Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. For those readers in the States, I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. For everyone else, I hope it was a happy Thursday. :-)


Saturday 22 January, 2005

Morning dawned and Ruth vowed not to go anywhere near the Grid unless there was a redflash. Often times Ruth would go into Thames House on her Saturdays off for a few hours. She said it was because it was quiet and she could get more work done, but if she was honest it was because Harry was often there. Once she admitted to herself that she did in fact have a crush on her boss, she made an effort put those feelings behind her. Not that that had worked out too well because that's when she volunteered for the task of listening to the recording of persons of interest, which led to "The Disaster."

But today was for her and a trip to the National Gallery was planned. She'd not been since her time at University and after living in London for nearly 18 months she decided not to put it off any longer. The weather was cool and rainy; she hoped that meant less people venturing out to the museum. She bundled up against the cold, grabbed a book to read on the bus, and set off.

Forty-five minutes later, she found herself climbing the steps to the entrance. She checked her coat and larger bag, dropped a tenner in the donation box, and began to wander. There wasn't anything in particular she wanted to see; it was more the idea of spending time in the presence of these masterpieces that appealed to her. And she'd been right about the weather as the museum wasn't busy.

An hour later, Ruth sat to rest on a backless bench in front of a van Gogh painting. She'd been alone on the bench for a few minutes when someone sat on the other end, facing the opposite wall. It was a reflex for her to glance over at the person but it took all of her self-control not to bolt out of the room when she saw who had sat next to her.

John Fortescue.

She took a deep breath before consulting the museum floor plan to decide where to go next. 'Act normally,' she said to herself. 'Do not draw attention to yourself.'

"Susan?" said the voice she had come to know so well. Shit.

"Yes?" she inquired, playing at being nonchalant and hoping her nerves didn't shine through.

"It's me, John. We met at the Scratch Requiem a few weeks ago." He smiled nervously at her.

"Oh, of course. Lovely to see you again. How are you?" Being rude would draw attention to herself, she thought, so making small talk seemed like the best course of action.

"I'm good. I hope you're well; the New Year treating you all right?" He slid closer to her on the bench to make room for an older woman who was approaching the bench from his side.

"Yes, it's treating me well, thank you." She smiled shyly, not knowing what else to say.

John returned the smile, and then looked over his left shoulder at the van Gogh in front of Ruth. "It's a beautiful painting; one of my favorites."

Ruth looked up at the painting and nodded. "One of mine as well," she admitted.

He turned back to her and asked if she was a regular visitor to the museum.

"No, I've not been here since I was at university. And you? Do you come here often?" she asked, even though her subconscious was telling her to shut up and extract herself from the situation.

"No, me neither. I keep telling myself that I live in this amazing city and I should take advantage of all there is to do and then..." He trailed off with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Life happens," she added, completing his sentence. She was rewarded with yet another smile and found her resolve to get away from John weakening.

"I should have asked, are you here with someone?"

She shook her head in response.

"As luck would have it, neither am I. Would you like to walk around, together?"

Ruth was surprised by the question and hesitated, which John read as a no.

"Sorry, I shouldn't intrude on your day," he said. He started to stand but was stopped by Ruth's hand on his arm.

"Let's go for a walk," she said as she stood and walked around the bench to meet him.


Two hours later and Ruth found herself standing alone near the coat check. John was in the loo and the reality of the situation was setting in. She'd been told to keep her distance from this man and yet she'd just spent the most wonderful afternoon with him, wandering through the museum and having the sort of discussions she'd dreamed of when she was at university and still somewhat idealistic about the life ahead of her. She should have bolted the moment he stepped into the loo but her heart won out over her head and she stayed.

She was brought back to reality by the light touch of John's hand on her arm. "Thanks for waiting."

They each donned their jackets and walked to the exit. The weather hadn't improved while they were inside and a steady rain was blanketing Trafalgar Square. Ruth was wondering what she should say next when John beat her to it.

"Would you care for tea? I know of a great café but we'd need to take the Tube; it's only a few stops away, or we could try and find something nearby but I'm not too familiar with the area…" He paused for a breath. "Sorry, I tend to rattle on when I'm nervous."

A confused look settled on Ruth's face. "Why are you nervous?" Ruth could see the edges of a blush rising from his neck.

John looked at her for a moment before the words rushed out his mouth. "I'm asking a beautiful woman to tea after spending a wonderful afternoon with her and hoping she says yes. Why do you think I'm nervous?"

It was Ruth's turn to blush.