Title: Orphan Skies
Summary: The tears tumble down with the words he has waited so long to say. AU post-5.05; Harry finds out Ruth died in exile.
Characters & Pairings: Harry, Ruth; Harry/Ruth
Warning: Spoilers for 5.05
Disclaimer: Unfortunately no, I don't own Spooks, its characters, or its plots. I'm just having a bit of fun writing this. The title comes from the song of the same name, from the soundtrack for 'The Thief Lord'.
A/N: No, I don't know how I could bear to do this either. Blame Botticelli50's fantastic fic 'New York New York' for the inspiration (and go and read it if you haven't already!)
Orphan Skies
He watches the barge chug along the river. If this was some Hollywood spy blockbuster, he's run over and hotwire the nearest boat, speed after her, and only turn back when she was in his arms, safe from harm.
The lingering touch of her lips on his reminds him that's just fiction. He knows why she's leaving, why she is making this choice for him, and why the words that long to break forth from his mouth have to remain 'something wonderful that was never said'.
For now.
:::
It takes him an age, but he finally breaks free from Mace's iron claws and to a high enough level. It takes even longer for 'Fox' to be revealed as a non-existent mole, and for her name to be cleared. He plays dirty – blackmail, persuasion, force – but not even Adam tries to coax him out of his fury.
He has her passport in his pocket at all times, beside his, just waiting for the right piece of chatter on the internet, on a phone line, that will tell him where she is, and he can jump onto a plane, a train, a car – anything but a barge – and restore her name to her, and bring her home. To him.
There are false alarms – far too many of them. Every time he hears of an English woman living in some far-off foreign village, alone, his heart skips a beat. But she's far too good to let herself become noticed like that. On one hand, he is grateful – that she is safe, out of harm's way, and if he can't find her then neither can anyone else – but on the other hand he just wishes he can find her.
:::
It is on a sodden hillside that he finally breaks down. Fists ball at his sides and he can't bite back tears. He finds he doesn't want to hold it back any longer, this fear that he's lost her forever, and what never should have just gone unsaid is a lost whisper flung into the bitter wind.
He looks down at the bare grassy mound, at the single, withered, bunch of cheap flowers to one side, at the carving on the headstone, spelling out the wrong name.
An innocent bystander, they said. Caught in the crossfire. One civilian casualty.
He stands, leaving his shirt un-tucked and the dirt on his jacket sleeve unchecked. He takes one last look at the ground before him where he lay, next to her, clinging to ice-cold stone. The tears tumble down with the words he has waited so long to say.
He has found her.
To quote the Tenth Doctor, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry..." But please leave a review anyway ;D