London, UK - Monday November 1st, 2010 – 7.42 am:
Ruth hesitated before pushing herself through the glass doors which opened on to the Grid, her left shoulder heavy with the weight of her shoulder bag. As she passed the open door to Harry's office she glanced inside, but thankfully the man himself was not in. She quickly headed to her desk, settling herself in her chair and quickly performing her first-thing-in-the-morning rituals – looking around her to see who was already at work (only Tariq, but she suspected he spent his nights on the Grid, as well as his very long days); turning on her computer and monitor, before logging in and then opening the threat assessment report that she had begun on Saturday evening. It can wait until the morning, Ruth, Harry had said, noticing the sagging of her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes.
Ruth quickly glanced through the report and then continued where she'd left off. Armand Shirazi, suspected Iranian patriot and terrorist, had entered Britain on a temporary visa. While some members of MI-6 were nervous, Ruth could see little so far in his actions or associations to justify that response. In the past two years Shirazi had married and his wife had given birth to twin sons. He was a happy man, and had been working regularly in his father's tailoring business in Tehran. According to reports from two MI-6 agents in Tehran, there was much more to fear from the patriots in the city itself. Regardless, Ruth had to finish her report. Harry would require it before his JIC meeting at 10.
She had been so involved, wrapped up in her report that she shut out everything around her, that was until she saw a shadow fall over her desk and a disembodied hand produce a mug of tea, placing it on the one free space on her desk. "I thought you could do with this," the hand's owner said quietly.
Ruth glanced up to see Harry standing beside her desk, a slight smile turning his lips, his own mug of tea in his other hand. It was clearly a sky-blue tie kind of day. Ruth smiled up at him, taking in his charcoal grey suit, white shirt and blue tie. Just lovely. In that moment she internally kicked herself for saying no to him. What had she been thinking? What was the worst thing that could have happened? Not being quite yet ready to contemplate the answer to that question, Ruth pointed to the chair across from her desk, an invitation to him to sit down. She shifted slightly in her chair, her foot dislodging her bag, which she'd tucked under her desk. She heard a thud as the package inside her bag fell to the floor.
"Just a sec'," she said, holding up one finger, and then bending down to retrieve the parcel which had fallen onto the floor. "Sorry," she said, as she sat up and straightened her jacket. "I've almost finished the report," she said quickly, smiling into his eyes. Clearly, Harry was attempting to build a bridge between them, so the very least she could do in return was to meet him half way.
"There's no rush," he replied.
His eyes held hers, and she quickly looked away, shuffling some papers in search of something-or-other. There it was – a pen. She grabbed the pen and held it between her fingers, passing it from one hand to the other. "But I thought you needed it for the JIC meeting."
"No. The main item on the agenda is a macro look at the Middle East situation .. as it affects Britain. Small-time possible trouble-makers will not be addressed."
"I can see no reason why Shirazi should bother us, Harry. He's had no form at all for over two years."
Harry placed his mug on the end of Ruth's desk, sighed and sat back in his chair. "I agree, but we still have to keep him under surveillance."
"I know. In my report I .. recommend a two-man team follow him. He'll only be here for four days. Perhaps Alec ..."
"Alec needs to get outside and get some air, and perhaps Evan Lane can join him. Evan can .."
".. keep Alec on the straight and narrow."
"Exactly," Harry said, grabbing his mug from the end of Ruth's desk and taking a sip.
They shared a comfortable silence. Ruth put down her pen and picked up her mug of tea, turning it around in her hands until the handle was on the far side. She quickly glanced up at Harry to see him watching her closely. "I .. I was going to ask you something," she said, feeling her face redden with the thought of what she was about to ask. She was sure she saw him lean forward just a little bit – a perceptible movement of his body "I .. I was wondering whether you would like to have a drink after work .. if you're not doing anything else .. it being your birthday .."
"Ruth -"
".. but then you're probably busy, because what self-respecting person doesn't have plans for their birthday? I mean -"
"This one."
"- you're someone who plans ahead .. I know you plan your life ahead – as do I - so I imagine that -"
"Ruth!"
"What?"
"Could you please stop talking."
Ruth placed her mug on her desk with a clunk. What did he say? She grabbed a handful of tissues from the tissue box and wiped the top of her desk where her tea had spilled as she'd almost dropped her mug. Were she being honest with herself she'd expected him to quickly stand and head back to his office, mumbling something about having plans for the evening. She hadn't expected that. She'd not expected him to tell her to be quiet. That wasn't at all like Harry. She leaned under her desk to locate the bin, and tossed the tissues in its general direction. When she sat up and again looked Harry's way, he was smiling … at her. Why, when he had every right to think she'd lost her mind?
"Have you finished?" he asked kindly. Ruth nodded, surmising that silence was – for her – a preferred strategy. Before he again spoke Harry scratched the side of his nose with one finger, and looked down. When he again looked her way he was still smiling. For a moment Ruth was mesmerised by his mouth, and how it turned up at the edges as he smiled. And then there were his eyes. Words failed her; even words in thought eluded her when she attempted to describe Harry's eyes. They hypnotised her, rendering her senseless. Remembering that he'd asked her a question, Ruth nodded.
"If I heard you correctly, the question you asked was pertaining to today being my birthday," he began carefully, "and don't ask me how long I've been on the planet, because by anyone's estimation it's a long time," he began carefully. "If, in fact, you asked me to join you for a drink after work, then the answer is a resounding yes."
Well, she hadn't expected that, had she? "Sorry?" she replied.
"I'm accepting your invitation to have a drink with you .. for my birthday .. if that's what you were saying."
"Yes, it was," she whispered. "I'd like that. I've even thought of a venue."
Harry sat back in his chair, his eyebrows drawn together in a half frown. "How about somewhere close by? If we leave straight after my meeting ends, which should be some time between 5 and 6, then we could go somewhere which can serve drinks and dinner." Dinner? Did he think she was made of money? "I'll pay for dinner, Ruth. I don't expect you to pay for anything. Your company will be gift enough."
Your company will be gift enough? Was he taking the piss? "Let me at least buy the first drink," she said, looking down at her hands, which were again encircling her mug of tea, which had cooled down considerably.
Harry stood, his mug of tea in one hand, and with his other he returned the chair to where it had originally been. "Can we sort out the details when we get there?" he asked, still smiling. "I'll meet you after work. Here?" Harry added.
"I thought we might meet at the .. venue," Ruth said. "Do you know The Dog and Duck."
"A pub?"
"It's not like other pubs. It's rather .. nice. Have you been there?"
He turned back to her and this time he'd lifted mouth on one side. "No, Ruth. Contrary to rumour I have not frequented all the pubs in London."
"I'm sure you'll like it."
Harry nodded and smiled one more time before he returned to his office. Ruth watched him walk away from her, hoping she hadn't made a terrible mistake. Her fear of total humiliation was forgotten when she realised she'd not even wished him a happy birthday.
The Dog and Duck was quiet, sedate and unlike its name, rather elegant, unlike The George, which could be raucous and busy at any time of the day and night. Ruth felt conspicuous as she sat alone at a small table by the wall, her eyes on the door. She had been sitting on her glass of white wine for the hour or so since she'd arrived. At 6 she'd texted Harry, and he'd replied saying that the meeting had been in the process of winding up since 5 o'clock, but managers in security were notable for their verbal excesses. It was almost 7.20 when she saw him appear in the doorway from the street, a striking figure in a long black coat, looking around the room until his eyes met hers. His face muscles relaxed and his eyes softened as they held hers. He gave her a small nod before he headed to the bar, then carried a glass of whisky and another large glass of white wine to the table.
"I wanted to buy the first drink," she complained as he sat opposite her, placing the wine in front of her, and his whisky on the coaster closest to him.
"You can buy the next one."
She nodded before downing the dregs if the glass of wine she'd bought when she arrived. She was relieved that she had chosen to pace herself. "Tell me about the meeting."
So Harry launched into a lengthy and amusing description of the JIC meeting, complete with voice impressions of some of the more eccentric JIC members. By the time she was half way through her second glass of wine, Harry had bought the next round, and she felt relaxed and rather mellow. Were their phones to ring with a red flash she'd be tempted to tell them to bugger off because she was enjoying a rare evening out with a rather lovely man.
"It must be about dinner time," Harry said at last, having exhausted the entertainment possibilities from the JIC meeting. "I'll grab a menu."
It was while they were waiting for their meals to be ready that Ruth remembered what she had carried in her bag from the time she'd left her house that morning. "I have something for you," she said, looking down while she reached into the cavernous depths of her shoulder bag. "Happy birthday, Harry," she said as she handed him a rather obvious package, wrapped in shiny black paper.
Harry took it from her, clearly moved. "I didn't need a gift, Ruth. As I said earlier -"
"Open it," she said, cutting him off. "It's just .. a token, really." As he was carefully removing the wrapping paper she continued. "It's just that at the time of your last birthday I was in a rather bad place, and before that I was ..."
"You were in exile, and I did nothing to keep you here." Harry sighed heavily, saddened by their shared past. "Thank you, Ruth. A good single malt never goes astray."
"So long as you don't go astray after drinking it."
"I usually fall asleep. How did you know I liked Glenfiddich?"
"I thought you liked them all."
"That's true. I do."
Their meals were served so they ate, their conversation sporadic, and chiefly about the food. Ruth had eaten enough, and so left some of her fish meal on the plate, sitting back so that she could better watch Harry. "How come you hadn't planned any kind of celebration for your birthday?" Harry looked up, temporarily confused, a small frown drawing his eyebrows together. "You know, drinks with friends .. that kind of thing. I take it you have friends outside the service."
Harry dropped his eyes again, and Ruth could see she'd touched a nerve. Without thinking too far ahead she quickly got up and moved her chair so that she sat across the corner of the table from him, close enough to touch him. She reached out and lay her hand on his forearm. "Harry, you don't have to navigate everything alone, you know. I like to think that we are friends, and well, friends .. talk to one another."
"Thank you," he said very quietly, and it was then that Ruth could see how weary he was, and how sad. Perhaps now was as good a time as any. "I have something else for you." She reached down to where she'd left her bag under the table, and again lifted a wrapped oblong-shaped object, placing it in front of Harry. "Here's something I saw when I was out shopping yesterday. When I saw it I thought of you, and … well, I bought it. I'm sorry I didn't think to buy you a card. I was too caught up in -"
"Ruth .. it's lovely." Harry had opened the small flat box and lifted from it a sky blue silk tie, almost the same hue of blue as the tie he was wearing. He turned to her then and reached across as if to kiss her on the cheek. Barely registering what was happening, Ruth stayed as she was, facing Harry, and so at the last minute he changed his mind and kissed her on the lips. It was the lightest and swiftest of kisses. As he pulled away he noticed Ruth had lifted her fingertips to her lips, as though with his kiss he had left a mark. "I'm sorry," he said, again looking down, his fingers stroking the silk tie, still in its box.
Ruth reached out again to touch his arm. "Don't be sorry, Harry. That was a .. lovely thing to do."
"You're not offended?" he said, his eyes brighter.
"No. I .. enjoyed it, although it was rather .. brief."
Harry breathed in and smiled at Ruth. "So you wouldn't mind if I did that again?"
When Ruth slowly shook her head he very carefully leaned towards her, this time putting a finger under her chin. The kiss was gentle and soft, but it lasted much longer. Ruth really enjoyed the kiss, especially how he touched her lips with his tongue, and then quickly retreated, only to do it again, so that by the time Harry pulled away she opened her eyes in surprise, and even a hint of objection.
"What?" he asked.
Ruth noticed how wide were his pupils. "I was enjoying that. Why did you stop?"
He looked around the room and then back at her. "This place is hardly private." He then stifled a yawn with his hand. "Sorry. Perhaps it's time I took you home."
"It's all right. I can -"
"Ruth. I have a car and you don't. The solution to our transport situation is clear, so please don't argue about it. After all, it is my birthday." The last sentence was spoken with a small smile.
This time Ruth nodded. She also was tired. It was time to go home.
Tuesday November 2nd, 2010 – first thing:
Just after 7.15 Harry stepped onto the Grid and into his office. He didn't turn his eyes to the Grid floor. He knew Tariq would already be there, his head down over some search or other. He removed his coat and hung it, and then as he sat at his desk he chanced a glance in the direction of Ruth's desk. She was already at work, her eyes on her monitor. Part of him longed to rush over to her and check that the evening before had not been a dream. He had driven her home and walked her to her door. She had invited him inside for a coffee, but he had declined, not because he hadn't wanted to accompany her inside, but because he had. She had unlocked the door and then turned towards him, reaching up to kiss him. With the greatest of restraint he had kissed her, as gently as he had in the pub, but this time he had placed his hands on her hips. Through the layers of her clothing he could not feel the shape of her body, but her body heat reached his skin, and as he had walked back to his car he had a smile on his face and the skin of his hands and his lips tingled deliciously. He had not asked her could they do that again, but there would be time for that later. He did not wish to rush her. This was Ruth, and he needed to tread gently with her.
Looking down at his desk he noticed a large white envelope, placed so that he would not miss it. On the front his name was written in Ruth's recognisable scrawl. Again he lifted his eyes in her direction, but she was busily organising some files, although from his distance she could have been moving sheets of paper from one file to the other and then back again. He tore open the envelope to find a card, on the front of which was printed This is a card in large purple lettering. Opening the card he saw that Ruth had written in it:
Dear Harry, it read,
Having overlooked sending you a card for any of your birthdays during the years I have known you, this card is my attempt to make up for that oversight.
This card is for last birthday, when I was still so upset over George's death and the loss of Nico, and because you were there, I blamed you. I need you to know I no longer blame you.
This card is for the 3 birthdays previous to that, when I was in exile and I was too afraid to communicate directly with you, even though there were days when I almost did, just because I needed you to know that I was alive and thinking of you.
This is for the birthdays you had soon after I joined the section, when I was too nervous and awed to reach out to you and let you know that I saw how hard you worked, and I was aware there was something between us. I was afraid of that something, but I am no longer afraid. Why be afraid when the possibilities are so sweet?
This card is for yesterday – your 57th birthday. May your days until your next birthday be filled with hope and happiness, and if you will let me I would like to be part of that.
Ruth x
Harry read through what Ruth had written three times before he again looked up. She still had her head down, so he grabbed his mobile phone and sent her a text. Thank you x was all he said. He daren't look up, so he pretended to be busy until he heard his phone's text message alert. You're welcome x. For some reason he and Ruth each found it much easier to write what they longed to say to one another, so he replied with a longer text. I enjoyed last night so much that I would like to do it again, and soon. What do you say? He pressed Send and waited. When he looked up, Ruth appeared to be on a call. As she spoke she wound a finger around and around a lock of her hair and looked around the Grid. He began reading through Ruth's threat assessment from the day before, and had reached the third page when he again heard his message alert. He read her message, brief as it was, and then looked up to find her watching him.
Her message had been one word only, the most wonderful word in the English language. Yes.