Harry and Ruth In the Big Apple (My hometown! Well...actually, the Bronx...) :)
-2-
"Apples?" Did you say apples? And Really Big Ones?" Bemused, she looks at him.
For a moment, he stands there nonplussed, but only for a moment. Bloody hell. A flush begins to appear on his neck and creeps upwards settling on his cheeks. "I don't mean apples," he says, making a concerted effort to keep his gaze fixed on her face rather than the upper half of her body. "I meant to say. What I meant-"
"Harry," she says, a smile on her face, "If you mean The Across The Pond Gala For MI-5 and the CIA in NYC, then yes. That kind of apple I like. The Big Apple."
He opens and shuts his mouth, replacing his original chagrin for yet another. "How did-?"
"I am after all," she says, "your desk analyst and intelligence officer."
"But no one knew of this and –"
Her only response is what he refers to as her RuthLook. His response to that is an obvious look of pride. "Is there anything, Miss Evershed, which you don't know about? Or more to the point, anything else which you know, and I in fact, do not?"
She smiles a most inscrutable smile. "Well. Yes. Actually, there is. I've been wondering when you would ask me. To the gala." Then she smiles and there is nothing unfathomable about it. At all.
He smiles, the years disappearing from his face. "So that's a yes?"
"Yes."
The lift chimes.
Moments later when they enter the Grid, both wearing their work faces, Harry heads to his glass cubicle of an office, Ruth to her work station in the outer office. She smiles at her colleagues, Tariq, Beth and Dimitri. They nod back, congenially, But as soon as she dons her headset and peers at her computer monitor, Beth at Tariq's side, gently nudges him with her elbow. Looking up, he nods at her then flicks his eyes over to Dimitri who with a hint of a smile waggles his eyebrows in the direction of Harry's office. Twice. Beth bites her lip and appears fascinated at the algorithms that Tariq is producing on his monitor.
Ruth, adjusting her headset, leans into her computer, seemingly oblivious to her colleagues.
Only a few minutes later, Harry steps out of his office. "Ruth?" All heads turn. "My office, please."
"Of course," she says. And getting up, follows him back into his office, the Grid gone unnaturally quiet. As she enters his office, Harry slides the door shut.
"Harry." She tells him, sighing, "I really wish you wouldn't."
"What?"
She gestures to the door now effectively sealing them from the outer office and her colleagues.
"Why not?"
"Well, unless this is classified, it will only add more grist for the mill." She jerks her head at the others through the window who suddenly appear industrious. Admirably so, in fact.
"I hadn't noticed." He says.
She sighs again. "For such an observant man, that fact never fails to amaze me." She waits for him to say something.
He shrugs. "I just wanted to let you know if you need some time, take it. You know. To get ready. For the trip."
"That's very generous of you. But I will take care of everything I need. "
"Well," he adds carefully." It is a gala. Black tie. Formal And I—
"I will be sure, Sir Harry," she says emphasizing his title, "not to embarrass you. Or the Crown."
For the second time that day he opens and shuts his mouth.
She touches his arm. "Don't worry. If I need to, I can shop over there. I hear our former colony actually has places to shop." That earns a wry smile from him. "Besides," she adds, "we do have some time, you know, before the actual gala, that is." She nods, then reaching for the door handle, stops before sliding it open. Glancing out the glass towards the outer office, she says, "Seriously, Harry. They really do see a lot more than they let on. After all," she adds, finally sliding the door open and now speaking as loudly as she can, "they are spies."
She goes back to her work station and smiles sweetly at her colleagues.
Ruth hates shopping with a vengeance. Except for an occasional dress for a specific occasion, most of her clothes are practical: long skirts, tops, a few fitted jackets, perhaps boots to go with her outfits. But after her brief conversation with Harry, she decides to take him up on his offer. When she begins to pack up earlier than usual from the Grid, it does not go unnoticed by anyone, least of all Harry. He smiles as she leaves, thinking of her choosing an outfit for the gala. And of the time they will spend in NYC. With him. Together. But that's before he notices his officers looking at him with affection.
Clearing his throat, he says, "Why is everyone standing around?" And quickly adds, "That is not a rhetorical question." He heads back to his office, but not before taking note that his words have the desired effect. He smiles with satisfaction as his people once again scurry about, attending to their myriad tasks.
The morning of the trip seems like a regular working day. As usual, all are once again at the Grid and their respective stations. But for the Section Head, the day is interminable. Finally at precisely 13:00 hours, he goes over to Ruth still working at her desk. He points to his watch.
"We don't have to be at Heathrow for another 45 minutes," she says, adjusting her headset and not looking up at him. "And then we have three hours after that."
He leans in even closer, just inches from her face. "Traffic." He says.
"But…"
He motions for her to remove the headset. When she pulls it just a bit from her ear, he says, sotto voce. "Haven't changed your mind, have you?" He hopes his smile belies his anxiety.
"Of course not." she says and smiles back. But," and she readjusts her headset once more, "Just let me finish this. I-"
"Tick Tock, Ruth. Tick Tock."
"All right," she says, sighing. And finally removing her headset, shuts off her computer as well. "But we'll be early."
"But on the other hand, we won't be late, either."
She smiles at that and gets ready to leave.
Heathrow is busier than ever. Although just less than a fortnight from Christmas, the airport buzzes with activity. Children pull at their parents' hands, frazzled parents pull back and harried travelers push and pull their luggage about the airport. Ruth almost trips over one. Harry grabs and steadies her, glaring at the offending owner of the wheeled contraption. "Sorry," he says, and whizzes by.
"I should think so," Harry says, after him. Ruth only shakes her head. "I'm fine. Don't worr—"
Another young man bumps into Harry with his backpack. This time, however, there is no apology. Harry exhales noisily. "So help me. If one more person..."
She places a hand over his arm. "It's fine, Harry," she says gently. "Let's just head for the gate, shall we?"
He looks at her then and nods, all tension melting away. Together, they make their way to the boarding area.
"Ruth." He says as quietly as he can. "Wake up." He shakes her as gently as he speaks. She opens one eye and turns in her seat a bit towards him, seated right next to her.
"Where are we?" She asks.
"JFK. Well, circling that is. For the last 45 minutes. But they say," and he looks towards the cockpit and the flight attendant just ahead, "we should be landing in 5 minutes. I think they actually mean it. This time." He shakes his head.
She covers her yawn, but one gets away from her. "Sorry," she says. I must have fallen asleep."
"You did." He says. "For several hours." He smiles at the memory, then stifles a yawn as well. "I wish I had, actually."
She nods blearily at him, then notices for the first time that his overcoat is draped over her, despite the blanket already across her lap. She smiles at him gratefully. "What time is it?" She asks, adjusting the coat a bit.
"Best not to ask," he says, helping her adjust the coat as well. "Jet lag's bad enough." She nods at him and yawns again. Leaning back in his seat, he yawns, too. The plane turns around again and makes it final approach to JFK.
