Four:
First Reparations
Ruth curled her lip, looking at the snack cake. "So a Ding Dong is some ghastly American thing?" she asked, turning the package over. "How did you wind up with so many?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I took them off the Home Secretary as a favor. Apparently, his last visit from the CIA came with some rather unfortunate repercussions in the form of a skid of snack cakes and crisps and he was rather desperate to unload them. I've got a couple of boxes of Twinkies at home that might be good for the emergency kit, seeing as how they are so…" He paused, then laughed at the absurdity of it all. "The crisps are quite dreadful as you might imagine. Nacho cheese doesn't compute."
She stifled a giggle, then said, "Really? You want me to take a box of these home with me?"
"I'm sharing my bountiful spoils," Harry replied, gesturing at the spread on his desk. "Take what you like – there's plenty more where that came from."
She shook her head and smiled, picking through the snacks till she found something that looked like it might not give her indigestion. "Thank you," she said. "They really are rather dreadful at snacks – whatever happened to a nice handful of nuts or seeds?"
"Ruth, sit down, please," Harry said. "I need to speak with you."
She stopped and stared at him with trepidation. "This is about the thing with the thing and me being on probation, isn't it?"
Harry sighed and just gestured for her to sit. When she had, he said, "You are a valuable member of this team, Ruth. And I am sorry for any part I might have had in making you feel that you were obligated to split your allegiances."
She didn't want to talk about this, not at all. She'd rather eat a bloody snack cake in hell than go over her motivations one more time. Mostly because now it was Harry twisting the bloody knife. "I agreed to do it before I met any of you," she said. "I only did it because I wanted to stay – because this is where I want to be and my secondment will be revoked at any time now because I'm no longer doing what they ask. I don't want to go back to GCHQ, Harry. I have nothing left to give them."
He regarded her passively, and she glanced away, afraid of the passion of her reply – of the well of emotion that he had suddenly plumbed within her. "Harry, I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will leave if that's what you want." She looked back at him, hoping that he'd not misinterpreted.
"Ruth, I'm not asking you to leave," he said in a mild tone. "I'm just asking you not to tread in those tracks again; it's dangerous, and next time, I won't be there to save you."
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes – yes, sir," she said quickly. "I promise I won't do the thing that affected the thing what got me into trouble."
Ruth was suddenly indignant when Harry burst out laughing. "Ruth, you sound like a little girl who has been sent to the corner for breaking her toys," he said.
She pursed her lips together, moving them around, trying to avoid smiling, but it burst through anyway, then a bit of a giggle. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Harry – I am – I really am –"
"I know," he said warmly, tossing a piece of chocolate across the desk. "Peace offering."
It was shitty American chocolate, but it was still chocolate. "Pax," she agreed, exhaling in relief. "Now, seriously, what are you going to do with all of these awful snacks?"
"I was going to let everyone cherry pick, then give the rest to Danny," Harry said in an amused tone. "That boy will eat anything."
"Oh, right," she said. "I almost forgot – I need to give you this." She handed him a socialization form from the folder she'd been carrying. "I met this bloke, you see, and – and – well, I'm told this is how it's done, so…"
Kirk was a computer genius she'd met out shopping for replacements for some of her things that had been destroyed in the fire. They'd met in the book shop, and gone for a coffee to discuss the merits of classical versus modern literature – and somehow had wound up in bed together. It was good, so good, and she wanted it to last.
The look on Harry's face was unreadable, but his eyes spoke volumes. "I'll hand this over to HR," he said. "If he's clear, it will be about four days for the permissions to come through."
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Now, I've got to get back. Thank you for the crisps and the chocolate."
She had to get away from him before she saw that look of stunned anger in his eyes again.
She was making a disgusted face as she looked at the plastic-wrapped Ding Dong. "So a Ding Dong is some ghastly American thing?" Ruth asked, turning the package over. "How did you wind up with so many?"
Because he was just such a swell chap, he wanted to reply sarcastically. The reality had actually involved a near diplomatic incident over a lorry full of imported food from the United States that had somehow wound up in the hands of the Home Secretary – and after three weeks of getting rid of the skids from the load, Harry had finally agreed to take the last one and distribute it amongst his staff. Too bad all of it was rubbish.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I took them off the Home Secretary as a favor. Apparently, his last visit from the CIA came with some rather unfortunate repercussions in the form of a skid of snack cakes and crisps and he was rather desperate to unload them. I've got a couple of boxes of Twinkies at home that might be good for the emergency kit, seeing as how they are so…" He paused, then laughed at the absurdity of it all. "The crisps are quite dreadful as you might imagine. Nacho cheese doesn't compute."
Powdered orange cheese with spices gave him indigestion. Quite a bit did nowadays – he wished he could go off the whiskey diet, but his stomach was too used to liquid fortification now.
She stifled a giggle, then said, "Really? You want me to take a box of these home with me?"
"I'm sharing my bountiful spoils," Harry replied, gesturing at the spread on his desk. "Take what you like – there's plenty more where that came from." Please, dear god, take as much of it as possible so I can regain control of my house – it's like an invasion of evil.
She shook her head and smiled, picking through the snacks, finally settling on a couple bags of crisps and something that might have been a fairy cake in someone's imagination. "Thank you," she said. "They really are rather dreadful at snacks – whatever happened to a nice handful of nuts or seeds?" She turned to leave.
"Ruth, sit down, please," Harry said. "I need to speak with you." They'd been waiting too long to have this conversation.
She stopped and stared at him like he'd full-on slapped her face. "This is about the thing with the thing and me being on probation, isn't it?"
Harry sighed and just gestured for her to sit. When she had, he said, "You are a valuable member of this team, Ruth. And I am sorry for any part I might have had in making you feel that you were obligated to split your allegiances." He was sorry for any part he might have had in covering up her misdeeds, as well. Yes, he had taken much flack for that – from Tom and from the Home Secretary when he'd bashed the man's door down, screaming about not outspying a spy. It had been a spectacular show – they could have made a mint selling tickets. One night only, spy vs. politician.
He could tell she was upset and nervous because she was crushing her bags of crisps to oblivion and didn't even realize that she was doing it. "I agreed to do it before I met any of you," she said. "I only did it because I wanted to stay – because this is where I want to be and my secondment will be revoked at any time now because I'm no longer doing what they ask. I don't want to go back to GCHQ, Harry. I have nothing left to give them." She looked away, as if she was afraid of him. "Harry, I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will leave if that's what you want." She looked back at him, and he felt it very difficult to remain angry with her. Mostly because of the adorably soft way she looked when she bit her lower lip like that – deep in concentration, unaware of how intense she could be. He wanted to kiss her and tell her that it would all be right as rain.
Damn it, not again. The woman had him by the balls.
"Ruth, I'm not asking you to leave," he said in a studied, even tone, trying to belie how he felt about her. It was very troublesome in more ways than one. "I'm just asking you not to tread in those tracks again; it's dangerous, and next time, I won't be there to save you."
She swallowed hard, her throat convulsing with the involuntary movement – irresistible - and nodded. "Yes – yes, sir," she said quickly. "I promise I won't do the thing that affected the thing what got me into trouble."
She sounded absolutely absurd, to the point that he couldn't hold back a jolly laugh. "Ruth, you sound like a little girl who has been sent to the corner for breaking her toys," he said.
He could tell she was trying like hell not to smile, but then it shone through on the back of that hysterical little giggle of hers – the one that sounded like she had no right whatsoever to be laughing because she'd snogged someone in the back of Church. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Harry – I am – I really am –"
He hoped not really, not truly. It was good to hear her laughing; it did him good to hear her laugh. "I know," he said warmly, tossing a piece of chocolate across the desk. "Peace offering."
"Pax," she agreed, exhaling in relief. "Now, seriously, what are you going to do with all of these awful snacks?"
"I was going to let everyone cherry pick, then give the rest to Danny," Harry said, a jovial smile lingering on his lips. "That boy will eat anything."
"Oh, right," she said. "I almost forgot – I need to give you this." She handed him a socialization form from the folder she'd been carrying. "I met this bloke, you see, and – and – well, I'm told this is how it's done, so…"
It never once had occurred to Harry Pearce that Ruth Evershed would meet someone. He stared at the paper for a minute and felt a keen pang of painful, burning jealousy that someone was important enough to her to get the form filled out and turned in. His better angels won the day, though: he reasoned with himself that he should only continue to watch her from afar and take the tidbits she threw his way. She was safer that way. And he wanted HIS Ruth to be safe.
"I'll hand this over to HR," he said. "If he's clear, it will be about four days for the permissions to come through." If he wasn't cleared, Harry might go round and have a little chat with the boy. Preferably involving a gun and interrogation techniques that were disapproved of within polite circles. His Ruth would be safe, no matter the cost – she deserved to be happy.
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Now, I've got to get back. Thank you for the crisps and the chocolate."
When she'd gone, Harry took a sip of his drink, then slammed the tumbler down on the desk with enough force to crack it. He had no right to be jealous of this fool, this man who thought he was worthy of Ruth's laugh, her smile, her kisses – he had no right to want to be in her bed. He was old, broken, cut of a cloth she wouldn't understand. Let her be happy, then, if she could.
At least he would have her days.
END PART FOUR