Title: Damaged Goods
Fandom: Spooks
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Ruth
Rating: M
Warnings:
This fic deals with some pretty adult themes, hence the rating.

Summary: Set late series 3. When Ruth's boyfriend turns violent, how will she deal with it? And how will Harry react when he finds out?

Disclaimer: I don't own Spooks or any of the characters or dialogue you may recognise. They all belong to Kudos/BBC.

A/N: Please do leave a review. I'm extremely nervous about this fic as it deals with quite a sensitive subject matter that I've never tackled before. I hope I do it justice, but would love your feedback. :)


Chapter 1

3rd June 2005, 6.10pm…

Harry opens the letter and sighs; he didn't get the DG's position. Not that he wanted it but, as conceited as it sounds, he knows he was the best candidate. He looks out of his office, scanning the grid, and sees Ruth at her desk. He rises to tell her the panel's decision; it's only right that he inform her first, as she had helped him with his preparation.

Ruth is touching up her makeup and watching the news report on Anglo West African Oil's plunge in the stock market after their unsuccessful bid for the Ivory Coast pipeline contract when he approaches her. "You see? Wrongs righted, evil doers brought to heel, miracles performed. Is there no end to our goodness Ruth?" Ruth flashes him a smile, putting her compact mirror away. When she has done so, Harry hands her a letter, "I got down to the final two. Then they parachuted a late contender into the job."

"But that's good isn't it? That's what you wanted."

"Yes but it's still annoying when the best man for the job is passed over. For a politician. It seems you were right."

Ruth smiles at him. "Yes. But I'm pleased."

"Yeh, well I'm not," Danny interjects, approaching them. "There's a scratch on the floor of my flat. It seems the removal men weren't careful enough after Fiona 'moved out'."

Harry and Ruth share a look. "My point exactly," he says addressing Ruth, "I wouldn't be involved in any of these crucial issues if I were DG." Ruth smirks as he turns back to Danny. "We'll get the removal men in and set Adam on them. He'll get to the bottom of it if anyone will." Out of the corner of his eye he spots Ruth gathering her things. "Off out are we Ruth?" he asks.

"Yes. I'm only three days late. And if anything happens between here and the pods, please don't tell me."

Harry lets he walk a few steps, before calling after her. "Ruth?"

"I'm not listening," she calls back, causing Harry to laugh. When he's collected himself, he assures Danny he will address the issue with the damage to his flat before retreating back to his office. When he sits down at his desk, his thoughts turn to Ruth. She had been diligent, bordering on obsessive, about his interview preparation and while it had been slightly infuriating at times, he had enjoyed spending the additional time with her. Over the past few months he has begun to view her in a different light, one that is swiftly becoming unprofessional. He finds himself wondering where she is off out to tonight and who with, whilst trying to push down the feelings of jealously that stir in his stomach when he thinks of her being with another man.


8.10pm…

Ruth hurries down the steps to the restaurant; she's late and, having already had to postpone this dinner once, she's loathed to be late today. She doubts her dining companion will be impressed either. She's meeting Richard 'Dick' Francis, a very attractive man who worked at one of the top accountancy firms in London. Ruth had met him while on a rare night out at the theatre with an old college friend.

She'd been standing at the bar during the interval trying, unsuccessfully to get the bartender's attention so she could order drinks for her and her friend, when he'd struck up a conversation, advising her that next time she should pre-order her interval drinks before the show started. She'd thanked him for his advice and he'd introduced himself.

"I'm Richard. Richard Francis. But my friend's call me Dick."

Ruth stifled a grin. "Dick Francis? Like the jockey?"

"Yeh, it's kind of a running joke; I used to ride. I have to say though, I'm impressed. You don't look like the sort of woman who would be knowledgeable about horse-racing."

"To be honest I'm not. Dick Francis wrote crime novels too; my father loved them."

Their conversation had continued and Ruth had found herself enjoying his company and had been disappointed when the announcement came for people to take their seats for the second half.

Richard had been too. "Maybe I can give you a call sometime; we can finish this conversation then?"

"I'd like that," she'd replied and, in an action quite out of character for her, she'd given him her number. She'd assumed he was just being polite and she'd never hear from him again, but four days later he'd called and asked her to dinner.

That had been four months ago, and she has been enjoying a relationship with him ever since. Tonight they are having dinner with Richard's boss and his wife; something Richard is hoping will help him earn a promotion. She spots him as soon as she enters the restaurant; he's looking very handsome in his Saville Row suit. When her eyes met his though she can tell he isn't happy. He needs to look good tonight and she knows he'll think her tardiness will make him seem inept. She looks at her watch; it's ten past eight. She's ten minutes late.

"I am so sorry I'm late," she breathes as she rushes over to the table and greets Richard (she can't bring herself to call him Dick) with a brief hug. "Something came up at work," she explains. As they embrace she notices a strong smell of alcohol and feels her stomach twist. Richard likes a drink but Ruth is of the opinion that sometimes he drinks too much and he can be unpredictable when drunk.

"We'll talk about your excuses later," he whispers chillingly into her ear as he holds her a little too tightly. "Right now, we have some guests to entertain." He turns back to face his boss and his demeanour changes completely; he's back to his charming self. "John, Patricia; may I introduce Miss Ruth Evershed."

Ruth shakes their hands in greeting and apologises to their guests for the postponement and her tardiness. They assure her it's no problem and it's soon forgotten, giving way to much more interesting subjects of conversation. If only Richard could forget it…


11.35pm…

When they arrive back at Ruth's house, Richard is more than a little worse for wear and is hassling Ruth about her late arrival.

"I just don't understand why you couldn't just tell your boss you had plans," he slurs as he leans against her front door, waiting for her to unlock it.

"I've explained this to you before," she tells him as she lets them inside. "It's not that kind of job. If something comes up then, quite often I'll need to stay."

"Hmmph! Well, I don't like it."

"Well, it's my job so I don't suppose you have to."

He spins round and grabs her wrist. "And just what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Ruth winces. "Richard, you're hurting me." She tries to pull away but he just holds her tighter.

"Answer the question!" he growls.

"I just meant that it's not you that has to work late or be on call; that's all."

"No, I just have to put up with a girlfriend who thinks it's acceptable to be late for one of the most important dinners of my life."

"I've said sorry," she protests.

Finally he lets her go, violently pushing her away. "Well that's not good enough! Do you know how it made me look?"

"I'm sure they understood; they seem like reasonable people."

"Oh, what would you know about it!" Richard yells and before Ruth realises what's happening, there is a stinging pain in her left cheek. He has slapped her.