Author's Notes: This was loosely inspired by Tom McRae's song "Street Light," which reminds me a lot of Ruth. (YouTube won't let me link to it, unfortunately) Beta'd by the very generous nonsenseandmischief.
Written On My Heart
He hadn't meant to fall in love with her. Affairs of the heart are messy and complicated enough without the input and watchful eye of the security services.
It's the worst kind of Catch-22—not dating outside the service, but the agony of dating inside the service… few of his officers even considered it. Adam and Fiona had come as a matched set already. There had been the chemistry that had lingered between Zoe and Danny. And, of course, there had been Tom and Christine.
His own history with Juliet was just that—history. And he was not keen on a repeat performance.
And then there was Ruth. His Ruth. The one he hadn't meant to fall in love with. The one who, for the first time in so many years, made him want to face the Catch-22 head on and beat it at its own game.
She was smart, gentle and loyal. She was unconventionally beautiful with her dark hair and blue-gray eyes. He loved her most when the edges of her mouth curled up in a slight smile, almost deviously, always beautiful.
Their relationship was proper, but not formal. Seldom did they overstep the boundaries of close friendship and confidences, but he was certain it was clear to everyone on the Grid that their close friendship was special, almost untouchable.
So he'd booked a table. A nice, but not fancy restaurant to… to what? He didn't know. He certainly didn't think blurting out his feelings over Starters was what she was expecting. Was the admission of feelings more suited to Mains?
She called him presumptuous and gave him that small smile on the roof of Thames House when he'd asked her. He felt like a teenager.
She hadn't meant to fall in love with him. Falling in love with your boss is number 27 on the long list of "Things One Doesn't Do In Her Life," because falling in love is complicated enough.
It's the worst kind of Catch-22 – finding a job you love and working for someone you respect and admire, and the agony of said person slowly becoming the most important person in your life and sole confidante.
Harry was older, but not too old. His life experiences vastly outweighed hers. She knows he's seen things she never would, nor had any desire to. There was much to be said for being a Desk Spook. It saved her a legion of personal demons to fight.
The only demon she regularly fought was the balance of their relationship—the careful and proper and intimate relationship they had cultivated over the years. Seeing colleagues come, go and, in some cases, slip off this mortal coil, they remained the Grid's constant watchful eyes. Parental in a way, she supposed.
He was smart, loyal and handsome. In rare moments, there was warmth about him—one that reached his eyes. She felt honoured the times he'd permitted himself to let down his strict façade—his Grid face—and share a conversation, a joke or simply a cup of tea at the end of a long day.
He'd asked her to dinner it a way that was so divinely Harry she smiled remembering it—a shift in conversation from the destruction of London to Charlie Chaplin movies. His whole mood shifted, his voice softened and his eyes searched hers while he told of her the restaurant he thought she'd like. He'd clearly thought about it.
She teased his presumptuousness, but was inwardly thrilled, scared and nervous simultaneously. She told him he wouldn't have to wait for the girl. For the first time, she was the girl being waited for.
end