I started writing this before series 10 aired, and at that time I imagined it set at the very end of series 10. However, since I didn't finish it in time, and having now seen that series, I think it fits best between the end of series 9 and start of series 10, as an explanation of sorts for how Harry and Ruth behave with each other at the start of the final series. I have borrowed a single line from 10.2 because it seemed to fit so well with the conversation.
Hope you enjoy it.
Harry started at the harsh sound of the car door slamming shut, then Ruth appeared beside him.
"Do you know what's wrong?"
"Could be the alternator, but I'm not sure."
"Can you fix it?"
"I'm afraid not. Mechanics was never one of my strengths. We'll have to call in and get some help." He retrieved his mobile phone as he was speaking, then made a face and held the screen toward Ruth. "No reception."
"Oh, great."
"I guess it's sit and wait. Let's hope it's not too long."
"We're in the middle of nowhere, Harry."
"Yes, thank you, Ruth. I'm well aware of that." He turned away, walking a few paces down the road where he stopped, rubbing his hands over his face.
Ruth thrust her hands into her coat pockets, leaning on the car bonnet, and watched him for a moment. The sky was steadily getting darker, and there was a definite chill in the air. This was the last place she wanted to be, the last place either of them wanted to be, stuck with each other on a deserted back road. She looked up as Harry materialised beside her.
"Okay, either we wait here for goodness knows how long in the hope someone passes, or we start heading that way." He pointed ahead of them.
Ruth pushed herself off the car, opened the door, and grabbed her bag. She started walking and Harry sighed, pressing the button to alarm the car, and striding out to catch up with her.
A quiet crunching underfoot was the only sound to be heard for close to five minutes, until Harry was the first to break the awkwardness.
"Perhaps we should use this time to talk."
"Talk?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, talk. This … thing that's been going on. It's been long enough, too long, don't you think?"
She looked away from him, her face clouding over. After a moment, she turned back. "Okay."
He waited, giving her the chance to start, but she remained silent so he plunged in.
"You're still angry with me aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't."
"Ruth -"
"Don't say something you don't mean."
"I do mean it. I am sorry. I didn't want to make you angry. I don't want to make you angry." She glared at him. "What do you want me to say, Ruth?"
"I want you to tell me why? How could you do it? I didn't want to die, but how do you think I felt when I realised that my life being saved would cost thousands of other people theirs? How do you think that made me feel?"
"Albany wasn't real."
"What?"
"It was a fake. A clever fake designed to simulate a genetic weapon, but never do any harm. It would never have killed anyone."
Ruth swallowed deeply, staring at Harry. Then she stepped to the side and walked to the stone wall running along the edge of the road. She stood still for a moment then slid down the wall to sit on the ground, wanting to be as far away from Harry as possible, and shooting him a warning glance as he made to approach her.
"Ruth -"
"Be quiet, Harry. I don't want to hear anymore. Not right now."
"Ruth -"
"No. I need to think."
Harry moved to lean on the wall a couple of feet away from her, and they remained silent. Ruth with a frown on her face. Harry's eyes flitting between Ruth and the field beyond the wall. The moonlight was their only means of visibility, and the sound of their breathing was loud in the stillness.
After what felt like an interminably long time, Ruth spoke. "I still want to know. Why, Harry?"
"Albany wasn't real. I told you that." His voice was soft.
"That's not the point. You knew it wasn't real. Nobody else did. Everyone else believed … believes ... you gave up a state secret to save me. To save one person." Ruth paused to take a breath. "And even if it was real, you would have done the same thing, wouldn't you? You said so before."
"I honestly don't know. I think, probably … yes." Ruth's eyes widened, and he went on. "Losing you again, when I had a chance to save you … I'm not sure I could have done it."
"You would have sacrificed thousands of people to save me? Thousands of people for one person?"
"I would have got Albany back before it could have been a problem, but yes."
Ruth shook her head in disbelief. "You let George die to save thousands of other people. I begged you to save him, but you sat and … you let him die. It was no different, Harry, but you let him die."
Harry couldn't look away from her, and the hurt at her words was obvious in his eyes. "It was completely different, Ruth. Almost everything about it was different."
"Choosing to save one person or lots of people. How is that different?"
"That's the same. What's different is who, and the circumstances."
Her face filled with disbelief. "That's not fair."
"Life's not fair. You and I both know that. Albany wasn't real, the uranium was. A real threat. I didn't know George, but I know you. You're too valuable."
"You shouldn't -"
"I can't apologise for choosing you, Ruth. I won't."
"You … you ..." She couldn't finish. She didn't know what she wanted to say.
"Do you think I don't feel guilty? I don't want people to die because of what I do, but sometimes there's no choice. It's what happens in this business."
They lapsed into silence again, until Ruth caught Harry's eye.
"I don't know how you do it, Harry. I don't understand how you go through it all, day after day, and don't feel something. I've seen you shout at politicians. And you rant and rave at the team, though I'm sure you care for them, but outside of that … you don't show anything. Don't you feel anything?"
"You know me better than that, Ruth. Of course I feel something. I just can't show it. If I did, I don't think I'd ever make it into work each day. I feel plenty of things. And yes, I get angry, believe me."
She looked bewildered.
"You took the choice away from me with Cotterdam, Ruth. I was angry at you for giving up everything for me, and angry at you for leaving me. For making me ..." He sighed.
"Making you what?"
"Weak. Helpless. For the first time in my life I felt like there was a hole, something missing, and I'd never felt that before. I was angry at you for making me love you, but not letting me love you."
"I -"
"I think we're both still angry, for lots of things, don't you?"
"Are you angry at me for saying no when you asked me to marry you?"
"Not like I was, but I think so."
"But you said we had to move on."
"I know."
"You didn't mean it?"
"I wanted to mean it. I want to mean it. It's just not all that easy to do."
"If it wasn't for Cotterdam, what do you … what do you think would have happened?"
"I don't know." Harry wiped a hand across his face. "You know we can't predict the future."
There was another long silence, as both Harry and Ruth became lost in their memories. The moon which had been peeking out from behind the clouds disappeared, casting them further into darkness.
"I know you blame me for a lot of things, Ruth. I know what I've done, and I know I've ruined the lives of people I care about. I live every day with the decisions I've made. They're not the sum total of who I am, but they have an influence on me." Harry's voice was barely audible. "I may not be able to forgive myself, but I wish you could understand. That you could forgive me. I really wish you would." He gave her a pained look, and turned and walked away down the road.
Ruth looked astonished. He really thought she blamed him?
The last thing Harry wanted to do was leave Ruth marooned by herself, but he needed to put some distance between them. He'd said his piece. It was his last stand, and he knew he probably wouldn't be able to go there again.
He slowed his pace, and coming to a halt, looked up at the sky. It was ablaze with twinkling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen stars like that. Nor when he'd even thought to look up at them. They were tiny, and the number of them made him feel incredibly small. It reminded him of the summer he was ten, when his father had taken him and his brother camping. They'd pitched a tent, but lay outside, eyes toward heaven, picking out the constellations until they fell asleep.
"Harry?"
He hadn't heard Ruth approaching, and drew in a deep breath before turning to where she stood behind him.
"You're wrong. I don't blame you," she said. He looked at her, unblinking, and she went on. "I don't. Just because I've been angry, doesn't mean I haven't forgiven you. I get angry because I'm scared, and sometimes that confuses me. And I get angry because I expect so much. You have confidence in so many things, but not in the most important. Despite what you might think, you're a good man, Harry."
He stared at her, brow furrowing.
"We've both done things, made decisions that have hurt each other. But we've always … we've always done it with the best of intentions. Wouldn't you agree?"
He nodded.
"I forgave you a long time ago, Harry." She paused. "You should forgive yourself too."
Ruth gave him a wobbly smile, which he returned with one of his own. A sense of relief descended on them as they stood in the middle of the road.
"Do you think we could keep walking, please?" Ruth shivered. "I'm freezing."
Harry slid the scarf from his neck and placed it around hers. He tied it loosely, resting his hands on her shoulders, and his smile widened.
"Better?"
"A bit." She smiled back.
They started walking again, quickly falling into step with each other, and Harry put his arm around Ruth, pulling her close for warmth.
Thanks for reading.
This story grew out of a quote which seemed relevant, and which gave me the title for the story:
True forgiveness deals with the past, all of the past, to make the future possible.
(Archbishop Desmond Tutu, in his memoir No Future Without Forgiveness)