don't worry about what other people think. It's none of their business. If I want to have dinner with you, then I'll ask you. If you want to go for a walk with me, or watch a movie, then you'll ask me, and I'll say yes. And if I want to kiss you, like I do right now ..." Harry lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping his eyes on her. "Then I will."

"And what if ..."

"What if?" Harry prompted.

"What if there's more? What if I want more than dinner and walks and movies?"

Harry didn't answer straight away. He was trying to calm his heartbeat. Soon he stood and walked around to Ruth, gently drawing her to stand, and pulling her close. "Then you might just be in luck."

This time Harry found Ruth's lips, soft and encouraging. Intensely so. And then both of them were lost in sensation. Gently erratic breathing … the taste of wine … soft skin … fingers teasing the tiny soft curls of hair at his neck that she loved … the subtle scent of 'Ruth' that he couldn't seem to get enough of … the graze of light stubble on his chin, as his lips moved down her neck ... nothing else mattered.

Still not the end ... I know, I'm a tease, but it's fun :)

There's just one more chapter to go.

NB: It's not a coincidence that the name of Blake's wife matches with 9.1. I originally had a different name for her, but after seeing the episode I decided to change it.