Used to being the one standing alone at a New Year's Eve party, it is a pleasant surprise when Ruth walks over to him, carrying two glasses of champagne. Tonight, she is positively glowing in a dark blue silk dress, cut to accentuate all her most attractive features. She kisses his lips gently when she reaches him and his hands automatically settle on her waist. "Mmm..." he mumbles softly, closing his eyes. She draws back and he opens his eyes to find her looking seriously up at him. "Harry?" Her voice is light, but he can tell that something's troubling her.

"Yes, Ruth?" he replies patiently, knowing that when she's in a mood like this, it's best just to play along. She is leaning against the roof balcony (Beth insisted on getting together at the Grid for New Year's Eve), dark hair hanging elegantly over one shoulder, and there's a slight frown playing between her eyebrows. "Why didn't you come straight away? When you got the note? I waited, and waited, and then the concierge threw me out-" Her voice is growing more high-pitched by the second, and Harry can tell that it's something she's been thinking about for a while. He shuffles his feet slightly and then admits sheepishly, "I got distracted by the club letterhead and I didn't notice it was your handwriting until a few minutes later. I never thought you'd come dashing all the way up to London to thank me for your present."

Ruth purses his lips. "Not just to say thank you, Harry," she reproves him, blushing slightly. He grins cheekily. "No – although you've certainly done that." Dodging the swipe she aims at his arm, he continues quickly, "And anyway, I was dining with the Home Secretary; his company is hardly conducive to fast thinking." He pauses for a moment, and then asks, somewhat anxiously, "Am I forgiven?"

Ruth pretends to think and then her face breaks out into a smile. "Always," she promises quietly. "Always."

Back on the Grid, the countdown begins – Tariq's somehow managed to hook his laptop up to one of the BBC satellite transmitters and they're all crowded round his desk. Harry wraps an arm around Ruth's shoulders and she rests her head against the lapel of his dinner jacket, breathing in the scent of his aftershave with quiet delight.

"Ten!"

"Ruth?" he whispers. She turns her face up to his, a quizzical look in her eyes. Beth is holding hands with Dmitri, and Alec is still downing what seems to be his tenth lager. Tariq is fiddling with some sort of dial, trying to improve the sound.

"Nine!"

"What?" she asks. Now is the time for him to reveal his other surprise – arranged with the help of Tariq's hacking skills and several surreptitious phone calls at odd hours to Malcolm.

"Eight!"

"I've been thinking – have you got any plans next week?" Ruth frowns. "Plans?"

"Of the holiday variety," he elaborates quietly.

"Seven!"

"Oh, Harry – we agreed we wouldn't have time for a honeymoon. After all, everything's happened so quickly, and we'd never get the leave..." She turns back to the computer screen.

"Six!"

"Actually," he interrupts her firmly. "We have. The DG signed the paperwork himself." He crosses his fingers in his pocket, hoping she never has an opportunity to ask him about it. The calling in of that little favour would not, he knows, earn him much approval. She turns to him, eyes shining. "Really? How-?"

"Five!"

He shakes his head smilingly. "There's a car waiting to pick us up right after the party. We're booked onto a late train to Edinburgh, and from there, there's a car to a little cottage in the country where there's a car passing by about once every two days. Peaceful, remote – I think you'll like it..."

"Four!"

She slips her hand into his and he kisses it softly. "At such short notice, it must have been so expensive..." she frets, that anxious frown appearing again. He nods. "It would have been –"

"Three!"

"- had it not been for the fact that Malcolm owns it. There are certain advantages to being good friends with multi-millionaires..." Ruth raises her eyebrows. "Have you two been plotting? I only spoke to him yesterday – I wondered why he sounded so vague when I suggested he should come over for dinner next week!"

"So you're free?" Harry persists.

"Two!"

"I'll have to check my diary," she tells him in a mock-serious tone. "And then, I'd have to speak to my husband – he's very protective, and I don't think he'd appreciate me running off to Scotland a week after our wedding..."

Harry laughs softly. "Oh, Ruth..."

"One!"

His lips descend on hers as cheers erupt from the rest of the team. On screen, fireworks explode over London. Ruth's eyes are closed and her expression can only be described as blissful. He brushes the gold wedding band that rests on her finger and breaks their kiss. She smiles up at him, opening her gloriously blue eyes. "Happy New Year, Lady Pearce," he growls.

Fin.

A/N: And that really is the end. A final big thank you to everyone who read this fic (whether you reviewed or not) and a Merry Christmas. And if you're wondering about Malcolm and his cash, it was one of my favourites parts of the Personnel Files and I just had to include it! I have an idea for a sequel, possibly involving the honeymoon... Thoughts? Stuff you'd like to see?