The question was raised as my conscience fell. A silly, little lie. It didn't mean much, but it lingers still, in the corners of my mind. Still, you call me to walk on the edge of this world, to spread my dreams and fly. But the future's so far, my heart is so frail. I think I'd rather stay inside.
He is feeling his age. The cold air of night, the lateness of the hour, the unexpected nerves of meeting this mysterious woman, all affecting him more than he likes. Not for the first time today, he wonders why he is here.
'Companionship', is the word that flits through his mind, the need to establish some kind of relationship with another human being.
As he sighs, he contemplates why it is so hard to move on from the non-relationship they had had.
Essentially, the two of them were nothing more than boss and employee, colleagues that had grown into work friends.
Nothing more.
They had had dinner alone once, had spent a handful of times together with the rest of the team, and yet, his heart and mind were refusing to forget her.
To move on.
Three years have passed from her unjust departure from London in her bid to protect him, and yet, he still finds himself hopelessly pining for her return. Even if only for things to return to their status quo.
Yet, he knows that is not going to happen.
She could have returned six months prior, returned to her life, to London – to him, and yet, she chose not to. Had told Malcolm; because she ignored all contact with him; that her new life would not allow for her to return and to tell Harry to leave her alone, that she was happy in her life without him.
It took more than my strength to simply be still, to see but never find. All the reasons we change, the reasons I doubt. And why do loved ones have to die?
That had stung more than he cared to admit.
I am the thorn in your crown, but you love me anyway.
In a way, that should have been the catalyst his heart and minded needed to move on from mindless fucks to perhaps a real relationship, but it had not.
I am the sweat on your brow, but you love me anyway.
He still thought of her first thing in the morning as he mindlessly went through his morning routine, wondered what it was she was doing.
I am the nail in your wrist, but you love me anyway.
He thought of her randomly throughout the day, her name popping into his mind, a question he wanted to ask, or a tidbit he wanted to share.
I am Judas' kiss, but you love me anyway.
And she was the last thought on his mind as he settled wearily into his bed, a half-hearted prayer on his lips as he prayed for any kind of contact with her.
See now, I am the man that called out from the crowd for your blood to be spilled on this earths shaking ground. Yes then, I turned away with this smile on my face. With this sin in my heart, I tried to bury your grace. And then, alone in the night, I still called out for you. So ashamed of my life.
It was that last thought that had made him realize how truly pathetic he had become, to whisper a prayer to a long forgotten God in the hopes that she would relent and talk to him. She had made her decision, had moved on with her life, and he truly did not matter as much to her as she did to him.
It was time he did too.
Yet, his attempts at moving on have failed. Each woman he had met for a meal had been compared to her, and none had measured up.
And rightfully so.
Ruth was unique, a woman special in her own right, and to compare any woman to what they had had was unfair.
Besides that, in a way, she had broken his heart, had teased him into thinking something else than what she was. He did not need another woman like that – did not want another woman like that.
Therefore, he had backed off his quest, decided to let fate take its course, and just be.
Apparently, fate had spoken by way of Malcolm.
His quite friend had arranged this dinner date on his birthday, nervously inquiring if Harry had any plans, and that if not, he knew of a woman who was new to London looking for companionship and something more.
Companionship.
It had been that word that had intrigued Harry more than the something more had. While he still had hopes in his old, broken heart of finding a loving relationship for the remainder of his life, he had resolved that companionship would be more than enough.
Was perfect in fact.
He'd agreed to meet the woman for an evening meal, had wanted to take her to a restaurant so they could get to know each other but Malcolm, their intermediary, had said the woman wanted to cook for him. Schedules being what they were; his with work, hers traveling back to London from Greece; his birthday had been the first available evening.
Not that he had a reason to celebrate.
Now here he stood at the bottom of the brick steps, staring at the brightly lit windows. His mind was telling him to be weary, to be cautious about whatever was to come.
His heart not so much.
That vital organ to his survival had been racing since his car service had dropped him off, his palms sweaty with nerves, anticipation deep in his gut, and he questioned why he felt the nerves of a teenager meeting their first girlfriend for the first time.
With a sigh, he rubs his gloved hands together, giving one more glance around the quite London Street before making his way up the steps. Through the wood and glass door, he can hear the melody of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, the harmony of the instruments soothing something within him.
Pressing the buzzer, he waits.
Through the frosted glass, he can see the approaching of a petite figure with dark hair and something grips him tightly inside.
This is wrong.
He is not ready for this, for meeting someone with the general characteristics of Ruth, and he considers leaving, feigning an emergency of sorts.
His feet are frozen though, and dumbly he stands still as he hears the locks being undone, sees the door begin to swing open. As it stands wide, his breath catches in his throat, his eyes locked on the woman before him, a large smile on her face.
Words escape him as she steps forward, embracing him tightly as his name leaves her lips, as her lips caress his stubble covered chin.
It's only as she begins to step away does his mind begin to function again, his arms lifting to wrap around her small waist, keeping her pressed against his front. Eyes wide, he stares down in wonder and shock.
"Ruth?"
AN: A little one-shot I've been working on for Harry's birthday, again inspired by a song by the band Sidewalk Prophets, this one called 'You Love Me Anyway', which has made its way into the piece in italics. It's Harry-centric, something I normally vie away from, and ends a bit…abruptly, so I hope you will let me know what you think. J
Jenna