Ruth wanted to be angry, but instead she was just worried.

Worried about what Harry wasn't telling her. And worried about the reason why he wasn't telling her.

It was the early hours of the morning when she finally arrived home. She felt like she had been up for days. First it was Tom's disappearance, and then Harry's shooting. And now whatever Oliver Mace had planned for them. One calamity after another.

"Hello, darling!" she announced theatrically as she sloughed off her coat and shoes at the doorway.

Fidget came slinking down the hallway, smooching her legs and meowing reproachfully.

"Yes, yes. I'm sorry I'm so late. I'm a terrible owner. You want your food now?"

Fidget meowed in affirmation and pattered back towards the kitchen.

After she had fed poor Fidget Ruth undressed and hopped into a warm shower. As the water beat heavily down on her Ruth tried to imagine it washing away all the dirt of the day. When she thought of the way Oliver Mace had spoken to her she wanted to scrub and scrub and scrub. He'd said nothing, at first, in front of the staff, but when he'd arrived in the middle of the night demanding to see Harry, Ruth had had to come up and greet him alone. That time, seeing as he'd got her alone, he'd managed to fit in some rather crude questions about her and Harry's supposed affair.

Ah, the affair. Which was of course completely imaginary.

Unfortunately, Mace apparently had her on tape admitting such an affair did exist.

It'd been at the hospital, he'd said. He'd managed to find out who had told Harry that Five was under investigation. Apparently he'd scanned the CCTV service and heard her admitting that not only she and Harry were lovers, but that she was also pregnant with his child.

So, there was that. And, just as Mace thought she was having an affair with Harry, the whole office seemed to think she was having an affair with Mace.

How ridiculous her personal life was. She'd have to let Harry know she'd won.

That thought made Ruth smile. Then she frowned as she remembered Harry had been avoiding her all day. Perhaps he'd never let her close enough to tell him, way he was acting.

Ruth turned off the shower and enveloped herself in a fluffy, white towel. She dressed for bed in a white singlet top and matching cotton shorts. Then she padded back downstairs to quickly heat up dinner.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Ruth's immediate thought was alarm. She wasn't exactly used to callers in the middle of the night. If she could only find her handbag, she would grab the pepper spray… The doorbell rang again.

She crept down the hallway, and opened the door just a crack. It was Harry, starring up forlornly at her.

"We need to talk," he said awkwardly.

"Harry. Of course, come in," Ruth stuttered, opening the door fully.

"I'm sorry we couldn't sooner, I-" Harry paused, taking her in, "What are you wearing?"

Ruth looked down, not realising she had answered the door to Harry in her pyjamas. Very brief pyjamas, at that.

"Well, it is the early hours of the morning," Ruth attempted to brush past the embarrassment. "What did you expect? Me to be dressed for work?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry said, looking rather shell-shocked.

Ruth crossed her arms across her chest self-consciously.

"Look, I don't care what your dressed like," Harry scowled, her defensive pose putting him on the defensive, "Only I've just been shot at, and I'm rather dead on my feet. Would you let me in?"

"God, of course," hurried Ruth, ignoring his harsh words, "Why don't you sit down in the kitchen? Second door on the right. You must be in agony."

"Ah, well. I'm alright, considering."

"Considering you've had to check yourself out of hospital about a week too early to come to our rescue? Yes, I'm sure you're alright."

"As you say," Harry conceded, "Which is what we need to talk about."

Ruth followed Harry into her kitchen. It was pleasingly set out, he noticed. Warm, homely, and very Ruth. Harry took a seat at the table in the centre of the kitchen.

"Oh, Harry," Ruth sighed, noticing now the sweat on his brow, "You do look awful."

"Oof, Ruth," Harry joked, "You sure know how to flatter a man."

"When was the last time you've eaten? Before you were discharged from hospital?"

"I had one of Adam's sandwiches earlier."

"Oh, Harry, that's not enough. Let me make you something. I was just about to reheat some Carbonara for my own dinner. Will you have some?"

"As long as it's no trouble."

"Not at all. I was just about to reheat it when you rang, really."

Harry watched Ruth move around the kitchen while he attempted to regain his breathe. His shoulder was becoming increasingly agonising. But Ruth was proving an adequate distraction. With her back to him, he was free to look unobstructed. Her state of undress was something to behold. He admired her bare shoulders and slim arms. Her white shorts were very brief, showing off soft, pale thighs. And her bottom was fleshy and firmly rounded.

She had a hell of a figure. When he'd first met her, he hadn't noticed it, hidden by her long skirts and blouses as it was. Nowadays, he can't stop looking, whether work clothes hide it or not. He's spent an inordinate amount of time on the grid trying to ascertain her shape through shapeless clothes. And he's not a man who is used to obsessing over a woman before he's even slept with her. It's silly. Sometimes Harry wonders if it isn't a mid-life crisis, this silly obsession with one woman young enough to be his daughter.

When Ruth reached up on her tippy-toes to get something out of a top cupboard, Harry watched the hem of her singlet rise up. He could see the indent of her back… the sweet swell of her naked hips….

Ruth turned around. If he'd have been a bit less befuddled by pain, he might have been a bit quicker to stop his gaping at her. As it was, he couldn't help but realise he was staring at her chest and she obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were hard and straining through her shirt. Begging him to touch them. Hells bells.

"Harry?" Ruth asked, unwilling to believe he'd been openly gazing at her. Perhaps the pain was making his thoughts a bit muddled.

Harry cleared his throat.

"I need to apologise for earlier. I knew we needed to talk; I just couldn't risk it in the office. Mace no doubt has had the place bugged in my absence. And who knows what else he did, running around unattended."

"He wasn't completely unattended. I was there, you know. I tried to keep an eye on him. I didn't see him bug the room. But you're right, I couldn't stop anything," Ruth shrugged sadly, adding "Again."

Harry frowned sympathetically.

"But we do need to talk. I promise, if he hadn't had the place bugged…"

"I must admit, I was worried when you wouldn't talk to me. I was… I wondered if it was because of the gossip a-about-"

"Ruth, no. Never," Harry stopped her decisively.

"I know. I was just being stupid. But I want you to know… even ignoring how Mace treated me that day… I would never, ever have an affair with a married man. Not for a promotion, not for anything. I wouldn't do that," Ruth said earnestly.

"I have to admit… I did hear some of the others talking today. I understand now why you were worried about that."

"Well, I'm sure whatever they said in front of you wasn't nearly as bad as what they said to me today. It was awful. Someone practically accused me of firing them myself," Ruth smiled bravely.

"I shouldn't be surprised, really," Harry murmured thoughtfully, "A long time ago, I was sleeping with my commanding officer. Juliet, was her name. She always used to tease that the gossip about us ruined her career. I never really paid much attention to her. Because I certainly never heard any of it."

"You would be surprised," Ruth demurred playfully, "I have heard gossip about you, you know. Though more of the congratulatory kind… I believe the most impressive story was about you being caught with two Junior Analysts in the records office by your then Section Chief?"

"Ah," said Harry, embarrassed. Ruth smiled as his sickly pallor was replaced with a pink flush across his cheeks.

Ruth turned to remove the pasta from the pot and start serving it out. Harry was glad for the break from her scrutiny. He couldn't believe Ruth had heard that story. He didn't think someone like her would approve. But at least she hadn't been told about his marriage. Harry had taken care not to mention that his 'relationship' with Juliet was during his marriage to Jane.

For the third time, Ruth had stressed that she would never have an affair; as ifshe was worried he was judging her. No, Ruth with her sure moral compass would never forgive him. Weak though it was, Harry wanted her to continue respecting him. Craved her respect rather unhealthily, really.

Ruth leaned across the table, placing a plate of delectable looking pasta in front of Harry, before taking a seat next to him.

"Thank you, Ruth," Harry said smoothly.

The pasta was delicious. Harry hummed in appreciation which made Ruth smile shyly at him. Harry could not help but think of Tasha's promised Christmas Dinner.

"Harry," Ruth said, as they ate, "Speaking of rumours… I have to tell you, I think I've rather messed up. Do you know how I managed to get you that message, in the hospital?"

"Yes, I did wonder why I was received Morse code communiqués instead of the customary flowers," joked Harry.

Ruth frowned.

"Well, you see, they wouldn't let me speak to you. There were guards over your door, Mace's men, and they wouldn't let anyone in. So, I had to bribe a nurse, and…"

"And?" Harry prompted.

"And… I told her… I had to… Well, look, I ended up telling her we were l-lovers."

"Oh," grunted Harry, voice thick, "Well… that's good,"

Ruth squeaked.

"Good work," Harry tried to continue more professionally, clearing his throat, "You chose a good gambit. For someone who isn't a field officer, you did a fine job."

"That's not it, Harry. I didn't tell you this so you could…" Ruth sighed. "Mace saw the CCTV footage. When he came to Thames House this night, before you saw him, he told me he had seen the footage of me bribing the nurse… I suppose he was suspicious as to how we managed to get word to you past his guards. But he thinks it's true, Harry. He thinks we're lovers. He think's he's… got one over us."

"Ah," Harry considered, "Well. I suppose it makes our blackmail situation a little more tenuous, from his perspective, if he supposedly has something on us too. However, as much as it is technically forbidden for a senior officer to sleep with a more junior one, I'd hardly be the first to do it. The tape still remains in play."

Harry and Ruth paused, both made uncomfortably hot by the idea of the conversation.

"There's one more thing," said Ruth finally, "The… that wasn't quite enough for the nurse… so I said I was having your child, too. "

"Oh," grunted Harry heavily, lost in the imagery of Ruth swollen with a child he had put there.

Then he realised this meant Mace also thought he had knocked her up.

"Alright, well, that is… Look, I don't believe this has to go badly. Mace thinks I've knocked you up; I haven't. We're one step ahead, then. You know, this could play out well for us. If Mace thinks he has us neutralised with this, then perhaps we can take him unawares. Ruth, I need to tell you why I came here tonight."

"Right," said Ruth seriously.

"We need to talk about what Mace is planning. I believe it is more than revenge, though I'm sure a certain amount of personal… satisfaction plays part in this. But Mace seems to be part of a wider conspiracy. He's working for someone. And, Ruth… Tom's alive."

"Tom's alive?" Ruth gasped.

"Yes," said Harry pensively.

"Thank God."

"I don't know about that."

"Harry…" Ruth began.

"It's only good news if Tom's telling the truth. If he really was set up. But I just can't tell anymore."

"Mmm," agreed Ruth.

Harry took another bite of pasta.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think," Ruth considered thoughtfully, "If you asked me three months ago if Tom would have done this, then I would have told you no, of course not. Now, Tom has definitely been having… difficulties lately. But I just can't believe the man I knew, that I respected, would be able to kill an innocent man in cold blood like that. Tom is not a mercenary."

"Not even for love?"

"I don't know… I mean, if it was a matter of life or death for him and Christine Dale, then perhaps, but Harry, I just don't think that it was. I mean, she works for the CIA, not the KGB! Surely they could disappear together without this."

"They needed money," Harry offered, continuing to play Devil's Advocate.

"Then that's something entirely different than love, isn't it?" Ruth said passionately. "Tom and Christine are smart people… they could find another way to get the money they needed to elope."

"I only hope," said Harry admiringly.

Harry spooned up another mouthful of Ruth's pasta.

"They're planning on dismantling the service as we know it, with Tom's betrayal as the excuse," Harry said quietly, "They want to recreate a 'unified' state service. 5, 6, GCHQ run from the Cabinet Office."

Ruth nodded, deep in thought.

"We have to stop them," she said.

Ruth looked into his eyes seriously, letting him know she was thankful for trusting her enough to let her in to this secret.

"Ruth, this pasta is delicious," Harry said lightly to break the tension.

"Oh, thankyou," she smiled bashfully. "But it's nothing. Just reheated."

"Nonsense. It's been a long time since I've been spoiled like this. I'm rather enjoying the attention."

"Well, I didn't want you dropping dead on your feet."

Harry shook his head at her. She ought to know he wouldn't let her get away with the modesty.

It's been so long since a partner has looked after him. Not since his wife had any woman cooked for him, and they've been divorced for twenty-odd years. The only other woman he'd ever loved were Juliet and Elena; those relationships were about danger and intrigue, and consequently they had never endured this kind of domestic scene. And after that, his affairs had been just casual, with no love between them. Of course, he had to remind himself, Ruth is not his lover.

"You enjoy cooking, don't you?" Harry asked.

"I love cooking," Ruth prattled, "Though I'm usually too busy with these hours we work. I usually cook ahead on the weekend and then I always have something in the fridge for days like this. Of course, it's always nicer to cook for two."

"As yes," said Harry, cheekily reaching out to pat her imaginary bump, "Well, soon you will be cooking for two, won't you. You and my son."

"Harry!" Ruth shrieked delightfully, "How would you even know he's a son? We could be having a daughter."

"I have a feeling," Harry flirted back.

Ruth couldn't help but grin widely at him and break into giggles. Harry chuckled too at Ruth's obvious enthusiasm. It was the same enthusiasm with which she approached work at Thames House, and he absolutely loved it about her.

Removing his arm from her belly, Harry groaned.

"What's wrong?" asked Ruth.

"Ah, Christ…" said Harry, cupping his shoulder where it was aching. Blood came away. Harry stared at his hand.

"Oh my god, Harry!" cried Ruth.