Happy Christmas to all who celebrate it. I hope you enjoy this little update. Cheers, S.C.
One week later, 24th October, 11 am
"Ah, Harry. Come in," William Towers says as he turns from the window to face him.
"Home Secretary," Harry replies and walks across the room to stand before his desk.
"Drink?" Towers offers.
"It's a little early for me, Home Secretary."
"Tea then? Coffee?"
"No, thank you."
Towers gestures for Harry to take a seat and sits down behind his desk.
"I'd like to offer my resignation," Harry begins when he sits down, prompting Towers to raise an eyebrow at him. "I understand that the incident with Albany has provided the perfect opportunity for my enemies to attempt to remove me, and I'm inclined to agree that it's time for me to move on. I'm prepared to leave quietly through the back door without a fuss, provided my conditions are met."
"Harry," Towers replies, "I'm not sure you're in any position to demand anything right now. You gave away a state secret to save the life of your... lover."
"My wife," Harry corrects calmly.
"Wife?" Towers asks in confusion.
"Ruth and I were married almost two months ago," Harry clarifies.
"Jesus wept, Harry!" Towers exclaims. "This gets worse and worse."
"I am sure that depends on your point of view, Home Secretary."
"I'm sorry, Harry," Towers replies. "I didn't mean to imply that I'm not pleased for you and Ruth, however, the fact remains that you gave away a state secret for personal reasons. You let your personal feelings take precedence over the interests of the state, and you failed to inform your superiors of the change in your relationship with one of your officers!"
"I disagree," he replies and Towers's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his statement. "I did fail to inform my superiors about my marriage. It was my intention to let you know soon. It was a source of unease for Ruth, and I did not wish to put undue stress on her during her pregnancy. It did not seem to matter if there was a delay of a few weeks, especially since she was on leave."
"But the fact that John Bateman knew of your relationship gave him good reason to target her specifically."
"That is correct," Harry sighs. "I'm sure you're aware that Ruth has been used to try to force my hand before, Home Secretary. It is true that my team was aware of the feelings we harbour for each other as were others in the Security Services and Government, including yourself." Towers nods in acknowledgement. "Being married to Ruth, therefore, did not change anything. I loved her before and I love her still. As for handing over Albany, I would have followed the same course of action to save any one of my officers. My intention was to get Albany back before it left the country as you well know. John Bateman was one of my most capable officers, and I knew that he would see through any kind of bluff I tried to pull. My only hope to rescue my officer was to deliver the genuine article, and then get it back from him later. It was unfortunate that Maya Lahan was killed, and we were unable to track Bateman any longer.
"State secret or not, Albany does not work and poses no threat to any lives, and forgive me, Home Secretary, but I strongly believe that lives are more important than deterrents in the grand scheme of things. Ruth Evershed is one of my best officers, and I believe, on a professional level, that she is more valuable to the country than Albany. I have prepared a report that details her involvement in our operations over the last eight years that I hope illustrates her worth." Leaning forward he places the report on the table. Towers reaches for it and flicks through it as Harry continues. "I believe myself to be fortunate that my professional and personal opinions on the best course of action coincided in this instance, Home Secretary."
Towers nods. "Very well, Harry. I shall read this. Now, tell me, what it is you want."
"I have served my country to the best of my abilities for the best part of my adult life, and in recognition of that service, I wish to leave quietly, through the back door, with my full pension and benefits due. Ruth will receive no reprimand of any kind for her role in all this. I intend to live a quiet life in the country after I retire. If a slap on the wrist is required for appearances sake, I will willingly give up my knighthood in return for the rest."
"Harry," Towers replies, "I'm not sure this will be possible. Handing over a state secret is tantamount to treason, and is rarely, if ever, rewarded with a full pension and a slapped wrist."
"I think you will find, Home Secretary," Harry answers as he leans back in his seat and pressed his fingertips together, "that most of the people on the panel that will be convened tomorrow will agree that it is a reasonable compromise, which will avoid a lot of unsavoury things coming out."
Towers narrows his eyes. "Are you threatening them, Harry?"
"On the contrary, Home Secretary," Harry smiles. "I am reminding them that we are all human and have all made decisions at some point in our careers that did not reflect well on ourselves and whose outcomes did not turn out as anticipated, despite our best intentions. Dragging up the past will solve nothing. They want me out and I want to leave. Surely that is a win-win situation."
Towers smiles and nods his head. "I'll see what I can do, Harry."
"Thank you, Home Secretary."
Same day, 24th October, 6 pm
He walks into the house and removes his coat and shoes, sliding his feet into his slippers. It still feels rather odd to be wearing them, but Ruth had been adamant about the importance of removing shoes at the door now that they have Fiona. At the time, he'd felt like pointing out that she won't be crawling for some months yet, but he hadn't. It isn't really such a big deal, and certainly not worth having an argument over it. He peers into the sitting room and the kitchen, looking for Ruth, but both rooms are empty. Then he hears a noise coming from upstairs, so he makes his way to the staircase, and slipping off his slippers so as not to make a sound, he stealthily goes upstairs.
He follows the sounds to their bedroom and peers in through the crack between the door and its frame. Ruth's sitting on the bed talking to Fiona, who's lying on her back and gurgling up at her mother. This is normal enough behaviour for the pair of them, but what has him transfixed is the conversation.
"Ana behibek, Fiona," Ruth says. "Wo ai ni, Fiona... Tora dust midaram, Fiona...Σ'αγαπώ, Fiona...Je t'aime, Fiona... Ich liebe dich, Fiona... Ti amo, Fiona... Ya tebya liubliu, Fiona... Te amo, Fio-"
"Ruth," he murmurs as he steps into the room, "what on earth are you doing?"
She blushes as she turns towards him and replies with a sheepish smile, "I've decided to teach Fiona another language, and I was trying to see if she has a preference for one of them."
He stares at her for a moment in astonishment, and then a slow smile spreads across his lips. Stepping up to the bed and leaning over it, he presses his lips firmly against hers before pulling back and saying, "Do you have any idea how much I love you, Ruth?"
"I do," she smiles, surprised at his sudden declaration of love. He isn't normally this demonstrative, but when he does occasionally express his love for her in such an unrestrained manner, it makes her feel wonderful.
"Good," he declares and holds her gaze for a moment longer before turning his head to look at Fiona. His daughter immediately smiles and starts to gurgle at him. "Hello, beautiful," he murmurs and reaches down to kiss her forehead and stroke her soft, downy hair. "Is mummy teaching you lots of clever things?" Fiona gurgles in answer and smiles again.
"Such a daddy's girl already," Ruth sighs, making Harry smile.
"All girls are daddy's girls," he says wisely as he sits down next to Ruth.
"And they all have them wrapped around their little finger," she smiles.
Harry chuckles. "Speaking from personal experience, are you, Ruth?"
"Possibly," she replies as her thoughts drift to her own father. "I'm not telling," she adds lightly with a smile. Thinking of her father no longer fills her with sadness. There's always a brief pang of pain and regret that he's not here to see his granddaughter, but that's all.
He gazes at her lovingly, enjoying their playful banter. Then he reaches out and pushes a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "You're beautiful, Ruth," he murmurs.
"Thank you," she blushes. She's still not used to receiving complements from Harry, though again it's not something he does often. "So what do you think of my idea?" she asks in an attempt to change the subject.
"Teaching Fiona another language," Harry asks with a mischievous glint in his eye, "or having a one month old baby choose which one?" She slaps his shoulder lightly in irritation, making him chuckle. Then kissing her lips softly again in apology, he adds, "I think it's an excellent idea if you don't mind doing it."
"But which one, Harry?" she asks earnestly.
"Whichever you feel most comfortable using. After all, you will be speaking it every day with her for years."
"You're right," she sighs. "The problem is that I'm fluent in so many."
"Oh, yes, Ruth," he murmurs sarcastically, "I can see how most people would agree that that's indeed a huge problem."
"Harry," she warns and he relents, realising that she really wants his help to decide.
"Which one feels closest to you? Which one means something?" he asks, softening his gaze to let her know that he's done teasing her.
"Greek," she whispers and looks at him uncertainly.
"Because of Nico?" he probes gently.
"Yes," she nods. She pauses for a little while and then adds, "It's funny really because we didn't speak a lot of Greek. George insisted that Nico speak English at home so that he practised, but sometimes, when George was on call and had to work late, I'd pick Nico up from school and he'd start telling me about his day in Greek. I never had the heart to stop him, and eventually, it became our little secret. We'd speak Greek at home when it was just the two of us and English when George was with us. It was very good for my Greek. Nico used to laugh at me when I made mistakes."
A wistful smile settles on her lips and he feels his heart ache for her. He knows what it's like to lose a son, and it's something he wouldn't wish on anyone, least of all the woman he loves more that he'd ever thought possible. He still feels guilty for his role in the loss of George and Nico, even though he knows that there's nothing he could have done to save the doctor. His fate was sealed the moment he'd been taken. All four of them were meant to die on that day. It had only been a matter of time. He knows that, Ruth knows that, his team knows that. He'd done the only thing he could under the circumstances - bought them all as much time as he could, and because of his actions and those of his team, three of them had survived. But not George, and not Ruth's relationship with Nico.
"It's a very useful language to know," Ruth's saying now. "Especially if she wants to study medicine. It'll be easy for her to remember all the nomenclature because she'll understand what it all means."
He nods and pulls her towards him, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her hair. "Greek it is then," he murmurs.
"Thank you," she says after a moment. She knows that it can't be easy for him to hear about her life away from him, or about her pain at losing Nico. On some level where logic doesn't enter into things, she knows that he feels responsible for what happened in the same way that she does.
"I love you," he replies simply and then reaches down and gives Fiona his finger. Their daughter grabs it in her little fist and attempts to bring it to her mouth. Harry, however, keeps pulling it back out of her grasp just before she succeeds. They watch her, smiling at her determination as she attempts her task again and again. "She's as stubborn as her mother," Harry teases.
"Oh, yes," Ruth replies sarcastically, "because her father is not stubborn at all."
Harry laughs and murmurs, "We're in big trouble if she's got a double dose, Ruth."
Ruth smiles and replies, "Not if we always present a united front, Harry."
He nods, and at last, lets Fiona bring his finger to her mouth successfully. She chews on it happily while making incoherent gurgling noises.
"What about you, Harry?" Ruth asks after a bit.
"No," he shakes his head, immediately understanding the shift in conversation. "I'm sticking to English. I never liked German, I hate Russian, and I can't stand French. I've also forgotten almost all the Persian I knew, but I was never a big fan of that language either. "
"Spanish?" she ventures.
"No," he frowns. "Sorry, Ruth. Unlike you, I learned foreign languages when I was stationed abroad. Consequently, I have very few pleasant memories associated with any of them."
"Okay," she nods, conceding defeat. "Two languages are good enough for a start."