From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading and for your feedback for SINS 2.

Disclaimer: Spooks and its characters, etc., is owned by Kudos.

And now without further ado, the epilogue.

-6 months later-

"No. Not straight. Let me."

"Ok," Harry says in defeat, turning from the mirror to face Graham. Handing his walking stick to his father, he reaches up to straighten the recalcitrant bow tie. After a few attempts, he shakes his head and pulls it loose. "No," he says, "not straight. At all. "

Harry huffs a bit, shifting first one foot then the other. "We're going to be late."

"Stop moving. And we are not. Late."

Harry stills, staring across at his son who painstakingly reties the bow using both hands. And from what Harry can see, is doing more than a credible job. A minute later, Graham gives the tie a final tug. "Perfect," he says, nodding his head in satisfaction.

Harry turns to the mirror, examining his son's efforts.

"See? Straight."

"Yes," he says, turning back to Graham. "It is, indeed. Thank you. I don't usually need help with these things. But for some reason... I..." And he shrugs.

Graham nods, a big smile on his face. "Nervous?"

"No." Harry replies. "Well, maybe. Just a bit." He glances down at his wristwatch, the same one his children had given his so many years ago. "I think we're running late, though. And..."

"Not late, "Graham says firmly. "On time." And when he smiles again, Harry marvels at how symmetrical it is in marked contrast six months ago when Graham was still in a wheelchair, and just beginning rehabilitation for his devastating stroke.

He stares at his son for a long moment before clearing his throat. "Have you heard from your mother?"

Graham nods. "Last night. Good lecture. She says 'good luck.' "

"Ah, yes. Tell her thank you. And I'm so glad that she's doing so well." And he smiles again.

"NED. Still," he adds.

"Yes. No evidence of disease," he says, marvelling as well at Jane's recent medical report. And shakes his head in wonder at it all.

And wonderful it is. Not long after Jane's initial treatment, her cancer had recurred. Although terrifying for his children (and he suspects for Jane who never wavered in her stoicism, at least outwardly), her cancer was subsequently pinpointed, surgically removed and irradiated. Soon after that, she was given the very best news possible for those with her disease: No Evidence of Disease. And in short order, was once again back at work, attending and giving seminars on her passion, education. And though her future is still uncertain, nevertheless, it is considerably brighter than it had been all those bleak months ago. All of which seemed to point to this day. This moment. Another miracle, he thinks. And raising his hand to adjust his bow tie again, he drops it just in time at the look on Graham's face. "Amazing." He simply says, smiling at his son.

"Yes." Graham beams. "A miracle."

Harry nods silently. Jane. Graham. Catherine. Ruth. Today. Miracles. All.

"And something old as well?"

Ruth nods.

"What?"

"Um," she says, thinking of her mind the gap thong. "Underneath." And says nothing more, a faint blush already appearing on her checks.

Wisely, Catherine says nothing despite her smile. When Ruth turns around, the younger woman reaches up, picking a bit of lint from Ruth's hair now swept to one side, baby's breath holding it back.

"You look gorgeous," Catherine says.

"Thank you," Ruth replies, suddenly quite shy. Turning back to the mirror, she gives herself a final once over. Wearing a long flowing ivory dress and scalloped at the bottom, it fits as if it were made expressly for her. Her blue eyes sparkle, matching the colour of her sapphire pendant which rests on her gleaming skin, the sweetheart neckline a perfect cut for it. For the umpteenth time, she reaches up to adjust the flowers in her hair.

"Stop fidgeting, Ruth. You're perfect. Really."

"You sure?" she asks, her hand still poised over her flowers. "Quite sure?"

"Ruth," Catherine says, "my father is a lucky man."

On the brink so many times this morning, she blinks her eyes rapidly.

"Oh, don't cry! You'll mess up your make-up! And we really don't have time for me to apply it again."

Ruth nods, sniffles a bit, then straightens her back. "Thank you." She says simply. "For everything. It means so much having you here. And she stares meaningfully at Catherine. "I'm a lucky woman as well."

Catherine nods, beaming at her. "I'd say we're all lucky. In more ways than one. Wouldn't you?"

Before Ruth can answer, a sharp rap on the door startles both women. "It's time!" someone says from the other side, giving another rap on the door.

"Come on," Catherine says, laughing and gently tugging at Ruth's hand. "No backing out now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she says, firmly. And when she smiles, it's as dazzling as the pendant around her neck.

Less than 10 minutes later, Catherine walks quietly down the winding staircase in the lovely country home, an approved venue for certain civil affairs. The room hushes. All rise from their seats, including a former physical therapist, her short blonde hair newly cut for the occasion.

Harry, waiting in front of the room with his son at his side, smiles at his daughter as she approaches. Joining her father and brother a few moments later, she takes her place next to them. And waits.

The music begins. If possible, the room grows even quieter. Even Scarlet minded by Malcolm in the first row, is on her very best behaviour, a white bow with baby's breath around her neck, courtesy of Catherine.

All look towards the staircase. And in moments, the object of everyone's attention finally appears. Slowly, she descends, one hand on the railing, the music gently accompanying her. Head held high, sapphire gleaming, her eyes lock onto Harry, flanked by his children.

The room appears to grow brighter. Glow.

Mesmerised, he continues to smile at her. And in moments, she is at last standing next to him. "Hello, gorgeous," he whispers, taking her hand. She colours slightly but manages to say, "Not bad yourself, handsome." Harry continues to beam at her.

The music stops. Still holding hands, both turn and face their guests who now settle into their seats. Eyes straight ahead, they wait. And are rewarded a moment later.

"Dearly beloved, friends and family. We are gathered here today for..."

-the end-

(or beginning...)

xo