Presumptuous

It took Harry a moment to check his own thinking. Did he need to be on the Grid to deal with Tariq's discovery that the Nightingale money had been transferred to Pakistan? Did he just want to leave so he and Ruth could get a drink together? Was his personal desire to spend time with her outside of work clouding his judgment for both their jobs?

Tariq solved the problem for him. "It'll take me ages to trace this, Harry. I don't think there's anything else we can do tonight. Just wanted to make sure you know," the young man explained.

But it was Ruth's hand giving a soft squeeze on his shoulder that really decided it. "Let's go, Harry," she said quietly, perhaps too quiet for even Tariq to hear.

With a stiff nod, Harry left their tech genius to his task and led Ruth out of the pods, out of Thames House, and into the night. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to go?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile. "Wherever I can have a glass of cold sauvignon blanc and we can sit at a table and not be bothered by anyone."

"I know just the place." Harry offered his arm to her, which she took. They walked a few blocks to a small basement bar.

It was dark and hazy, full of mahogany and leather and the smell of expensive whiskey. The waiters and bartenders all wore silk waistcoats. Ruth couldn't tell if the place was very posh or just very cool. Either way, it wasn't the sort of place she felt at all comfortable. But she'd asked Harry for a drink and a drink they would have. It didn't much matter where.

They sat down at a small table in the back. Harry pulled her chair out for her, and Ruth was distinctly reminded of the last time he'd done that. It had been under much different circumstances and in a much different setting, but he was a gentleman now as he was then.

A waiter came by to offer menus, but Harry simply ordered a glass of cold sauvignon blanc for Ruth and a glass of top shelf whiskey for himself. Their drinks arrived a minute later.

"Shall we have a toast? Seems rather odd not to," Ruth offered.

He held his glass. "Of course. To…"

"To Queen and country and to peace in our times," she finished for him.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Yes. Cheers, Ruth."

"Cheers, Harry," she replied, clinking her glass with his and taking a sip of her wine.

"That was probably a more appropriate toast than the one I had in mind," he said after his own sip of whiskey.

"Oh? And what were you going to toast to?"

"To you. To us. Having a drink. For me, that is certainly something worth celebrating." Harry watched carefully as she reacted to his words. He had expected that she would blush and avert her eyes from him. But she surprised him. She took another sip of wine but kept her gaze fixed on him. Her face was suddenly inscrutable to him. When she didn't respond, he decided to take a slightly more direct approach. "I was surprised you asked me for a drink," he ventured.

"Were you?"

"Yes. But I'm very glad you did. After the week we've had, it's rather nice to get out of the office, particularly with such lovely company."

Ruth frowned, her brow furrowing with concern and concentration the way it always did when she was trying to work up to say something. "I didn't ask just to get you out of the office. Though I agree, it is good to get out after…everything."

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Why did you ask me for a drink, Ruth?" he asked softly, almost afraid of her answer.

"I needed a drink. And I wanted to get one. With you." She smiled. "You know the last time we had a drink, just you and I alone in public?"

"Yes, I do. And since that night, Ruth, I've replayed every single moment over in my head. When you were right next to me but I couldn't seem to reach you, and then when you were very far away and I was missing you so terribly. And I know with all that's happened in the years in between, I don't expect we can pick up from where we left off, not since I know you don't want that."

"What makes you think I don't want that?" she interrupted in a quiet voice.

She had flustered him. Few people had that power over Harry Pearce. Ruth Evershed had it in spades. "Well since…George and…everything. I know you came back to Five because of Jo and because I wanted her to convince you that we need you—which we do—and because you're uniquely suited the job but I know you're only here because you don't have anywhere else to go. And I have to confess that I'm not in the least bit bothered by that. I know it's horrible of me to say, but I need you here, Ruth. I don't think I could ever let you go now that I've got you back."

"You mean that as Section Head, of course," Ruth teased lightly.

"No. I mean me. I know it's not at all fair and I won't blame you if you want to throw that wine in my face for it."

Ruth stayed quiet for a moment, taking another sip of her wine and not, as Harry suggested, throwing it in his face. His hand was resting on the table in front of her. She put down her glass and took his big, weathered hand in both of hers. She traced her thumbs over the back of his hand, focusing on how it looked and felt to touch him like this. She could sense Harry's eyes on her, as she often did, but she knew she needed to allow herself a moment to find the words and not stumble through this like she seemed to do with everything else. And Harry, to his eternal credit, didn't rush her. Finally, she looked up at him. His honey-hazel eyes were shining with awe at her. "Harry, even if I did have anywhere else I could go, I'd want to be right here. This is where I belong. At Five and…and with you. Through everything that's happened since we shared a bottle of white burgundy over dinner, I've wanted to hate you and blame you for everything, but I just couldn't. Even if I should have blamed you for all of it. For being the reason I left everything I know and love to run all over the world, constantly terrified of what I'd find if I looked over my shoulder. For George and Nico and…" She trailed off to collect herself. He opened his mouth to say something but she squeezed his hand and continued before he could. "I always knew, even when I was happy in Cyprus with my family, I always knew it wasn't meant to last. I never imagined anything a year ahead, let alone growing old there. Not like I…" She stopped herself before she said too much.

"Even if you don't blame for all the pain you've endured, I am truly, deeply sorry to have had a hand in causing it," he said, bringing his free hand to cover hers.

"I actually want to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"You let me come home. In every sense. I know you couldn't stop my mother from selling my house, but you kept my cats and you got me back my identity and my job. And you've always been right there for me. Even when I sometimes wished you weren't. You have always had your arms open for me to fall into. I know I didn't always take you up on the offer, but just knowing you were there…that you are there…I can't possibly tell you what that means, Harry." Ruth exhaled, finally having got out all the words she knew she needed to say.

"I will always have my arms open to you, Ruth."

"I know."

They fell silent. Neither wanted to break the moment, to move their hands or to blink. It was Ruth who did eventually free one hand so she could drink the last bit of her wine. Harry did the same to finish off his whiskey.

A waiter came by to take their empty glasses. "Another round?"

Harry looked at Ruth, who shook her head. He handed over his credit card. "I'll just settle the bill and drive you home," he told her.

She sighed, "I do hate that little flat. I miss having all my things. I haven't had a chance to make it my own yet."

"It'll take a bit of time. You haven't been back very long," he replied understandingly.

Ruth caught her bottom lip in her teeth, chewing on it pensively, watching Harry sign his name to the check and putting his card back in his wallet.

"Yes?" he asked, recognizing that look on her face.

They had stood and made their way to the door, putting on their coats as they went. Ruth blurted, "Would it be too terribly presumptuous of me to ask if you'd take me to your house?"

Harry's heart skipped about three beats in his chest. He swallowed hard before taking Ruth's hand in his as they walked out into the chilly night air. "No, Ruth, I think that's just presumptuous enough."