A/N: A bit later than usual, but here it is - a short epilogue for this fic. I'd like to take the opportunity to thank you all for reading and especially reviewing. You have no idea how encouraging and wonderful a feeling it is to receive even just a positive, two-word sentence in a review for us fanfic writers! Bless you all who've made the effort to let me know you've enjoyed my writing. See you for the next one. S.C. x

Monday, 3rd January 2005 – The Grid

"Morning," he says as he crosses the room to take a seat at the head of the table. "Adam. Sam."

"Morning, Harry," Sam greets cheerfully. "Welcome back."

"Thank you. Everything under control?" This he directs at Adam who nods and grins at him.

"Just dandy, Harry. How was the break?"

"Good. Relaxing." He takes a seat and clasps his hands together on top of the table. He's not kidding. He really does feel relaxed, so much so, that he is actually smiling.

"I'll bet," says Sam, clearly without thinking, the innuendo in her tone of voice all too obvious.

Adam looks at her incredulously, his lips twitching with amusement as Harry tilts his head at her and gives her his best quelling stare. He watches with satisfaction as she mutters, "God, sorry," and drops her gaze, her cheeks colouring under his scrutiny, but before he can really enjoy his triumph, the others begin filing into the room and things go downhill from there.

Malcolm, Danny and Zoe enter first and say good morning, the former crossing to his side and offering him his hand with a greeting not unlike Sam's, "Welcome home, Harry."

He rises slightly and shakes the proffered hand, thanking Malcolm, just as Sam exclaims, "Oh my God!" causing everyone's eyes to turn to her in surprise. "You didn't!"

"Who didn't? Didn't what?" Danny asks in confusion.

"Look!" and she points straight at him, or more accurately, he realises, at his left hand.

Shit!

Smoothly, so as not to arouse suspicion, he releases Malcolm's hand and resumes his seat, casually resting his right hand over his left as he purses his lips and looks questioningly at her, his eyes slightly narrowed in warning, but it seems Sam is not about to heed any warnings and, moreover, she's divined his intention, for, ignoring the other's puzzled frowns and Zoe's confused and rather exasperated, "What?!", Sam lunges across the table and grasps his right hand with her left, a startled Adam almost falling off his chair as she throws herself across him.

"Bloody hell, Sam! What the hell?!"

Sam ignores him, saying urgently. "Stop him! Malcolm, help! Grab his other hand."

Malcolm looks just as confused and stunned as the rest of them, and if the stakes were not so high, he might have found the situation really quite funny. Trust Sam to be the one to spot it. What the hell does he pay the others for?!

He narrows his eyes at Sam, his face like thunder as he looks down at her – sprawled as she is across the table – and says in his lowest, most menacing voice, "Samantha Buxton, unhand me this instant."

She squeaks and releases his hand almost by reflex, muttering, "Sorry," as she pulls back, the rest of the team's eyes following her in shocked confusion and giving him plenty of opportunity to lower his hands below the table, remove the offending item, and slip it into his pocket.

And perhaps, it would have ended right there had not Ruth chosen that exact moment to walk into the room, saying breathlessly, "I'm late. I know. I'm sorry. What did I miss?"

Bugger!

"Oh, er..." Zoe responds, still looking rather shocked. "Hi, Ruth. We... er... You've not missed much. We haven't really-"

"I knew it!" Sam exclaims, springing to her feet and crossing the room so fast, no one has the time to stop her. "I bloody knew it!"

"What the-" Ruth has no time to finish her sentence – as she leans away from Sam who seems intent on invading her personal space – before she grabs her left forearm with such force as to knock the notepad and couple of folders she's holding out of her arms. "Sam!" she protests, eyes on the mess on the floor, not realising what Sam's up to until she feels her lifting her hand up for all to see.

"See?!" Sam exclaims in triumph. "And Harry's got one too! You sly things. You got married, didn't you?"

She freezes and slowly lifts her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush as her eyes dart from one face to another, the triumph in Sam's gaze and shock on each one of the others' faces doing nothing to ease her sudden anxiety until her gaze meets Harry's. He's looking at her apologetically, but with eyes full of love, and it's only vaguely that she registers the exclamations of surprise, the indignation of the others, their demands to know if it's true, and Sam berating herself for not noticing that the ring she's been wearing all this time was on her left ring finger.

She smiles at him, gaze softening as she recalls all the wonderful things that have happened between them over the last ten days – their quiet, registry office wedding with Catherine, her mum and David in attendance, their romantic, cosy, five-day honeymoon in the Lake District and their trip to Paris for New Year's, the joy of coming home together to Scarlet and Fidget, of feeling so close, so peaceful, so loved. The funny thing is that, just two days ago, she'd reminded him not to forget to take his ring off when they returned to the Grid and he'd assured her that he wouldn't, which would explain the slightly sheepish look he has on his face now.

Christ, but she loves him. And really, what does it matter if the whole world knows about it? Let them know, let them laugh, let them comment. Harry Pearce is hers now. Her partner, her friend, her lover, her husband. It feels so right. It is right that they're together and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, feels, or says about it.

She smiles at him, softly at first, then more broadly, her fondness for him and love overflowing in her gaze, and then she nods to give him her permission, watching him smile in return and reach into his pocket, returning his wedding ring to his finger before he stands and clears his throat and everyone turns to face him. "I don't know what the hell we pay you for! Call yourselves spies. It is, of course, true. Ruth and I are married. Well done, Sam. Now pick up that mess you've made of Ruth's papers and hand them back to her. The rest of you, take a seat and let's get started. We haven't got all day."

"But, Harry-" Sam protests, but for once, she seems to read the warning in his gaze and choose to heed it. She drops her gaze and turns to her, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Ruth," and giving her a hug, then whispering in her ear with glee, "I'm so happy for you. Congratulations. I want all the details later."

Of course you do.

She laughs and pulls out of Sam's arms, only to have Zoe embrace her and murmur pretty much the same thing, but then the two of them combined can't seem to resist starting the interrogation early as they pull her down, ostensibly to help Sam collect the papers, but really to pepper her with whispered questions about the wedding and the honeymoon, until Harry sighs rather loudly in defeat.

"Sit. All of you," he barks and waits as they scramble to do as he asks at the dangerous tone his voice has taken on. "Alright. To save us the trouble of repeating ourselves ad infinitum and everyone ending up with a different story anyway, here is what you need to know. Ruth and I were married on Christmas Eve in London. No, it was not a church wedding, Sam, and there were very few people there, Zoe, which is why none of you were invited. It was just us and enough family to act as witnesses – with one spare, just in case." Adam chuckles and several of the others smile at that. "Then we spent a little under a week in the Lake District and a few days in Paris for New Year's before returning home."

"Awww... How romantic!" Sam interrupts, looking a little dreamy.

Harry purses his lips, probably to hide the smile that she can see dancing in his eyes. Romantic doesn't even begin to describe how truly wonderful it had been and they both know it. He catches her eye, but quickly looks away again, saying in a tone of voice designed to discourage further conversation on the topic. "So. Everyone satisfied with that for now? Are there any more questions? Or can we finally get back to some work?"

Adam grins. "Summed up very nicely for us, Harry. Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you, Adam," Harry replies, shaking his hand. "Assuming all remains quiet here, drinks at the George tonight are on me."

The others all cheer at that, calling out their appreciation, congratulations and best wishes, until Harry directs their attention back to work and Adam begins the briefing, and she finds that, in spite of the fact that their quiet evening at home tonight has been ruined now, she's actually quite looking forward to going to the George with everyone, especially as Harry will be there too and she'll be free to actually sit with him and hold his hand, unlike any other time they've been there together.

Their wedding had happened rather quicker than she'd anticipated, but she can see now the value in that, the freedom it gives them at work together. The gossip will die down much faster, she's sure, as will the nasty comments. They'll continue to work well together, side by side, and soon there will be nothing to talk about and it'll all be forgotten. All that will remain will be a couple who make a formidable team, both on and off the court, so to speak, and all the triumphs – and failures, though she rather hopes there won't be many of those – they achieve together.

She smiles at the thought and lifts her gaze to Harry, who's watching her, his eyes silently asking if she's alright, her answering smile telling him all is wonderful. His lips lift infinitesimally in acknowledgement before he returns his eyes to Adam, and she drops her gaze to his hands, where his platinum-gold ring shines on his left finger, her heart filling with joy and love, a smile tugging at her lips, the impulse to get up, cross the room and kiss him strong, but quickly checked, as she too returns her gaze to Adam. There will be time enough for kisses later. There will be time for so much more than that. Every day, every night, every month, every year in the future. Every triumph and celebration. Every birthday, anniversary, Christmas, and New Year. He's promised to take her to New York next year. He's shared his dream of the Grand Tour. There is just so much to look forward to and she loves that. She needs that, if she's honest, to continue at this job, to get through the heartache that it brings, the losses, the pain, the fear and grief that goes with the territory. She doesn't see how she could survive without it. The day she loses Harry, she suspects, will be the day she leaves MI-5 behind forever.

But that's a worry for another day, a long way in the future, she hopes. Today is a day of celebration and joy and love and enjoying the moment with their colleagues and friends tonight, and with each other and Scarlet and Fidget later.