Note: So, okay, there was this amazing Ethiopian place I ate at in Manhattan once and I don't remember what it was called. So I did a search and came up with this other place called Injera that will work in a pinch (aside from the fact that it just opened in 2014), so I mean, creative licensing and all that jazz. (Maybe I should actually keep tabs on the places that I eat at in other cities so I don't look like a dumbass when I have to revisit them later for things like this? Or is it weird to be all, "Oh hey, I ate uni at Such And So on Here and There Lane in Los Angeles!"? I'm an idiot. Don't mind me. It's also a little after 2 am when I'm writing this, so there might be that.)

Five:
Tremulous Desires

Harry insisted that they sit together on the same side of the booth, and it was making her anxiety level rise astronomically. It was bad enough that he had bulldozed straight over her and insisted that the kids do things with their security officers – or together, because he wasn't really that specific on what the children were doing for dinner – while they went out for dinner. But to add to it a level of intimacy that they didn't really share at the moment? It was a nightmare.

She'd gotten dressed in her best dress – a simple navy wrap dress that clung maybe a bit too tightly in places (because, to be honest, Ruth had given up on dieting and there were some ills that only a pint of ice cream could cure) – and a pair of heels that was going to have her crippled by the end of the night, and still felt like all eyes were on her as they left the hotel. She hated that so much, but when Harry walked through a room with such bravado, commanding, if not demanding, interest, it made the lines blur just a bit.

But the way he treated her, the way he was showering her with affection in his own quiet, soft Harry way… it made everything better. He could be so sweet when he wanted to be.

She was still anxious, however. She couldn't tell if it was bloody nerves, or if it was the fact that he was so damn close she could almost – But it didn't matter because her heart was pattering erratically in her chest, and her stomach was lurching.

He'd taken her to an Ethiopian restaurant called Injera, on Abington Square in the West Village, and he had pulled her next to him in the booth before she could protest and take the chair on the opposite side of the table. The food was amazing, but the constant nearness of Harry was disconcerting. Especially when he eagerly fed her pieces of his dinner. "Try this," he insisted.

She parted her lips and took the proferred bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It's good," Ruth murmured. She held up a bite of hers. "You try mine," she said softly. While he chewed and smiled, she said, "Can you imagine the furor that would happen if people realized that the head of MI-5 was just feeding one of his former officers food that's not been tasted by a security team?"

He chuckled. "Gavin is in the back, supervising our food," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course he is," she muttered.

"Hey, now," he scolded.

She reached for her wine and said, "I keep meaning to ask… how the hell did you end up being Director General, anyway?"

"I killed the last DG and took his place," he deadpanned. When she recoiled in something akin to horror, he laughed. "Ruth, seriously? He resigned and they promoted me on the spot. I didn't have a choice."

"He must have done something dreadful –"

Harry sighed and finished his glass of wine. "Yes," he said quietly. "He did." And that was that; a simple dismissal of the question of what had happened. "And I've been DG for eight and a half months," he added. "In my thickly-carpeted seventh floor office where, more often than not, I do pace like a caged animal," he teased, bringing to mind the early part of their marriage, making her blush unbidden.

She smiled a little and murmured, "D'you know… this feels like a date. A second date. Not the completely awkward first one where you're just getting to know one another, but the one where you're not quite sure where you stand –"

He glanced at her and said, "If you'll remember, our first date was drinks in a pub. And our second – and I do consider them separate – was two days of intensely passionate sex where we conceived our lovely Margaret. So, no, this doesn't feel like a second date to me." He reached over and held her hand, looking at her intensely. "We don't have a status quo, now, and I understand that. I know you're nervous and frightened – it doesn't take a genius to see it, my love. But nothing has changed for me. There is no one else in this life for me to love as I do you."

She hesitated, then decided it was safe. It was just them, sitting, eating, enjoying the company of one another. And if they were ever going to be happy again, if they were ever going to keep their marriage alive and functioning, she was going to have to be honest. "I was so angry when I found out I was pregnant," Ruth said quietly. "Angry at the universe in general because it wasn't fair at all – we'd tried three times and then a fourth and I went into exile and couldn't tell you. I was scared, moving from place to place – and I had to get out of Europe. Mace found me in Italy and I had a very narrow escape. So I came here and used one of my old hacker friends to get as far underground as I could. By that point, I was about to have Jamie and all I could think about was how unfair it was that, once again, you couldn't be with me." She held his hand tighter.

"Ruth, if I could have, you know I would have been," he said very softly.

"I was never angry with you," she whispered. "Never – okay? I never blamed you for any of it, because I was the one that took it on. I made myself live in the shadows so you could take on the world." She paused and looked at him for a long moment. "The labor was very hard, bad… they almost lost both of us. That's why he's so precious, Harry. Jamie is a second chance at life, and I would do anything – anything – to protect him."

"I know you would," he said. "And so will I, now." Harry smiled a little and squeezed her hand. "It's time for me to stand on the wall for both of us again," he murmured. "I'll take the arrows and you plot their demise." He winked and leaned in to kiss her, ever so gently.

"What happened that you became DG?" she asked.

"Not here," he said, the bit of joy in his eyes being extinguished. "I can't tell you here, in public."

Ruth nodded, knowing suddenly that it had been something catastrophic. "Maybe it should wait till we get home," she murmured. "You never know who might be listening."

"Truth never fell from anyone's lips as beautifully as yours," he said softly. "I've missed you so badly, Ruth."

She saw the sadness, the sad longing that should never be on his face again now that she was here. And she realized that holding him at arm's length would do neither of them any good now. So she whispered, "Harry, you have no idea." And she kissed him with all the force of nature – inviting him to experience the way she felt with him again.

When they broke apart, they were both smiling. "Gosh, that's good," she managed to exhale, giggling a bit. "I'd almost forgotten."

"I'm never going to let you forget again," he said in a no-nonsense firm voice. "We need to finish dinner and then we can go back to the hotel and…"

"And… yes," she said, not blushing, but not exactly meeting his eyes, either. It had been a long time and it was silly how fast she was getting wound up just because he was there. His smell, his touch, his manner… all combining to make her feel weak and giddy and full of pent-up want. There was no way to deny it: he sparked something within her that was positively electric.

Life.

He sparked life within her; otherwise, she was dead.

It was an unsettling realization, but not entirely unwelcome. Harry was the yin to her yang, the piece of her that balanced her, the only person besides her children that she would actually give her life to protect. And she had done, hadn't she? She'd finally proven her worth to him.

"Harry, I –"

"Ruth, finish your dinner," he murmured, kissing her again, this time with the gentlest of simmering passion. "I want to check on the kids."

So did she.

Erin Watts smiled at Ruth. "He's quite something, your boy," she commented. "He's about the same age as my Rosie."

"Did he put up a fight about bath time or going to sleep?" Ruth asked.

"Not a bit," Erin replied. "But he did ask where you and Sir Harry were. I told him that you went out to dinner to talk about some things and that we should have eggs and soldiers for supper."

Ruth exhaled in relief. "You did the right thing – that's his favorite meal," she said, leaning down over the little boy in his bed and giving him a kiss. "Mummy loves you, dearest," she whispered. "Sleep well."

Erin looked at her knowingly. "Now that you've checked in, you should go," she teased a little. "Nothing will happen to him tonight, Lady Pearce."

"Ruth," Ruth corrected. "Please."

"Yes, ma'am," Erin replied. "Lady Pearce," she added for good measure.

Ruth sighed and rolled her eyes, leaving the room. She met Harry in the living area and said, "Okay, now that I know all three are safe –"

He cut her words off with a kiss, and smiled against her lips. "Now?" he said softly.

She made a firm decision that, since he sparked such life in her, she would take that life and live it to the fullest. She took him by the hand and led him to the master bedroom. Once the door was closed, she breathed, "I never stopped hoping I'd see you again, Harry. I never stopped believing that we'd make love again and be happy again –"

"I don't want to push you," he said softly. "It's been a rather shocking day for you, what with all of us showing up and dragging you off to a posh hotel and kidnapping your son –"

She smiled and kissed him. "I've never been so happy to be abducted," she teased gently. "And you're not pushing me. We need this – it's been over four years since we've held each other, and let me tell you… I wish it hadn't been. Every day, I wish Cotterdam had never happened."

"If wishes were horses," he replied with a sigh. "I have many regrets, Ruth. Being with you is nowhere on the list. Being apart from you, however, is my number one regret. And I've managed to cock everything up so I've done it twice now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry –"

This time, she was the one silencing him with a kiss. "No more regrets," Ruth whispered. "Not tonight. Tonight, we celebrate being back together. Tomorrow, we can look at all the problems, but tonight… I just want to be with you." She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding on tightly. "I love you, Harry. So much."

His arms came around her and they just held on for dear life. "I love you more than I can ever say," he whispered into her hair, near the shell of her ear, his breath tickling her and making her feel warm and needy in places that hadn't stirred in a while. "I am lost without you."

"Good thing you found me, then," she teased, kissing the edge of his jaw, holding him tighter. It felt so right, so simple, so them. They were very simple creatures, really – they just needed each other. It had been that way since they'd met, neither really knowing until it was too late.

He inhaled deeply and murmured, "Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind terribly if… ah… if we –"

She rolled her eyes a little. Stammering, nervous Harry was not something she was adequately prepared for. Instead of letting him continue on in his adorable way, she let her fingers untuck his shirt and begin to free the buttons one by one. "Would I mind terribly if we were to undress one another?" she asked softly. "Of course not, my love. That would be delightful – I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"With all my scars and my spare tire?" he snorted.

"Harry," she said softly, getting him to look down at her. "In case you hadn't realized, I love you, you stupid old git. Not your scars and not your spare tire." His eyes sparkled, and she added, "Of course, I don't know if you'll still love me… I've put on thirty pounds and gone up four sizes."

"Believe me, I'm all for that," he said with a grin, cheekily pinching her bum.

She squealed and swatted at his hand. "That actually hurt," Ruth pouted.

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?" he asked.

She stared at him in disbelief, then burst out laughing. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" she asked. "You can't possibly be Harry Pearce – you're appalling at this seduction thing."

He sighed and looked wounded. "My own wife thinks I'm appalling –"

"No, I think your seduction routine is appalling. You are very appealing, as long as you stop pinching my bum and cease with the corny pick-up lines," she scolded. "Besides, if you want to seduce me, all you need to do is loosen your tie, my love."

His fingers immediately went to his throat and began loosening the dark blue silk tie, and she smiled as he took it off and tossed it away completely. "Better?"

"Mmm, yes," she purred. "I love the Harry beneath the tie," she added. "The one that only I get to see. That's the seduction, Sir Harry."

"I notice you haven't asked when I received the knighthood –"

She smirked at him. "Does it matter? I'm entitled to shag a Knight of the Realm," she added in what she hoped passed for a seductive, possessive tone.

"Do you want to?" he asked. "Shag a Knight of the Realm, I mean."

Her smirk turned to a fond smile and she undid the last two buttons on his shirt, baring his chest to her gaze. "You know what? I do believe I would like that – very, very much." She traced a lattice of scars, new to her, with a gentle fingertip, earning a soft noise from him and a shudder for the small effort.

"I'd like that, too –"

She giggled and said, "I suppose I could go find you a knight to shag, then…"

He spluttered, then chuckled. "Touche, my love," Harry said, moving in and kissing her gently. Each kiss grew in intensity, until she was moaning and stroking his skin, practically begging for more.

Between needy, desperate kisses and caresses, they undressed one another piece by piece until all that was left between them was skin. He touched her with such love, such wonder, learning the new curves and marks of a life lived on the sly that stained her body, making her whimper, shudder, come reflexively as his fingers danced over her skin. His tongue and lips moved against her, bringing her to a desperate crescendo of desire, a fever pitch with his name echoing in the night air.

It felt incredibly liberating to let go, to just feel – to let things just happen without fear, without consequences. To be back in his arms. His hands were softer than they had been (more desk work, less time in the field), and they touched her so reverently she wondered if he had taken up religion after all. But the dark short, deliciously naughty profanities as he joined her drove those silly thoughts from her mind altogether – any thoughts at all, really.

She lifted her leg higher, draping it over his hip, pulling him closer as he moved within her. They were close, so close, barely air between them, face to face on their sides, neither wanting anything less intimate than total abandon and surrender. Each kiss, each touch, was more intense than the last, working them into a state of bliss that didn't end when their orgasms did.

Their fingers were tangled together, resting limply against her thigh in the aftermath, their noses and foreheads resting together, their breath hot and full of passion and words that both wouldn't and couldn't be said – because words would never be enough. They never had been. It had always been this between them, this intensity, this need to crawl into each other and never let go.

How could she ever have thought that he would be indifferent when they met again? How could she have believed that his love could have waned? How could she have surmised that their passion wouldn't, couldn't, possibly be as intense as it had been before?

How could she have been so wrong?

He pressed his lips against hers and whispered, "No regrets."

"None," she murmured.

She was home, so long as she was with him.

END PART FIVE