A/N: Thank you all who are reading, and thanks for the feedback. This is forming into something a little different from what I normally write.
~ Catherine ~
Ruth's attention is fully focused on her monitor. She is almost finished a scan of Agency hotel and reception staff across all of Greater London, when her mobile phone text message sounds.
Roof 10 mins, it reads.
She looks up, but he's not in his office. She then quickly glances around the Grid to see everyone other than Harry and Adam busy at their desks.
Adam's absence can be explained by him having been all over the place since the final day at Havensworth. She knows that Harry is giving him a few days to settle before he suggests Adam seek professional help. Harry, on the other hand, seems to have slipped out of the office unnoticed.
Ten minutes later, Ruth steps through the door to the roof balcony, and Harry is already there, his hands on the balustrade, staring ahead of him, deep in thought.
"You've been here all along," she says, stepping up to stand beside him, their bodies not quite touching, the heel of her hand resting against the corresponding part of Harry's hand.
"I came here to make a call."
Ruth looks up at him and smiles and nods. It is a rare, sunny summer's day, giving her one more thing to smile about.
"I had to call my daughter. Well, I didn't have to …." Harry looks down into her eyes. "... but she rang me when I was in a meeting with Oliver Mace, and I could hardly answer it then."
"And how is Mr Mace?"
Harry screws up his nose, while at the same time, his lips curve in a grimace. "Incomprehensible, as usual. He and I speak different languages. He's annoyed that I have two of my junior staff looking into the fire at Cotterdam Prison."
"I thought he'd be pleased. Jess and Tyson haven't found anything untoward. Not yet. They're both taking the weekend off, and next week I'll need to be getting them ready to take over my tasks while we're away. I've suggested that they pick up where they left off once you and I take our leave."
Harry curls his fingers around the top of the balustrade, and again smiles at Ruth. This time his smile is one which is personal, and just for her. All they are now, and all they could be are in that smile.
"Have you packed your bag?" he asks, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight.
"Of course not. There's still plenty of time."
"Only five more sleeps," Harry says.
"You're counting sleeps?"
"Why not? Aren't you looking forward to Paris?"
"Yes, of course, but I'm counting the days, not the sleeps."
"So you are counting down until we leave."
"Only sometimes. There's so much to do on the Grid before we go away."
"Has anyone said anything to you about us being off the Grid together?" Harry asks, his face again serious.
"No. There's been no reference to it, which is rather strange. No-one seems to care."
"You sound disappointed."
"I am a bit."
Harry sighs, and looks ahead, across the rooftops, towards the river. "I have a suggestion," he says quietly, not looking at her. "When I rang Catherine, she told me she's off to Lebanon on Monday, and since she's spending Sunday with her mother and brother, I …. asked her to come to mine for dinner tomorrow night. I'm …... wondering …... would you like to come …... so that you can meet one another?"
"Have you told her about me?"
Harry nods. "I told her when I rang her back …... around half an hour ago."
"And how did she take it?"
This time, Harry turns to face Ruth, so that he leans against the balustrade, resting one elbow on the top. "She was fine," he says. "She wants to meet you. Had she not asked, I wouldn't have suggested it. Catherine can run a bit hot and cold where I'm concerned. She's a lot like her mother, but without the build-up of years of resentment towards me. I would not have been surprised had she shown no interest at all in meeting you, but she said that any woman who can tolerate me must be worthy of sainthood."
Harry smiles, and reaches one hand towards her, but lets it drop before the hand reaches her face. They are at work.
"I'll help you cook dinner," Ruth adds, and Harry nods, smiling. "And I'll bring dessert. You eat cheesecake, don't you?"
Harry rolls his eyes, patting is stomach. "What do you think?"
The doorbell rings ten minutes early.
"That can't possibly be her," he says with irritation. "Catherine is always at least fifteen minutes late. She's made an art form out of tardiness."
Less than two minutes later, Ruth is bending over the open oven door, checking the chicken, when Harry brings his daughter into the kitchen to meet her.
"Ruth?"
Harry's voice has her standing upright too quickly, and the oven door slams shut on its own. She looks up to see Harry standing beside a slim, blond young woman. Catherine Townsend hasn't changed a lot in the two years since she'd been implicated in the November Committee, although Ruth had only ever seen images of her on film. Catherine steps towards Ruth, her hand outstretched.
"Dad's told me about you, Ruth. I'm glad to meet you."
The two women shake hands, and then Ruth apologises for the meal not being ready.
"I wanted to talk to you first. You know, get the goss on my Dad."
"Wine, Catherine?" Harry asks, taking a bottle of white from the table, and brandishing a corkscrew.
Catherine turns towards Harry and nods, looking back apologetically at Ruth, perhaps realising that her suggestion has come a bit early in the evening. After a few wines, hopefully everyone would be a bit looser, a little less tense.
Ruth is surprised by how nervous she feels. Her place in Harry's life is already quite secure, and yet she feels, in meeting members of his family, her suitability is being assessed. Catherine has a tendency to hold eye contact for a little longer than necessary, which is something Harry also does. The younger woman's eyes are clear and grey, and her face is almost free from blemish. Physically, she can see nothing of Harry in her. They are sitting around the kitchen table, on their second glass of wine, when Ruth mentions this.
"If you want to see a mini Dad, wait until you meet my brother. They are so alike that they can barely be in the same room together. Talk about peas in a pod."
Ruth looks up at Harry, who is sitting across the table from her, next to Catherine, and she catches the fleeting look of pain in Harry's eyes. He has spoken very little to Ruth about Graham, but it is clear to her that, whatever has happened between them, Harry feels responsible, and doesn't know how to go about fixing it. When Ruth catches his eye, she offers him a reassuring smile. There have been times when loving Harry is so difficult, but this is not one of those times.
Harry asks Catherine to help him serve up the roast chicken and vegetables.
"Ruth, you can either watch us at work, or sit at the dining table and be waited on …... as you deserve."
Yes, there are days when it is very easy to love Harry.
Over dinner they drink even more wine, and Catherine talks about her trip to Lebanon.
"I have someone there, so I try to go there as often as possible, but I generally stay no more than three months. It's not the safest of places."
Ruth watches Harry, as his jaw clenches with words he never speaks. She knows how worried he is about her.
"She wants to heal the whole world, one country at a time," he'd said, as they'd companionably prepared the meal together. "And I think her brother is hell bent on destroying it, beginning with himself."
Ruth could feel the pain he was suppressing as he'd spoken those words, and how frightened he is for both his children. As much as Ruth sometimes regrets not having had children, there is clearly a price to be paid by those who have them.
After they have finished dinner, Harry begins to clean up around Ruth and Catherine. His daughter offers to help, but he brushes off her offer.
"No, this is time for you two to get to know one another, while I do what has to be done in the kitchen." Harry smiles at them both, as he carries plates and cutlery through to the kitchen.
"We need to go to the living room," Catherine says, "otherwise Dad will be listening in. He's sure we'll be talking about him."
She raises her voice slightly as she speaks the last five words, hoping to get a rise out of Harry. As they gather the bottle of wine and their glasses, they hear Harry chuckling from the kitchen.
"I can't believe the difference in him," Catherine says, as they settle themselves, Catherine on the sofa, and Ruth in one of the armchairs which flank the fireplace.
"You've noticed?" Ruth replies, smiling inside herself. She had thought it was only she who can see how Harry has mellowed …... relaxed.
"I don't know what you've done to him, Ruth, but whatever it is, I'd be happy were you to keep it up."
Ruth is relieved that Catherine had not mentioned the probability of regular sex mellowing Harry, because she and he know that it can't be sex. They haven't yet had sex, and won't until they get to Paris – 4 sleeps away. That is Harry's plan. He'd shared it with her only that evening, as they were preparing dinner in his kitchen. And Ruth had always believed that she is the one who plans everything to the finest detail.
"I …." Ruth is trying to find the right words – words which are truthful, but not offhand, or trite. "Harry and I have cared for one another for quite a while now," she begins. "I have been …... reluctant to act on my feelings for him, but now …... that has changed."
"Yes, he said something similar." Catherine takes another swig of her wine. "As I see it, he's a man who had an extra long adolescence, and now he's a grown up, and capable of a grown up relationship, with another adult." Catherine watches Ruth, in that staring way she and Harry have. "I was watching both of you during dinner. Dad watches you all the time. It's as though he's afraid you'll get up and leave were he not watching. You, on the other hand, only glance at him occasionally, but your glances are …... the only word I can think of is loving."
"Loving?"
"Yeah. You look at him with love in your eyes. My father is a lucky man. I like you, and not just because Dad is clearly crazy about you. I like you because you're smart, and you won't let him walk all over you, or treat you like shit."
"He wouldn't dare," Ruth says quietly, knowing that she has spoken the truth.
"Good. He wasn't a good husband to my mother – sorry, but that's the truth – but nor was she a good wife. They were …..." Catherine stops, visibly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that. It's not fair. That's my history, and it's also Dad's, and I should have kept it to myself."
Ruth leans forward and watches Catherine until the younger woman looks back at her. "It is only my business if and when Harry tells me, Catherine, and so far he hasn't mentioned his marriage to your mother, and I'm not planning to ask him. It was only two weeks ago yesterday that we went on our first date."
"Two weeks? The way Dad talks about you, I thought you'd been together for at least six months."
"Our first date was a culmination of many months of longing on both our parts. And …... neither of us are young, so …... we're rather rapidly making up for lost time."
"Dad told me you're 36. That's hardly old. You're only ten years older than me."
"I'm old enough to be an equal partner for your father."
"I don't doubt that."
Suddenly, it seems to Ruth that Catherine is satisfied that her father is in good hands, and it is at that moment that Harry enters the sitting room with another bottle of wine. They drink it slowly, so that an hour later, Catherine decides it is time she went home.
"You can't possibly drive, Catherine," Harry says. "Stay the night, and go home in the morning."
"And play gooseberry? Hardly. I'll get a taxi."
Harry tries to convince Catherine she should sleep in his spare room, and she is just as adamant about calling a taxi. Who says she's not like her father? Ruth thinks. Stubborn as mules, both of them.
When the taxi arrives, Catherine surprises Ruth by pulling her in for a hug.
"I'm so glad to have met you," Catherine whispers. "You are so good for him."
"Thank you," Ruth whispers back.
"What was all that about?" Harry asks after Catherine has gone, and she is making them each a cup of tea in the kitchen.
"What do you mean?"
"The whispering. Were you whispering about me?"
Ruth smiles, because were she to not smile, she'd have to laugh. "The truth?"
"If you can, that would be nice," he says, a guarded look on his face.
"In a way, we were. Catherine thinks I'm good for you."
Harry smiles widely, his face relaxing. "You are. Good for me."
"And I think she's been worried about you …... since you're not getting any younger."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure, but I think she was worried you'd turn into an embittered old man, and then she'd feel obligated to visit you, even though she wouldn't want to. Now …... with me in the picture, you're …. much nicer to be around. I couldn't say for sure, but I think that's what she means."
Harry nods, and then watches Ruth as she sips her tea. He feels like he's the luckiest man in the world.
"You'll stay the night, Ruth?"
"I guess so, although I have no sleeping paraphernalia -"
"I have t-shirts I've grown out of."
"Grown out of?"
Harry smiles across the table at her. He's about to spend another night sleeping in the same bed with Ruth. He can take a bit of teasing.
Ruth is woken in the morning by soft lips on her cheek. She opens her eyes to see Harry, dressed for work, a mug of hot tea in his hand. She turns her head towards him, and this time his lips capture hers. It is a wonderful way to wake in the morning, even if it is too early, in Ruth's opinion. She struggles to sit up, aware that she is wearing nothing beneath the t-shirt of Harry's she'd worn to bed. She watches his face, as he notices the shape of her body beneath the t-shirt.
"You're going into work today?" she asks.
Harry sits on the edge of the bed, so that he faces her while she drinks her tea. "I thought I might. There's only -"
"Three sleeps until we leave."
His smile is wide and relaxed. "And I can't wait."
Ruth smiles and nods. "Me too."
"I'll give you a lift home on my way to work."
"Thanks. I want to clean my house today, and wash everything."
"We'll only be away six days, Ruth."
"I know, but I need to …... put everything in order before …..."
Harry knows what she means. That's one of the reasons he is planning to work all day on a Sunday. The success of an operation is created in the planning, and taking Ruth to Paris for six days is an operation, and he really needs for it to be successful.