When they went to bed, they went to bed together.
Harry put on his pyjama bottoms and climbed beneath the duvet. Ruth slipped on her nightdress in the bathroom and as she padded back around to her side of the bed, she caught his eye, nodding for him to turn off the sidelight and give them what extra privacy from the windows was possible.
They lay in the city's electric half light on either side of the enormous bed, finally free from cameras.
And where the night before they had been tense, vigilant and unable to sleep; this night they felt comfortable, relaxed and at ease.
He turned onto his right side.
She turned onto her left.
There was a vast expanse of sheet between them, but they had never been closer.
They looked at each other without pretence until they fell asleep.
It was seven minutes past three. The cafe door opened. It was not Coleman.
Ruth sipped at her tea.
By half past they were certain he was not coming.
Thirty seconds later the door opened once more and Harry saw the flicker of recognition pass across Ruth's face before he turned to greet Jason Coleman.
"Hello, Harry."
It was Lucas.
He sat down beside them.
"Coleman's dead. Hit by a drunk driver as we tailed him here."
They stared at him in blank surprise.
"The explosives?" asked Harry.
"Recovered and we've got three of his associates. Dimitri's in pursuit of the last."
Again there was a long pause.
"Bit of an anticlimax, I know," Lucas said finally, "still, at least we can get back to normal, now."
Harry was quiet. Ruth was quiet.
"That is unless you've got too attached to all that luxury?" grinned Lucas, getting up.
"It is a beautiful apartment," Ruth replied quietly as Harry passed her her coat.
Neither felt relief, neither felt joy, neither felt happy, as they turned to follow Lucas back to the grid.
The debrief was exactly that - brief. No one could remember a threat so simply dissipated. It crossed all their minds how much easier such a course of action would make their jobs.
The team were aware that the friction between Harry and Ruth that had been there a few days earlier appeared to have gone, they were relieved, though the quietness that had replaced it was making them a little wary.
Meeting over and a myriad of new threats on the horizon, they all returned to their desks.
Apart from two.
"A fair outcome." he suggested.
"No one hurt," she replied.
"Apart from Coleman," he said, straight faced.
"Apart from Coleman," she lied.
For the briefest of moments they did not look away and then as one, they both rose and went in their separate directions.
Ruth went home alone. She ate alone. She sat in front of the television alone and when she went to bed it was alone.
She had never felt so totally and utterly alone.
She felt lost.
She felt bereft.
She had been given a gift and then had it rescinded. She had been shown a life and had it removed. She had tasted from the cool waters of the oasis in the desert and then watched whilst it evaporated before her.
Anticlimax was not the word.
Harry knew hell would feel like this.
Hell was the unreality of hope.
Hell was her and the lack of her.
Hell was the empty side of the bed that he was looking at.
Sorry, promise it will be resolved in the remaining chapter or two!