Epilogue
No one did marriage like them.
No one else, having just been married, would fifteen minutes later be sitting in a meeting. No one else would have found themselves married without ever having said I love you. No one else would now be married, yet have no idea where they lived. And very few would find themselves married after only three kisses, the most passionate of which was fake.
But that was them.
Harry sat in the JIC meeting. Beneath the table his thumb and index finger slowly revolved the white gold ring on his left hand.
"I don't know what's so bloody funny, Harry," snapped the Head of Five.
"Every single security suggestion you make," replied Harry, curtly. Yet the remnants of the smile had not left the edge of his lips and it had certainly not left his eyes.
"Ruth?" Ruth wasn't quite listening. She was wondering where they might live.
Tariq gave up. She was clearly distracted today.
The pod doors slid open. Harry strode onto the grid, towards his office ... whistling. It did not go unnoticed.
"Where shall we live?" Ruth said, closing his door behind her and sitting in the chair opposite.
"Erm…"
"Mine's a two bedroom flat," she stated, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
"Three bedroom house," said Harry.
"Yours, then," she concluded.
He nodded.
"My things?" she asked.
"We'll get them on the way home tonight."
"I've got rather a lot of books."
He smiled.
"We'll get the basics tonight and then we can do the rest, including your wing of the British Library when we have time."
"Very funny," she smiled, heading back to the door.
"Harry?"
"Yes, Ruth."
"Does your bedroom have curtains?"
"No, it doesn't."
She looked somewhat put out. She'd had enough of large glass windows. Resigned, she slid the door open.
"…But our bedroom does."
It was a long walk from Harry's office to Ruth's desk. Every step of it she smiled.
It was earlier than normal when he turned off his computer. But there were things to be done. Besides which, on this particular night and every other night come to that, he had someone to go home with.
"Oh no you don't," said Lucas standing up as Harry walked across the grid. Ruth was also on her feet, reaching for her jacket.
"If you two think you can moon about all afternoon with your new shiny rings and not even stand us a bottle of champagne, you've got another thing coming."
Harry and Ruth looked caught. Everyone else was trying not to smile.
"'Moon about'?" quoted Harry, disparagingly.
"Like teenagers," Dimitri laughed.
Ruth stepped close to Harry, nudging him with a smile, "Teenagers who've had a hard paper round, perhaps."
"So…?" Tariq prompted.
"Champagne?" asked Beth.
"How about Krug?" Ruth, chipped in.
"I think you'll find that's in the price range of your previous husband, Ruth."
"Never cared for him anyway," she beamed.
He looked around the rest of them.
"Moet …" offered Harry, "… The George?"
And The George it was.
"Someone to see you," Lucas nodded back towards the pub door as he wrestled with the cork of yet another bottle of champagne.
"Malcolm!" Ruth threw her arms around him.
Harry offered his hand.
"About time too," smiled Malcolm.
"Here, you deserve one of these," Lucas thrusted an overflowing glass at his former colleague.
"He deserves one?" queried Harry.
Malcolm simply smiled.
"Thought you might like to meet a friend of mine,' he said, taking a sip from the spilling glass, "I believe you've already met."
Harry saw Ruth's face fall first, within seconds his mirrored it. "Coleman," breathed Ruth.
"Paul Connolly, actually," said Coleman, holding out his hand.
Lucas turned, shook the hand that was offered to Harry and passed over yet another glass of Moet to Coleman/Connelly.
"Let's face it," he said to Harry, glancing at Ruth too, "we couldn't take anymore of your snapping and sniping at each other."
"The only way was to lock you in together and get you to play nice," Malcolm relished another mouthful of fizz, "Needs must, Harry."
"The cameras," whispered, Ruth, her head assessing the numerous unfortunate scenarios that could have been seen by her colleagues.
"No cameras, Evershed," Dimitri chipped in, "Don't worry, we have no idea what you got up to, but whatever it was, it worked."
Harry had been very quiet. Unusually quiet. All eyes looked to him now, fearful of the repercussions.
"You spent departmental resources on a non imperative operation?" he accused Lucas.
"I'd argue it was imperative."
"So would I," said Ruth, gently taking Harry's hand.
"Not to mention about six years late," added Malcolm.
"We rented the penthouse for free," Tariq offered.
Lucas grimaced slightly, "Well… borrowed it."
"I don't want to know," snapped Harry.
He turned to the former Mr Coleman and held out his hand.
"Thank you, Mr Connolly."
And then his attention moved to the rest.
"Malcolm, it you weren't retired I'd fire you. Lucas, you're buying for the rest of the night. And Dimitri, I think you'll find that it's not Evershed anymore. Now if you'll excuse us, we have a few things to sort out, not to mention some curtains to enjoy."
With that he grabbed Ruth's hand and winking he turned away.
Her clothes were in the wardrobe, her toiletries in the bathroom, her jacket on the coat rack and her shoes by the door. There was an old French novel by the right hand side of the bed.
Her side.
They sat on the sofa with a cup of tea. It was late.
It was time for bed but neither dare say it.
"Ruth…" he whispered, his head behind her as she leaned against his chest.
"Mmm," she murmured.
"Thank you … for this."
"You're happy, aren't you?"
"I've only been married for nine hours, Ruth, it would be a bit poor if I weren't."
She laughed, throwing her head back and purposefully hitting him in the chest.
"Yes," he said, "I am happy, Ruth. More than happy."
"Me too," she yawned.
"You're tired."
She nodded her head.
"Time to sleep," he prompted, moving his hands from around her waist.
She grabbed his left hand and turned to face him.
"I'm tired," she said, "but not that tired."
He smiled and kissed her.
"Then let's to bed."