~ The Sentence ~
Ruth closes her eyes for a moment before opening them again. All is as it was before she'd closed her eyes for a second or two. The words she'd just heard spoken were not part of some twisted daydream. She focuses on the back of Harry's head. He doesn't move; he doesn't even flinch. Before the decision of the Tribunal was handed down he had turned, glancing over those present, until his eyes had settled upon her. It was only then that he turned back to face the Tribunal. Having seen her, he was ready.
"We cannot overlook the impulsivity of your actions, Sir Harry, and while we acknowledge the importance of Ms Evershed to the Service as a whole, we find your actions in no way justified, nor are they acceptable to this tribunal. Thus, our decision is unanimous. We cannot allow you to return to your position as Section Head in Counter-terrorism. So, as of 5 pm today, you will no longer be in the employ of the Intelligence Service, and -"
And that is when the roaring in her ears had begun, and Ruth had closed her eyes, hoping that when she again opened them, her world would have once again turned right side up.
Harry has been sacked; handed a P45; shown a red card; tossed out with the rubbish. Ruth draws in a deep breath before slowly and quietly releasing it. She can't take her eyes from the back of his head. He still hasn't moved. He sits statue-still, having reacted to the delivery of his sentence with his usual dignity, while other people in the courtroom quickly stand and leave. The members of the tribunal have already filed from the room. Two men pass by her, both laughing, making plans to meet for lunch. How could they? Don't they know what this means, how important this decision is? Don't they realise how wrong it is? A good man, a decent man has been tossed aside for someone younger and more compliant - more manageable - and all these people can do is make arrangements for lunch.
Ruth had expected Harry to receive a rap over the knuckles; perhaps a hefty fine, or an extended period of unpaid leave. She had even steeled herself for a custodial sentence. She'd not been prepared for him to be thrown out like he had no value, like an old pair of shoes with holes in the soles. Feeling tears forming, she drops her head, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. Once everyone has left, the courtroom falls quiet.
"Ruth?" She knows that voice so well. She lifts her head to see Harry leaning over the two empty chairs beside her. "I suspect they need this room for something else," he says quietly, reaching towards her with one hand.
This is the first she's heard his voice in six weeks, and it shakes her to her core. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispers. "It just isn't fair."
"Come," he says, somewhat impatiently, dropping his hand to his side, and stepping back, leaving room for her to join him, "let's get out of here."
So, Ruth stands, joining Harry, to accompany him from the room and the building.
They are soon outside, where it is overcast, but bright. "My car's across the road," he says, squinting. "I'll give you a lift to Thames House."
Inside his car, Ruth buckles up, and then watches him as he does the same, and then starts the car. "Have you nothing to say?" she says, as he reverses, and then enters the flow of traffic, all his actions fluid and natural.
"What's there to say?" This time he glances across the cabin, and Ruth sees sadness in his eyes, and in the slant of his shoulders she reads resignation. I know this man so well, she thinks. "My fate has been determined, and the best thing for me at this moment is to accept it. Who knows? It may be the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Ruth is part sad, part incensed. How can he be so accepting, so unmoved by this? Is he not angry? How could he not be angry? And what about his career .. his reputation .. his many years of service?
"I'm ... furious," she says at last, staring ahead at the stream of traffic ahead of them.
"I know you are."
She turns towards him, and seeing his calm expression, she feels even angrier. "Why aren't you?"
"Angry?" Ruth feels his eyes on her, but she just can't look his way. She nods. "Because I'm tired, Ruth. I'm tired of ... stupid rules. I'm tired from the struggle, and given all the options available to the tribunal, I consider I came out of that quite well."
"Quite well? You've been publically humiliated, Harry. Do you not care about that?"
"Not a lot, no. Right at this moment, what the public thinks of me is not top priority. I know why I did what I did, and so do they. Were I to again be faced with Lucas demanding I hand over Albany in exchange for your life, I'd not hesitate to do it all over again."
Ruth shakes her head and stares through the window on her side of the car. His six weeks of suspension must have made him soft. Perhaps being alone for so long has caused him to lose touch with reality, the reality being that in their business there is never time for the personal, and that saving her life may not even serve to benefit him. And what is to become of them? Once he is out of the service - in a little under four hours - will they still see one another? Will he even want to see her ... his enduring love for her having led him to this point in his life?
These and many other questions have still to be answered, although Ruth is afraid that after today she may never see Harry again.
For the last time, Harry parks his car in his own reserved parking space in the basement of Thames House. After he cuts the engine, they both sit quietly, contemplating the significance of the moment.
"You'll no longer have your own special parking spot," Ruth says, stating the obvious.
"Special parking spots do not a life make," he says, quietly contemplating the concrete wall in front of them. "I have no regrets, Ruth. You must know that saving your life was worth so much more to me than a patch of concrete in the basement of Thames House."
Ruth has nothing to say to that. It is unlike Harry to be this honest and open in her presence. Their conversations are almost always about work. It's just that the investigation into Harry's actions has crossed the line into the personal, forcing them to acknowledge the real reasons behind him having given away Albany.
One thing of which Ruth is certain is that Harry loves her, just as she has loved him for almost as long as he has loved her. It is a silent, private love which surges and then wanes, never quite fading away, always present, always reminding them of what they mean to one another. They both avoid talking about it, have never openly acknowledged it or even acted upon it, but it's there, a presence between them. Like a shadow of something not yet experienced, this love silently waits for them, sighing when they are brave enough to venture closer, then slipping back into the crevices and cracks of their shared past when a misunderstanding arises, and harsh words are spoken, words which can never be taken back. Their love for one another is a sylph - something imagined, while only having form in the hearts of them both. They each know it, and privately accept it, but they daren't speak of it, for fear that love will dissolve, melting in the air between them, leaving them bereft. While they silently acknowledge - each to themselves - that this love lies waiting, then they have something warm and real to look forward to. Were they to talk of it, to try to work with it together, the possibility of them dropping it, shattering it in its fragility is just too great a risk to take, the fallout too vast a tragedy for them to bear.
So they stumble along, sometimes together, and often apart, wondering whether ... or when .. they will ever let down their guards long enough to allow that love to grow.
"I suppose ..." Harry says at last, turning his head to look at Ruth.
"It's time," she replies.
"Shall we?" he adds, moving to open the door on his side.
They travel to the fifth floor in the lift in silence, standing side by side, not touching. This is the last time they will travel thus. Today Ruth is mentally listing their last times, perhaps so she can draw on them some time in the future, a time when she has need of a memory of an enduring love, a love never fully expressed.
Word of the outcome of the tribunal has already reached Section D. Ruth suspects Erin had been notified even before the sentence was handed down, perhaps revelling in the power to be gained from being the one to inform the rest of the team. The woman looks pleased with herself as she greets Harry, allowing him to enter what is now officially her office, while other members of the section hover close by.
"So we're stuck with Erin," announces Dimitri, who looks none too pleased.
"And here was I, looking forward to impressing the great Sir Harry Pearce," muses Calum, sidling up to Ruth, entering her personal space.
On hearing Tariq's voice, Ruth turns from Calum, to see the young techie's dark eyes clouded by sadness. "Things will never be the same again," he says quietly, for Ruth's ears only. "It's the end of an era."
Ruth nods. She couldn't have expressed it better herself.
"What will Harry do with all that time on his hands?" The voice belongs to Sheila, manager of the admin team, and long term member of Section D.
Ruth turns towards Sheila, who is watching the goings-on in Harry's office - Erin standing beside the desk, while Harry goes through the desk drawers, removing his possessions. "He hasn't said," Ruth replies. Just thinking about Harry at home tomorrow, not being able to come into work, sends Ruth across the Grid floor to her desk. When in distress, her long-term strategy is always to occupy her mind with work.
It's barely three o-clock when a rumble of chatter from outside the office has Ruth lifting her head. Harry is saying goodbye to his former team, and Ruth is about to join them when her desk phone buzzes. Should she take the call, or leave it to bid farewell to Harry?
She decides to take the call.
"Ruth Evershed," she says, her eyes following Harry as he shakes hands with Calum - whom he has only just met - and then Tariq.
"Ms Evershed ... or can I call you Ruth?"
Ruth doesn't recognise the voice. "It all depends who you are," she says cautiously.
"I'm sorry. I should have said. It's Ian Ross here. I'm the senior intelligence analyst in Section H at Vauxhall Cross. I have just ... come up with a solution which may interest you."
So Ruth listens to Ian Ross, and as she does she takes her eyes from the image of Harry nodding sagely, his expression inscrutible, while Calum talks. She can't bear to watch. As Tariq had stated, it's the end of an era.
When her phone conversation has come to an end, and she still isn't sure what it is Ian Ross has been telling her, the click on the line tells her that he has hung up. Ruth carefully places the phone's receiver in its cradle. When she looks up, the rest of the team are standing in an untidy huddle just inside the doorway through which Harry has already left. While she was on the phone to Ian Ross, she had missed seeing Harry leave the Grid for the last time.