Beth was sat behind her desk, covertly staring at the doors, waiting for Lucas to come walking through. He was due back today, but he'd yet to put in an appearance; for that matter, Harry and Ruth were both running behind this morning as well. That was less of a mystery to Beth, seeing as she knew her wayward flatmate had left the Grid in Harry's company the night before, and never come home. It didn't take a genius to figure out where the pair of them were this morning, but Lucas's location was still marked with a big question mark in her mind.
And so she contemplated the doors. Ruth, Harry, and Lucas all three referred to them as the pods, for some reason that had yet to be explained to Beth. They weren't pods, they were doors, plain and simple. They slid smoothly open as you approached, and slid smoothly closed behind you as you departed, and there was nothing even remotely pod-like about them to her mind. And yet, the three veteran members of the team all shared this little idiosyncrasy in common. She filed that question away in her mind, in a folder marked things to ask Ruth when I'm completely sloshed later.
Perhaps over the course of their evening together Ruth had managed to talk Harry down somewhat, Beth mused as she continued to wait. He'd clearly been cross with her yesterday, but he'd left in Ruth's company, his hand resting on the small of her back, and surely that meant his ire had cooled somewhat. If anything was to be done about Lucas, they desperately needed Harry on side, and despite Ruth's insistence to the contrary it had become apparent to Beth that the only person who could bring Harry around was Ruth herself.
And even as that thought crossed her mind the pair of them appeared, walking too close together and smiling that irritating little smile all newfound lovers seemed to have in common. Harry veered off toward his office, and Ruth floated over to her desk, and Beth shook her head as she watched them, wondering if they had forgotten the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.
"Have a good night, then?" Beth asked tartly.
Ruth jerked her head up from her computer, staring at Beth in horror, and she instantly felt like an arse for being so cruel. Whatever Ruth and Harry shared was still a delicate thing, she knew, and Ruth deserved better than to find herself on the receiving end of Beth's poor mood.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, but the damage was done. Ruth had returned to her work with a faint blush coloring her cheeks, resolutely refusing to look at her.
"It's fine," she said shortly.
Damn it, Bailey.
Beth had her mouth open to protest, to repeat her apology, to say anything to get Ruth to smile again, but before she had a chance, the doors opened, and Lucas stepped through. He wore the scowl that had become a permanent fixture on his face, and he did not speak to anyone as he made his way to his desk. Beth sat, caught between the two of them, feeling guilty and scared in almost equal measure. It was going to be an unbearable day.
Around lunchtime, Ruth finally found it in herself to go and speak to Beth. The girl had retreated to the kitchen, mumbling something about tea, no doubt wanting to escape the close confines of the Grid where Lucas was brooding and Ruth was pouting and Dimitri was trying and failing miserably to make them all laugh. She needed to make things right between her and Beth; now was not the time for them to go falling out with each other.
"Beth," she said quietly as she stepped into the room.
"Ruth, I'm so sorry," Beth said in a dejected little voice that spoke all too plainly of the misery the girl had endured for most of the morning.
"It's all right, you didn't do anything wrong," Ruth told her gently. It was the truth; this was what friends did, wasn't it? They teased each other, and they supported each other through grief, and they fought on occasion, and made up in the end.
"I shouldn't have said anything, I know you don't like us talking about you that way."
Ruth nodded. "I don't, but I also know you didn't mean anything by it, not really. I'm sorry I reacted poorly."
Beth gave her bashful little smile. "Are we all right, then?"
"Absolutely," Ruth replied, reaching out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We've got to stick together, you and me. We can't let the boys go thinking they run this place."
That comment earned her a little laugh, and just like that, things were back to normal between them.
"Do you have any news, about our wayward soldier?" Beth asked carefully. They'd agreed not to mention Lucas's name, ever, and Beth had suggested referring to him in this way. It would do for now, but Ruth wasn't comfortable speaking about it on the Grid, and she was a bit shocked at Beth's boldness, bringing it up in the kitchen like this.
"No, nothing," she said, giving Beth a warning sort of glance. "I'll take you through my notes when we get home tonight."
Beth nodded, and Ruth left her to her tea, wondering how long they could possibly hope to keep their suspicions secret from Lucas.
The rest of the week slipped away, the way days will do when the time is spent working and worrying in equal measure. Harry had to work on Saturday, and likely Sunday as well, so Ruth had resigned herself to not seeing him again until Monday. They had not spoken, about the steps they'd taken towards each other, but Ruth had the feeling that she need only ask, and she could find herself in Harry's bed again anytime she chose. That was comforting in a way; he wasn't demanding anything of her, letting her decide what she was ready for, on the relationship front. On the other hand, she still carried her familiar doubts, about how long they could keep it up. Early on, Harry had told her that they didn't have to put a name to what they were, and she had balked at the prospect. It frightened her less now, now that he had shown her just how committed he was to her and to the peanut, but her fears had not disappeared completely.
And in the midst of her worries about Harry, she had finally made arrangements to go and see her mother on Saturday. Ruth was dreading that visit, and for the first time in six months she lamented the fact that she couldn't get roaring drunk. It might have helped to pass the time on Friday night, when she was sitting at home moping and Beth was out at some pub with Dimitri and Tariq, and Harry was…
Wait a minute, she told herself. Beth was out, and would likely not be coming back until very late. Harry had to work in the morning, but his meeting was at 8:00 a.m., and Beth certainly wouldn't be awake by then. Ruth had no interest in getting dressed again and leaving the flat, but perhaps she could ask Harry to come by. He could help her through her worries about her mother, could keep her company while she fretted, could keep her warm while she slept.
She stared at her mobile, frozen for several minutes as she tried to decide what to do. She'd left him on the Grid hours ago; surely he wasn't still there? Would he want to come round? Would he request she come to his instead, and what would she say if she did? The couch was quite comfortable, and Ruth was laid out on it wearing only a vest and her knickers, having been completely overcome by the heat of the day. It was cooler now than it had been, but her body hadn't gotten the message, and the thought of putting on clothes and schlepping across the city to his was deeply unappealing.
Oh, just ring him, she told herself sternly.
And so she did.
"Ruth?" he said when he picked up, having for once actually checked to see who was calling him before answering.
"Hi," she said lamely, at a loss as to what to say now that she finally had him on the line.
"Is everything all right?" he asked her, when she offered no explanation for her call. She could tell by his tone that he was concerned, likely thinking she was about to deliver some sort of news about the peanut.
"Yes, yes, everything's fine," she assured him quickly. "I was just wondering if maybe you might like to…" her voice trailed off and even though he couldn't see her, she was blushing furiously. Eating dinner with him and falling into bed was one thing; inviting him to spend the night with her in her flat was something else entirely, and she found herself overcome by a crippling sense of doubt. What if he didn't want to see her? What if he'd been looking forward to spending the night alone?
"Are you asking me to come over, Ruth?" he asked, his voice low and faintly amused now.
"Yes, Harry, I think I am," she answered with all the dignity she could muster.
On the other end of the phone, Harry just chuckled. "I'll be there in half an hour," he told her.
In the end, it only took him twenty minutes.
Ruth met him at the door, and in a stroke of boldness, she did not dress for the occasion, choosing instead to welcome him in nothing but the vest and knickers she'd been wearing before. She had never been particularly good at the seduction routine, but she had invited Harry over for many reasons, and sex was definitely one of them. Harry took the hint, and had her wrapped in his arms almost before the door closed behind him, his lips melding to hers as the passion between them built to a furious tempo. They stumbled down the hallway together, Ruth giggling as they both struggled to divest Harry of his clothes; he pulled himself away from her at the bedroom door, grumbling as he went back to retrieve his shirt and his belt from the hall.
"Don't want Beth to get a shock," he said breathlessly when he saw her questioning glance; Ruth just reached out, caught him by the waistband of his trousers, and pulled him into her room with a grin.
Afterwards they lay amidst the tangled ruins of Ruth's sheets, Harry's head on her chest, her hands in his hair, his fingertips following the curve of her belly as they both tried to settle down. Ruth couldn't seem to keep the smile from her face; Harry was here, in her bed, and she drew immeasurable comfort from his presence. She ached in a delightful sort of way, and her limbs were loose and heavy. Even if she'd wanted to, she could not have moved an inch.
"I'm glad you came," she murmured, and she felt Harry smile against her skin.
"I'm glad you asked me," he replied.
For a time they were quiet, enjoying that post-coital glow, but Ruth's thoughts were slowly beginning to order themselves, and her growing fears about Lucas came to the forefront once again. She and Harry had not spoken about him since Monday, but she had been carefully tracking his activities on his computer, and had been meticulously logging all his calls, and Harry needed to know what she had found.
"Harry," she said, hating the fact that she was about to break through their peaceful bubble, but feeling it needed to be done anyway, "I need to talk to you about Lucas."
Harry's hands stopped their perusal of her stomach, and she felt him tense in her embrace.
"Ruth-" he started warningly, but she cut him off.
"He's been making and receiving calls from untraceable numbers, and there's nothing about them in his reports."
"And you're sure they're untraceable?"
"As sure as I can be, without bringing Tariq on board."
Harry sighed. "Don't do that. It's bad enough Beth is suspicious, I don't want anyone else on the team involved. Maybe we ought to ask Malcolm."
It was Ruth's turn to sigh. "Malcolm's retired, Harry, it wouldn't be fair to ask that of him."
He kissed her stomach absently. "You're probably right. I appreciate that you're concerned about this, but can we agree not to discuss work in bed, at least?" His tone was vaguely plaintive, like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, and Ruth smiled down at him, feeling rather indulgent towards him, just now.
"Agreed," she said lightly. "What do you want to talk about then?"
Harry was quiet for a long time, and with each passing second of silence, Ruth's concern grew. What could possibly be weighing on his mind, that he would hesitate so to bring it up?
"I don't want to upset you," he said, and her heart sank in her chest. This can't be good, she thought morosely.
"Just say it, Harry."
He righted himself, propping himself up on the pillows beside her and taking one of her hands between both of his own. He took a deep breath, and looked into her eyes as he spoke.
"I was wondering why you never told me about what happened…before. When you came back. About the baby."
Christ.
It took every ounce of self-restraint she possessed to stay in that bed with him; every inch of her wanted to jump up and run, as far and as fast as she could. Of course he would be curious, about what had happened with George, about the baby that almost was, but she could not imagine any circumstance under which she would want to have this conversation with him. Remembering hurt too much, and to speak of this thing that lay between them would demand that she give voice to so many things she had hoped could remain unsaid.
"Do you really have to ask, Harry?" she said softly.
"I know that it must have hurt you, deeply," he soldiered on, "but I wish I could have been there for you. I hate to think that you went through that alone."
"I wasn't alone," she insisted, staring down at their entwined hands rather than meeting the weight of his gaze. "Jo was with me."
Jo was with me.
Christ, poor Ruth, he thought, overcome with a welter of emotions. He hadn't meant to ask her about it, or at least not in this way, but he was always loose-lipped and careless after sex. Surely he should have learned his lesson, after he'd let one too many secrets slip to Juliet and very nearly lost his job in the process, but it seemed that this was one flaw he had yet to overcome.
He did know why she hadn't told him; when it happened George was dead and her life was ruined and everything between them was pain and unspoken longing. Of course she wouldn't tell him that she'd been pregnant with another man's child at the time. What he'd meant to ask was are you still grieving, does it pain you to be pregnant now, are you worried about our baby, too? He wanted to support her, as much as she would let him, and he had chosen to frame his question the way he had in an attempt to approach the subject delicately. That attempt had failed rather spectacularly, it would seem.
And now there was the pain of losing Jo, too, Jo who had apparently carried her through that horror, only to be ripped away from her so soon after. It added a whole new dimension to that night when Beth had called him round, when Ruth had been all but inconsolable.
"I'm glad she was there," he said gently. "I'm glad you had someone you could trust."
Ruth nodded, still refusing to look at him.
Things had been going so well; why did he always have to go and cock everything up?
"It… wasn't a good time for me, Harry. If you had been there, it only would have made things worse."
He tensed at those words; no man wants to hear that his lover would prefer the comfort of a friend to his own steady presence. He thought about it though, and in a way he understood. What happened in the warehouse that day had been a hellacious ordeal for them both, and it had taken so much time for them to find their way back to one another. He could still hear the echo of Ruth's screams in his mind, the most awful, gut-wrenching sound he'd ever heard in his entire life, and he honestly didn't know how he would have reacted, if he'd known the truth at the time. Perhaps things were better as they were.
"I'm sorry, for bringing it up," he said contritely.
"It's all right, Harry," she told him in a soft voice. "I was devastated, at the time, but George and I were never really meant to be. We can't waste our time brooding over what never was. We have to live in this moment, and in this moment…I'm happy. I'm happy that you're here. I'm happy that the peanut is healthy."
At those words, Harry leaned over, and brushed his lips against hers softly, to let her know he understood, that he felt the same. He needed no further explanation from her on the subject, not now, and so he pulled the duvet up over them, and they shuffled down the bed together, wrapping their arms around one another and falling into sleep, together.