Inspired by the song 'White Blank Page' by Mumford and Son - the lyrics are theirs and the song most definitely worth listening to. Set around early S9 when things H/R are most uneasy.

He had turned away from her, asking only for her to see the man he was. But in his heart he knew she would not, could not. Somehow she had become blinded to him. A thousand times she could have seen him for who he was.

But no longer.

He walked away in vain. The weight of the world on his shoulders.

Now he did not hurry into work, eager to see her, to catch a smile, to feel that shiver that ran through him as he caught her looking at him.

Those days were gone. Now she avoided him, moved away from him, questioned him, blamed him, judged him, refused him.

xx

He stepped into his house, turned on some music and reached for the scotch, pouring a beyond large measure into an oft used glass that he no longer felt the need to wash.

Two hours later he was still there. The bottle was empty and the same piece of music was still playing.

xx

Ruth found the envelope in her desk drawer.

It was unmarked but sealed.

She opened it.

Out fell a USB stick accompanied by a single white piece of paper. On it was the most familiar of writing.

The answer to Question One: Yes, I could.

The answer to Question Two: Yes, I could.

The answer to Question Three: No, sadly, regretfully, no… far from it.

As for Question Four, Ruth … that is for you to answer.

She glanced towards his office instinctively, knowing already that he was not there. Tempted to look at the stick, she instead slid it into her bag. The grid was not the place for this. Working together had been difficult enough lately without whatever digital riddles lay waiting for her to read, whatever game he was playing.

xx

She stepped into her house, poured a large measure of wine into a clean, shiny glass and opened her laptop.

The contents of the USB stick were minimal, singular in fact. One file. One single MP3 file.

Balanced finely somewhere between apprehension, intrigue and unwillingness she loaded it and pressed play.

A song.

Something as simple as a song.

She held the piece of paper in her hands as a guitar sounded.

Thirteen seconds later the lyrics began and posed the first question – the question to which his answer was "Yes, I could."

Can you lie next to her and give her your heart… your heart, as well as your body?

His answer was the same for Question 2.

Can you lie next to her and confess your love… your love, as well as your folly?

Question 3.

And can you kneel before the King and say I'm clean… I'm clean?

She knew he was hardly that, never that. And he knew it more than all.

But then came Question Four. The all important Question Four.

Tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?

Oh, tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?

Now he had her attention. Now she listened.

A white blank page and a swelling rage.

You did not think, when you sent me to the brink…to the brink.

You desired my attention but denied my affections…my affections.

So tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?

And following the question came the plea.

Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life.

Oh, lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life.

She reached the end of the song and she pressed play. She pressed play over and over again. And again. And over again.

Until she knew the words by heart, the questions by heart, the tone by heart and the rebuke by heart.

But she still didn't know the answer to Question Four.