A/N: This is the final chapter of this fic. Thank you to readers, followers and reviewers. And I'm sorry about what I did to Connie. I think in every fic in which I include her, I have her die in a different way. Oh well ...
Ruth's flat is a former MI-6 safe house. It is clear once she opens the front door, dragging her holdall behind her, that Harry has had someone give the place a quick clean and a coat of paint. She can smell the fresh paint, and there are even fresh flowers in a vase on the small table just off the kitchen. No doubt Malcolm has had something to do with that. Upstairs she finds a good sized bedroom with a double bed, and another bedroom, smaller than the first, which is the perfect size for an office. A bathroom and toilet is squeezed between the two bedrooms. Whilst it may be a long way from the The Four Seasons, it will do her for a few months …... until she and Harry decide what and where their future will be, and whether they will spend it together.
The discussion about where she would live once she returned to London had become heated. Harry wants her to live with him, while she would like to live in her own space for a while …... just until she again feels like Ruth Evershed.
"Harry, I've been Emma for over a year now, and before that I was Rachel. I need to be …. just me. I need to do that before I can join my life with yours. I don't wish to simply exist in your shadow."
He had backed down then, but she could see he was not pleased. There was a protective and possessive streak in Harry where she was concerned. As much as she rather liked that, she also felt irritated by it. She is aware that he carries a lot of guilt around her having gone into exile alone, and he is trying to ensure that it never happens again. He believes he has to atone. There is an old-fashioned quality to Harry's love for her which will need honing a little before they can live together without small things escalating into major issues.
At ten o'clock, Ruth rings Harry, and he answers on the second ring. "Where are you?" she asks.
"Try your front door. I was about to knock when my phone rang."
She opens the door to a rather tired looking Harry, his own holdall in his hand. "Can I come in?" he asks, and she can hardly say no ... doesn't wish to say no.
"I only have canned tomato soup …... and I can make you toast. I've already eaten."
They sit at the table while Harry eats. He is ravenous …... as well as tired.
"Would you like to stay the night?" she asks, her resolve to spend time alone falling away at the sight of him. Maybe her decision to live alone for a while is also little more than a last burst of independence before she commits herself to being with him. Maybe it's a silly idea. Still, now she's here, she needs to be here – her own place, with her own address, and her own identity – just until she again feels settled.
Once Harry finishes eating, Ruth makes them a pot of tea, and over mugs of tea, he tells her about the contents of the micro chip.
"It's potentially explosive, but we can't act on it. We can only keep our eyes open. During the past year she's had contact with three members of the FSB. They approached her, but her history was already known to them. She recently heard from an FSB agent called Sasha Gavrik. His father was my opposite in Russia, and his mother …..."
Ruth waits, sensing discomfort in Harry, as he stops speaking to take a deep breath. His eyes dart up to hers, and then just as quickly he looks away.
"What? What is she?"
"She was a double agent back during the cold war. I …. she was ..."
"Your lover?"
"Yes. On and off for ... a while."
"While you were married?"
"Yes." Harry's voice is so quiet that Ruth can barely hear him.
"Harry …... so long as she no longer is, and that you're not still carrying a torch for her, then …... I don't see the problem."
He looks up at her – a direct look this time – and smiles into her eyes. "Thank you, Ruth."
"For what? You have a past. I already knew that. So long as it stays in the past. Did Connie's suicide note mention her?"
"Only that we should be very wary when dealing with any member of the Gavrik family."
"She meant you should be wary …... didn't she?"
Harry nods, still gazing into her eyes. "It's you I love, Ruth. She was an unwise passion I pursued for far too long almost thirty years ago."
"Thirty years is a long time."
"It's a very long time. I'd forgotten about her."
"Was the Russian connection the reason Connie took her life?"
"Partly. She'd got herself in too deep with the Russians, and they wanted more of her. Namely, Sasha Gavrik asked her to provide him with details of my life – names of friends, lovers, associates, my day to day movements, details about my contact with other agents, and a list of my assets and their contact details. When it came to the agents and assets she refused. My suspicion is that she'd already provided them with information about current operations within Section D, and she believed she'd given enough, so they threatened her instead. No doubt, torture would have been involved, and Connie is no longer young. It would have been a very painful death. Then she received the results of her last brain scan, and it was the last straw. She's – she was – an analyst, and she needed her brain for her work. She saw no reason to go on. It was either wait for the Russians to kill her, or take her own life."
Ruth cannot think of anything else to say on the subject. At least Connie's death was not because she – Ruth – was about to step into her job in Section D.
Ruth has already showered, so she gets into bed and waits for Harry while he showers and then dresses for bed. When at last he lifts the duvet and climbs in beside her, she can almost hear his joints creaking. He has always suffered terribly whenever one of his team has been taken, carrying the weight of the responsibility of the death on his own shoulders. After he shuffles across the mattress to lie close to her, he sighs as his head hits the pillow.
"I'll miss you when I get home to my house," he says at last.
"I know …... and I'll miss you just as much."
The ensuing silence is heavy with his thoughts. It is clear he doesn't wish them to be living apart. Ruth takes a few minutes to formulate her thoughts so that they are clear.
"I don't wish for us to live apart any more than you do," she begins, "but I have to do this, Harry. I need to do it. I know you think I've lived on my own for long enough, but for the past two years I've been running …... and living a lie. I have to fit into my own skin again, and as much as it pains me to say this, I have to discover whether I genuinely love you and want to spend my life with you, or …... whether I am grateful to you for rescuing me. That's me being honest …... with you."
Ruth turns to look at Harry, and he is gazing across at her, his eyes pained. She knows that her honesty has hurt him. She knows that he loves her deeply, like no-one before him has loved her. She knows he would go to the ends of the earth for her, climb mountains for her. She just has to make sure that she has a matching level of commitment to him. She believes she has. To kid herself into believing she has would be less than they both deserve.
She then reaches across and kisses him on the mouth. The kiss is long and tender, and she puts everything she has and can be into that kiss, as he wraps his arms around her, drawing her closer.
Harry knows that he must again wait for Ruth. He wants to marry her tomorrow, but he also accepts that Ruth may never want to marry him, even if she decides to live with him. He is almost wholly certain she will eventually move in with him, and commit herself to him. Her time in exile has unsettled her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. He wants to be the one to protect her, to keep the bad people from her door, but equally he knows that she has to come to any decision she makes on her own, without his input.
In the meantime, all he can do is love her, and he is sure he is rather good at that. When the kiss ends, Harry disengages from her, and rolls onto his side to face her. He sees that her eyes are still open, and she is watching him. He smiles into her eyes, and she smiles back.
"I'm glad you're here, Harry ….. with me."
"I'm glad, too."
"It will be …... lovely to wake up in the morning and see you lying in bed next to me."
"Good."
"Is that all you can say?"
"It will be good to be here with you in the morning. Is that better?"
"Marginally."
"Goodnight, Ruth."
Her reply is to grasp his hand under the duvet, and lace her fingers through his. For now, that is enough. It will have to be.
