"I couldn't picture myself living there without you."
Harry gave up and shook with sobs. He bent over Ruth's body, kissing her softly, and didn't rise.
...
He wakes with a start, chest heaving, heart racing. For a moment he lies paralyzed, gripping the bedclothes and staring into the darkness. Then he forces himself to turn his head. He lets go of the breath he's been holding. She's there beside him, of course. He waits a minute more for the dream's lingering dread to subside, then he cautiously shifts his body and drapes his arm around hers, letting the rhythm of her breath lull him back to sleep and memory.
...
"Let's leave them be." Calum gently tugged at Erin's elbow. She hesitated.
"Wait." She grabbed Ruth's limp wrist and held her breath. "She's alive!"
Erin shoved the unresisting Harry aside and began to apply pressure to the wound in Ruth's side. "Just hold on, Ruth!"
They heard the whir of the helicopter sooner than they'd dared hope. It landed with expert rapidity close by them, and within less than a minute it had taken off again with Ruth now aboard, tended by two special branch medics.
Harry slowly got to his feet and watched the helicopter until it disappeared. He stood and stared at its absence for many minutes more.
...
A sound woke Harry from his restless half-doze. He lifted his head from his hand. He was slumped in a chair beside the hospital bed where Ruth lay, almost too serene. Slowly, the room into focus: late morning light pushing through the window, the steady beep of Ruth's heart monitor, and the home secretary standing in the doorway.
"How is she, Harry?"
Harry took a moment to rub his face and sigh. "She'll be alright, I think."
"Thank God." The home secretary paused before continuing. "Look, Harry, you know I'd like to give you as much time as you need, but in your business—"
"I'm done with my business. I resign. For good this time."
"I thought you might say that. I understand, of course, and I reluctantly accept your resignation. But there are still things to attend to before you fly the coop. Endings and beginnings involve a great deal of paperwork."
"Of course." Harry rose from his chair and took a step towards the bed. He looked at Ruth's face, lightly touched her hand.
"We'll make sure she's not alone. Don't worry."
...
Harry closed the last file and placed it in the proper stack. He absentmindedly straightened the papers and pens, then breathed a heavy sigh. He stood up and leant his hands on his desk, looking through the window onto the grid. Like ghosts, faces rose in front of his eyes: Danny, Fiona, Adam, Colin, Zaf, Jo, Ros, Lucas. He bowed his head to their memories, which, fleshless, seemed all the more like helpless children he'd failed to protect.
He straightened himself and walked to the door, then stopped again, leaning on its frame. He looked across the room to Ruth's desk—the place where his eyes instinctively rested. How often had he looked up from his work to steal a glance at her, grateful to have her in his sight from where he sat? She'd started to look back, and he almost imagined he could see the path their eyes had carved in space to reach each other.
He turned to take one last look at his office, dark and heavy and red. Then he strode across the grid and exited the pods, down the hallway, across the foyer, and out the front door of Thames House. Each step he took was lighter than the last.
...
Harry drove slowly, both out of caution for her healing body and from a deep sense of peace. Ruth reluctantly pulled her gaze away from his face and looked out at the road.
"It's just here."
Harry parked at the end of a gravel path. He helped Ruth out of the car, and they walked together down the path to a small cottage: tucked away, white with a peeling green door and overgrown with vines. They stood together looking at the house.
"Will it do, do you think?" Ruth looked up at him with only a hint of genuine uncertainty in her eyes. He leaned down and kissed her softly. Then, hand-in-hand, they stepped forward into their new life.