He pulled away first, but not far. Ever so slowly, he methodically wiped the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. He bowed his head, and they stood there silent for some time, forehead to forehead.
"How are you?" she asked, with a tremble in her voice.
He considered his answer. If he had to be completely honest, his head was something akin to a bag full of hammers being repeatedly dropped. He decided on truthful but vague.
"Bloody…but unbowed."
She smiled a bit.
"And how are you?"
She merely bit her lower lip and nodded.
"Have you eaten yet?" he asked.
"No."
"Good, neither have I."
He went back downstairs and started carrying up bags of more groceries. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged,
"I wasn't sure what Zaf brought along."
Cooking was an adventure, since only one burner on the cooktop actually worked, but somehow they managed. They sat on mismatched chairs at the small table and ate, both hungry enough not to care much what they were eating. During dinner, Harry started rooting around in the kitchen drawers.
"Harry, what are you doing?"
He crowed triumphantly and held up a corkscrew and set about opening up some wine.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but this really must be the worst MI-5 safe house ever."
He suddenly looked very sheepish.
"For once, you can't blame the Service for this one."
"What do you mean?"
"This is my house…well, 'house' might be stretching it a bit. I bought it ages ago, under an alias of course…"
"Of course."
"I found the paperwork for it not long ago. I suppose I meant to do something with it at the time, but I have no idea what."
She marveled, not for the first time, about what it must be like with no memories of the past.
"Well, I won't complain too much, seeing how the landlord has a few things on his plate right now."
He was looking at her quite seriously and she was trying not to blush.
"What's next, Harry?"
"You sit tight. All hell will break loose in Whitehall by morning. Jo's laying a false trail for the plods to follow as to your whereabouts. Malcolm's dissecting every nanosecond of the CCTV of Maudsley, and Adam and Zaf are trying to gather evidence that neither you nor I were "Fox"…"
"Harry, you weren't at that meeting."
"So Zaf's been telling me every time I turn around. I just wish I could be as certain."
"You're a man of principle."
"And does a man of principle leave his best friend for dead or cheat on his wife?"
So he's starting to remember.
"Everyone makes mistakes, Harry." She reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. He didn't meet her eyes for a long time, but when he did it seemed like the clouds had lifted somewhat.
"Are we usually like this?"
"Like what?"
"Someone always apologizing and the other on the verge of tears."
"This is actually pretty good…for us."
"Christ. I was afraid of that."
She's smiling now, and a chuckle escapes him.
The washing up has been done, and although it's still relatively early, they are both exhausted. He knows he should go; there's a paranoid part of him that believes his presence puts her at greater danger, despite the fact that he's taken every possible precaution. She's fidgeting, and he thinks that what would be annoying in any other person Ruth makes adorable. He's still debating within himself whether or not to go when she shyly asks,
"Would you stay…with me, tonight?"
She's fully aware of the implications of her question. But she's had a lot of time to think lately, and she's realized with a murder charge hanging over her that there are more important things to worry about than office gossip. For every moment that he doesn't answer her, panic rises up, and she starts to think that maybe she's misjudged their situation.
Very slowly, he takes her hand and brings it to his lips.
"I will, if you'd like."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
There was no couch, and after a great deal of discussion it was decided that they would both share the bed, which proved to be just a mattress on the floor of one of the back rooms. Thankfully, Harry had managed to locate some sheets and blankets and made the bed whilst Ruth was in the bathroom. He had gotten as far as taking off his tie and shoes when she emerged, wearing some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, both too large for her.
"Sorry, I didn't have time to pack anything. I hope you don't mind…these were in the other room…"
"Not at all."
It is one of the great mysteries of humankind what exactly makes a woman so attractive when she's wearing an item of men's clothing. As she stood in front of him, he thought he had never seen anyone look so lovely. He wondered idly at all the wasted money on fancy lingerie, when the same effect could be had with an old shirt or boxers.
They climbed under the covers, and for a long time just held each other, listening to the rain pounding furiously against the windows. She turned into him, her lips finding his in the darkness. She had managed to undo the buttons on his shirt and was pulling it down from his shoulders when he came to his senses and pulled away.
"Oh God, Harry. I'm so sorry…I…." She promptly rolled over, but he grabbed hold of her before she could scramble off the mattress.
"Ruth…please don't misunderstand." He pulled her close to him before continuing,
"It's just…not here…not in some tatty safe house…" He pulled her even closer so she could be in no doubt that he desired her.
They were silent again for awhile. She felt safe in his arms and he thought that despite everything, he must be the luckiest bastard alive at that moment. He softly kissed the nape of her neck before asking her if they had ever been to Paris.
"Why do you say that?"
"It's just that in my mind there's the association of you and Paris and I haven't been able to figure out why."
"You will. You're starting to remember more."
"Hmm. But not all of it terribly useful. If I could remember anything about Mace, I may have been able to..."
"Don't, Harry. This isn't your fault." She turned around and put her hands to his face, as if to look in his eyes. She softly kissed him again, as if to punctuate her sentence.
"I'm going to meet with him tomorrow."
"Harry…"
"I promise I won't kill him…at least not yet. But the sooner he's out of the picture, the sooner you can leave these lovely accommodations behind."
She chuckled into his shoulder.
"It's definitely growing on me. Just needs a bit of redecorating."
"A woman's touch?"
"Something like that."
He started stroking her hair and let out a little sigh.
"What are we going to do, Harry?" She was no longer talking about Mace.
"When this is over, I'm going to ask you to dinner. Or the theatre. Or a film. Or a walk. And if it's agreeable to you, I will continue to do so until such time as you can no longer stand the sight of me."
"What about work?"
"We'll sort that out. I'd tell them to mind their own business, but I think that after today it's no secret how things stand."
"That's true." They couldn't go back to the time when they each feigned indifference, not after this afternoon when they each tried to get sent to prison for the sake of the other.
"Get some rest, Ruth."
"Good night, Harry."
He lay against her until her breathing was deep and regular and he was satisfied that she was asleep. Then ever so gently, he kissed her on the temple before getting out of bed and heading out into the wild night. He had work to do.
