It was still dark when Ruth awoke. She was comfortable, warmed by Harry sleeping deeply beside her. Her brain foggy from sleep, it took a few moments of concentration before she recalled that it was Christmas morning. She reflected fondly on the night before…decorating the tree, getting Harry to open up about the Graham situation, and all that followed. She had made a good choice when she bought that red lingerie…

No longer sleepy, she was debating with herself whether or not to go downstairs and make some coffee or lay in a bit longer when her bed companion's nightmare started. The rhythm of Harry's breathing changed, and suddenly it was if he were running. He started to tremble, and he was mumbling. She pulled him to her, caressing his face and whispering soothing sounds into his ear. It was over almost as soon as it had begun. She kissed him lightly on the temple, and he slept on.

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Breakfast was coffee and muffins in front of the tree. Harry hadn't been this contented on Christmas since he was a child. Ruth was in some woolen socks and an old dressing gown, and he thought her radiant.

"Would you like your Christmas present now?" he asked her.

"Yes, please." Harry had refused so much as a glimmer of a hint as to what he got her, so she was naturally very curious. He padded into his study, and came back with a small parcel, wrapped in green paper. He gave her a soft kiss as he handed her the gift, and watched intently as she opened it.

"Oh, Harry…"

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." She turned the pages of the small volume of love poetry reverently.

"I thought it would be a little more articulate than I could be."

Her eyes glistened, and she laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You found this at _? I very nearly bought this for you, and I was very cross when I went back to buy it and found out it was gone."

She kissed him.

"Thank you." She pulled out an envelope that was stashed behind the tree. Her previous smugness was gone; suddenly she was worried he wouldn't like her gift. She

needn't have worried, though. He was awestruck as he pulled out the tickets.

"Paris."

"It's not the Grand Tour, but it's something," she was apologetic.

"It's wonderful, Ruth. But what about New York?"

"We'll get there, eventually. Maybe for the honeymoon?"

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"Let go take a walk."

"Harry, have you forgotten that Catherine and Stephen are coming for dinner?"

"We still have time."

"Coming from someone who's not cooking!"

"You have turned down my offers to help. I promise we will be back in plenty of time, and I will help you in whatever way you need." He held up her coat, and she couldn't resist the pleading look on his face.

They were walking hand in hand, in silence. The air was crisp, and the ground was covered with a thin rime of snow. There were times in the past that he would've been unnerved by the quiet but with Ruth, he didn't feel the need to always have to fill in the space with witty comments or insightful remarks. They could be in their own thoughts, but still together.

"What was your nightmare about this morning?" Her voice cut through the chilly air.

"I don't remember. It's just an impression, really. Blind panic, mostly. Probably because I couldn't get to you." She looked at him quizzically.

"That's usually what it boils down to," he continued. "I either can't find you, or save you, or have let you down somehow…"

She snuggled closer to him and thought herself very lucky.

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Much later that evening, and they were both curled up on the couch, surveying the aftermath of Christmas. Bits of wrapping paper and empty wine glasses were Dinner had been a success; Catherine and Stephen had stayed much later than they had originally planned. Harry was certain that he would hear about that later from Jane. Graham had showed up on the doorstep, shy and tentative, but his sister's presence made things a little less awkward than they might have ordinarily been. Ruth was pleased that he actually came. She spent the afternoon watching him and Harry interact. It was tense at times, but Harry gave his son a big hug when he left. Both Pearce men were stubborn, and it would take some time, but Ruth was optimistic that the future for them would be better than the past had been.

Ruth moved to start cleaning up, but Harry held her fast to him.

"Don't…stay here awhile. You've done enough today." He kissed her hair.

They both contemplated the tree. Ruth took up her present from Catherine. It was a photograph of her and Harry that Catherine had taken one day when they were out on the Heath. It had been a bright day, and Catherine had one of her cameras with her to take some landscape shots. She had managed to catch the both of them in perfect contentment; someone had said something funny, and both were smiling with their eyes.

"Do you want to have children, Ruth?"

She was taken aback.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Well, it's been known to happen…" he smiled devilishly.

"I also know you miss Nico, and I saw your reaction to the kids' ornaments. I want you to be happy, Ruth, and if a child or children will do it, then I'll do whatever I can."

"I know it's old fashioned, but I think we need to be married first, Harry."

"Well, I'm ready when you are."

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!