Twenty-six:
First Day, Redux

They'd both taken leave – his paid, hers unpaid – for the duration of Harry's recovery. The quiet domesticity of their lives didn't go unnoticed, and Harry found himself pining for things to be simpler, better, sweeter for their family. They talked into the night about things – everything, nothing, their hopes, their desires, their dreams – and he'd never felt so pleased. It may have taken a bullet to bring things to a head, but now they were calm.

It took two months before they allowed him to return to desk duty. By that point, they'd had scans of the baby, planned for a second crib and all kinds of new baby things, told Graham and Catherine the good news… and he was content to see that Ruth was already showing. She, of course, was not so pleased, but she had yet to experience any form of morning sickness or more weariness than normal. It was a trade off, then – early showings and higher sex drive for no illness or extra tiredness.

And Harry was only too happy to oblige Ruth's appetites. He was currently speaking breathless, low phrases of love to his wife in French – liberally peppered with vulgar Latin and English – as he circled his thumb over her clitoris. For her part, her eyes were rolled back in her head as her hips moved, each motion making his fingers slide deeper into her, impassioned words in languages he didn't understand spilling from her lips. He wasn't cleared for sexual activity yet, but getting her off definitely kept that domestic side of things chugging along patiently. Besides, he loved the noises she made when he sucked on the birthmark so very close to –

She gasped and shuddered, a hoarse cry tearing itself from her throat as her inner walls clamped around his fingers. He smirked and pressed a kiss to her belly. "Better?" Harry asked when she began to breathe again.

Ruth moaned softly and whispered, "Yes… much."

He withdrew and cleaned himself up before bringing her a damp washcloth. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow," Harry said, gently cleaning her up. "Being on the Grid without you."

"I know," she whispered. "But change can be good, yes?"

He sighed and kissed her inner thigh. "Yes," he said, though he didn't really mean it. "Change can be good." He remembered a day so many years ago when she'd waltzed into his life, carrying an armload of files and dropping them everywhere. She had been a welcome change, a change that had swept him off his feet and carried him along the currents to where they were now. The idea of not having her there on the Grid was alien, foreign, wrong. Like her exile had been.

"Harry," she said softly, "I won't forget you. Or the team. Just because I'm not there doesn't mean that I don't love you, or them." She twined their fingers together and pulled him down onto the bed beside her. They curled up together and just lay, listening to each other breathing. "To be honest, I'm nervous myself. I don't know what to expect."

He gave her a gentle kiss. "From what I hear, the preparations for your arrival have been extensive," he said. "Lyonesse and the Protocol Secretaries have been overseeing things very closely, and Erin has been running herself ragged interviewing for your PA."

Ruth snorted a little. "Imagine a Personal Assistant to the Queen having a personal assistant," she said. "It's really quite ridiculous."

"No, I think it's practical," he said. "On any given day, you might be inundated with a thousand things that need doing and you can only do so many."

"You don't have a PA," she pointed out.

He paused for a long moment, then blushed. "I had you," he said simply. And it was truth; he'd not had any need for a personal assistant because Ruth had so often gladly stepped in and picked up his slack. Now he wouldn't have her and he would either have to find someone to fill the void or he would be spending a lot more time on the Grid than at home with his family.

"Ah, well…" She blushed a little, too. "I had an ulterior motive for getting your things done for you. Mostly in that I wanted you to be home."

"Yes, I know," he whispered. "Erin's been interviewing for a PA for me, as well. At my request. It's not fair with a small child to put in many extra hours that could be avoided. The DG thinks it extravagant, but once he met Zoe the other day, I think he understands my desire to be at home."

"I can't believe she's walking," Ruth said, changing the conversation about face.

"Running," Harry corrected. "And it wasn't that long ago that she was looking up at us with those big blue eyes and I wondered if I might accidentally drop her, she was so small."

Ruth smiled. "Yes," she agreed softly. "That thought crossed my mind more than once."

He gave her another gentle kiss. "We'll make things work," he promised. "So we can spend time with Zoe and each other."

"The fact that you're even trying makes me love you ever so much more," she whispered against his lips. "And you and Zoe and this little one already fill my heart to overflowing with love. I can't possibly hold anymore."

He smiled and rubbed her bare skin. "Ah, yes," he agreed. "I feel some days like I might burst with bliss."

Her smile faded and she murmured, "Should we have a right to be so happy, Harry? After all that's happened, I mean."

"Of course," he said firmly. "Carpe diem. Always."

Ruth smoothed her dress and hoped that she looked all right. Harry had insisted she wear the simple navy dress and blazer with her grey tights and her comfortable low boots. Simple, professional, elegant, and comfortable. He'd already noticed that her feet were sore and swollen after their trip to the zoo with Zoe the day before, and had been very firm about her comfort on her first day at work.

She had her purse (filled to brimming with her personal things), and her briefcase (filled with her tablet, laptop, and several translation guides – German, Spanish, Swedish, and Dutch). She had her photos of Zoe and Harry that she kept on her desk, and her favorite tea mug. And she had Dexter, the little flowering plant Harry had given her for her desk several days after she'd started at Section D. Dexter had thrived on Harry's desk during her exile, and now he was going to a new home.

She was ready.

She got out her ID badge and showed it to security, who ushered her through the daily sign-in, thumbprint verification, and possession search that she would be forced to endure every time she entered or left the Palace. As the Queen's Personal Assistant: Political Advisor, Ruth knew she would be coming and going with alacrity and she hoped that she'd get better about the whole security sweep. As it was, the guard was eyeing Dexter with mistrust.

"That's Dexter," Ruth said lamely. "He lives on my desk – a gift from my husband many years ago." The guard poked around the plant's roots till he was satisfied that it was just a plant, then turned her over to a young man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. "Hello," Ruth said, holding out her hand, dropping her purse in the process. "I'm Ruth Pearce."

"Your Grace, I'm Alistair Whatley," the young man introduced. "I am responsible for attaining anything you might need during the course of business hours. Officially, I am the refreshments steward for the Queen's PAs on staff. I was sent to take you to your office. May I help you with your bags?"

"Oh, yes, please," Ruth agreed eagerly. "How long have you been on staff?"

He regarded her with suspicion. "Two years," he said.

"Ah," she said. "Well, I'm sure it's a lovely place to work – I'm just coming out of Five's anti-terrorism unit, so I hope it will be a good change of pace."

"You worked for Five?" Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ruth nodded and smiled. "My old boss says I'm a born spook," she teased. "Now, of course, I have been married to him for some time… so he might just be flattering me." She handed Alistair her equipment bag and the smaller box of her necessaries. She kept her purse and the larger box – which had a photo of Harry and Zoe in an unguarded moment cheesing for the camera right up on top.

Alistair regarded her gravely, then said, "Come with me, please."

She found herself determined to ruffle his feathers and get that stick out of his arse. It might take some time, but she'd conquered the great Harry Pearce, hadn't she? "So… all I know is that I've got an office," Ruth said cheerfully. "I'm assuming that means I've got a door to close."

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied. "Your office has already been furnished to the Queen's wishes, but if you have any complaints, you can direct them to the head of household and things will be changed to suit you a bit more."

"All right," Ruth said, keeping up with his brisk pace. "Blimey, it's not a race, Alistair!"

"Her Majesty will be making her morning rounds in about ten minutes and you're meant to be in your office," he said.

Ruth fell silent, following him. As they went through the corridors, she found herself being stared at and whispered about, and she couldn't possibly be arsed to care. "Sir Richard," she greeted warmly, extending her hand to her boss. "Good to work with you again." Before, when she'd been acting as PA, she'd been kept isolated from the group, working directly with him.

"Your Grace," Sir Richard Hawkins greeted with a smile. "Welcome back to the fold. Alistair, please get a raspberry scone and a spiced chai, light milk for Ruth. I'll take you to your office so you may settle in – and then you and I have a meeting with Her Majesty at eleven to discuss your role here."

"Sounds good," she said as Alistair passed off her belongings to Richard. He led her down the corridor, third door on the right from the main office. A small brass plaque on the wall was engraved with her name, official title, and below that was her job title. She thought briefly that at Christmas, she might have to put up a wreath on her office door, since Harry would never let her have one at home.

Richard opened the door and gestured for her to step in before him. She did and gasped. "Oh, it's lovely! Thank you –"

"I only oversaw the installation," he said with a smile. "Her Majesty and Erin Watts from Five did the rest."

Everything was delicate and classical, very feminine, right down to the soft floral wallpaper. It totally belied the fact that Ruth was a hardened pragmatist and completely hard-lined intelligence gatherer. All the better to grill her suspects with. She loved it! There was even a window that overlooked the gardens, and a chaise lounge. She reminded herself to call Erin later and share her effusive gratitude.

Richard set her box and bag down on the desk, and she did the same. "I shall have to bring some of my library here to fill those shelves," she said with a smile. "My goodness – I'm a bit overwhelmed."

Alistair came in with her tea and scone, then retreated again as Richard showed her how the phone system worked, how to get an outside line, and how to contact the Queen directly. "Now," Richard said, "only you and I have access to her direct line. And the reason you do is because of what you've done."

"I shan't abuse it," Ruth promised.

"I'll leave you to settle, then," Richard said. "I think we'll get on famously – there's a staff meeting at four to introduce you to everyone."

"Meeting with the Queen at eleven, staff meeting at four – and inbetween?"

"Check your diary," he said, gesturing at the planner on her desk, a slim volume covered in red leather. "Today has already been penned in."

When he left, she checked the diary, and winced. Meeting at Six with Michael Wiltshire at noon. Meeting with William Towers at one. Meeting with the DG of Five at two. Meeting with Harry Pearce at three… She blushed a little. Oh dear, he'd had to make an appointment?

There was a knock on the door and a young woman poked her head in. "Oh, hello, you've got here okay, then, Your Grace?"

"Please, call me Ruth," Ruth said with a smile.

"Oh, aye – I'm Agnes Glenn, your assistant, ma'am," the tiny blonde with a big smile and sparkling eyes said. "Would you like some help unpacking?" Her brogue was very thick, but Ruth had no trouble understanding her.

"Oh, yes, please," Ruth sighed. "I have some questions, too –"

"Oh, of course," Agnes said with a smile, coming over and helping pull things out of the boxes and bags. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you in charge of my schedule?" Ruth asked.

"Aye," Agnes replied cheerfully.

"Well, I must ask about today's schedule –"

"We're a bit light today, seeing as it's your first day," Agnes said. "Tomorrow's fully solid and Wednesday we're running on half hours instead of fulls. And you've got the JIC meeting on Wednesday night."

"No, that's not what I meant," Ruth said. "Harry Pearce is booked from three till three-thirty."

"Oh, aye, he called and asked for me to pencil him in where it was convenient for you and you'd be close to Thames House," Agnes said. "The staff meeting usually doesn't get started till five anyway. Sir Richard is always in meetings till four-thirty."

"My husband doesn't need to make an appointment," Ruth said firmly. "If he waltzes in here in a kilt, singing Ave Maria and quoting Hamlet, call security. But… he doesn't need an appointment."

"He said to meet him at the bench, whatever that means," Agnes said.

Ruth hid a smile. "Please tell me I have a lunch penciled in here somewhere?" she said.

"Um… no, there's not one –"

Ruth scowled. "All right, well, first order of business: I need a thirty minute lunch break, and several snack breaks during the day," she said. "I'm sure His Grace called to make sure I had thirty minutes so that he could feed me."

"Your Grace –"

"Ruth," Ruth corrected.

"Meetings are –"

Ruth put her hands on her hips and said, "Agnes, it might have escaped your attentions, but I'm pregnant. There will be lunch and breaks penned in. Do you understand?"

Agnes fell silent and paled a little. "Yes, ma'am," she said quietly.

"Thank you," Ruth said. "I'm sure no one told you I was expecting or that would've already been taken care of, correct?"

Agnes shuffled from one foot to the other. "Yes, ma'am. Are you very cross? I can call and reschedule –"

"No, meetings with Six and Five are hard to come by," Ruth said. "Don't worry about it. I'll… grab something along the way and eat in the car."

Agnes murmured, "I'm sorry – if I'd have known –"

"Well," Ruth said gently, "now you know and we can plan accordingly, right?"

"Does His Grace mind much if I tag along?" Agnes asked. "I'll be at your meeting with the DG, I mean, so I'll be with you –"

Ruth smiled a little and said, "I'm sure he won't mind, Agnes. He'll mostly be worried about me and the baby and if I've eaten enough to last till we get home and have dinner with the kids."

"Pardon me asking, but –"

"Harry has two children from his first marriage," Ruth said, "and we have Zoe, who's just about a year old now. And this little one who is making mummy very hungry for that scone and tea." She crossed over to where Alistair had left the treats. She took a bite and moaned happily. "Yes, that hits the spot exactly."

Agnes looked at the plant and said, "Where would you like this put, ma'am?"

"Just… on the desk," Ruth said softly. "It's name is Dexter. It was a gift from Harry when we were just colleagues. A very long time ago."

"You named a plant Dexter?"

"I didn't expect it to live very long," Ruth admitted. "And then… it just… it did. And it flowered. And… yeah. Dexter lives on my desk and is a happy little plant." She smiled at Agnes as the door opened. "Oh, hello, come in – Your Majesty, good morning. I didn't expect to see you this morning…"

The Queen smiled. "I try to stop in and say hello after reading the red dispatches every morning," she said. "Good morning, Agnes."

Agnes curtsied and smiled. "Good morning, ma'am."

"How are you and Ruth getting on, then?" the Queen inquired.

Agnes said very brightly, "Oh, we're getting on famously, ma'am. She's got a very nice family and a plant called Dexter for her desk."

Ruth resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Well, at least the kid could move on from a hurt quickly. Considering some of the meetings and people she'd be forced to deal with, she was going to need that ability for good rather than evil.

The Queen said, "Ruth, we'll have that meeting at eleven to clarify your job duties and such – I assume it's been penned in your diary."

"Yes, ma'am," Ruth replied, dipping a slight curtsey.

The Queen reached out and drew her back up to her feet. "You saved my life," she said. "Deference isn't necessary except in public, Ruth."

Ruth hesitated, and slowly nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said. "I understand that you and Erin Watts designed my office – thank you. I love it. And once my photos and books are here, it will be even better." She smiled.

"I am glad," the Queen said. "Eleven," she said as a reminder before she slipped back into the corridor.

"Blimey, imagine not having to curtsey to the Queen!" Agnes gasped when she was gone.

"I suppose that's what happens when you shoot a clip full of ammunition into a would-be assassin," Ruth said in a wry tone.

Agnes looked at her, askance. "They said you're an intelligence officer –"

Ruth smirked. "They would, wouldn't they?" she said in a carefully mysterious way.

Harry sat on their bench overlooking the Thames and the Houses of Parliament across the way, hoping that Ruth's secretary had communicated the message of where to meet. The girl seemed nice enough, but she wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the sign. He was just about to give up when Ruth plopped down beside him and said, "If you don't have tea and a biscuit, I'm going to divorce you on principle."

He smiled over and said, "You're late."

"Aye," came another voice. "Her meeting with the DG ran over." A tiny little blonde woman sat down on Ruth's other side, squishing them altogether on the bench. "You must be Sir Harry, His Grace the –"

"Harry," he said in a clipped tone.

"Harry, Agnes, my PA," Ruth introduced. "Agnes, Harry, my husband. No titles and rigamarole, okay? We're just Harry and Ruth."

"Pleasure," Harry grunted. He was a little annoyed that Ruth would bring Agnes along, but maybe she hadn't a choice in the matter. "I brought a Moroccan mint tea and your favorite lamb pasty. The one with mint and yogurt in."

Ruth leaned over and gave him a kiss. "I love you," she murmured. "So much. I'm bloody starving right now."

"I'll go get a coffee, then," Agnes said cheerfully. "It was nice to meet you, Harry. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Harry made a non-committal reply as Agnes headed toward the coffee shop.

"Be nice," Ruth said with her mouth full. "She tries so hard."

"She's just so bloody young," he sighed. "They all are."

"We're practically dinosaurs," she teased, snuggling up against his side. "It's all right, Harry – we're the old guard, and soon enough, it'll be time for us to retire to the country and be cranky old people screaming at the kids to get out of our garden."

"That sounds better and better every day," he said softly.

"Mmhmm," she agreed. "You know what my job is?"

"Not so much, no…"

"I'm Her Majesty's eyes and ears. I gather relevant information from all branches of the Security Services and collate it into a weekly report for her eyes only." She laughed a little. "Can you believe that? My entire week is full up of meetings with men whose heads are so far up their arses that they can't see daylight, and then I cherry pick the information the Queen needs to know. It's rather like being demoted and then being showered with coins. I don't understand why… why I'm here. Why I'm doing this."

"Because it's safe," Harry said softly, his hand coming to rest on her abdomen. "Because neither of us wants for the Service to chew you up and spit you out."

She sighed and kept eating. He was worried about her; she looked quite tired and frustrated. To be honest, if he could have her job instead of his, he would leap at the chance. But he understood her frustration. When she'd polished off the pie and most of her tea, she said, "I asked Graham to pick up a curry tonight. It sounded good." She put her hand over his, where it was splayed over her belly.

"It does sound good," he agreed.

"I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful a few minutes ago – it was my hunger and my irritation at being talked down to by Michael Wiltshire for an hour followed by Towers and the DG… all of whom seem to think that I'm a bloody fool. Despite me acting on Her Majesty's behalf. And Towers was sneering into the neckline of my dress. Will you please sort him out before I do something that will have security on me?" She rambled, and he just listened, smiling and rubbing her belly. He liked it when she rambled nonsensically. It was such a very Ruth thing to do.

"I will kick him in the arse, my love," he said softly.

She exhaled a sigh. "I needed this – needed you," she murmured. "It's so odd to not have you just across the way."

"That feeling is very mutual," he said. He'd been a right bear all day, knowing that she wouldn't be there to sneak into his office. He wouldn't be able to joke about fitting her with a cowbell anymore. He'd had to stop himself from going out and asking her for the latest information about the operation…

He'd never expected for it to hurt so much, her being off the Grid.

They stayed like that on the bench, snuggled up, holding hands and smiling, until Agnes came up with her cuppa and a sad expression. "Sorry, but I've just had a call from Sir Richard wondering where we are. I told him we would be a little late because we've not left Thames House yet."

Ruth sat up and sighed, giving him a gently tender kiss on the lips. "I'll see you for supper, darling," she murmured. "I've got a humiliating staff meeting to go to."

Agnes laughed. "It won't be that bad," she promised. "Sir Richard is just going to introduce you to everybody –"

Harry chuckled. To Ruth, that was like a death sentence without chance of parole. "Good luck, my love," he said softly. "May it be better than your first staff meeting at D."

She nudged him in the ribs. "Not fair," she pouted.

"Go to work, love," he murmured. "I'm going back to my office to train my PA how to read my writing."

Ruth laughed and kissed him again. "Good luck with that – it took me years."

He sat alone on the bench for quite some time, hoping that the next day would be easier.

END PART TWENTY-SIX