Disclaimer: I own some DVDs. That's about it, really...
Here's some random fluff (sort of) while I try and decide what to do with my other story… Set at the end of S10. Shameless wishful thinking, shrouded in dodgy metaphors… Enjoy!
She sat on the bench and let the breeze blow across her face. It picked up strands of her hair and played with them, tangling them into loose ropes. There was moisture in the air – just a little, just enough to stop the wind feeling too crisp.
Ruth let her thoughts drift away on the breeze, content just to sit and not have to think about anything for a while. She watched as a young mother pushing a pram stopped on the path a few metres in front of her bench. The woman bent down, adjusted the blanket covering her baby and then moved on, oblivious to everything around her, locked in her simple world.
Ruth shut her eyes and listened to the birds in the trees overhead, enjoying the sound of nature. If she concentrated hard enough, she could just about block out the sounds of the Thames and the roads close by – just.
The sound of rustling autumn leaves cut through her relaxed state and she sat up straight, looking up to find Harry walking towards her, trudging through the piles of leaves like his legs each weighed a tonne. He gave her a crooked smile as he drew near. "Mind if I join you?"
She had come to the park with the intention of being alone, so she didn't have to deal with everything that was still unresolved between them. And yet the sight of him standing there, looking so unsure of himself, made her change her mind in an instant. She shuffled towards the edge of the bench, giving him room to sit. "Of course I don't mind."
Harry settled himself next to her and looked out at the little park. Ruth watched him for a moment before turning her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap. She thought she'd have to dig out her gloves soon, if the weather really was starting to properly turn.
"We live to fight another day," Harry said. He sounded wistful. There were so many meanings to that statement.
"Yes. We do." And so much could be read into her response.
He sighed, but not in annoyance. "I'm getting old, Ruth."
The lack of energy in his voice sparked something in her and she snapped her head up to face him, feeling the heat immediately begin to rise in her cheeks. "No, you're not. Don't say that."
"Oh, but I am," he said quietly. "Too old."
"Too old for what? The service?"
He didn't answer, but then she didn't expect him to. She knew even before she asked the question that it was about more than just the job. She knew that he was tired of the suspense, of the two of them never being quite close enough for satisfaction or comfort. So was she. She opened her mouth to speak again but he beat her to it.
"It's shaping up to be a cold winter."
"Doesn't mean it can't be beautiful."
He turned his head to look at her. His gaze was soft, hesitant affection breaking through to the surface. "No, you're right. It could still be lovely."
It was in her head to turn away from him, to look elsewhere to get away from the intensity of him, but it occurred to her that that was how they had ended up like this – talking in riddles and about nothing at all. And, as it turned out, turning away from him had got her nowhere. She was still right by his side, the two of them running in parallel despite everything. Something was telling her that it could be so much better than that. There wasn't much left that could be lost, after all, but there was something left to gain. A dreary autumn could become a beautiful winter, if she'd only let it.
She didn't turn away from him. Instead, she reached out blindly with one hand, fumbling until she found his resting limply between them on the metal bench. She picked it up and wrapped her fingers around his, still looking at him, watching him watch her. It had been a long time since she'd properly allowed herself that luxury. It warmed her.
"We've not had many chances to talk lately," Harry said, his eyes flicking to her lips and then back up again.
No, they hadn't. That had largely been her fault. She'd let herself get caught up in work and everything that was going on there, because it was easier than having to admit that, actually, she missed him. And that she wanted him. But now there were no distractions left, from work or otherwise. That was why she had come to this park in the first place, to be somewhere without distraction. "We can talk now," she said, looking away from him while she spoke, still too shy to face him properly when she was offering him something of herself, however small it was.
He squeezed her hand. "Ruth, look at me."
She did, telling herself that there was nothing to stop her, that she would never forgive herself if she denied him – them – now. She forced herself to be confident and hoped the effort would show in her face.
"Why do you keep running from me?" He didn't sound accusatory, just genuinely interested.
"I don't know. But I'm not… I'm not now. I'm not going to do that anymore." The wind was picking up again, pushing her hair into her face. She used her free hand to shove it back.
"Really?" He said it quietly, his tone blank, as though he couldn't afford the hope that was written so clearly across his face.
Her answer was decisive. "Yes. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of trying to pretend that I don't…" She stopped to take a breath. "I'm old too, Harry. And I'm sorry."
He gave her a smile and only made her wait a moment before he responded. "You're forgiven. And you're not old, because if you're old then I must be ancient."
She laughed. "Then we're just… in autumn."
"Coming up on winter." His tone was teasing, but his words were far from empty.
She shuffled closer to him. She could feel his breath on her face. "There are worse places to be."
"Lots of them, yes. I think we'll be all right, don't you?" He released her hand and instead slid his arm around her, pulling her close.
Ruth put her head on his shoulder and smiled, looking out at the park that seemed much more inviting than it had when she had arrived. "I think so. It will be nice to be together for when winter arrives."
Harry pressed his lips to her head. She could feel his smile against her hair. "Indeed. I think it's shaping up to be a good one."
Not entirely sure I'm happy with the end section, but…
Thanks for reading :)
