Early Winter 2004
Ruth hadn't taken any time off to deal with Danny's death, despite Harry's sincere offer.
"No, thank you, but there's work to be done. I won't leave you an analyst down along with Danny gone and Fiona taking leave. I'll be alright," she insisted. "Except…"
"What is it, Ruth?"
"Could I have the day off for his funeral? I'd…I'd like to have that time to grieve."
Her voice was so small and nervous, it nearly broke his heart. "We'll all be going to the funeral. There will be time to grieve," he assured her.
She nodded in thanks.
"Would you like me to give you a ride on the day?"
"That would be very kind, thank you," she agreed.
And so that was how Harry had arrived at the church with Ruth beside him. His driver dropped them off, and Harry opened the door for her. They walked in together and sat side by side in the pew.
She was so withdrawn, so quiet and sad. It was a strange sight to see. Like the veneer of cheerfulness brought on by her enthusiasm had stripped her bare. Harry thought he was privileged to know her better than most on their team, with the quiet moments they'd spent together. That night he'd spent in her bed, that moment he'd realized he was quite possibly in love with her, Harry felt his entire world shift beneath his feet. He needed Ruth. That was clear to him now. He needed her in every conceivable way. And anything she needed from him in return, he wanted to provide.
A distant explosion caught Harry's attention, bringing him out of his thoughts of Ruth and mourning for Danny. His mobile began to rang, as did Adam's. Harry hurried out of the church with the rest of the team on his heels. It only took him about twenty seconds to realize that Ruth didn't follow.
He returned to her side as quietly as possible. "We have to go, Ruth," he told her softly.
"I want to say goodbye properly," she begged.
If they weren't in a church with dozens of people and a national terrorist attack emergency right outside, he would have said to hell with it all and held her in his arms until she was ready to go. But they did not have the luxury of that choice at the moment. "I need you," was all Harry could say.
Ruth took a moment before nodding and going with him. He offered his hand, which she took. He gave hers a comforting squeeze as they hurried to the car. Harry spent the whole ride on the phone with Ruth listening in. They kept hold of each other's hand the whole way.
The comfort they took together was quickly dashed upon arriving on the Grid. The Americans had swarmed, distracting Harry to annoyance. The crowds of people getting into Ruth's things left her similarly bothered. She was almost glad when Adam sent her out to go see Professor Stephen Curtis; she was petrified to go out into the field, but at least she could escape the chaos of the Grid.
If Harry had any inkling of calm from spending his morning with Ruth, it was dashed by the extremely unwelcome arrival of the very last person he ever wanted to see. Juliet bloody Shaw. It killed him that she looked so good. Damn good. She was always an extremely alluring woman, and time hadn't ravaged her like it had him. But Harry had used his political capital—however much of it he could claim to possess—to foist her off to America when he became Section Head. Having her all the way across the pond allowed her to do what she did best, which was to charm and terrify weak men into following her orders, and allowed Harry to do his job without the disastrous former affair hanging over his head.
And now she was back. On the Grid. Blackmailing him about over Omega. She was good. But Harry had no intention of being her puppet. Not anymore. Never again would Juliet bloody Shaw ensnare him to do her bidding when he was filled with lust for her elegant figure and vivacious nature. Such things held no sway over him now.
As he waited in the Home Secretary's office to explain Omega and Juliet and offer his resignation, Harry realized that he was once again on the precipice of being thoroughly distracted by a beautiful brunette he worked with. The circumstances were different—Harry wasn't married and neither was Ruth, and they weren't in the middle of an undercover operation—and the two women were entirely different as well—Juliet was ambitious and dangerous and demanding while Ruth was brilliant and warm and unassuming. But there were enough similarities to give Harry pause. The horror wrought from shagging a woman he was working with never failed to wheedle its way back into his life. And obviously things with Ruth hadn't progressed anywhere close to that yet, but Harry knew he needed to be careful.
In the end, the HS delayed the conversation about the deaths Harry had covered up in West Germany and adamantly refused his resignation. Harry gave his official support for Juliet as NSC Coordinator and went right back to work on these bombings, which seemed to please the powers that be.
Meanwhile, poor Ruth was having a devil of a time with Professor Curtis. She played dumb and made friends with his cat and did her best to get some information out of the man, as much as it disgusted her to allow his arrogant misogyny to be used to her advantage. But when she saw a man with a gun in the garden and her driver had a bullet in his head, it was time to cut the act. Ruth was a desk spook no longer, traipsing through the hills and protecting this civilian's life until they could get to a safe house and then back to the Grid.
She understood the excitement the field agents lived for, the adrenaline of the action. But Ruth could not wait to return to her desk and her computer and her translations and her hacking and her puzzles, thank you very much. More than anything, she wanted to get back to Harry. Have him tell her what to do and take control of the situation so she could feel safe. Harry would know what to do. Harry always knew what to do. But until she could get back to him, she would need to be in charge. Never mind the anxiety nestled in her stomach. Professor Curtis was her responsibility and she wouldn't let him be harmed.
Harry and Juliet interrogated Foster together when the bombmaker was brought in. In a lot of ways, it was like old times. It felt good, having someone skilled by his side, someone he knew almost as well as he knew himself. They fell right back in step, using every tool in their collective arsenal. But this wasn't Harry's place anymore. He was needed elsewhere. Things were going on that he needed to be made aware of. Let Adam or Zaf do the legwork that set Harry's teeth on edge. Let the younger men and women on his team supply him with the intelligence he needed to make the hard decisions. For the love of god, let him go back into his office and discuss it with Ruth so she could ferret out the truth amidst the tangled web of lies and direct his moral compass to the true north only she seemed to provide nowadays.
When Ruth walked in with Professor Curtis in tow, Harry felt life breathed back into him. They could solve this now. With the professor, they could figure this out. Ruth took her place by Harry's side as they discussed their next step, her handling the professor and looking to Harry for direction. For one horrible moment, he looked at her and suddenly noticed the lovely fullness of her lips and the lines around her mouth that he wanted to trace and kiss at the first opportunity. But Juliet's voice completely destroyed that thought and brought his focus back to the task at hand.
It was a bit odd, sitting in his office while Juliet and Ruth and Professor Curtis were in the other room. Ruth could be trusted to do the job, of course, as could Juliet. But the whirl of confusion Harry's personal feelings had created left him rather uncomfortable about it.
And in the end, the professor gave them the correct password, Adam stopped the countdown for the bomb, and Section D foiled the terrorist plot as they were commissioned to do. Harry sent his whole team home, and he hurried off to Whitehall to speak with the Home Secretary and Prime Minister. By the time he was finished, Harry was rather certain he hadn't properly eaten or slept in about thirty-six hours. But he couldn't go home yet. There was one last important thing to do.
With sweating palms, he rang the bell at Ruth's house. Only about a week earlier, he'd spent the night in that house with her. It seemed like so long ago. So much had happened since then.
Ruth opened the door wearing her bathrobe. She didn't have a stitch of makeup and her hair was still wet from the shower she'd probably taken as soon as she'd gotten home. When she opened her mouth to presumably ask him what the hell he was doing there, she yawned.
"You were sleeping, I'm so sorry to wake you," he apologized sincerely.
"No, I don't mind," she insisted with a small smile. "Here, come on in, Harry. I can make us some tea."
"Actually, I wanted to show you something. I probably should have called first."
"If you want to give me about ten minutes, I'll put some clothes on. You're welcome to wait inside."
Harry followed her in and sat on her sofa while she hurried upstairs to change. One of her cats came wandering over to nuzzle Harry's arm. He gave the little tortoiseshell feline a scratch behind the ears and took a look at the collar. Mopsy. Harry chuckled to himself. What a stupid name. Leave it to Ruth, bless her.
She stumbled a bit down the stairs. "All dressed," she announced, somewhat breathless.
He wanted to say that she looked lovely, but now wasn't the time for such things. He'd made a promise and he intended to keep it. Harry just nodded and helped her put on her coat and took her out to his car.
They drove without speaking. After the chaos of this operation, between the Americans and Juliet and everything else, sitting in the quiet was rather nice. Neither Harry nor Ruth was the sort of person to feel the need to fill silence. They both seemed to understand that about the other.
When they entered the churchyard, Harry looked over at Ruth to see her reaction, to see if she'd understand where he was taking her. She lifted a shaky hand to her lips and tears filled her eyes. He focused on driving to the correct road and eventually parked. "Ruth, Danny's grave is the third from the left, two rows ahead. I know I said there would be time to grieve, and since we never really know when the next disaster will strike, now might be the only time," he told her gently.
Ruth just nodded. They both got out of the car. Harry waited beside his Range Rover while Ruth made her way to where Danny was laid to rest. He could hear her speaking softly but didn't try to make out what she was saying. Her body began to shake with silent sobs, and as much as he longed to pull her into his arms as he had the day Danny died, Harry stayed where he was. It was an invasion of her privacy as it was that he was standing there watching. He'd leave her alone.
Eventually, she turned and walked back toward him. She wiped her eyes and tried to calm her hitching breaths. "Thank you, Harry," she said.
"Of course," he replied simply.
They both stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Ruth stood up on her tiptoes and gently brushed her lips on his. She pulled back, eyes filled with apprehension, unsure if the line she crossed was unwelcome.
Harry didn't hesitate for an instant, tangling his fingers in her still-damp hair and pulling her back into a deep, sensual kiss. She melted against him, her mouth moving against his, tracing his lips with her tongue, opening her mouth to him. Everything about her was exquisite and Harry didn't let her go until he couldn't breathe anymore.
Ruth kept her hands where they were, holding his cheeks close to her. "Wow," she whispered.
Harry smiled and gave her one last soft kiss before stepping away. "I'll take you back home now. I've got to get back to the Grid, so I'll just drop you off, if that's alright.
She nodded. They both got back in the car, once again not speaking. This time, however, a soft comfort settled between them. Harry felt filled with joy, now having known the glory of her kiss. And as much as he might have wanted to invite himself into her house and tumble into her bed, and as much as he might have done exactly that as a younger man, he knew better now. If nothing else, he had Juliet bloody Shaw to contend with once again, and that reminder was a powerful one.
No, Harry would not rush things with Ruth. He would not trust his own longing for her. He would keep his distance. If he could manage it.