This takes place in season 9; however, it's what came BEFORE that drives this fic.

Summary: Poor Ruth! She's clearly not herself. Can Harry save her from herself?

Thanks for reading; I welcome ALL reviews.

This chapter has just been reposted as I had technical problems. (Translation: I accidentally deleted this chapter!)

**Disclaimer** Of course, these characters belong to Kudos, not me. (AH...but if they did….. :-)

Part I: Expiation

Harry glances at the small clock on his desk. Round, brass, with Roman numerals, it is a gift from Catherine as a young girl. But this time as he gazes at it, his thoughts are not on his daughter, nor how his relationship with her—although better now than in the past—could improve even more. Instead, his thoughts are on Ruth.

It's 7:59, yet she is not at her desk.

His stomach clenches even as he sternly reminds himself that technically she is not late; her day begins at 8:00. But Ruth is rarely late; if anything, she is early. By this time, in fact, she is usually at her desk, sipping her tea, opening her email, headset on, and smiling at her colleagues. Most importantly, she'll soon glance his way, and if he's lucky, they'll catch one another's eye. And when they do, she rewards him with her gentle smile.

That's the way it's supposed to be, thinks Harry. If all's right with his world- that's how it's supposed to be.

But not today.

Today, none of that is going on. He sighs, and glances at the small cabinet in the corner of his office wondering if it's too early for a drink. He forces himself to look away, reminding himself that there' a myriad of perfectly legitimate reasons why Ruth is still not in: the tube, the bus, the weather…

Except…the last time she was "late"—or rather did not show up at all those years ago, she was tied to her banister-while he simply thought that she was ill…and look what almost….his phone rings, and he swivels to pick it up, turning his back to the glass and his view to her desk.

"Hello? He barks into the phone. The person on the other end hesitates before speaking. It's not her, he thinks, when she does speak. He's not sure if this is a good thing—or not.

"Yes, yes, that's fine, he tells the assistant to the Home Secretary. "Today's fine. 13:00." He glances at the lock: 8:05. "That'll be fine," he repeats almost testily, before hanging up. Swiveling back, he checks the glass once more.

His relief is palpable.

Ruth is sitting in her chair, pushing it closer to her desk –in her characteristic way, of course. He smiles and watches as she rocks her body forwards until the wheels obey— moving jerkily along— until bit by bit, she is soon tucked under her desk.

He's still smiling and waits for that exquisite moment when she will pick her head up from her keyboard and see him. Look up, Ruth.

Before she does so, his phone rings again, and this time he answers it quickly and almost warmly.

"Harry Pearce." He listens for a moment, and then picks up a piece of paper from his desk. "Yes, I have it right here… In fact, GCHQ—"

He senses rather than actually hears something amiss. Picking his head up from the paper, he looks through the glass: there's a flurry of activity around Ruth's desk. He cranes his neck better to see, no longer hearing the other end of the phone conversation. His view, though, is partially blocked: Lucas, Beth and Tariq are crowded around her. "Move, dammit. As if they hear him, they part and instantly, he knows that something is wrong.

"I must call you back," he says, hanging up the phone.

He moves with unusual grace for a stocky man; in seconds, he is out of his chair, and mere feet from her.

"What is it?" he asks. Lucas's lean body is crouched down next to Ruth, one hand on her shoulder.

At the sound of Harry's voice, she tries to straighten up. "Keep your head down, Lucas says, gently pushing her head down. "Tariq, he instructs the young man, "Get her some water."

Tariq moves and when he does, Harry can see that Ruth's is all but slumped in her chair, her head hanging down. "What happened?" Harry repeats.

"I'm ok, "she says, weakly, and again tries to pick up her head.

"Just keep it down, Ruth, "Lucas instructs her. "Let the blood flow—"

"—Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

The room gets very quiet.

"She fainted—or almost did," Beth tells Harry.

"—Which is why," Lucas adds, "I want her to keep her head down."

"I feel better now," Ruth says. Despite Lucas's advice, she picks her head up slowly and catches Harry's eye. He manages to keep his face impassive despite the way she looks. Her lovely face is leached of all color; her ice blue eyes the only splash of color there.

"Ruth, "he says softly, all but pushing Lucas out of the way, "What is it?"

"I'm fine, just a little… wobbly. I'll. ..be fine…"

"Can you stand?" He asks, and without waiting for an answer, puts his arm around her and helps her up. "Lucas, let's bring her into my office. "

"Harry…no..I just …" but she doesn't protest further as the two men flank her and practically carry her, maneuvering her into Harry's office.

Gently, Harry sets her down on the small couch there and sits next to her. "Where's that boy?" With the water?" He stares at the doorway.

"Harry. I'm fin…"

"You're not, "he says, then turns back to the doorway. "Tariq!" In seconds, Tariq reappears, holding a water bottle. Harry grabs the water bottle from the young man's outstretched hand. "Here," He says to Ruth, twisting the cap off, "drink."

She obeys, taking little sips.

"Should I call a doctor?" He asks her as she looks up.

"God, no, Harry, I just feel…. I'm just a bit… under the weather…that's all."

He takes her hand, and stares at her while she takes some more sips of water. In the silence, Lucas ushers Tariq out of the doorway, sliding the heavy door behind them.

In seconds, Ruth and Harry are alone.

He turns to her, shifting a bit on the small couch. "You're very pale," he says to her softly, examining her face. "Are you sure you don't want me to call a doctor?" His speaks calmly in a soft voice, but the intensity of his gaze belies his controlled demeanor.

"No..I'll be fine…"

"Have you eaten? Perhaps," he adds hopefully, "You've missed breakfast?"

She shrugs. "Not quite…I had a bit of toast."

"Well, then, , perhaps…"

"I'll be fine," she says. "Really." She sits up straighter. "There's been...entirely too much...fuss already." She makes a move to get up.

" Ruth." He places his hand on her shoulder, effectively staying her. "I think you should go home."

"No…I'm—"

"—Don't say you're fine again, Ruth. You're—"

"—Yes, I know…. Pale. But that's no reason for me to –"

"—And you nearly fainted."

"I'll have something to eat, then…and drink tea. With sugar."'

He sighs. " What am I going to do with you?"

"Do? "

"You know...what I mean," he says, his hand still on her shoulder.

His words hang in the air until she twists a bit from under his touch. This time he doesn't stop her. When she does stand up, he does too, staying close to her.

"Be reasonable, Ruth," he says, as they both head for the door." Let Beth take you home, and—"

"—Beth has to leav—"

"—Yes, I know, but not 'till later. The Chinese Embassy –"

"No. Harry…" She shakes her head. There's no reason for –"

"Ruth."

"I'm FINE." She says, again, reaching for the door.

Both of their hands reach for the door at the same time. Neither say anything for a moment as their hands touch.

"Harry. Let me go."

He only shakes his head, and finally, he slides the door open, watching her as she slips through, her head held high, making her way to her desk. The Grid grows quiet and then, one by one, her colleagues begin to approach her. She waves them off, saying, "I'm fine. Thank you. ..ALL. I …really… appreciate your concern. Truly. But I'm fine. Really." She nods her head for emphasis and flashes them a smile. "Just need a spot of tea." She says, gesturing to the mug on her desk. And then she sits down, picks up her headset, and adjusting them, leans into her computer.

In minutes, the Grid is once again humming with activity.