Harry

I can't sleep. All I can think about is the haunted look on George's face when he spoke about letting her go. I understand that look, as I've been living it for three years. The letting her go. Wondering if I'd done anything differently would the ending have changed? I understand him. Which doesn't mean I like him, in fact I'm very jealous of him. To get under Ruth's skin enough that she would willingly let him in. She's never let me in. Not really. After the initial joy of seeing her, I'm beginning to wonder if we can ever get back to where we were. To what we almost had between us.

I did call her earlier, but the conversation was short and nothing really was said between us. She told me that George had left the country, catching a late flight back to Cyprus. He hadn't wanted to stay. She hadn't told me whether she'd miss him, whether she felt guilty or anything else. And I was too scared to ask. She'd asked me if it was still necessary for her to be in a safe house, and I'd told her no. She was safe, or as safe as she could be. I will get her name and identity restored to her. The Home Secretary owes me a few favours, and this is a more… personal one which won't have difficult repercussions for him. Blake will agree, I'm almost positive.

I turn over in bed, staring at the curtain covered window. I don't know what to do about Ruth. I want more with her, and from our conversation on the balcony, that spark, that attraction between the two of us is still there. That indefinable thing that seems to be in the air between us seems, if possible, even stronger. Or maybe during the three year absence, I forgot the effect that this beautiful woman has on me. I didn't think I could forget anything about her, but three years is a long time. Something was bound to slip through my memory.

I love her. I know that, but I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to tell her. It's more than physical attraction, so much more. If it had only been that, I'd have moved past her a long time ago. After all, it's hardly the first time I've had to lose an agent under circumstances which weren't their fault.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I'm aware of is my phone ringing. It's not a red flash from the grid and I answer it groggily. "Yes?"

"Harry." I feel a jump in my heart at her voice. I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Ruth," I say. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she says. "I'm outside your house. I… thought you'd be up. Did I wake you?"

Her voice has a tinge of concern and I hold back my smile. "No," I lie. Then realising that she'll see through this, especially if she really is outside my house I change my mind. "Yes. I didn't sleep that well."

"Oh," she says. "Listen, it's not important. I'll come back another time."

"It is important," I tell her. She wouldn't be here otherwise, especially not this early. I know her well enough to know she wouldn't disturb me at home for something trivial. "Just give me five minutes, and I'll unlock the door."

"Okay," she said. "I'll wait." It's amazing what her voice can do to me. The way it feels as if she's caressing those two words, "I'll wait." My pulse is already racing and I know it. This woman's proximity to me is no good for me, and probably not for her either. But I can't stay away from her. I don't even want to try.

I disable the alarm and let Ruth in. She has a small smile on her lips and a little of that haunted look has gone. It's still there but less pronounced. Her hair's a little longer than it was before Cotterdam, but her eyes are just the same. She holds two coffee cups and proffers one to me.

"None of this is your fault, Harry. I know that. Can I come in?" We move through to the kitchen and I look at her as she sits down.

"Coffee?" I ask. She never drinks coffee. Or she didn't. Before.

"I couldn't get any decent tea abroad. I learnt to appreciate coffee while I was away. I got you a white coffee with one sugar."

"You remember how I like my coffee?"

"I remember a lot of things," she said.

"We need to talk about George." I want to take the words back the second I've said them, because her face closes off and her eyes go to the table.

"Harry, have you really spent the last three years single?" She doesn't look up, instead finding the wood grain of my table fascinating.

"Yes," I say. She looks up then, eyes wide as if unable to believe it. "I've not allowed myself to think of anyone like that." It's difficult to admit this to her, but it's the truth. I've had the opportunity, even with most of my waking hours spent on the grid. But every time I contemplated physically being with another woman, I felt guilty. Rather ironic, seeing as she clearly hadn't felt that way. No, I think. That's being too harsh on her. She never expected to come home.

"Harry, George and I… it's a very hard relationship to define." She takes a sip of her coffee, to give her time to choose her next words. "He is a good man. I don't want to hurt you, but he is. And we were both lonely. He didn't ask for more from me than I could give. I… it was nearly two years after I left London. Around the time I fully came to understand that I could never come home."

"I'm going to get that sorted today," I say quietly, not wanting to interrupt her story, but needing her to know she'll have her name back soon.

She smiles slightly. A smile that warms me deep inside. Oh, I long for her. Even sitting across the table from me, her pale hands fiddling with the top of her coffee cup. Something so innocent, and I need her. "George was convenient for me, even though I hate to say that. He deserved more than me, a woman who was only ever half there. I'm not going to tell you more about him than necessary, because it isn't fair to him."

"Okay," I say. I take my first sip of coffee and she gasps. I follow her eye line and see what she's looking at. My shirt sleeves are rolled up, so she can see clearly. She sees the knife cuts on my forearms, courtesy of Mani when he realised everything was going pair shaped. They're deeper than I'd like, but not too bad. I've certainly had worse.

"How?"

"Mani and the uranium. I'm fine." She reaches across the table and touches me. Her index finger traces the vivid red lines of the wounds, gently, softly. Her warm touch sends electricity through my nervous system, the two of us so rarely touch. So exquisite does it feel, that I don't realise I've closed my eyes until she draws away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't." She smiled at me, a beautiful smile.

"I wondered if… when I'm settled, I could get my job back?"

I'm a little thrown by the change of subject, but then I nod. "Of course. Though we've got a lot of paperwork, so it'll be boring for a while…"

"I can live with boring," she said. "Thank you, Harry." I smile at the warmth in her voice and then sigh. My phone's ringing, and this time it is from the grid.

"Ruth, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to…"

"I understand," she said. "I'll go. Find a flat."

"Oh, there's a few dozen London flats that we have ready for… MI5 agents to move in to on short notice," I tell her as the phone goes quiet.

"I know," she said, smiling. "I hacked into the grid and found the list of the properties."

"And no one noticed we were being hacked?" I ask in surprise.

"Oh, Malcolm did," she said. "I don't think he minded though, as I didn't go near anything too sensitive."

"You're wonderful," I say before I can stop myself. Luckily, she takes the compliment well, smiling at me.

"I'll leave you to it," she says as my phone rings yet again. She knows I have to go. Once she's gone, I answer the phone, internally sighing. The service of my country beckons.

More soon. Thank you for the wonderful reviews so far.