Tomorrow May Never Come
"With Fiona seconded to Six, Zaf as staff behind the scenes, and both Jo and Adam breaking in to the hotel room, we need a presence in the ballroom," Malcolm explained.
"I can go," Ruth offered without thinking. "I wouldn't need to do much, just keep my eyes open?"
"You're not field trained, Ruth," Harry said immediately. His tone was perhaps sharper than he intended. And when he looked over to her, she had her brow furrowed at him, clearly offended by the way he shut her down. He blinked, trying to dispel the knot in his stomach that her disapproval always seemed to cause in him. "I'll go," he insisted.
"Ruth should go with you," Malcolm replied. "It's a posh engagement party. Everyone there will have a date. Colin and I will work up your legends and have them to you this afternoon."
Harry nodded, and everyone left the briefing room to go about their tasks. Ruth took a bit longer than the rest to gather all her files together. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should say something to apologize for snapping at her, since she was clearly upset. But no, he wouldn't have been concerned about hurting the fragile feelings of any other member of his team. He wouldn't give Ruth special treatment. He already regarded her far too highly than was reasonable, and only about half of the causes for it were work-related.
"Sorry you have to be saddled with me. I'll try not make too big a mess of it. I know I'm not trained to stand in a room and observe my surroundings," she told him on her way out.
The vitriol of her tone caused him to frown. She'd gotten the entirely wrong message. But she was a clever woman. She'd figure it out. And if she was still sore at him by the evening when they went out on the op, he'd just have to clear the air then. It wouldn't do to have her bad mood interfere with the mission.
Malcolm gave Harry and Ruth each a file to learn their legends. They were to be James Colburn and Rita Harris, a wealthy banker and his girlfriend. More than likely, they could keep to themselves at the party and blend in without needing to socialize too much. Jo and Adam were doing most of the work, Zaf was doing the surveillance that really mattered. Harry and Ruth were just a precaution in case anything unexpected turned up at the party.
They were separated throughout most of the day, learning the legends on their own and getting dressed and outfitted with the comms gear. Sweet Jo had volunteered herself to help with Ruth's hair and makeup as Colin was forced to go through the Thames House storage to find a dress for her to wear. It was all very last minute and very rushed, and in the whirlwind, Ruth didn't quite know what she looked like when she was ushered into the backseat of the car where Harry was waiting.
He didn't notice her at first; he was on his mobile with the Home Secretary and needed to take care of his concerns before the op with Ruth. He turned his head in order to nod and acknowledge her presence. But upon seeing her clamber into the car wearing some exquisite midnight blue gown exposing her shoulders, her hair swept away from her face and resting in a pile of soft curls to expose her long, elegant neck, and her makeup giving a touch of glamour to her usually subdued face, Harry nearly dropped the phone right out of his hand.
"Harry? Harry, you there?"
The curt tone snapped him back into focus. Harry turned away from Ruth. "Yes, Home Secretary." His voice cracked. He hoped she hadn't noticed.
But of course she had. By the time he ended his call and turned back to her, she was watching him, biting her bottom lip and her eyes sparkling as she tried not to laugh. "I don't usually wear this much makeup. I must look a fright," she said in awkward apology.
"You look lovely, Ruth," he replied softly, unabashedly gazing upon her face with great appreciation.
"Rita."
"Hmm?" Harry was distracted by how luminous her pale skin looked and how the dark blue of the dress seemed to bring out the stormy ice-blue of her beautiful eyes.
"My legend. I'm Rita and you're James. I memorized your file along with mine, I hope you don't mind. I didn't want to mess anything up. You know, since I'm not field trained and I've got no business going along." What had started out as nervous enthusiasm had ended up bitter and sarcastic.
Harry frowned. They weren't going to be able to blend in if she were still annoyed with him. Time to clear the air. "It seems you got the wrong impression earlier when I pointed out that you aren't a field agent and therefore I should be the one on this operation."
"And what point, beyond the obvious were you making?"
"You are not field trained, Ruth, you are a desk spook. The best I've ever known. And I will not put you at risk by allowing you into operational situations for which you are unequipped. There is no question in my mind that you are going to make this evening a success. You make most things a success. But if something were to go wrong and you were in danger all by yourself…" He trailed off. He'd gone too far. That infuriating woman! Why was it that he always had to take the time to explain things to her, to ensure she understood? Perhaps because she had an innate sense about him and knew precisely what he meant and finished his sentence before the words even came from his mouth; any deviation from that natural connection was an error in need of correction and nothing more.
"I'm glad you're with me, Harry," Ruth replied quietly.
"James," he corrected. "We should get our comms situated."
She smiled softly, putting the small device in her ear and hiding the microphone in the neckline of her dress as the car began to slow.
"And I'm glad you're with me, Rita," Harry added, taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze. "Time to go. Try to look happy but bored. We stick to the outskirts and to each other but not too far outside the fray. Don't ignore others but don't seek out conversation," he told her, giving the operational briefing he should have done in the car rather than attempt to assuage her feelings.
Harry got out of the car first, coming around to open the door for his date. He offered his hand, which she took. And upon walking into the ballroom, they assumed their legends. James and Rita, out for an elegant evening celebrating the engagement of some social contacts.
"Echo One, Echo Two, do you read?" Malcolm's voice came into their ears.
"Loud and clear," Adam replied.
"Copy," added Jo.
"Echo Three?"
"Present and accounted for," Zaf said.
"And Echo Four and Five?"
"Yes," Harry murmured softly to avoid attracting attention.
"Yes," Ruth chimed in. She was still holding Harry's hand, and her voice had come out breathy and a bit higher pitched than usual.
Harry took his hand from hers. The absence of his touch was palpable until he moved slightly closer to her in the crowd and placed his large, warm hand on the small of her back. Could he feel the shiver that went up her spine? She hoped not.
Everyone was kept abreast of Zaf's surveillance and Jo and Adam's progress. Harry and Ruth simply listened in, not needing to contribute much of anything. And other than the periodic interruptions in their ears, they carried on as though it were just a night out for a happy couple.
"So…what do we do now?" Ruth asked softly.
"Well, Rita darling, we're going to drink champagne to toast the happy couple, and we're going to eat canapes that are far more expensive and far less tasty than they really should be, and perhaps, if we're feeling really festive, we can have a dance."
The pleasant tone of Harry's voice was somewhat foreign to Ruth's ears. She'd only heard it a few times before, often when he was trying to make a joke that no one on the team save her ever found remotely funny. When there wasn't death and destruction in their immediate midst, Harry could be quite a teasing and jovial fellow. Ruth smiled to see him in such a good mood. Or rather, James was in such a good mood.
Harry then snagged a flute of champagne for each of them from a passing waiter. "To the happy couple," he toasted, "and to a marvelous night for us."
Ruth didn't quite know how to respond to that. As Rita or as herself. So she merely clinked his glass with her own and took a sip of the rich bubbly.
"I beg your pardon, didn't we meet last month at the gallery opening?" a distinguished older gentleman said to Harry.
Obviously they did not meet at a gallery opening last month, but Harry put on a grand show of it. "Oh yes, of course! But I'm frightfully sorry, you'll have to remind me of your name."
"Richard Abbot. And this is my wife, Susette."
"Ah yes, Richard. Lovely to meet you, Susette, I'm James Colburn. This is my partner, Rita Harris," Harry introduced, shaking Mrs. Abbot's hand and introducing Ruth.
"Hello, lovely to meet you both," Ruth greeted pleasantly.
Harry had his hand on her back again. Which made sense, using a small amount of physical contact to put others at ease, to sell the farce that they were a couple. But Ruth was glad of it, farce or not. She enjoyed the tingle his touch brought her more than she cared to admit. And just to really sell their story as romantic partners, she leaned against his side to eliminate the space between them. Harry moved his hand to rest on her hip, his arm around her snuggly as though this were the most natural thing in the world. Ruth couldn't manage to follow the thread of conversation with the Abbots. She was too preoccupied with the fact that she could turn her head and her lips would attach right to Harry's neck. As it was, the faint, gorgeous scent of his cologne wafted to her nose, setting fire to her heart.
"Have you two been together long? Rita, I don't believe we met at the gallery opening."
At hearing her legend's name come from Abbot's mouth, Ruth jolted back to attention. "Oh no, I wasn't able to attend, I'm afraid. I took ill last month. James had to go on his own."
"And it was murder being there without her with me. She's much more artistically minded than I am," Harry added. "But thankfully she's all better and back to suffering through all the social functions I drag her to." He shifted slightly and pressed a kiss to her temple.
Ruth could feel her entire body flush. Her heart pounded. She swallowed hard and recovered quickly, "I don't suffer when I get to be with you, darling."
Harry met her eyes and she could see a lovely sparkle in his honey-hazel eyes. "Well that's good. I never tire of finding opportunities to show you off. You are, without doubt, the loveliest woman I've ever known."
"Oh you must not have been together long if you're still being so sentimental in public," Susette Abbot said knowingly.
Ruth tore her eyes away from Harry's, needing to remember how to breathe. "He's much sweeter than anyone ever expects. In his job, he's always so serious and reserved. When we're together, though, he's quite the romantic. Even after we've been together for nearly two years."
Harry's hand began to stroke up and down Ruth's side between her waist and hip. "She's more than enough to make any man an aspiring poet."
"Is that so?" Ruth's eyes sparkled with mirth. "You're lucky I don't require the poetry to be very good or I'd be on the hunt for someone else."
A bark of laughter fell from Harry's lips. Oh she was a tease! He needed to get rid of these insufferable people so he and Ruth could return to keeping a low profile and enjoying their night. They were getting dangerously close to taking their charade too far, and the fact that Harry wanted to do exactly that meant he needed an escape. The band began playing another song, slower this time, giving him the perfect opportunity. "Richard, Susette, it was lovely to see you both, but I did promise my Rita a dance and the band seems to be playing our song," Harry told them.
Everyone shook hands congenially before Harry pulled Ruth onto the dance floor. She practically tripped over her shoes and fell into his arms. He held her close and led her in a slow, swaying dance. Ruth quickly realized that dancing like this with him could be trouble. Best keep distracted. "So this is our song?" she asked.
"It is now," he replied. "I've always liked this one, though." Harry hummed the melody in her ear.
Trying not to be distracted by his breath on her neck or the vibration she could feel in his chest as he hummed, Ruth concentrated on the music. "Oh I know this one. Billie Holiday, wasn't it?"
"I don't know who did it originally, but yes, Billie's version is wonderful." Harry pulled her even closer and began to softly sing, "For all we know, we may never meet again. Before you go, make this moment sweet again…"
To her credit, Ruth continued to stand upright and follow his lead in their dance. She miraculously disguised the weakness of her knees and the skipping of her heart and the fluttering of the butterflies in her stomach. "Harry," she breathed.
"Ruth," he replied, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.
"James and Rita!"
Malcolm's voice through the comms reminding them of their legends startled them both. Ruth immediately averted her gaze, focusing rather intently on Harry's black bowtie. Harry, for his part, was a complete mask of indifference. But he realized that, perhaps for the first time on a small operation like this, he had completely forgotten what he was doing. For a moment, he was Harry Pearce dancing with Ruth Evershed. She was in his arms wearing a stunning dress and seeming so confident and at peace, and he had immensely enjoyed romancing her, dare he say seducing her.
They finished the dance and broke apart to politely applaud the band. Neither Ruth nor Harry uttered a word. Their furtive glances at one another, however, spoke volumes.
At last, they got the all-clear signal from Adam and Jo. Once Echo One and Echo Two were safely out and Zaf was certain they weren't being followed, Harry and Ruth were freed from their mission as well.
As soon as they were safely back in the car, Harry pulled the comms out of his ear and from his lapel and put them securely in his pocket. Ruth followed suit. He explained, "I don't want to have anyone in my ear when I'm with you."
"Gives a better illusion that we're alone," she replied softly.
They rode in the car back to Thames House in companionable silence. Over the last few hours, Ruth had amassed an amalgamation of feelings she desperately needed to pick through. She honestly had forgotten they were on an op. To be at a party with Harry, talking and laughing and flirting and dancing, had felt so real. So…right. It was more fun than she'd had in quite some time and the most relaxed she'd ever been in the field. All of that was thanks to Harry. Or James, rather. It was James who had flirted with Rita and danced the night away with her. Now that they were going back to reality, all of that would be gone with the legends. Ruth would go back to her mousey, awkward ways, content to be able to finish Harry's sentences and gain a small nod of approval from him. He would go back to being a grump, paying attention to her only in her capacity as an analyst or perhaps sometimes when he noticed she was the only one working as late as he. Everything would go back to normal, and she'd force herself to forget this beautiful fairytale evening.
Once they'd arrived back on the Grid, Harry went to his office and closed the blinds. Ruth debriefed with Colin and returned the outfit she'd borrowed so she could change into her own clothes. She settled in at her desk and got back to work.
Harry eventually opened the blinds in his office to look out onto the Grid again. He'd closed them to change from his tuxedo back into his usual suit, though forgoing the tie and leaving a few buttons undone. He nearly left the shirt untucked as well, but that was perhaps a bit to much, even for after hours. The DG had called a minute after and he'd been stuck on the phone for over an hour. The Grid was dark with only a skeleton night staff tucked away in various corners. Directly in front of his window, however, a small desk light remained on. He put on his coat and approached.
"Come along, Ruth, let me drop you by home. It's too late for the buses," Harry said.
She looked up at him, startled. This wasn't going back to normal. This was very much not normal. But she saw he was correct. She'd missed the last bus. With just a weak nod, Ruth quickly shut down her computer and gathered her things.
"I see you've taken the pins out of your hair," he noted.
"Cinderella's turned back into the pumpkin, I'm sorry to say," she replied.
He chuckled slightly. "You're certainly the best-looking pumpkin I've ever seen."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she was at a loss for words.
Harry noticed the way she averted her eyes and failed to respond to his words. Probably for the best. What was this infernal need he had to just keep talking whenever Ruth was around?
The car stopped. They'd arrived at Ruth's house. She looked at him. Harry stared back at her. His gaze was so intense, so full of untold passion and yearning.
"I'll walk you to the door," he murmured, breaking their heavy silence.
"Oh no, I'm fine. Don't bother," she insisted. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to swiftly kiss his cheek. "Thank you for the wonderful evening, Harry."
"James," he corrected, trying to lighten the mood.
Ruth smiled softly. "No, Harry." With that, she got out of the car and hurried up the front steps to her house.
She didn't give a backwards glance when she closed the door behind her. Ruth dropped her purse and keys and coat on the floor, leaning against the front door and praying the anxious knots in her stomach would go away. She closed her eyes, focusing on the beat of her heart and the in-out of her breaths.
She heard a knock on the door and turned to open it. There was Harry, chest heaving, as though he'd run several blocks to her house.
"Ruth." That was all he said before he took her face in his hands and began to kiss her.
His lips were soft and full and caressed hers in the most intoxicating manner. When she began to respond, pulling him into the house after throwing her arms around his neck, his hands started wandering her body. Up and down her back, grasping her bum to press her hips against his, up her waist to brush the sides of her breasts. Ruth couldn't help but moan in want of him.
She felt something at her ankle, and Ruth opened her eyes to see what it was. Fidget had wound himself between her legs, begging and searching for food. Ruth blinked. She was still backed up against the front door. Unlike in her momentary fantasy, Harry had not come in with her.
As Ruth went to the kitchen to fix a rather late dinner for her cat, she couldn't help but hope that maybe, going forward, things between Harry and herself might go a little beyond what had always been normal for them. She would just have to see what tomorrow would bring.