So I wrote this one shot about a month ago and forgot about it completely. May be a bit repetitive to some of my previous stuff, but thought it was better to post than leave it sitting on my computer. Set post S10.
Harry sighed heavily, kicking his shoes off and loosening his tie. It has been a long and painful year. A very, very long year without her. He'd only been able to carry on because he had work to ground him. Work to completely lose himself in so he didn't dwell on the aching gnawing and completely constant pain of her loss. He'd said… after her funeral, he'd agreed to work a year so he'd get his full pension and train up his replacement. But that wasn't the reason he stayed on the grid. He needed the work. Now he'd finished his year, the Olympics was over, his replacement was in office and he was a free, retired man. He could have anything he wanted. Except the one thing he did want. He closed his eyes, remembering her beautiful face, her gorgeous eyes which were now rotting six feet under the earth.
He still slept badly, his last waking images usually being of Ruth bleeding to death in his arms. He could only sleep these days if he'd been self medicated on whisky. He knew he was only a couple of steps away from becoming an alcoholic, but even knowing that, he couldn't draw back. Alcohol was the only thing that both helped him sleep and numbed the pain of her death a bit. A very little bit.
He felt a little afraid that things were beginning to fade from his mind and his memories of her. The last voicemail recording she'd left on his phone (that he'd only found after her death) had been listened to a thousand times. He felt himself starting to forget her voice. The precise timbre of it and the lilt. Just beginning to fade at the edges, not entirely sure which had once been real and which belonged to his imagination. He hated himself for the tiny pieces of her he was losing to his fallible human memory. Only natural, but he still hated it and himself for it.
Looking at the whisky bottle with less than a third in it, he vowed not to drink more than that and open another bottle. She'd have hated it had she seen the mess he'd brought himself to. He had to cut back on the alcohol and he needed to find something to fill up his empty days. He'd given absolutely everything to the job, MI5 and his country that he still loved, even with everything it'd taken from him. His family. Any chance with his two children, most of his adult life and the woman he loved more than any of the lies and secrets he'd had to keep. All gone.
The one thing he was grateful for was that when she'd died, she had known how he felt. They'd had an unwitting audience in Dimitri and Erin, but at the time they'd only had eyes for each other. Sasha Gavrik had been very angry and upset and he'd shot without thinking, probably aiming to kill Harry. But Ruth had stood in front of him, getting annoyingly in the way. Harry couldn't forgive himself for going outside the bunker unarmed. What an idiot. Ruth had crumpled to the ground, instantly having difficulty breathing. Harry followed her to the ground, clamping a hand to the gunshot wound. She'd moaned in pain as his hand pressed against her body.
"You'll be alright," he said.
"Oh… Harry, I can't stand it when you lie to me." She took a shuddering breath and he curved a hand around her face gently as their eyes locked onto each other. "Harry, I don't want… Please don't sell my house. My cottage. I want you to keep it."
"You're not dying."
"Well if I'm not, then good," she said with a shudder. "But just in case."
"Okay, I'll keep the house," he said, not wanting to argue. "Ruth… I love you."
A ghost of a smile occurred on her face. "I thought you were convinced I wasn't dying."
"Well," he said. "Just in case."
"Ah!" she cried as he redoubled his grip on her wound. "That hurts."
"I know," he said.
"Love you too, Harry," she said. "I always did. Even when you're arrogant and pig headed and wrong."
"When compared to you, I'm usually wrong, Ruth."
"I love the way you say my name," she admitted. Her eyes kept fluttering closed for longer and longer moments. Harry's hand was covered in her blood and he wondered how much longer she had. Not long as it turned out. She said nothing more than his name, murmured a couple of times as she lay dying in his arms.
He swallowed the whisky in his glass in one gulp, trying to block the memory. Her deathly pale face as they'd parted clear in his mind. Forcing it aside, he instead remember her leaving him on the Thames years ago. It had been sad and it'd hurt, but comparatively it was easy. He'd let her go because it was the safest option. He didn't go after her because it was the best thing for her. To allow her to move on past him. Over those three years of her absence from London he'd never stopped thinking of her. Occasionally wishing for her professional brilliance, always wishing for her sparkle. But when she'd come back, that sparkle had gone. George. And section D, they'd both pulled it out of her. He'd hoped that when they retired together, she'd have a little of that carefree joy back. Maybe not, but he would have loved to know. Loved to have her with him long enough to find out. He didn't know enough, and that held him back in his imagination. He didn't know what she looked like when she woke up, the sunlight across her face. He didn't know if she sang in the shower. Whether she liked to sleep on the right or left side of the bed. Little homely things that didn't really matter, but it saddened him how much he didn't know about her.
The doorbell rang but he ignored it. After Halloween and the recent loud parties in the area, there'd been a lot of prank calls, and he'd learnt not to be too bothered by it. And certainly not to bother getting up for it. The whisky bottle still had a smattering in it and he debated drinking it or going to bed. The doorbell rang again and Harry listened more carefully. There wasn't any noise outside that could be revellers being kicked out of the pub, or teens having fun. He got up to answer it, deciding against taking the gun out of its hiding place. If someone wanted to kill him, he'd only put up a token protest. If he died, he might be back with Ruth again.
He opened the door and for a moment his heart stopped. Maybe he had died and gone to heaven. Ruth stood on his doorstep, biting her lip and looking nervous. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on hers, terrified that if he moved, she'd vanish into the ether. He walked to her, slowly.
"Hello Harry."
He wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in her neck as he breathed heavily. She still smelled like her, felt like her. Warm. Real. Alive. He ran his hands over her body gently, caressing the contours of her body as he'd done a thousand times in his fantasies and dreams of her. She wore an oversized jumper and jeans, something he'd never seen her in before, and even before he consciously thought it, his hand sneaked under the hem of her jumper, finding the small of her back and caressing the naked warm skin there. Fingers tracing her spine gently.
He drew back from kissing her neck, looking into her eyes. They stood much closer than they ever had before and her arms were loose around his body, as if hesitant of touching him. "Are you real, Ruth?"
"Yes," she said. "I'm here, Harry." He leaned forward and captured her lips with his own, needing to touch her. Needing to know on a deeper level that she truly was here with him. His hand became entwined with her hair as the kiss got deeper, her tongue exploring his mouth as they both became bolder. Her lips were full, soft and eager and he moaned into her mouth. "Ruth… I…"
"What?" she asked quietly, her eyes glazed over with passion.
"I need you," he said. "I've missed you so badly and I… want you so much." His hand moved lower, cupping her bum through her jeans and pulling her body against him. She didn't protest, instead running a hand over his stubbled cheek, her fingertips ending up brushing the hollow of his throat. He swallowed, feeling a surge of desire go through him.
"Come inside," he murmured. "It's cold."
"I hadn't noticed," she said quietly, teasing him very slightly. He gripped her hand very tightly as they crossed the threshold, closing his door and almost instantly, Harry pushed her up against it, a thigh pressed between her legs, a hand on her waist and the most ardent kiss she'd ever known. His other hand caressed her face gently and she closed her eyes, feeling completely surrounded by Harry. After enjoying the kiss for several minutes, she twisted away from him, turning her face to the side. "I'm not going to disappear," she said. "I'm not going to vanish like smoke, Harry. I'm here."
He looked at her, his gaze intense and brimming with emotions. "Ruth…"
"I'm not… you're not dreaming," she said gently, her hand cradling his face, her thumb stroking his skin gently. "I'm really here." He kissed her again, this time gently and sweetly. "I'm here." And he held onto her for dear life, never wanting to let her go again.
I'd love a review if you have a few seconds. Thanks for reading.