Thank you once again to everyone who took some time out to read and review the last chapter. It really is much appreciated. Now to what you've all been waiting for and I'm hoping that it doesn't disappoint...

xxx

Harry stood in the small kitchen of Ruth's flat looking around curiously. It was relatively small with just two doors leading from the open plan lounge/kitchen area he had found himself in, which he presumed led to the bathroom and bedroom. Glancing past those he wandered over to a small set of french windows that led off the back of the lounge area to a small walled courtyard. "It's a nice place you have here," he said turning around to face her. "Have you been here long?"

Ruth had watched him as he'd entered her flat, noticing his tight smile and rightly surmised that he was as nervous about this evening as she was, and was therefore grounding himself in the familiar and mundane as they'd so often done in the past. "Just over a month, I rent it from someone I work with at the hospital."

"The Doctor you were with earlier?" he queried.

Ruth shook her head, "his name is George," she said softly, "but no. It belongs to one of the nurses, she lived here before she got married and they decided to keep it rather than selling it." She looked around with a half apologetic expression on her face. "Fortunately it came partly furnished, otherwise we'd be likely sitting on the floor this evening. "

Harry scanned the room briefly, noticing for the first time the square table with three chairs pushed under it, the two seater sofa, the small armchair and the coffee table which was piled high with books. "You don't have many belongings of your own then?" he asked.

Ruth raised her eyebrows at him in question and her voice was tart in her response. "Strangely enough Harry, I haven't really had either the cause or the opportunity to collect belongings over the last couple of years."

He looked at her as he suddenly realised what he'd said. "Sorry!" he apologised quickly, "that came out differently to how it was meant. I just….." he tailed off. "I'm curious that's all," he made his way over to her. "I'm sorry Ruth I really am. I'm strugg.."

She sighed. "No I'm sorry", she said quietly. "I didn't mean to snap. Your arrival here has me at sixes and sevens. My mind has been running wild all afternoon with what you're doing here and I'm a little touchy, that's all. "

Harry smiled down at her, "perhaps then, we should have a drink and start again." he said moving past her into the kitchen and picking up the corkscrew that was lying on the bench. "Red or white?"

"White would be lovely thanks."

He looked around quickly, "where are the glasses?"

"Just in the cupboard to your left." As he located the glasses and opened the wine she watched him carefully. He hadn't changed much since she'd left London she thought, his hair was maybe a little longer and there were perhaps a few more lines on his face, but he was still the same old Harry... and she was still the same old Ruth if what had so far occurred this evening was used as evidence. The last time they'd seen and spoken to each other, apart from their brief meeting this morning, had been their painful goodbye on the wharf in London, yet here they were, twenty months later, finding refuge in the day to day rather than anything emotional. It was a guard she now recognised, and she was as guilty of it as Harry was, if not more. Neither of them had ever been particularly emotionally forthright, but on the occasions Harry had tried in the past, she had shut him out.

"Are you okay?" Ruth's mind was brought back to the present by Harry's words, "you looked like you were away with the fairies for a moment there," he commented dryly, passing her a glass of wine.

She took a sip before answering, not quite sure how to convey what she wanted to say. "I'm fine," she answered with a gentle smile, "I suppose I'm just finding all this slightly surreal. This time yesterday I never thought I'd see you again and now here you are... in my home."

Harry nodded, she'd been slightly skittish since he'd arrived and he'd put it down to the nerves that he presumed she was also feeling; but it had struck him in the last couple of minutes that while he'd had close to two months to get his head around seeing her again, his arrival had been like a bolt from the blue for her. "You must have plenty of questions." he acknowledged as he shrugged his jacket off and hung it over the back of one of the chair after first taking a small package out of the breast pocket. "But before you do, and I promise I'll try and answer anything you ask," he added at her quizzical look, "this is yours," he said gently, handing her the sealed envelope.

She looked at him curiously, setting her glass down on the kitchen bench. "What is it?"

"Go ahead and open it." he prompted.

She sat down at the small table and slipped open the small package to reveal a British passport. She looked over at him with the passport in her hand. "I don't understand... " she began.

He moved to sit next to her, bringing both glasses of wine with him as he did so. "Look at the last page."

She opened it up, quickly turning to the identification page. "How..." she asked, looking at him in shock, "how did you manage to get this?"

"I meant what I said earlier at the hospital Ruth, It's all over." He moved his hand over and placed it on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort, "it's been proven beyond doubt to the powers that be, that you had no part in the extradition of prisoners for torture and since your supposed 'death'," he moved his hand away from her and mimicked speech marks as he spoke, "was never really believed by the higher echelons of the Security Services and Government, they felt it was only really appropriate to try and give you your name and your life back."

"But..." Ruth looked at him in bewilderment. "How can you just reverse a death?"

"It's not this first time something like this has happened," Harry explained, "I'll try and clarify as much as I can but..."

"Have you been trying to prove this... all this time?" Ruth looked at him suddenly with wide eyes.

He thought about lying to her for a moment, before shaking his head with a slightly shamed face. "No, I'm sorry, if I'd have known that there was any way then I would have but..." He trailed off, not knowing quite what to say.

She looked over at him, his eyes downcast and looking down at the table and recognised it for the guilt he was feeling. Leaning over she took one of his hands in hers in what she hoped was a conciliatory gesture, letting him know that she didn't blame him in any way, "then how?"

"It's a long story," he sighed, relishing the feeling of her hand wrapped around his own as he took a large mouthful of his wine.

"Well we've got all night." Ruth began, before he words were interrupted by a shrill ringing from the kitchen. As Harry looked round in alarm she explained quickly. "Sorry, that's the timer for the food, dinner is ready." She stood up and made her way over to the oven. "You like Moussaka I hope?"

"There's not much I don't like," he said with a grin. The timer going off had somehow seemed to have diminished any tension in the room and he looed over as she took the dish out. "That looks and smells delicious. Is there anything I can do to help?"

'There's a salad in the fridge I prepared earlier, if you wouldn't mind getting that out and maybe topping up our wines, I'll get everything else sorted."

Three minutes later they were both sat back down, plates of food in front of them. As they ate, Harry gave her an overview of the events of the last couple of months, from his initial conversation with Dolby through to the return of Oliver Mace and how both the events both pre and post Cotterdam had been 'dealt with' leading to a number of occurrences behind the scenes, one of which had led to her getting her passport back, her criminal record wiped and her death expunged from the records. Answering the few questions she asked around this, he also filled her in on what had happened to him following her departure, including the frantic trip to Lebanon that he'd had to make to save Catherine after she'd been severely injured in a bomb attack in Beirut, but choosing to leave out being shot by Davey King.

Ruth's mind whirled with the implications of what he told her about Mace and Dolby, the story bringing back all the memories of treachery and deceit, secrets and lies that she thought she had left behind for good. "So what does this all mean for me?" She asked once Harry had finally finished speaking.

He moved his plate to the side while he considered what to say. They had finished their meal a long while ago but had lingered at the table talking and drinking their wine. "To all intents and purposes," he started quietly, "it means the last two years haven't existed..."

"Haven't existed!"

"From an official point of view," he added hastily, seeing the look on her face.

Ruth's lips curled in bemusement as she shook her head slowly. "Well that's fine then," she spluttered indignantly, "as long as that's the official line then who am I to complain!" She took the last mouthful of her drink before shaking the empty glass at Harry.

Able to recognise a hint when it was that blatant, he looked at the empty bottle in front of them and stood quickly while collecting their empty plates and taking them over to the small sink. "Ruth," he said as he opened the second bottle of wine, "just because that's the official perspective, it doesn't mean that's what we think." He sat back down and topped up her glass, "the sacrifice you made for me, for the service, for your country will never be forgotten by those that really matter."

Ruth took another quick drink, "I know, I know," She rubbed her hand against her forehead trying to make order of her thoughts. "So what does this mean for me in a practical sense?"

"It means that you're free to do whatever you want, go wherever you want and use your real name." He looked at her hesitantly, "it also means that there's a job waiting back for you in London should you want it... Section D hasn't been the same without you."

"A job but no home." Ruth murmured wistfully, looking down at the table.

"We can help you with that, with everything if that's what you choose."

"How did you find me," Ruth looked up at him, electing to ignore what he'd just said to her, "or have you all been keeping tabs on me since I disappeared? I really thought I'd left behind no clues," she raised her eyebrows momentarily in despair at herself. "I'm obviously not as good a spy as I thought I was."

"Finding you was anything but easy." Harry commented wryly, a little stung that she hadn't jumped at his offer to return to the Grid and return to London. "You were a very small needle in a very large haystack."

"So how?" She asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"The postcard you sent me."

Ruth's face wrinkled in surprise, "the postcard? How...?"

Harry looked a little surprised. "You didn't do it as a clue to your whereabouts then?"

Ruth shook her head. "No." she said slowly. "I was just looking through some of the photo's I'd taken of Paris and the image I sent you reminded me of our dinner together," she looked at him sadly, blue eyes meeting brown. "I just wanted to say goodbye and let you know I was safe." They stared at each other for a few moments longer before Ruth broke the eye contact suddenly. "You found me through the company I used to make the postcard?" she guessed.

"Yes,"

"But that must have taken forever, how on earth did you..."

"I'm afraid I can't take all the credit." Harry admitted, "or any of it really. Malcolm, Connie and Jo did most of the grunt work... In fact it's all down to Jo that we found you at all. She was the one who recognised that it wasn't a standard postcard bought in a shop."

"Jo's seen the postcard?" Ruth's face coloured slightly as she recalled the words she'd written. Words she'd spent hours debating internally, trying to work out exactly what to say before sending.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't happy about it either but it was the only clue we had to go off?"

Ruth blushed a little more "We?"

Harry smiled bashfully. "You know Jo's part, but Adam Malcolm and Connie all helped extensively as well."

"Connie?" She asked curiously.

"The new Analyst." He replied quickly

"Ah my replacement."

"Never your replacement." Harry said softly reaching over and wrapping his fingers around hers. "She was someone Malcolm and I used to work with years ago."

Ruth nodded. Suddenly awash with emotions she cleared her throat, "and how are they all?"

Harry suddenly looked away, staring at the dark night sky through the windows of the french doors. "Adam and Malcolm are well," he began, "they send their regards and hope to see you in person soon."

"And Jo..." Ruth suddenly realised whose name had been missing as Harry recited how they'd tracked her down. "And Zaf, you haven't mentioned him at all."

Harry squeezed her hand gently, "Zaf passed away recently," he said softly, "he was captured and then killed."

Ruth pulled her hand away from his, covering her mouth with horror while tears started to pool in her eyes. "Not Zaf," she gulped, remembering the tall handsome man who had been so kind to her in her last few hours on British soil.

Harry moved quickly over to the kitchen tearing off a couple of pieces of kitchen roll before handing them to her," I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I don't have a handkerchief on me."

Ruth dabbed away at the tears in her eyes, "and Jo?" she asked. "You said she'd helped you find me. She's not dead as..."

Harry interjected quickly. "No, Jo's not dead," he cast his eyes around wondering just how much to tell her, "but she has been through a rough time, the same people who captured Zaf also captured, Jo and Adam. Adam coped with what happened a lot better than Jo did. They saw her as the weak link and they used that to their advantage..." Harry's voice tailed off. "Jo has really been through hell in recent times. Helping find you has been the only thing that's given her life purpose since then. She'd love to see you again."

Ruth nodded before standing quickly, "I'm sorry, I'm just going to pop to the bathroom."

Harry took another mouthful of his drink as he waited for Ruth, looking around the room curiously as he did so. Aside from the books on the table, there was very little to suggest that this was a home rather than a safe house, no photo's, no music, no pictures on the walls. He wandered over to the coffee table picking the top book up curiously, it was written in Greek he noticed in surprise as he leafed through it, as were all the books on the table aside from a Greek/English dictionary.

"I'm trying to learn," his concentration was interrupted as Ruth came back out having taken five minutes to compose herself and also wash away the tears from her face. "I thought since I live here now, I really should try and become fluent."

"You can read this?" he indicated towards the book with his hand, choosing to dismiss the comment about Polis being her home.

"In the main part," Ruth confirmed, "I studied Classics at Oxford..."

"Ahh, of course."

"I learnt enough Greek there to get by, though I was never fluent and I've been trying to pick it up again since I arrived here."

Harry nodded as he placed the book down on the pile. "And how long have you been here?" he questioned curiously. "I've told you what's been happening in London since you left, what happened to you?"

Ruth refilled her glass of wine before moving to sit on the sole armchair in the living area, gesturing to Harry that he should sit on the sofa. "There's not much to say really, I was dropped off at a small fishing port south of Calais and I spent my first few days there holed up, wondering what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life."

"Oh Ruth..." He started

"Harry it's fine," she smiled at him tremulously, feeling the freedom and emotion of telling her story for the first time and actually being able to tell the truth. "Zaf had given me the name of a contact of his, ex DGSI I believe, who was based in Le Havre so I eventually worked my way down to him and he was able to arrange a new passport and identity for me, plus he gave me some more contacts and access to the money that I believed you sanctioned."

Harry nodded, "I wanted to give you the best possible chance," he said taking another sip of his wine. "I never knew where the money went, but gave it to Zaf and left it to him to sort it all out. I'm glad it got to you."

"Well thank you." She smiled, "it gave me the freedom I needed initially, not having to worry about food and where I was going to sleep. That money was a lifesaver in the early days."

"I take it he was the person who arranged your current alias?" Harry hit his knee with his fist in frustration, "if only I'd told Zaf to keep me fully informed," he started, "then..."

"It wouldn't have made any difference." Ruth cut in. "I kept the alias he gave me for a few months but I struggled with the name and I also thought it would be safer for me with another degree of separation so I switched identity again."

Harry looked at her puzzled. "The name?"

Michelle Campbell, she ran her hand up and down the stem of her wine glass in slight embarrassment. "I remembered it well enough but I couldn't react to it. I spent a couple of weeks in Paris about six weeks after I'd first arrived."

"Where you took the photo?"

She nodded before continuing, "then after a few months I'd moved down to the South of France and had made some acquaintances, yet when one of them called me or spotted me in the street and waved, I didn't react. I realised then, that I'd be safer if I could just call myself Ruth and Evans was close enough to Evershed to make it easy to remember. I just had to tell people that I preferred being called by my middle name rather than Alison my first name."

"So what happened next?" Harry queried, leaning forward in his seat.

"So I moved on, into Italy this time and used one of the contacts that Antoine had given me; Zaf's contact," she continued when she saw the question in his eyes, "and he helped set me up again, this time as Alison Ruth Evans. By this point my funds were starting to run out, but I managed to get work at an English language class for adults in Florence. I stayed there for another few months but then decided to move on again."

"What prompted that?" he asked softly.

She shrugged, "I don't know, it was a beautiful city, it just didn't feel like home."

Harry nodded understandingly. "So then what?"

"I kept moving East." Ruth continued her story, "I travelled across to Greece and after some time there I made my way into Turkey."

"And Cyprus?"

She took another sip of her wine before answering. "It was the furthest place East I could go while staying in Europe, it was also somewhere I wouldn't standout in for being British."

Harry smiled, "that makes sense," he commented. "And Cyprus... Polis, does this feel like home?"

Ruth lifted her thumb to her mouth, chewing on the edge of her nail nervously. "I don't know," she said at length, "the people are nice, I have a job and a place of my own."

"And the Doctor?"

"George," she looked at him in surprise, "what's he got to do with all this?"

"You seemed close when I first saw you." Harry muttered, not looking her in the eye.

Ruth rubbed her fingers across her eye. "He's been a good friend to me since I arrived here..." She started.

Harry cut in. "Are you seeing him?"

"Am I seeing him?" Ruth shook her head in disbelief, "what's that..."

"Forget I said anything." Harry said dismissively before standing abruptly. "I should be going," he glanced at his watch quickly, "it's getting late."

Ruth shook her head, annoyed at the direction the conversation had suddenly taken. "Okay then," she said angrily, "go."

He paused as he realised how she'd taken his words and actions and he berated himself internally for bringing up the bloody doctor. His jealous streak had won through while she'd been telling him of her travels, despite knowing that he had no stake on her and that she'd never expected to see him again. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said pleadingly, hoping that somehow she'd read his thoughts and understand, "thank you for dinner, it was delicious."

She nodded, "think nothing of it," she said tightly, knowing he was trying to make amends but not having a clue to the way his thought process was working.

"Have you made any decisions yet about what you're going to do?"

"I need sometime to think," Ruth said carefully, wrapping her arms around herself as they made their way slowly to the door.

Harry nodded sadly, the evening hadn't turned out quite as he'd hoped and it was largely down to his words and actions, he just hoped he hadn't ruined everything. He decided on one last push for the evening, "well just remember everyone on the Grid would love to see you again." he said with a small smile.

Ruth looked at him in disbelief. "I know, you've said several times." Her voice started to raise as she warmed to her theme, "Adam would like to see me, Connie would like to meet me, the Home Secretary wants to pass on his best wishes! Christ Harry..." She stopped and took a deep breath, noticing his confused face, "it seems everybody I knew over there wants me back, everybody really missed me... everybody that is, apart from the one person that I only really cared about." Tears started to pool in her eyes as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I know I was shocked when I saw you this morning Harry. Seeing you again like that was something I've hoped for everyday since I left and I couldn't get my head around the fact that you'd come for me and it wasn't some kind of dream..."

"Ruth," Harry pleaded, "you..."

"Let me finish," she looked at him defiantly, determined to get her point across in a away that even he couldn't fail to misunderstand. "I don't care about anyone else, I don't care about Malcolm or Adam or Bob the photocopying guy, all you had to say was that you wanted me back, that you needed me back, and it wouldn't have even been a decision I needed to make."

Harry rubbed his hands across his face in despair, how the hell had he got this so wrong. He'd wanted to give her the space and time to think, to work things out in her own head, rather than making any grand gestures. "Of course I want you back," he said desperately, "I thought that that went without saying."

"Missing my analysis on the Grid." She said sarcastically, still wound up from the earlier comments.

"No ... well yes, but that's not the reason." He moved over to her, unwrapping her arms from around her body gently and then taking both her hands in his. "Ruth, look at me," he implored. "Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left?"

She slowly raised her eyes to him, "I err..."

"You asked me to let you go," he whispered, both of his hands now curled round hers, while he looked her straight in the eye willing her to believe him. "I failed," he continued, "I failed miserably, I never let you go for a moment. Deep down I always hoped that we'd see each other again, that we would find away towards each other." He cleared his throat, "I know I'm not particularly good at anything emotional, but Ruth, you have to know that my feelings for you haven't changed one jot since we stood on that dock and said goodbye and I've missed you every single day that you've been away."

Ruth looked up at him as a smile started to creep across her face, "do you really mean that?"

He nodded, before deciding that words had got him into enough scrapes this evening already. He pulled her closer to him feeling her body mould against his, before lowering his mouth to hers, kissing her softly at first before deepening the kiss as he felt her hands leave his, as her arms moved to wrap themselves around his body.

TBC