Being Alive
He shouldn't have barged into the Grid practically shouting for her, but what did it really matter now? Everyone knew. Everyone knew that just hours earlier, Harry Pearce had traded a state secret to save Ruth Evershed's life. And everyone knew why. John Bateman had known as well as anyone that the one true weakness Harry had in this world was Ruth. He would do anything for her, as evidenced by this entire Albany fiasco.
And then, when she'd spurned him, scolded him for his sacrifice, rejected his depth of feeling, calling it unfair and being somehow disappointed that he hadn't left her to die, he knew he had nothing left. He had gone to meet Bateman on that roof willingly. He'd called to say goodbye to his children, who had done very well without him in life, and he'd gone to what he assumed was certain death. Because if Ruth found it unfair that he loved her, what reason did he have to live?
Melodramatic, perhaps, but with all the heightened emotion of the day, it was how he'd been feeling.
Dmitri had told Harry that Ruth had taken her coat and run out, leaving her things behind. And Harry knew that could only mean one thing. He turned right around and left the Grid to head to the roof of Thames House.
He found her there, sitting on the ground by the wall, curled up with her arms holding her knees and shaking with sobs. He wanted to run to her, take her in his arms, soothe her pain, but he wasn't certain she would welcome it. And after everything, Harry knew he couldn't possibly bear to have her recoil from his touch.
Harry watched her for a moment, unsure of what to do. She hadn't noticed him. So he softly said her name, barely audible over the sound of the wind. "Ruth?"
She looked up and gasped, crying even harder as she stared at him. "Are you real?" came her hitched voice.
"Yes, I'm real. I'm here," he replied, nearly smiling at being able to tell her so.
Ruth scrambled to get up but stumbled. She had never been the most coordinated creature, bless her. Harry came to offer her a steadying hand. She not only took his hand but she used it to pull him into her arms, clutching his shirt in her fists and crying against his chest. "I thought you'd died!" she sobbed.
"No, didn't you hear over the comms?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't. I couldn't bear it, Harry. I couldn't listen to your last moments, knowing I'd be left here without you."
"I didn't want to leave you," he told her, stroking her back soothingly. "But it was my turn. I just got lucky."
"We both did."
He took her face in his hands, smoothing back her hair in the wind on the roof. "I'm so sorry, Ruth. For...for everything. You were right. You're always right. It is quite unfair for me to love you. I tried not to, for a time, but I..."
"No, Harry," she interrupted sternly. "I was wrong. It was a horrible thing for me to say. It was everything between us, and the drugs and what Lucas said and all of it and I just, oh I don't know!"
She was getting overworked, though thankfully the tears had stopped. He gently caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. "Take a deep breath and tell me," he said softly, evoking an oft-used phrase from their past.
Ruth very nearly smiled at that. Nearly. But she did reach her hands up to hold his wrists, keeping their contact and ensuring he didn't let her go. "Ever since I came back...with the way I came back...everything with you and I has just been too much and not enough, all at once. And then Ros's funeral and what I said after and now this...my head has just been spinning. And when you're spinning and you just need to grab onto something, just to make yourself stop and to just know which way is up? I thought the right thing was to keep us apart, that everything had gone so wrong because we were too close, that Lucas was able to manipulate you because of me and we were wrong to let things get that far and allow that to happen."
Harry could not disagree more, but he stayed quiet. His expression must have faltered, though, because her grip on him tightened.
"But that's not right, is it? It can't be. Because all it's brought us is more pain. I thought I'd lost you today, Harry. For good. And the very idea of it hurt me more than anything I've ever experienced. And I know which way is up now. It is not my turn to sacrifice nor is it yours. We have done our sacrifice. All those people we love whom we've lost, that was our sacrifice. Danny and Colin and Fiona and Adam and George and Jo and Ros. They died, and we've had to soldier on without them. And if all that pain and heartbreak hasn't taught us that life and love are precious and need to be grabbed onto with both hands, then we haven't honored those sacrifices. Don't you think?"
"Yes, Ruth, I do."
"We can't waste any more time, Harry." And with that, she finally let go of his hands, only to throw her arms around his neck.
Their lips crashed against each other, hot and hungry and yearning. Harry remembered this feeling, had replayed it in his mind for years. Her kiss had been desperate, that morning on the docks when she left. She had kissed him with a kind of passion he'd only dreamed of, and then she'd kissed him a second time and a third, she was so reluctant to let him go. Now, her mouth on his had a similar desperation, though the passion was that of hope and gratitude. No more was her kiss filled with regret. Now they only sought to make up for lost time, to soothe the pain they'd caused each other, to make a vow for their future.
Ruth had just told Harry that she'd finally figured out which way was up but now her head was really spinning. The emotional outpouring she'd just had, the unbelievable stress of the day, the anesthesia still lingering in her bloodstream, and now Harry in her arms. And though she felt dizzy beyond belief, it was because her whole mind had stopped and all that existed was here and now and Harry. His kiss was overwhelming in the best possible way. The few kisses they'd shared in the past were nothing like this, nothing like the ardor and passion they finally released upon each other here.
And then when his tongue traced her lips and delved into her open mouth, she was utterly gone. Her knees were weak, barely holding her up. But Harry's big strong arms held her tight against him. She pressed herself impossibly closer, moaning with want and needing to be joined to him.
In her fit of madness, Ruth drew her hands out of his soft hair and down to his hips and under his coat, around to his bum. He jumped slightly when she squeezed, causing an interruption to their kiss. Harry just moved his attentions to her neck, groaning into her skin with desire. Ruth's wandering hands found their way to the front of his trousers. "I need you, Harry," she murmured, tracing his hardness through the fabric.
He pulled away to look at her, confused as to her meaning. When she unzipped him and her fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock, there was no more question.
In an instant, Harry gathered the fabric of her skirt up to her waist and grabbed the backs of her thighs to lift her into his arms. "Don't hurt yourself, please," she warned.
He leaned her against the railing of the roof as one hand gripped her bare thigh and the other found her knickers, already wet for him. He growled at the realization that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
She gasped to feel him touch her, to finally feel the friction of his fingers against her as she'd fantasized about. She's never thought they'd make love for the first time on the roof of Thames House, but an hour ago, she'd thought he was dead. "We're alive and I want you to take me," she begged. "Please, Harry."
He faltered for an instant, wanting her so badly, he was fit to burst. How often had he dreamed of this, of holding her in his arms and thrusting inside her? For years he'd wanted her. She deserved better than just a quick fuck on the roof with their clothes on, but how could he possibly deny her? But perhaps, if he could be really lucky, this overwrought insane catharsis between them would have lasting effect, and perhaps they'd have another opportunity where he could take her to his bed, strip her down to see and touch and taste every inch of her, take his time to make her come in a dozen different ways. For now, though, this was more than enough. He wanted her. He needed her. All of her.
Harry pushed aside her knickers and plunged into her wet heat, moaning against her neck. She gasped as he stretched her, reaching deep inside her where she had longed to make him at home. He kept still, summoning his restraint and resolve so he didn't come right then and there. This wouldn't last long, he knew, but she wanted him and he was going to give her his all.
Ruth whispered his name, soft and wanting, and he began to move, thrusting in and out of her at a steady pace. She clutched him tightly, her back pressed against the cold metal railing while his warm hands held her thighs with almost bruising strength. She crossed her ankles behind his back, coaxing him in deeper. His friction was intoxicating, filling her and loving her from the inside out. It wasn't long before she was right on the edge, trembling as she approached her completion.
Harry felt her flutter around him and he sped up, pounding into her with frenzied need. Her breaths were high-pitched gasps into his ear until she emitted a low moan, shattering in his arms. She squeezed him so tightly he could barely move, though he didn't much need to. Two more hard thrusts and he was gone.
They remained as they were, panting and clutching each other, feeling weak with post-coital satisfaction. Harry was going soft inside her and his muscles were starting to seize up. Loath as he was to do it, he had to let her go.
Ruth stood on her own once more, feeling suddenly as though she'd never properly felt her feet on solid ground. With shaking hands, she searched her pockets for a few spare tissues. "It's crumpled but it's clean," she said, her voice slightly hoarse.
"Sorry, I should have...um..."
"No, don't ever be sorry, Harry." She quickly cleaned herself up and shoved the tissue back into her pocket for disposal later. Once Harry had sorted himself back into his trousers, she leaned in and kissed him softly. "That was wonderful, thank you."
He hummed against her lips in agreement. "Perhaps we should go downstairs and collect our things. We've both earned a night off, I think. I'd like to take you home with me," he offered boldly.
Ruth smiled, her eyes shining as she looked up at him. "Yes, I think we should probably talk some more."
"Talk, yes."
She chuckled lightly and kissed him once more. They held hands as they made their way to the stairs.
Back on the Grid, however, security officers were waiting for Harry. He'd been suspended, pending a full disciplinary hearing. The officers spirited Harry away to his office and drew the blinds.
Ruth was left at a bit of a loss, ruefully remembering that the world had always done this to them, taken the lowest of lows and turned them into the highest of highs before crashing them back down again. Knowing Harry would be occupied for quite some time, Ruth gathered her things and left.
It was late in the evening by the time all the security officers left, taking his computer and many of his files with them. He looked out on to the Grid and the face he was looking for was gone. He wasn't too surprised, but he was quite disappointed. Had their tryst on the roof only been a dream, borne of high emotion and too many near-death experiences?
Harry went back up to the roof, feeling a breath of calm from returning to this place, though she was no longer there in his arms. His mobile rang and he was once again disappointed. It wasn't Ruth calling.
As Towers told him to begin preparing for a life after MI-5, Harry looked out over the sparkling city he had nearly died to protect, thinking of what Ruth had said, that their real sacrifice had been soldiering on without their loved ones. Perhaps now he was through with the sacrifice.
Harry went home feeling very out of sorts. It wasn't often he was left so uncertain in both his personal and professional lives. He was on mandated suspension for who could know how long. Ruth had made love to him and disappeared. And so he went home all alone. Once again.
The light was on through the living room window, but that wasn't unusual. His security system also included timers for the lights, tricking casual surveillance into thinking someone was home.
But someone was home. The alarm system was turned off and he was greeted in the foyer. "I'm glad your home," she said softly.
Harry stared at her, shocked to see her, though less shocked she knew his alarm codes. "You...you wanted to talk," he remembered, not quite knowing what else to say.
"We almost died today, Harry," Ruth reminded him. "You're suspended and I'm on medical leave. There will be time for talk later. And we will have later. But right now, I just want to feel alive. Make me alive, Harry."
Without a word, Harry reached out his hand to take hers and led her upstairs to his bedroom.
"I've never felt more alive in all my life," he murmured as they stood beside his bed and he kissed her softly.
Ruth smiled. "You've always made me feel alive. You've always made me feel too much and you've known me too well and you crowd me with love and you force me to care, and I never realized that all of that is what life is really about until I contemplated losing it."
"I lost you once before, Ruth, to make sure we could both stay alive, and I couldn't let it happen again," he vowed, caressing her cheeks and neck with his hands, feeling her pulse beneath his fingers, proof that she was real and alive and here with him.
She shook her head. "All that time I was away, I was alone. And that's not what it means to be alive."
"You weren't always alone," he reminded her, regretting the words as soon as he said them.
But Ruth took it in stride. "Whenever I'm not with you, Harry, I feel like I'm alone. And I don't want to be alone anymore. I know that now."
"I don't ever want you to feel alone ever again." And with that, Harry captured her lips once more. Gone was the frenzied passion from their coupling on the roof. Now, he intended to shower her all the love in his heart, take his time to build her up and feel her shatter in his arms over and over again, more alive together than they'd ever been.
Ruth had time to come to terms with all that had happened that day, to process what they'd each done and the consequences thereof. And she came to the same conclusion as she waited in his house as she had when he came to her on the roof: they needed each other and they deserved each other and there was no use denying it anymore. She had loved him fiercely for years and years, never being able to rid him from her heart as much as she'd tried. And even after they'd unleashed their unbridled lust up on the roof, she still wanted him and loved him as much as before, if not more. This was where she belonged, in Harry's arms.
She slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, eager to feel his hard muscles and hot skin beneath her hands. Earlier, she'd needed release with him. Now, she needed to see and touch and taste every bit of him, imprint every part of Harry into her soul. He helped her remove the blouse she was wearing, sensuously kissing her the whole time. She stumbled slightly as she tried to kick off her shoes, causing them to break apart.
"Here, let me," he offered. His voice was husky and his eyes were dark with his desire. He sat her down on the edge of the bed so he could undress her himself. Every bit of her pale, soft skin that was revealed to him increased his want. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, once she was completely bared to him.
Ruth smiled shyly but resisted the urge to avert her eyes. She held his gaze, happy to receive his loving praise. But now was no time to be caught up in vanity. She stood up, much shorter than him now without her shoes, and pushed his shirt and jacket off his shoulders. He kicked off his own shoes as she trailed her fingers down his chest. He shivered with arousal when her nails raked over his nipples and bare stomach. She pushed his trousers and trunks down to his ankles and whispered, "Gorgeous," as his cock twitched against her palm.
"Into bed." He swallowed hard and backed out of her grasp. This time, he would last for her. He'd take care with her this time.
They tangled together under the sheets, lying on their sides and facing one another. Ruth kissed him deeply, moaning into his mouth as his hands learned her body, palming her breasts and squeezing her bum and tracing her folds. "Harry!" she gasped, arching against his touch.
He rolled her onto her back and ran his tongue along her breasts, taking each one into his mouth in turn. The rhythm of his fingers between her legs matched the way he alternated between sucking and biting at her nipples. She made the most erotic sounds as she panted, nearing her completion far quicker than he'd imagined. She was so responsive, so wanton and sensual. In all his desperate and lonely imaginings, he'd never thought she'd be like this. Then again, he never thought that he'd ever really ever have her in his bed.
When she came against his hand, she was writhing and spasming and moaning in the most seductive manner. Harry could hardly breathe, he wanted her so badly. He stilled his efforts, kissing her sweat-slick skin gently as she came down from her high. Ruth blindly grabbed for his face and pulled him in to kiss her swollen lips again. "Now, Harry, please," she begged, her words being swallowed by his hungry mouth.
Harry pushed himself up so he could reposition over her, but he moved slightly wrong and hissed in pain. "Bloody knee," he swore under his breath.
Ruth immediately sat up, her orgasmic haze dissipating to see him in pain. "Harry, I told you not to hurt yourself! Here, lie back." She helped him roll over onto his back. "Better?"
He nodded. His eyes were shut tight. He didn't want to see her look at him with pity, this old and frail man who couldn't even properly make love to her.
But as always, Ruth surprised him. "It might have been a bit overly ambitious of us both for you to lift me up and take me like you did on the roof. Though I don't see that being repeated any time soon." Harry chuckled lightly, but the sound got caught in his throat. He felt her hand close around his cock, stroking him back to hardness after their interruption. She hummed as she felt him respond. "There we are," she murmured. Ruth continued her rhythm as she kissed and licked and nipped at his chest. Her breasts pressed against his belly, and he groaned with arousal.
She was bringing him very close with just her hand. He involuntarily thrust against her, so she let go. Harry finally opened his eyes to look at her, only to see her sit up and straddle his lap. Ruth took him in hand once again to guide him into her. She slid down on top of him, moaning at the feel of him inside her once again. Ruth shifted her weight for a moment before she began to ride him in earnest. She planted her palms on his chest to steady her. He gripped her hips and thighs, guiding her and meeting her motions with upward thrusts of his own. "God, Ruth, you're so good," he moaned.
Ruth grinned proudly and sped up. She was getting very close, and she wanted him to come with her. His erratic and forceful thrusts were all the indication she needed. She leaned down to kiss him, gasping at the friction caused by the changed angle. As she came, she moaned into his mouth. Harry sputtered beneath her, emptying himself inside her with a satisfied sigh. Ruth collapsed on top of him, unable to move, unable to let him leave her.
Harry ran his hands up and down her bare back. He felt as though he should say something. Tell her he loved her. Ask her to marry him again. Something. Anything. But the words died on his tongue. They'd said all they needed to for now. After all, they had existed for so long with such a deep dimension of feeling and connection between them all without the aid of the words that probably needed to be said eventually. But not now. Not yet.
He hadn't had a chance to tell her that he'd probably be forced into retirement, that he'd probably never go back to the Grid ever again. Towers told him to prepare for a life after MI-5, and to Harry's mind, if this were what that life looked like, he'd gladly never look back. He'd never been so alive.