A/N- As it didn't feel right to bring Harry and Ruth together at the end of the last fic, I thought they may be a bit closer after Albany. A little two-chapter fic. Reviews and comments always welcomed.
The pod doors hissed open, glass and chrome continuing to revolve even as lives cracked apart. Ruth looked up and over her monitor. She didn't see anyone. A ghost perhaps. But which one? There were so many. She expelled a low breath, dipping her head back down, attempting to undo the knot that had settled in her stomach.
She returned to the paper on her desk, her pen moving around intently, giving the impression that she was diligently filling out her report. She had spent an hour trying to formulate a sentence, a word, any idea that could possibly communicate the events of the past twenty-four hours, but all she had to show for her efforts were drawings of intricate spirals winding around each other, fractals, building, spreading out, creating tiny galaxies.
Judging by the air quality on the Grid and wooliness of her head, it must be getting late. Her hand moved to her forearm and she gently rubbed the mottled bruise that lingered there as a reminder of the day's events. More than likely, it was the after effects of the anesthesia that caused her inattentiveness. She needed to focus, be prepared for any question, explanations at the ready. At any moment, Special Branch would come plowing through the pods, looking for answers - as if reams of paper and computer circuits held the secret to why an agent had gone rogue. They would never be able to understand that the mind was a universe unto itself. She could barely divine the reasons for her own actions let alone those of someone else. She massaged her neck, consoling herself with the thought that at least it would not be Oliver Mace leading the vanguard, set on destroying the section.
She cast a glance over at Harry's office. He was still not there. When the dust had cleared, when Special Branch had razed the section and plundered their memories, she would have to confront him; a task more daunting than unravelling the tangled mess that was the Lucas North story.
The click of rolling wheels interrupted her thoughts and she sat up straight, sliding a folder over her paper. She turned to see Dmitri moving his chair towards her.
"I've no idea what to put in this report," he whispered.
"I know," she answered him with a grim smile. She felt drawn to this young man even though he insisted on calling her Evershed. He looked at her with gentle blue eyes. He was so pleasantly uncomplicated, the line of his character easily drawn. Such a lovely face – if only she were a few years younger. But he would never notice her, never look at her the way a certain pair brown eyes did. "Just write down what happened," she continued.
He levelled his gaze at her. "You want me to put down that Harry gassed Beth and me to get to Albany?"
Ruth mirrored his look. "Yes, well, I don't think we can pretty that part up. Stick to facts, don't embellish anything, reduce your involvement. Maybe we can save ourselves going forward."
Going forward - Ruth felt like she hadn't moved at all. She had been at this particular point of the spiral many years before. She had cried for Tom as she had cried for Lucas - and both times, she had cried for Harry. Although, when Tom had gone rouge, she had an experienced team to lean on. There had been Harry to lean on. Now, everyone looked to her.
How were they to know that in all her years in the Service, all her experiences, nothing had ever prepared her for a situation like this? That unlike Tom, who was trying to clear his name, Lucas North had been a fiction.
The pods turned on their axis again. This time, it was not a spectre but one of the living. Beth entered, walking towards her desk; her head bowed, looking suspiciously like she had been crying. She sat down across from Ruth, not making eye contact, trying to maintain her air of bravado. Ruth had come to realise in the time that they had lived together, that it was just a facade, that underneath the brash exterior lay a softness that was reminiscent of Zoe and Jo – all beautiful women eaten up by the service.
They had sat through the night together, Beth unable to sleep, Ruth unwilling to sleep. Rest was not the balm it once was; it came with vivid dreams and grisly nightmares. Scenes of George and Jo; of guns and splattered blood, her hand on the trigger. She shuddered to think what visions were bubbling below the surface of her conscious after the whole kidnapping ordeal. She should be dead and nowhere was she reminded of that more than when she closed her eyes and saw all those who were sacrificed before her.
Tariq cautiously looked out of the tech suite. Ruth saw him and motioned for him to come over. His clothes hung on his lanky frame; his hair was plastered to one side of his head and sticking up on the other, looking like he hadn't slept either. She would protect him, help him cope with the enormity of the situation, but she would have given anything at that moment to be able to call upon Malcolm and his phlegmatic nature.
He pulled a chair up, too tired to care that he was sitting on Ruth's coat, Ruth too tired to point it out. The four of them huddled around her desk, heads together, voices low.
Beth shifted in her seat, her eyes darting about. "I feel like we're being watched."
"We probably are," Ruth answered. "If not now, certainly within the next few hours."
Tariq moved in closer. "Do you think they have something on the Grid?"
"I don't know. There have been a lot of comings and goings," Ruth conceded, "There might be trackers."
"I should do a sweep," Tariq said, the idea of having a purpose easing his apprehension.
Ruth leaned back in her chair. "I don't know why Special Branch hasn't come in yet. They should be on us by now. They'll want answers and there aren't any."
What would she say when asked? Yes, I knew Lucas North was up to something. No, I didn't know he was John Batemen. Yes, I told my boss. No, he didn't act on it.
How she had seethed when Harry dismissed the information she had given to him. There had never been doubt between them before, awkwardness and tension yes, but there had always been trust. There had been a fleeting moment of schadenfreude when everything had started to unravel, and she had to stop herself from saying "I told you so" but that was quickly lost when she became tangled up in the whole sordid mess. That part was nothing like the Tom dilemma. He, at least, hadn't kidnapped her. She wondered if Lucas reminded Harry of Tom – prodigal sons, worthy of a second chance at redemption. Or was it the guilt that he carried over Lucas' time in Russia? That other tangled back-story, happening long before she had arrived on the scene.
The pods hissed and every head turned except Ruth's. This time, she knew who it was. She couldn't look up; dared not make eye contact, though she knew at some point she would have to face him and attempt to unravel the Gordian knot they had tied themselves into.
"Briefing room. Now." Harry's voice barked through the empty grid. There was a palpable sense of relief that Harry had returned, a captain to guide them on their rudderless journey.
They filed into the room, Harry taking his place at the top of the table, Ruth countering his move by choosing the seat furthest away from his eye-line, coward that she was. She saw a look pass between Dmitri and Beth, both aware of the shift in dynamics. Tariq also felt the tension and nudged his chair closer to Ruth, either in solidarity or in the hope that she would protect him. All of them felt the shadow of the empty chair, bereft of a section chief.
Harry sat with his hands folded on the table. He remained in his black overcoat, not a good omen, Ruth thought. Even at a distance, she could see how drawn his face had become, how the lines and wrinkles figured more prominently, his age weighing on him. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"For years the powers that be have wanted me out and it looks like I have handed them the weapon of my own demise. I knew there would be repercussions from my actions, no matter what the outcome. I want you to know that I have tried at every step of the way to minimize the damage and to avert any fallout on the team."
His eyes circled around the table, each member looking back at him expectantly, all but for Ruth.
"I've just spoken with the Home Secretary. There is going to be an inquiry into the whole Lucas North," he paused for a moment at the name, then took a deep breath and continued, "John Bateman debacle. And hence, an inquiry into me and my career. As of this moment, I am suspended."
There was a collective intake of breath at the last statement. A look of panic crossed their faces at the thought of a section without Harry.
"What about Ruth?" Dimitri asked.
Ruth's head bobbed up at the mention of her name. Was she to be taken down too, an agent contaminated by her association with Harry?
"I'll get to that. One of my concerns is Beth."
The young woman looked around wide-eyed. "Me? What did I do?"
"It's not so much what you've done as how you came to be here. You were on the North Star with Lucas and permitted to join the section under unorthodox circumstances. That and your association with the Colombians may make you a target for scrutiny."
"That's not fair. What about all the operations where I've played a successful role."
"I know it's not fair. The machine that is the Service does not understand fair."
"I could create a dossier of sorts," Ruth interjected, "documenting all the operations where Beth's input has been invaluable."
Harry placed his fingers together in a steeple mulling over her suggestion. "Yes," he agreed, "That sounds like an excellent idea."
Dimitri spoke up. "What about Alec? Where is he?"
"Mr. White has been fairly compensated for his time and will not return."
"But what do we say about him in our reports," Dimitri pressed.
"He was a deniable asset and as such he needs to remain undocumented."
"What, like he didn't exist?" Beth piped in.
"Lucas North didn't exist," Harry stated, a tone of exasperation colouring his voice. "One more phantom in this whole convoluted charade is not going to draw any suspicion."
"What about us Harry?" asked Tariq, an imperceptible shake in his voice.
"You and Dimitri should come out unscathed, although they will no doubt grill you on every instruction I have ever given you."
Everyone shuffled in their seats. The question still hung in the air – what about Ruth?
"I would highly recommend that you all pack up for the night. This has been an incredibly stressful time for everyone. We've lost a man who held out trust. A man we thought was one of us." Harry closed his eyes. "I want to thank you all for everything you've put into this operation. For everything, you've given to this section. For the loyalty, you have shown towards me. I will do my best to make sure none of you are taken down with the implosion of my career."
With that, Harry rose from his seat and walked out of the briefing room. The team sat in stunned silence, unsure what the next move should be. Each head turned in unison to look at Ruth. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders.
Dmitri broke the silence, "You heard the man, let's pack it up for the night."
They filed out of the briefing room, absorbed in their own thoughts, each suffering from varying degrees of shock. Ruth hung back from the rest, pausing at the entrance, debating what to do. He hadn't spoken to her, hadn't revealed her fate. Was she to be suspended? She evaluated the situation, weighing her options. He had weathered suspension before over the Kurvin affair, he could very well make it through again. At least, there wouldn't be a Juliet bossing them about. She couldn't conceive of a Grid without Harry. She should resign. For what? She had done nothing wrong. There was nothing between them, only a gaping chasm that left her feeling empty inside. There must be more. She needed to speak to him. Her body swayed in the direction of his office, but her feet remained rooted to the ground. This time, she whispered the word aloud, speaking to the walls. "Coward." She walked back to her desk.
She stood at her station, moving files, straightening papers; giving the impression that she was busy while covertly looking under her lashes into Harry's office. He moved around with great purpose, opening drawers and packing files into a briefcase, punctuating his activities with the clink of a scotch bottle, giving no impression that he was in the slightest way concerned with her. Was that it? Was he going to leave her alone to fend for herself? She sat down, the pretense of looking busy too exhausting to maintain.
Harry walked out of his office and over to Dimitri. He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and the two men exchanged a few words in quiet conversation, Dimitri glancing over at Ruth, one eyebrow raised. What were they saying? Were they talking about her? Harry broke away from the conversation and Ruth quickly focused her attention back on her desk. Surely, he would come over and speak with her now. A minute passed then two and slowly the realisation dawned on her that he had circumvented her station and returned to his office.
A great weight settled on her chest and a tendril of panic crept around her heart. He was going to leave without speaking to her. She felt a knife-like pain in her solar plexus and looked down at her desk, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. This was it then, this was the end; spared again and left with nothing. Isn't that what she deserved, saying it was wrong of him to love her when he gave up Albany. She had no right to expect anything from him; she had refused him, denied him and, in the end, had said nothing to stop him from leaving to meet his fate with Lucas.
She looked down at her paper, her finger tracing over the swirling lines, round and round, always the same, destined to repeat the pattern.
It took her a moment to notice the subtle shift in the air of the Grid, a preternatural quiet, no humming voices, no clicking keyboards. She raised her head in confusion and saw Harry standing by the pods, a dark figure with a briefcase in one hand, his gaze fixed on her. She thought he was taking in one last sweep of the Grid before he left, possibly for good, but his eyes remained singularly on her. Perhaps he was committing her to memory, resigned to never seeing her again. She could feel a tension, an eddy moving beneath the surface. He continued to look at her and she moved forward in her chair in her chair, the air no longer feeling stale but charged, a current humming between them. His face was inscrutable, but his eyes held a look, a look that Ruth knew all too well, neither asking nor demanding but meant entirely for her. At any other time, this complete focus of attention would have her sinking into the floor with embarrassment, finding an excuse to leave, scurrying away, but today she remained calm.
Pulled by instinct rather than reason, she stood up, the wheels of her chair clattering as it rolled back. She looked down at her desk, files fanned out, her mobile with its blue message light insistently blinking, the screen of her computer scrolling through data. Plastic and metal, cold and unfeeling, not caring whether she lived or died. She looked back up at Harry. She reached over to where her coat lay on an adjacent chair, picked it up and slowly wound her arms into the sleeves. She closed her eyes and inhaled a long slow breath. As she exhaled, she knew what she had to do. She walked away from her desk – leaving her mobile blinking, her terminal open and her reports unfiled.
She moved towards the pods, her eyes resolutely on the doors, not meeting Harry's eyes as he watched her approach. She came to a stop beside him, facing the glass doors; there was no looking back. He turned around and faced the doors as she did. They stood, suspended, waiting, neither touching nor speaking. Then, as if connected by some singular vibration, they both moved forward, the pod doors yawning before them. They stepped through the ever-revolving doors of glass and chrome, and the world of the Grid hissed closed behind them.