A/N: Thank you to all who are reading this, and to the reviewers. This is now a story in 13 chapters.
When Harry wakes it is already daylight outside. Surprisingly, he has slept deeply, and feels rested. He turns over very carefully to see that Ruth is still sleeping. As much as he longs to simply lie in bed watching her, such an indulgence is dangerous, as well as irresponsible. Very quietly he climbs out of bed, and grabbing fresh clothes for the day, he heads to the bathroom to change. He has just finished eating his breakfast, and is about to clean up, when he hears movement upstairs. He boils the kettle to make a fresh pot of tea, and then waits for Ruth to come downstairs. It is another fifteen minutes before she joins him. She enters the kitchen wearing a pair of blue jeans, boots, a maroon shirt, and a navy blue cardigan, her hair held back in a ponytail. She looks fresh and new and very young. By comparison, Harry feels very old.
"Cereal, Ruth?" Harry asks, trying to not look at her too closely, for fear she'll read in his eyes what he is trying so hard to hide.
"No thanks. Just a couple of pieces of toast. I find breakfast a necessary, but boring meal."
Harry slips two slices of bread in the toaster, and then pours a cup of tea for Ruth, and another cup for himself. They both add sugar and milk to their tastes. When the toast pops up, Harry again gets up to put the toast on a plate for Ruth.
"You don't have to wait on me, Will. I can look after myself."
"I know you can." He smiles as he hands the plate to Ruth. "I like looking after you."
This is a new side to Harry, and Ruth doesn't quite know what to make of it. Harry is tough, and he's a leader. He cares for his team, and he leads by example. The level of caring he has displayed towards her since they have been in the safe house is far beyond what she had expected, and almost beyond what she can imagine. She is seeing sides to Harry she hadn't known even existed.
"What are you planning to do this morning, Will?" Ruth is munching on her second slice of toast, while Harry sips his third cup of tea.
"I haven't anything planned. I thought I'd see what you're up to. Keep in the loop. That sort of thing."
"I could use your help." Ruth concentrates on tearing the slice of toast into two equal pieces while she thinks about how to broach her next question. "I have to ask you something."
"Fire away."
"Why are we in this safe house? As I see it, we don't really need to be here. We could be spending our days at Thames House, working, and from there, head off to meetings and dinners. It's not as though we'll be inviting any of these people around for dinner."
Harry takes his time answering. He has wondered the same thing. He knows that Adam had planned for the undercover agents to live in a safe house for the duration, and had thought nothing of it …... but that was when he believed that maybe Adam would volunteer for the op himself.
"Do you think ….." Ruth says, almost to herself, "that we are being …... thrown together?"
"I honestly don't know, Ruth." He does know. He is sure that her suspicions are correct. If so, he thanks everyone concerned …... but how to explain this to Ruth without her becoming upset? "I'm sure that if that's true, then it's well meaning."
"That's not at all like you."
"Meaning?"
"I'd have expected you to be angry, and to threaten Adam with a demotion …... or something similar."
Harry smiles across the table at her. He doesn't feel angry, nor does he want to be angry. Anger can be so draining, and besides, in the few hours he's been living with Ruth in this house, he's experienced a level of contentment he's not felt in decades. He doesn't feel like shouting, or sulking, or pouting, or any of the behaviour he reserves for when he is throwing his weight around on the Grid. "I'm not complaining, Ruth. Are you?"
"No." Ruth looks down, and concentrates on picking up breadcrumbs from her plate with the tip of her finger.
Harry watches her, enjoying the domesticity. In his imagination, for these few days, he and Ruth are married. You know something, Pearce? You've gone soft.
Harry doesn't care. Not one little bit.
After breakfast, Harry checks the blog Ruth has created, and sees that Ruth has an appointment with two Falklands veterans at two o'clock at a pub in north London.
"Are they expecting a woman?"
"I hope so. I've signed all my emails as Ruth Garside. I think they know what to expect."
"You're not going alone."
"I have to meet them alone, Will, but if they agree, I'll ring you, and you can join us."
Harry is not happy, but Ruth is digging in her heels, and he knows better than to push her when she is this determined.
Ruth meets the two men in the beer garden of the hotel, while Harry waits in a lunch bar just around the corner. Both men are only a few years older than she.
"I'm Steve," says the taller of the two, "and this is Gordon."
"I'm Ruth Garside, and I have to ask you whether you'd be happy to speak to my husband and I. We're both involved in writing his blog. I'd feel more comfortable were he here with me."
The men agree, and ten minutes later, Harry joins them in the beer garden. Both men have a lot to say, and Ruth takes notes. Harry sits beside Ruth, keeping an eye on things. Occasionally he speaks up, but mostly, he leaves the interviewing to Ruth.
Just before four o'clock, Harry and Ruth leave the veterans in the pub, and walk to the nearest tube station.
"Why are we not taking a taxi, Ruth?"
"I like the train."
Harry has no comeback to that, so he accompanies her on to the train, sitting close enough to her that their knees touch, and then on to a connecting bus, after which they walk the last half a mile to the safe house.
"What will you do with the information you gathered today, Ruth?" Harry asks as they turn down an alleyway connecting the bus route with their street. It is rather a long and dark alleyway, and so Harry slides an arm around Ruth's waist, all the time keeping one eye on any windows which may reflect the presence of a tail. When Ruth doesn't object to his arm being around her, he relaxes just a little. What he doesn't know is that Ruth feels his arm slide around her, and she feels just that much safer when they walk in this way.
"I'll do exactly as I promised them, and write up a report, anonymising them, and then upload it to the blog. It can be today's entry."
"And your reason for doing that?" As they walk, he watches her face in profile, enjoying the freedom he has to be watching her at all.
"I would have thought that to be obvious, Will. I'm trying to flush out Gulf War veterans."
"Just checking, Ruth."
They both smile as they continue down the alleyway towards their street.
After dinner, Ruth writes a report of her meeting with Steve and Gordon, and uploads it to the blog, while Harry sits beside her.
"They're the tip of an iceberg, Ruth."
"I know. It's not so much what happened to them, as how little support and access to services they're allowed in the long term. Before you joined us in the beer garden, Gordon told me that he's having difficulty surviving on the benefits he's being paid, and the NHS doesn't cover all his medical needs, and as a result, he's getting deeper into debt." Ruth turns to look at Harry, sitting close beside her. "Do you think that if enough of these veterans got together that they would be capable of terrorism? After all, they fought for this country."
"I think, given years of frustration and government red tape, that is highly likely, Ruth. That's the reason we're here, undercover. Some of them, and we don't yet know who these people are, have plans for at least one act of terrorism, and it's likely to be something which will make us all sit up and pay attention."
"So, they'd prefer prison to freedom?"
"At least in prison – as a political prisoner – they'd get three square meals, and medical support."
"That's absurd."
"It is, Ruth, but then, life is often absurd."
They repeat the same pattern of preparing for bed as they'd done the previous night, only this time, Harry is first in bed, and Ruth follows him after her shower. They lay side by side in silence for some minutes.
"You know, I hadn't thought I'd ever say this, but I'm rather enjoying myself."
"Me, too," Harry says. Only he knows that he is enjoying himself immensely. Being married to Ruth, even without the benefit of sex, is still hugely satisfying, far more satisfying than watching her at a distance through his office window.
Both are lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Both are highly aware of the warm body in the bed beside them. Both would like to take their association to a new level. Neither is prepared to risk the delicate balance they have achieved in just a little more than a day, by making a suggestion which may be deemed inappropriate.
So it is with a measurable thrill that Harry hears Ruth take a deep breath before she speaks.
"Will …... I'm going to ask you something, and you are free to say absolutely not …... if that's what you want."
"Ask away." Please, Ruth. The answer will always be an absolute and unconditional yes!
"How would you feel if I listened in on your meeting with the men only? You could use your -"
"My phone, yes. I know that Colin has set up our phones to both track us, and to record conversations, should we want that."
"And?" Why is he so snippy all of a sudden? Was it something I said?
"That's fine, Ruth. I'm expecting someone at the Grid to listen in, and it would help were you listening, also."
"Good. Good."
Ruth risks a glance at Harry, and his face is turned towards her, his expression set in his Grid Face, his Section Head Face.
What just happened? Ruth has no idea.
"Goodnight," she says.
"Goodnight, Ruth," he replies.
Ruth feels the bed move as Harry turns on his side, facing away from her.