Just finished reading Harry's Diary for the first time, and thought there would be a good opportunity to write from series 8 onwards. A different style of writing but I hope people enjoy it anyway. This will be much more Ruth prominent than the book was, and I hope to capture Harry accurately. Apologies for any inconsistancies in the plot details, I haven't seen some eps in a while. Also the dates, I've mostly made up but the years will be correct.
16th February 2009
I turned to pick up my diary today for the first time in about three years. I vowed not to write anything again, but events during the past forty eight hours seem to have changed my mind somewhat. I need to be able to talk about recent events, and this seems as good a place as any. I don't have to worry about a diary talking to someone when I'm no longer useful.
I was kidnapped by Russian FSB officers the day before yesterday. Of course, they didn't want to interrogate me themselves, instead they sold me on to a renegade Indian nationalist Mani Singh. Instead of the lucrative money the Russian's had been promised, their reward was a bullet in the head. While these events are bad, it is not the reason I'm confiding in my diary once more. Its what happened a few hours later that makes me write in these pages. Mani was after weapons grade uranium that I smuggled out of Iraq and hid in Britain. Or should I say, uranium that Ruth and I both smuggled out of Iraq. Mani went after her, and after only a few hours I was face to face with her. The woman I'd never expected to see again, yet whose presence I could never completely forget was sitting across the room from me, her hands tied in front of her and her eyes never leaving mine.
I don't know whether it was the time apart or the extreme stress of the situation, but she'd never looked more understatedly beautiful. I longed to talk to her somewhere where our every word was not being monitored by the Indians, but I knew the chances were less than zero. Our words were short and to the point, but the undercurrents between us were so powerful that neither of us could deny them. She was now married. I couldn't believe it. Not that she'd met someone else, that I'd half expected in a way. She couldn't live in the past after all, but that she felt committed enough to actually marry another man? I can't lie, that hurt me more than I've been hurt in years. But tied to a chair as I was, my options beyond conversation were somewhat limited. I asked her if she loved George. Ruth failed to answer. She told me she wasn't going to discuss it with me. Before I had time to press the point Mani returned and started threatening her by hurting her family.
Ruth didn't know where the uranium was. When she had been in Cyprus I moved it without her knowledge. With a result that Mani had to try and break me instead. He shot Ruth's husband, all the while she was crying and begging him not to. Begging me to tell him where the uranium was. For a minute I had to consider why I was doing this. Was I refusing to tell Mani what I knew because I was jealous of Ruth's husband? Or was it for the more noble reason of wanting to save thousands from horrific deaths from dirty bombs? I judged it to be the latter rather than the former. After all, if it was one of my friends, one of my officers under threat, I'd still have to do the same thing. But it is not easy to rationalise when you are being threatened with a gun, and the woman you love is crying hysterically because her husbands just been murdered.
And yes, in spite of seeing her again in the most horrific of circumstances, I realised the second I saw her face that I do love her. I loved her when she left, I loved her during her exile, and I love her still. I cannot see that ever changing if I'm being honest. I watched her devastation and pain at a closer range than I would ever wish to, and it was simply luck that her stepson didn't die too. Luck and a little intervention from Malcolm, who has informed me he wishes to retire as a side note.
The look on Ruth's face when we were rescued by Lucas and Ros was one I'll never forget. She was in so much pain that I wanted to do anything to end the sense of loss that I knew she was feeling. I'm horrified by my actions today, even though I know they were right in the end. But Ruth will never forgive me, and to be honest I can't say I blame her.
Any thoughts?