A/N:I thought of this after seeing 9.3. I guess mild spoilers for 9.1 I used the lyrics from MUSE Exogenisis Part 3. A beautiful instrumental song ending with the lyrics at the end of this fic. As I can't seem to get S9 H/R out of my head I tried really hard to stay true to them. So I hope I got them right. Short and sweet. Cheers for reading. Don't own Spooks.
What We Would Do
The whir of the florescent lights are no longer humming. The blue screens cast their glow sending spots of light around the floor. Only a few lamps light the glass box that encloses them from the darkness of the empty Grid. It is almost intimate. Almost something. Just...almost.
The low light make her features soften and he is once again saddened by their soon inevitable departure. He tries not to think about her in times like this. The 'what ifs'. What they would do, whose house they would go to after work. It pains him too much but he can't help himself. And lately he doesn't even know if he wants to help it.
It is so quiet and she's sitting on his sofa. The rustling of the papers is the only noise. The call from the Home Secratary ended just a few minutes prior and she starts to gather her things to leave.
'Ruth?' his voice is tired and ragged speaking her name.
She looks up from her files, giving him her unspoken attention.
'Can I give you a lift home?' spoken so soft.
He says it with such tiredness and warmth that it physically hurts her to say 'no'.
'Erm...I..don't think that would be a good idea...Harry.' whispering at last his name.
'Okay.'
The dejection in his voice is thick. He is down...but not out, 'Then can I ask a favor?'
She gathers her papers from the table, standing. Moving in front of him waiting for his request.
Sitting on the edge of his desk, he wordlessly reaches for her files and sets them on his table.
She fumbles with her hands as her sheild of papers is taken away from her leaving her feeling vulnerable.
The air around them suddenly becomes thick with suspense. Her heartrate speeds at the thought of what she is again going to have to deny him.
He gently takes her busy hands stilling them in his warm ones. The intimacy of the act make her eyelids flutter as her mouth opens to gather more air to her lungs. He stands up and is inches away from her. She can't make herself look up at him. Instead she is focused on the loosened tie around his neck, the undone buttons at his collar.
'Harry?' voice trembling. 'W-what is it you... want?'
'I just want to know that I can still feel.'
'And... can you?' seeing how small her hands are in his.
'Surprisingly... yes,' rubbing his thumbs along her knuckles.
'That's... good,' she breathes.
The moment is fleeting. He is again asking too much of her. As he lets go of her hands they fall gently by her side. Feeling the absence of the tingles from his touch, her fingers curl in as if it will bring the sensation back.
They stand there unsure of what to do after such an intense transient moment.
Both not wanting to leave. Both feeling too much to break away from it.
So as she raises her hand to his chest, her eyes dare not meet his for fear of losing the nerve she isn't sure she wants.
Nevertheless, she smooths her hand down his silken tie; a gesture she's imagined countless times before.
She's quite surprised at the thrill of the small act. She can feel his heart pounding away inside as she continues to stroke his chest. She can feel the heat from his body.
'You're so warm,' she says looking only at the white of the fabric.
'Yes, I know,' smiling down at her.
'My grandmother came to live with us when I was eight years old. On cold winter nights she would climb into bed with me because I was always so warm. She called me her 'little furnace'.
A small laugh escapes her breath at the thought of him as a child warming a frail old woman. And she finally looks up at him. His eyes are so deep and full of a sadness she knows is caused by her. But his smile reveals such tender adoration. She can't help but smile.
Her smile fuels him to take a step toward another possible rejection. But he has nothing he's not already lost. Just everything to gain.
'Here. I'll prove it.' He grasps her hands and wraps her arms around his waist under his jacket. She is flush against his body now. He settles his arms around her small frame.
He can smell her soft perfume.
She can now hear his heart as well as feel it.
He is warm.
He is comfort.
Caught up in her senses she slowly starts to move her hands across his back, pressing her cheek closer into his chest. Her fingernails gently graze his starched shirt. The fabric becoming warmer as the friction moves under her skin. He holds her a little tighter to his body mimicing the gesture.
She breathes in his scent and she can see everything so clearly. Their life right here, right now.
Let's start over again
Why can't we start it over again?
Just let us start it over again
And we'll be good
This time we'll get it...
We'll get it right
It's our last chance to forgive ourselves
And she knows this is what they would do.
S9 H/R are so sad and angsty that I have a hard time writing them that way. And since there is no way I can fit them with a bit of humor with the way they're acting, this was the result. A little tenderness and a little a bit of happiness. So if this made you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside please leave a review. And if it didn't please leave a review and let me know how I can improve. Thanks.