Here's to Us

Slowly she slips the headphones from her ears and stands.

Fingers brushing the keyboard, she locks it; her eyes slowly wandering around the Grid, taking in the light glowing behind the half closed blinds, and notes they're the only two left.

Typical.

Words from the recording still fresh in her mind, she gathers her courage and crosses to the red room. It's been a week.

Since they buried Ros.

Since he proposed.

Since she turned him down.

And said they could not be more than they already were.

The rocky ground they had been standing on since her return crumbling. The walls he worked so hard to try and protect himself, reemerging even thicker than before.

He was closed off from her completely, his mournful gaze intermixed with hurt and anger when it happened upon her; their only interaction about work.

Even nights like this, when they remained the only two in their realm, he locked her out. The blinds that used to be wide now almost closed, the door to his inner sanctuary firmly shut.

It left her filled with regret.

Tentatively, she stops outside his private space, her hand pausing on the handle as she wonders if she is still allowed the privilege of walking in when the mood strikes. "You said you were happy with the status quo, why change anything now?" Too true a thought has her preparing to slide the door open. "But he's not. " The voice that quips back has her pausing, unsure what to do.

The decision is removed when the door is suddenly yanked from her hand and she finds herself meeting weary hazel eyes.

"What is it?" He asks, eyes heavy as he turns back to his desk, his voice laced with resignation.

It's as his back is to her that she takes in the tumbler of amber liquid held loosely from his left hand; the rumpled lines creasing his tailored jacket; that she feels the strings of her heart pull.

"We could just go home."

He stops mid step, the fingers of his hand tightening around glass, shoulders tensing as he takes in her words.

"Or have one more drink." she rushes out, hands twisting together in front of her.

The tension loosens; slightly but it loosens; and he finishes the walk to his desk. Setting down the crystal, he reaches to the credenza, pulling another tumbler free. Turning to his desk, he reaches for the bottle. It's now that she can see he has removed his tie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers to hang loose.

It's the most relaxed she has ever seen him.

Except for that night long ago in a hall with no one and yet watched by many.

Legs moving, she crosses to stand across the expansive wood, her eyes on his hands as he pours a finger of whisky into the glass. They're steady and strong; not betraying the tension and confliction of other emotions his eyes have shown her; as he pushes the glass towards her. Lifting it, she raises it to him briefly before closing her eyes and downing it.

Shuddering, she feels the liquid fire moving through her chest coming to rest in her gut. Eyes watering, she opens them and holds the glass out to him. Feeling his gaze burning her face, she lifts her eyes to his, sees the emotion and the question behind them, before he bottles them again.

And realizes how wrong she had been.

Breathing deeply, she watches as he uncorks the decanter and pours another finger width.

This single existence they share in a building of ice and lies is not all she wants for them; not all she had dreamed of. But fear and guilt; of missed chances and lost lives; have held her down for too long.

He's corking the malt again when the realization dawns for her that this is the moment.

It's now or never for them.

Exhaling, she lifts her eyes to him, a million and one emotions filtering through her eyes as she tries to convey copious amounts of apology, of want, of need, of love to him.

And she knows he understands; hear's his breath catch at the open honesty she is showing him; sees the physical change overtake him as hope once again flares in his eyes.

"Ask me again," she says softly, eyes never leaving his. "Harry, ask again."