Monday, 10 July 2006
"Are you all right, Ruth?" he asks as he stops by her desk, his brow furrowed in concern. "You look a bit... down," he finishes, suddenly feeling rather stupid. Of course she's down. They all are. How could then not be after what's happened recently... after Colin. His memorial service had only been a few days ago, after all.
"I'm fine, Harry," she smiles, lifting her eyes to his before glancing quickly around the Grid. Finding it empty, she sighs, "It's just..." but she stops there, thinking better of it.
"What?" he asks softly.
"It's nothing," she shakes her head.
He hesitates for a moment and then pulls up a chair, setting it a little to the left of her desk, so they're sitting at about 120 degrees from each other with the corner of the desk between them. "I'm listening, Ruth," he murmurs when he sees her watching him in surprise. "What is it? Is it Colin?" He remembers how heartbroken she'd seemed during the service, how much he'd wished to hold her and wipe away her tears, how inadequate he'd felt as he'd handed her his handkerchief, wanting to give her so much more and take away all that pain. Perhaps this is the chance he's been waiting for, to offer her more, to show her how much he cares... to ask her out even.
"No," she shakes her head, "it's not that. I..." she pauses, trying to get her thoughts in order and her nerves and racing heart under control. Perhaps this is the opportunity she's been hoping for, she thinks. The Grid's quiet, it's late so there's nobody about to overhear them, she has his undivided attention, and after she'd almost lost him twice within the span of a few hours just last week, she's feeling braver than usual and uncharacteristically daring.
"Then what, Ruth?" he asks softly, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the edge of the desk. "Tell me. I'd like to think that we're good friends, you and I. Perhaps I can help."
Friends, she thinks as he speaks, gazing down at her fidgeting hands. That's the problem right there, she almost tells him. I don't want to be just friends. She sighs and then slowly nods her head, determined to take this opportunity to gauge his feelings for her, find out if there's any hope at all. "All right," she says, lifting her eyes to his. "I suppose I could use some advise. It's... a rather personal matter." She drops her gaze here and swallows before continuing, "I've... met someone, you see... Actually, met is the wrong word. I've known him for a long time now. We've been friends for ages, but I've found lately that I want... more than that. But we're so firmly in the friend zone now that I despair of him ever noticing me or thinking of me in that way. So I'm not quite sure what I should do about it."
He swallows uncomfortably as his hopes and dreams come crashing down around him, his gaze dropping from her face as he fights for control. She's in love with someone else. The pain is so strong that he thinks his heart might actually stop, literally splinter into a million pieces.
"Tell him," he says eventually, lifting his eyes to hers and finding her keenly watching him. "Tell him how you feel. You've nothing to lose, Ruth, and everything to gain."
"Do you think?" she asks softly, still watching him intently, noting the tightness around his mouth that wasn't there before and how his eyes, formerly so open, are now closed off. He cares, she realises with delight, he really cares.
"Yes," he nods, fighting to hold onto his composure as he advises her to pursue another man, surprised by his own nobility in giving her up without a fight, for the first time grasping the depth of his love for this woman as he realises he would do anything to see her happy, even let her walk away from him and be happy with someone else.
"All right," she smiles, reaching for his hand and giving it a grateful squeeze. "Thank you, Harry. I'll call him now."
He watches in something akin to horror as she pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her contacts. Quickly he stands, saying something about giving her some privacy as he put the chair back where if belongs and strides quickly towards his office as he fights the impulse to run, get away as fast as possible; he doesn't think he'll survive overhearing this conversation. Before he reaches his office, however, his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, clutching at it like a lifeline, not even bothering to check who's calling before answering, desperately hoping for some crisis or other that'll distract him from the pain, the agony inside him.
"Pearce," he says, his voice low and gruff from the emotional strain of holding himself together.
"Hello, Harry," she replies and it is possibly the most beautiful thing he's ever heard in his entire life.
She watches him as he comes to an abrupt stop and slowly turns to face her. He says nothing but the expression on his face and the emotion in his eyes are enough to leave her speechless and breathless, her insides turning over, churning and melting. She swallows, trying to moisten her dry throat before she whispers, "I... um... There's something I've got to tell you... I... er... I fancy the pants off you."
He grins. He can't help himself, the joy infusing all his features as he ends the call and strides purposefully towards her, watching as she blushes and gets up, standing beside her desk, a look of nervous apprehension on her face though her eyes look hopeful. He stops right in front of her, gazing down on her adoringly as he lifts his hands to cup her face, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Ruth," he murmurs, scanning her face, drinking her in, watching a shy smile spread across her lips. "And there's something I have to tell you too. I should have told you years ago... I'm in love with you, Ruth Evershed," he adds huskily. "I have been for a very long time. Will you have dinner with me tonight?"
She nods, completely overcome by his beautiful words, his tender touch, his adoring gaze, and wondering if, just maybe, she can have it all after all.