AN: The epilogue... enjoy!

Five years later...

The Pearces' garden is filled with the scent of flowers and the warmth of a late summer evening. Handing a plate of Harry's barbecued chicken wings across the wooden table to Wes, Ruth takes the opportunity to glance around her at the rest of their guests. All the people she loves most in this world – Harry sitting next to her, in a very attractive pale blue shirt, still partially covered by his chef's apron; Catherine and Fabian, arguing playfully over the pros and cons of Catherine's new film; Graham and Rachel, the latter nursing a sizeable baby bump, while the former filches a fourth veggie burger from the dish in front of him; Polly (currently getting over a break-up; Ruth makes a mental note to introduce her to Alec); Malcolm, buried in conversation with Gina, Ruth's editor; 'Grammy' Helen, who appears to be lecturing Tariq on the length of his hair; Alec, joking around with Beth and Dimitri the newly-weds; Wes, surreptitiously feeding scraps from his plate to the Pearces' new Border Collie puppy, Alfie; Hattie and James, Catherine and Fabian's son, squabbling over the last jacket potato at the end of the table.

Suddenly Ruth feels glad that they've hosted this party. After the birthday picnic they'd held last week for Hattie's school friends, she'd almost called the whole thing off. Twenty excitable five year olds had exhausted her enough for one month, thank you very much, but Harry had talked her round, with that indefinable energy he has rediscovered since Hattie's birth five years ago. Her life has changed so much in that time, she realises with another smile. Juggling Hattie with the Catullus translation, returning to university to do a research doctorate, moving on to academic research and getting papers published, with Harry there through it all, enjoying family life and retirement, and watching their child grow. They are an ordinary couple, more ordinary than she could ever have imagined. The simplest things – like doing the shopping on a Sunday morning, or volunteering with the Parent/Teacher Association at Hattie's school – give her an inordinate amount of pleasure. She would feel stupid, but she knows that Harry feels just the same way about baking cakes with Hattie, and collecting eggs from the four chickens they've recently adopted from a local farmer. She glances over at him, and he returns her gaze, lifting her hand quietly to kiss it, snatching a private moment out of the chaos of organising and hosting this evening's festivities.

Once everyone has eaten enough food to sink a sizeable battleship, and they have sung 'Happy Birthday' to Hattie around a sizeable homemade chocolate cake, they leave the table to lounge on blankets on the grass, or on garden benches. Hattie and James are playing tag with Graham and Wes, while Alfie dances around their legs, yapping excitedly. Helen has brought out her knitting, determined to finish a jumper for Hattie before it gets cold enough for her to wear it, and keeping up a passable conversation with Harry at the same time. He watches as his wife leads Polly over to Alec, who hastily disposes of his can of lager to flirt, and rolls his eyes. My wife, the hopeless romantic. My wife. As Ruth leaves Polly and Alec getting on very well, obviously heading his way, he is disappointed to see her waylaid by Gina.

Shaking her red curls over her shoulders, Gina takes Ruth's arm and leads her aside. "Your friend Malcolm..." she begins awkwardly and then stops. Ruth frowns, somewhat bemused, and unsure where this conversation is heading. Gina takes a breath and giggles. "I don't know why I'm so nervous... I just wanted to ask if... look, have you got his number?" Relieved, Ruth beams up at her slightly taller friend.

"You like him? Malcolm?" she clarifies, and is undeniably happy when Gina nods. She knows from Harry that Malcolm hasn't had a long-term girlfriend since his fiancé, Sarah, abandoned him on their wedding day twenty years ago, and Gina, with her bubbly personality, brains and kind heart would be very good for her friend. Ruth smiles and then nods. "I think Malcolm would give you his number himself, if you asked him." Gina bites her lip and casts a quick glance over her shoulder, to where Malcolm is busy congratulating Graham and Rachel on the latter's pregnancy. "Are you sure?" she whispers.

Ruth, with all the confidence of a happily married woman, turns her around and pushes her lightly in Malcolm's direction. "I am absolutely positive," she reassures her. A self-satisfied grin dances in her eyes as she watches the redhead stumble into conversation again with Malcolm, and is delighted when he blushes crimson with ecstasy and fumbles in his pocket for his mobile phone. She will be further rewarded later, when Malcolm will pull her into a tight hug and triumphantly murmur the name of a restaurant and a day sometime next week. But for now, she weaves through her family and settles herself on a blanket, spreading the skirts of her red A-line dress around her, lying back and closing her eyes. A moment later, Hattie collapses next to her, utterly out of breath and giggling uncontrollably. Her hair has half come out of the ponytail it was firmly put in five hours ago, so Ruth releases it from the hairband and gently finger combs it while her daughter gets her breath back, and stifles several yawns.

"It'll be up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire with you in a while, my girl," Ruth warns with a smile, as Hattie vigorously shakes her head. "James hasn't gone to bed," she points out, with a keen sense of justice, "And he's months younger than I am!" Ruth raises her eyebrows and wraps her arms around her daughter from behind, pulling her onto her lap, wishing that they could stay this way forever.

"Alright," a voice concedes gently from above them, as a shadow falls across them. "You can stay up for half an hour more, and then you really are going to bed, Hattie." Ruth looks up, and Harry sits down next to them, taking Hattie on to his own lap. "How long is half an hour?" Hattie asks plaintively. Harry sighs and removes his watch. "When the little hand gets from here... to here... that's half an hour," he explains and then hands the watch to Hattie for her to see for herself. They are slowly teaching her to tell the time, with a combination of explanations like this one and offhand queries as to the time at odd hours of the day – Ruth has even taken to 'forgetting' her watch just so she can do it - determined that Hattie will have a head start on this part of her education, just as she has with reading, writing and counting.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spies Wes, hovering, jacket slung over one shoulder, obviously waiting to say goodbye. She gets up and goes over. "Thanks for inviting me, Aunt Ruth," he grins, a tall young man of eighteen, the image of Adam. She hugs him and kisses his cheek quickly. "Not at all, Wes. And you're still coming for dinner on Thursday?" It has become a regular occurrence for Wes to eat with them occasionally during the week, especially now Ruth is developing the irrational fear that when he starts university, at her alma mater no less, next month, he will starve to death. He nods eagerly, and then asks conspiratorially, "Can I bring... a friend?"

Ruth smiles slyly. "This friend wouldn't happen to be a young lady called Louisa, would it?" she inquires nonchalantly. Wes' mouth drops open and he gapes like a fish until Ruth gently pinches his top and bottom lips together again. "How did you know?" he gasps. She pats his shoulder comfortingly. "I heard you on the phone to her earlier," she confesses. "While I was trying to find someone to help lay the table. Do you like her very much, Wes?"

Her adopted nephew blushes slightly and nods. "She was in my form at school... and she's going to Oxford, too, to do a Classics degree, like you."

Ruth beams. "Well, in that case, she's very welcome, Wes. I'll tell your uncle to cook enough for five." Impulsively, Wes launches himself forwards again and gives Ruth a rib-cracking hug. He's far taller than she is now, but still so much of a child in so many ways... "Thanks Aunt Ruth," he murmurs fervently. When they part, Ruth is brushing at her eyes.

"Nonsense," she replies briskly. "Drive safely and give me a call when you get home, Wes."

Finally, Ruth manages to relax. She returns to the blanket and closes her eyes, allowing the chatter of her guests and the giggles of the children to lull her into a light doze. She feels Harry's weight settle next to her and stifles a smile, determined to ignore his presence. Gently, he tears off a blade of grass, and brushes it across Ruth's cheek, tickling her. She bats his hand away and he leans over to kiss her. "Dance with me," he invites. Ruth's eyes open and her face forms into an expression that Beth always denotes, "the look."

"There's no music..." she begins to explain patiently, but Harry raises a finger for quiet. From somewhere, the first strains of "Have I Told You Lately...?" can be heard and her eyes widen. "Harry Pearce, how – " He covers her mouth with his hand and pulls her, unprotesting, to her feet. "It's all about the timing, Ruth," he informs her as he swings her into his arms.

She chokes on a laugh, and mutters into his shoulder, "Never used to be your strong point." He tuts impatiently and his arms tighten around her. "It's one of the many changes for the better I've been lucky enough to experience..." he winks suavely, whirling them round. Ruth catches a glimpse of Dimitri pulling Beth up from their blanket, as Malcolm softly offers his hand to Gina. "You old – " she begins, and Harry interrupts.

"Romantic?"

"Rogue. Charmer. Sod," she retorts, voice thick with suppressed amusement. Harry's arms tighten around her as he kisses the top of her head. "Thank you, Ruth," he grins dryly. "As always, your eloquence is impeccable..." She laughs softly against his shoulder. Then she looks up seriously into his eyes. "Thank you."

Harry looks momentarily, endearingly, baffled. "Whatever for, sweetheart?" he inquires, negotiating them through the other couples that are now dancing with them. Ruth's eyes blur with tears of happiness. "Everything," she answers, voice breaking. "I do love you, you know." Harry's thumb, unsurprisingly gentle, brushes her eyes dry and kisses her again.

"I think it might have come up, once or twice." Settling her head against Harry's shoulder, Ruth closes her eyes and relaxes into his arms, feeling that the whole of her life, the whole of her world, is centred here and now, on this dance, on this night, in the arms of this man, whom it took her so long to find.

By the time Hattie's half an hour has elapsed, she is in Harry's arms, four-fifths asleep, as they bid goodnight to those who aren't staying – Beth and Dimitri, Tariq, Graham and Rachel, Polly and Alec (who look set to be seeing much more of each other in the imminent future), and Malcolm and Gina. Somehow, Malcolm's hand has found the small of Gina's back, and he confides quietly to Harry that he is giving her a lift home. Catherine and Fabian are busy putting James to bed in one of the spare rooms, while Helen is probably already asleep, having said goodnight to everyone a while ago.

Upstairs, having ensured that their daughter is fast asleep and unlikely to wake for several hours, Harry catches Ruth around the waist from behind. She squeaks softly in surprise, but the noise is drowned out by Harry's voice, deep and low and intense with passion. "It's true, you know. The song. Fill my heart with gladness, take away my sadness – " They are both singing, quietly so as not to wake the children, and then Ruth releases herself from his arms and turns around to face him. "You ease my troubles that's what you do..." Standing on tiptoes, she kisses his forehead. "I love you."

He catches up her hand. "I love you too," he tells her fiercely. "Never let stop telling me, Ruth. Remind me every day, if you have to. Even when I'm ancient, and senile, and can't tie my own shoelaces. Even when Hattie's grown up and has her own children, and we're grumbling about the state of kids today – " Ruth's snort interrupts him momentarily.

"You do that anyway!" she protests.

"Promise me, Ruth..." he insists, running his fingers down her jawline, tracing the shape of her face.

"I promise."

There is a moment of silence. Then Ruth, trembling with curiosity, asks, "What about you? Are you happy, Harry? Do... do I make you happy?" Her hesitancy is enough to make him draw her into his arms again. "Oh, my darling... my dear, dear darling. I adore you. I love your mind, your soul, and your body. Completely, utterly, irrevocably, till death do us part and after."

And so Ruth holds onto Harry, and Harry onto Ruth, melded together, souls intertwined, looking down upon their daughter. Their future.

AN: And that really is the end! Thanks to everyone who has read or reviewed this story – you have made this whole process so enjoyable. I do have another idea for continuing this storyline, but it won't get written for a while, since I have another, more pressing storyline to write – I'm planning a Spooks fic set in the Regency period, with an eventual H/R pairing.