Early Autumn 2007

It took some time—a few months, in fact—but Ruth and Harry developed an easy routine. It was much as it was before her time in exile, them staying over at each other's houses, dividing their time and spending a few nights apart each month when there was work and other obligations that called to them. The cats were very pleased to be back in their original home. Scarlett missed them, but she was nearly blind by now, so she didn't notice too much. The normalcy of their lives, the uncomplicated nature of their relationship, it was all very comforting to Harry. He had wisely not tried to ask any more of Ruth than she seemed willing to give, and things had drifted along quite nicely.

The Grid was running like clockwork. Having two veritable geniuses working together as analysts was a godsend. Malcolm and Connie and Ruth planned and ran every operation to perfection. Zaf and Jo, under Ros's leadership, were exemplary field agents. They were like a well-oiled machine. Home Secretary William Towers could not find an end to his praise for Harry and his team. Normally, Harry did not put much stock in the opinion of politicians, but on this front, he could not help but wholeheartedly agree.

On an altogether average Thursday, Ruth had left the Grid at lunchtime to get some air. She and Connie had both been working all night on translations and research. Ruth had some language skills that Connie did not, and Connie's institutional memory aided her in searching files much more quickly. But Ruth had finished her translations for the time being until Connie dug up more intel for her, so the older woman had suggested Ruth go out and pick up some food for them.

"I had curry yesterday, and I cannot abide Thai food, but anything else, I'll be happy," Connie had told her.

Ruth smiled. "How about some pork pies from the pub up the road?"

"No wonder Harry's in love with you, good lord," Connie teased.

And Ruth laughed in response. There had been a time not too long before when such a comment would have turned her beet-red and made her stomach tie in knots. But not now. Now, she took great pride in the knowledge that Harry loved her and she loved him. The world had already tried to take advantage of that fact, but they had persevered and survived the very worst.

As she walked along the Thames, breathing in the fresh air and marveling at the September sun glistening off the water, Ruth allowed herself a little fantasy about her Harry. She'd go to his tonight, she decided. She'd pour them some wine and sit him down on the bed and watch him watch her take off all her clothes for him. He'd like that, she thought. She could almost picture the look on his face as she seductively peeled each layer from her body, and she'd tell him to stroke himself as he got hard for her. That thought alone was making her a bit weak in the knees.

Her salacious daydream was interrupted by the shrill ringing of her mobile. It was a blocked number, which was hardly of any concern, given their line of work. A blocked number often meant Whitehall. Though why anyone with enough importance to have a blocked number was calling her mobile, she had no idea.

"Hello?" she answered warily.

"Do not say my name, do not let anyone know that this call is important. Do you recognize my voice?" the caller demanded.

"Yes," Ruth choked out. Her blood had turned to ice. She did recognize that voice. It was a voice she thought she'd never hear again. And because she was hearing it, she was instantly terrified.

"Where are you?"

"Walking by the river."

"Good. Stay in public. Do not react. Do not ask questions. Just listen very carefully. I haven't got much time."

"Okay," she squeaked.

"You need to tell him that Sugarhorse has been compromised. Tell him that I have been here deep for long enough that I've been able to learn enough to know that they know about it, and they learned it from Pilgrim. I don't know who that is, but he has to find out. Repeat that back to me. What are you going to tell him?"

"Sugarhorse has been compromised. You know enough to learn that they know about it. They learned about it from Pilgrim. We have to find out who that is," Ruth recited back to the caller.

"Good. Now, don't try to get into contact with me again." There was a pause on the line before the caller sighed slightly. "Goodbye, Ruth." And then the call ended.

Ruth did not waste a second. She practically tripped over her own shoes as she hurried back to Thames House as fast as her clumsy feet would take her. She did not stop until she was back on the Grid, throwing off her coat at her station and going straight to Harry's office.

Connie watched her and called out with slight annoyance, "Ruth, where are my pork pies?!"

Harry was sitting in his office trying to get through some extremely dull reports when Ruth came crashing in, closed the door behind her, and pulled the blinds. "I don't think now is a good time for a quick midday shag, Ruth," he quipped.

She completely ignored that comment and launched right into it. "I've just had a call."

"Alright."

"I was told to tell you that Sugarhorse has been compromised."

Harry felt the bottom drop out of him. If he had not been sitting, he probably would have collapsed. "What?!"

"They learned about if from Pilgrim. And we need to find out who that is," Ruth said, giving the last part of the message.

"Who told you this? Who told you that the Russians know about Sugarhorse?" he demanded desperately.

Ruth was unaware that the Russians were involved, but obviously the 'him' she was supposed to tell was Harry, and the 'they' who knew about Sugarhorse—whatever that was—were the Russians. Ruth revealed the identity of the caller whose voice she would know anywhere. "Tom Quinn."

Harry fell silent and dropped his face into his hands. Ruth stayed where she was, waiting for him to say something else. Anything else. But he just sat there, unspeaking.

She could not take the swirling tension of being thoroughly out of the loop. Ruth Evershed was not a woman who appreciated not knowing things. "Harry, what is Sugarhorse?" she asked softly.

He lifted his head, and she expected his gaze to be kind and perhaps a bit sad. But his eyes were steely. "Ruth, you forget you ever heard that name. You don't mention anything about this to anyone ever again, do you understand?" His voice was hard and cold.

"What?" she asked in return, stunned by his reaction. "Harry, Tom called me. I can't just do nothing! Tell me what's going on, what this is. Let me help!"

But Harry was firm. "No, Ruth, we are not doing this again. I will not let some outside force manipulate you into manipulating me. You will not be involved, and that is final!"

"No one is going to use me," she insisted. "As a matter of fact, I will not allow it."

"You won't allow it? You haven't got any say in the matter!"

"Harry, if you don't trust me, what's the bloody point of any of this?"

He was not sure when their burgeoning fight had shifted focus from spycraft to their relationship, but here they were. "We will not have this discussion," Harry commanded.

"You've got to stop trying to protect me all the time! You don't always know what's best, and if you expect us to have any sort of future here or at home, I need you to let me help!"

"Ruth…" he warned.

But she continued to rail against him. "What do you think will happen if you shut me out of this? Whatever this is, it's important. You can't hide from me."

In his heart of hearts, Harry knew she was right. He knew that she only ever wanted to help, he knew that she was more of a help than a hindrance in every conceivable circumstance, and he knew that he needed her by his side in every single aspect of his life if he was ever going to continue to survive the world they inhabited. But this was not a concern for their relationship. Harry could not just tell his girlfriend state secrets because she was feeling left out. If he did tell her, that wouldn't be the situation at all; Ruth was a brilliant analyst and her expertise was a vital asset to any operation. But still, he needed to proceed with caution.

"Fine," Ruth said finally, not wanting to wait any longer for him. "I'll just go then,"

She was pouting and he did not like to indulge that childish behavior, particularly because Ruth was usually above such petty things. "Ruth, wait," he called out to her.

Her quick stride was halted, and she turned back toward him.

"I will tell you. I swear I will. But I need to do some digging of my own first. And no one can know. Not even Ros or Malcolm or Connie. No one. Please, just give me some time to sort some things out before I bring you into this. It's not just about us, and it certainly isn't because I don't trust you. I trust you with anything and everything, Ruth. But this is…delicate."

"Top Secret?"

"More than that."

Her eyebrows jumped up her forehead with intrigue.

Harry exhaled and confided, "Ruth, before you said that Tom mentioned Sugarhorse, I was under the distinct impression that I am one of two people alive on this earth who knew that Sugarhorse even existed."

She was quiet for a moment, processing what he said. But her eyes never left his. And at last, she asked, "So what do we do about it?"

"First I'm going to see the extent to which Sugarhorse may be compromised. That I must do on my own. And then, when I get a better sense of what's going on, we will figure out what to do next."

"We?"

"Yes, Ruth. We."