Here's what I wish would happen after 9.4…
How he ended up in this situation, Harry barely knew. She was trembling in his arms, her head buried against his shoulder. He wasn't positive, but he thought she was sobbing softly. But the fact remained that Ruth was where he had always wished her to be, but he was powerless to do anything about it. If he had loved her less or were more like his younger self, he may have tried to take advantage of her vulnerability, but now he was just content that she hadn't flinched away from him. As it was, he couldn't justify this. Whether or not he agreed with her reasoning, she had made her feelings about their relationship plain. He had closed the door to anything other than work between them. If tete a tetes were off limits, he was pretty sure embraces – no matter the circumstances – were as well. And yet here he stood in her kitchen, holding her close, desperate not to move, and hoping to hell she didn't notice how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.
He had sent her out in the field. It had been the right decision, despite the fact that Ruth had rarely left the Grid. She knew Mandarin, and would be able to disentangle the research they were trying to protect. Harry had even made a slight joke about her coming back in one piece – a sad attempt at humor to put her at ease, and maybe even make their relationship a little less awkward around the Grid. Later when Tariq had told him of the bomb blast where Ruth was, Harry felt as if his chest had imploded. After the longest ten minutes of his life, it was determined that Ruth and the asset she was watching were both shaken but unharmed. Without a word, Harry left the Grid and no one had any doubt as to where he was headed.
She vaguely registered her doorbell ringing. Before she could gather herself together to answer, she found herself face to face with Harry in her hallway. Oh God, not now. She wasn't ready to deal with whatever was passing for conversation between them lately.
"Are you alright?" his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I told you I was on the phone." She was trying hard to be definitive, trying to tamp down the waves of panic that had been threatening to overwhelm her since she escaped the blast.
"You know what I mean." An insistent edge to his voice was back.
"I'm fine." She turned her back on him, and fled to the kitchen. He followed, and it was apparent that she was anything but fine.
"You're shaking like a leaf, Ruth."
"I told you, I'm fine." In demonstration, she moved to make tea, steadfastly refusing to look at the interloper in her kitchen. He watched her, noticing how pale she looked. He had been through enough close calls to know what shock looked and felt like.
I can do this. He'll see I'm at least capable of making bloody tea on my own, and leave me alone. I don't want to fight right now. The cup of boiling liquid slipped from her hand, and shattered in a hundred shards on the floor. The next thing she knew, she was sobbing uncontrollably and she felt a pair of arms draw close around her.
How long they were like that, silent and still with each other, neither knew. Ruth's shaking and sobbing were subsiding, but he selfishly didn't want to break away. As the panic gradually dissipated, Ruth was appalled at the position she found herself in. She couldn't deny that she found herself comfortable and comforted in Harry's embrace, but she also knew that this was wrong. She had refused him, and having done that, she needed to be consistent. He deserved that at least. This was only going to serve to make their tenuous working relationship that much more awkward.
Neither noticed Beth return. They were so quiet, she practically bumped into them in the kitchen. The sight of Harry Pearce, oblivious to the fact that he was being observed in an embrace with one of his team, standing in a puddle of tea was one that would stay with Beth for quite awhile. She felt embarrassed for having witnessed such a private moment, even for only a split second, so stealthily crept into her room.
He was never more reluctant to leave anywhere in his life, but he knew that the longer he held her, the more awkward it was going to be later. He had never intended for this to happen, and he berated himself for getting himself in this situation. As it was, it was all he could do to keep focused on work when she was around. Now that he had the memory of holding her, the scent of her hair, it was going to be that much harder.
Harry had the vague sensation that they were no longer alone, and that helped to steel his resolve. Ruth was still stunned, and she seemed barely aware when he steered her into the living room, sat her on the couch, and put a throw blanket around her shoulders. He quickly mopped up the remains of the shattered mug, and put more water on to boil. He tapped on the door to what he thought was Beth's room.
"Take care of her." He nodded his head towards the living room, and Beth was surprised by how pale Harry looked.
"Of course, Harry." He nodded, and strode out without a backward glance.
Reviews greatly appreciated! Frankly, Season 9 is wreaking havoc with my visions of R/H fanfic, but I may add more to this later…maybe a bit more fluffy…