Earlier that day.

After a night of tossing and turning, Harry gave up on the pretence of sleep at around six in the morning. He turned on his laptop and tried to work out what Ruth was doing here. As it turned out, it didn't take long as Malcolm had clearly been working tirelessly overnight. A few clicks of the mouse and he found what he'd been looking for. Elizabeth Evershed's obituary. He felt it all click into place and felt a small wave of grief. Ruth must be so upset. Devastated. Her only parent had died, which made a lot of sense as to why Ruth wanted to come back to the country.

Harry quickly had a look at cemeteries in Exeter and found three. The last burial in one of those had been in 1896, which left two others. He had a fifty fifty shot. All of a sudden his excitement over knowing why Ruth was in the country was overshadowed by the fact that he might never find her. She might have already visited the grave. If she were only in the country to say goodbye to her mother, then clearly she wasn't intending to stay in the UK long. What if he'd already missed his chance? He reminded himself that Malcolm would warn him when her passport went through control again, so he started to breathe again. At least she was in the country, and his momentary panic subsided. He had nothing to do now but look for her.

He'd been looking for her for a while when he finally saw her. At first he wasn't even convinced it was her, and his eyes slid past her before going back, realising that there was something very familiar about her, even with her blonde head bowed over the fresh grave. Maybe it was the way she stood, or something else which reminded him of Ruth. But he wasn't sure until he called out softly to her. Her alias, just in case it really wasn't her. "Rose." Just a slight hint of a question as she looked up at him, and all at once there was no doubt at all. She looked wary at being recognised and extremely upset, but he'd recognise those blue eyes anywhere. She relaxed slightly as she recognised him. She looked much thinner than she had, and a little haunted.

He felt guilty, because it was at least partly his fault. She'd left to protect him, and been exiled from her country and her home for three years. That haunted look on her face was his fault.

He moved, closing the gap between them a little. She seemed to wobbly slightly on her feet and he wondered if she was going to faint, which took him a few steps closer still. He wanted to smile and hug her, but he was also highly aware of the fact that for her, this reunion between them was not an occasion of joy. "I'm so sorry about your mother. I didn't know."

She nodded slightly, her eyes flicking to the grave again, and suddenly the tears were freely streaming down her face and she was sobbing, gasping for breath. He reached out a hand for her, not sure whether she'd welcome his touch or not after so long an absence, especially when their relationship had been so complicated. But as soon as he touched her hand, it was as if she gave way and completely crumbled. She leant against his chest as the grief overwhelmed her, crying into his shirt. After a moment of surprise, he wrapped his arms gently around her waist, palm rubbing soothing circles on her back.

He wondered how long she'd been trying to hold everything together, and when was the last time she'd had someone comfort her. He'd never been able to hold her like this before, and even though he was simply holding her while she cried, it felt right. Why had he never managed to find a time to hold her like this before? The minutes passed and she pulled away from him, drying her eyes.

"Sorry," she said, clearly a little embarrassed of crying all over him.

"Don't apologise," he said quietly. "How…" He couldn't ask how she was, as it seemed rather obvious.

"I've been doing okay," she said quietly, answering the question anyway as she wiped her eyes. "How about you?" she asked, her voice soft. The lovely tone of her voice which he'd completely failed to remember.

"I'm okay," he said. "Considering everything. It's… good to see you. Even under the horrible circumstances."

"It is," she agreed, her eyes flicking to her mothers grave for a moment. "I wanted to come to London to see you," she said. "I argued with myself whether I should or not, but in the end I decided I couldn't."

"Why not?" he asked gently.

"Because it's dangerous for me to be in the capital. And in a few days I have to leave. I thought it might be worse. To see you then go again."

"You're leaving?" he asked, feeling his heart plummet faster than he imagined possible.

"I can't stay Harry," she said sadly. The sadness was mirrored on his own face, he knew. "By the way, how did you find me?" she asked, her voice still thick with emotion.

"Malcolm," he said. "You're safe, don't worry." She nodded, and he saw the relief there. So she was worried people were following her.

"It was foolish to come here," she said, looking at the grave yet again. "But I couldn't stay away."

"Ruth, do you want to get a cup of tea somewhere? Where we can talk properly." She didn't tear her eyes away from her mothers grave. "When you're ready," he added, not wanting to rush her.

"Yes," she said. "I think that would be good." She didn't show any indication of wanting to stay any longer and led the way out of the cemetery, Harry half a step behind her.

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