A/N: Hi. Hope everyone had a great Christmas, etc. This is the sequel to "Time of the Season", so it helps if you've read that. I own nothing – all credit to Kudos. Please read and review, whether you like it or not. Constructive criticism is always welcomed with open arms. Enjoy!

The night train is virtually empty, and they have a compartment to themselves. Ruth is exhausted and quickly falls asleep on Harry's shoulder, but he stays awake, watching his wife's face as she sleeps. Harry thanks whatever gods are listening, as he does at least ten times a day now, that she chose him. He isn't at all sure what he's done to deserve it. He's messed up one marriage and one family already, and Harry is determined not to do it again. "I won't let you down," he promises Ruth in a whisper.

"Hmm?" she asks blearily, waking up a little. Harry winces and shakes his head. "Nothing. Go back to sleep, darling." Eyes still closed, she nestles deeper into his shoulder and falls back to sleep. Harry leans his head back into his seat and closes his eyes too, a slow smile spreading across his features.

The driver is an ex-government chauffeur who has settled in Scotland. He deals with the luggage, while Harry helps a half-asleep Ruth into the car. She smiles up at him when they are settled and murmurs, "Harry, I do love you, you know." Harry returns her smile, surprised at the innocence his usually pragmatic wife has betrayed. "As I love you," he returns immediately. He reaches over and picks up her hand. Ruth gives a sigh of contentment, and Harry catches the driver grinning at him from the rear-view mirror.

The next few days, he hopes, will be ones of relaxation for them both. Ruth has been putting in more hours than ever in the past week – Proving to everyone that nothing's changed, she calls it – and nothing Harry has said to her has made any difference. She's so adamant that they are going to avoid any accusations of favouritism on his part that she hasn't yet noticed the amusement it's causing the rest of the team. She hasn't noticed, either, the joy that they feel for the both of them.

She saw it, obviously – the hug Beth gave her at the wedding, after an engagement of just two days, the vigorous handshakes Harry received from Dimitri and Tariq, while Alec clapped him on the back with a cry of, "About time!" Even Malcolm's beam of gladness as he simultaneously gave Ruth away and played the part of Harry's best man. But Harry doesn't think she entirely understands the impact their marriage has had on the rest of the Grid. Everyone seems so much more cheerful, somehow. People whistle as they finish off files. Harry has caught Beth and Dimitri flirting more than once, and Alec has taken to telling jokes at their morning briefings. Everything is far less tense than it has been for a while, and Harry realises finally how much extra stress their strained relationship caused for everyone else.

The car draws up outside the cottage just as the sun is rising, casting a dusky red glow over the horizon. A Land Rover (courtesy, presumably, of Malcolm) already sits on the drive – theirs for the week. The driver helps Harry to carry in the bags, flashes Ruth a grin, and then drives away. Harry makes towards his wife with a grin of unholy amusement on his face, and reaches around her waist to pick her up. Too late, she realises his intention – she is already in his arms, a little surprised at his strength. "Harry..." she protests softly against his chest.

"What?" he pouts. "It's tradition!" Ruth scowls a little at this – she and Harry are the last couple anyone would suspect of doing anything traditional once, let alone twice – and complains, "You already did this after the wedding, though." She feels rather than hears Harry's answering chuckle. "Ah," he interrupts cheekily, "that wasn't tradition, that was necessity. You were a little the worse – or the better – for the champagne that night, my love. I don't think you would have made it indoors in one piece alone." Ruth blushes, utterly mortified, but utters no more protests. Harry bears her swiftly over the threshold and then sets her on the floor. He grimaces, massaging his back, and sighs, "I'm getting too old for this, Ruth."

His wife laughs, and presses a kiss to his lips. "Well," she whispers seductively as they part, "it's lucky you're not planning on another marriage, then..."