April 12, 2011

Ruth was in surgery a long time. Longer than with her lung. Though time passed differently for Harry when he was not in shock. He'd been a mess that last time, and he was in much better circumstances now. He had gotten to see her this morning, hold her hand and kiss her hello. She'd been grumpy. Harry had never known before that Ruth actually really loved food. Having to fast before surgery had made her quite irritable. And when he pointed out that they'd skipped more than two meals on the Grid plenty of times, she had scoffed and said that adrenaline and keeping focus on life and death situations puts the distraction of hunger right out of the mind. Harry could not disagree with her for that. But obviously she did not have the same distractions now, stuck in a hospital bed and waiting for her surgery.

Doctor Blake came by with Doctor Harvey. They would both be in the operating theatre with Ruth, Doctor Harvey performing the surgery and Doctor Blake observing the extent of the tumors and the removal. They were both kind and optimistic without being annoyingly cheerful. Both Harry and Ruth appreciated that.

And when it was time for Ruth to go, Harry kissed her and smiled and told her he'd be waiting right there when she got out. She gave a little nod and tried to smile, but Harry could see the flicker of fear in her eyes. He half expected her to say something deep and meaningful, in case the surgery went wrong and she didn't get a chance later. But she didn't. He was glad for it. He did not want to be reminded any further that there was a chance, however small, that she might not return to him again.

Harry wiled away the hours on Ruth's laptop. He checked the news. He checked his personal email. Catherine had checked in to say hello, which was quite sweet of her. Harry crafted a careful reply, taking great care to avoid mentioning Ruth or her illness or anything else. He merely told Catherine that he was doing well, that he was looking forward to hearing how her film turned out and wanting to see it—she sometimes sent him a video file to watch—and he hoped to see her soon. He wanted Catherine to meet Ruth. They'd like each other, he knew, but his daughter had never really seen much of his personal life since he and Jane split up. He wasn't sure how Catherine would react if he suddenly introduced Ruth and tried to explain their history. Though she would probably appreciate him retiring. Upon consideration, he made a small mention that he was thinking of retiring, so perhaps he'd be able to see her more often. With a that, he sent the email and searched for something else to occupy his time.

One thing he needed to do was call Erin. He was reticent, as he desperately did not want to invite any discussion of the Grid. Not that she really needed him for anything work-related, he knew. Erin Watts was supremely competent. A little too by the book for his taste at times, but the brass liked her all the more for it. She'd run Section D perfectly well during Harry's suspension during Albany, and she'd run it perfectly well now and long into the future. For not the first time, Harry got a pang of sadness to know that he could not pass the chair to Ros Meyers as he'd once hoped to do.

Funny how the mind works sometimes. Just the thought of Erin succeeding Harry as Section Head brought him back to the last time he'd very seriously considered passing the torch. It had been in the midst of the Nightingale nonsense with Sarah Caulfield, and Harry had been close to the end of his rope with it all. Tariq was still getting up to speed. Lucas was starting to get distracted. Jo had just passed. But Ruth was back on the Grid and Ros was Harry's right hand. And, in the middle of all of that, Ruth had asked him to get a drink with her. They'd been a little delayed in doing so, but they'd had their drink together. It was in a jazz club where the band was playing quiet and low. They sipped their drinks while sitting side by side at a small table and watched people slow dance in the corner, and Harry almost considered asking Ruth if she wanted to dance. But he didn't want to ruin this détente between them. They didn't talk about work or about anything at all, not while the music was playing. And, at one point, Ruth rested her head on his shoulder. And Harry was confronted with the most beautiful little fantasy, that the two of them might try and make a go of it, that they could build a life together. He'd have left the Service if she wanted to. Even then, he'd been growing tired of it all. He was ready to go. But he needed a reason. He'd never before had the chance of having any sort of life outside of his work. With Ruth, he felt they could have a beautiful life. He'd retire, they'd move in together, they'd have a quiet wedding with a few friends and Harry's children. Ros would take over Section D, and Harry would be satisfied that he left things in the best possible hands.

Of course, that's not how any of that went at all. Harry had driven Ruth home that night and not dared trying to kiss her goodnight. And then Nightingale took twists and turns that none of them could have fathomed. Nicholas Blake was ousted from his position as Home Secretary, and Ros had been killed in that explosion. The grief of losing his unexpected protégée had left Harry utterly lost, desperately searching for something to cling to. And what he'd chosen was Ruth. Or he'd tried to. Really, he'd always chosen Ruth. Always would. But proposing to her as he had, practically demanding that she marry him as they stood overlooking a field just outside the little church where they'd just attended Ros's funeral, that wasn't the right way to do things. He knew that now. He should have known it then. But he'd been lost and he'd continued to be lost for quite some time.

Harry wasn't lost anymore. He was finally going to hand over Section D and retire and start his life with Ruth. And while the start of this life with Ruth looked far different than he ever expected, he was committed to doing whatever he could to make their dreams come true. And right now, that required calling Erin.

She answered on the second ring. "Harry," she greeted curtly.

He inexplicably smiled at that. A strange feeling of normalcy in a very abnormal circumstance. "Hello, Erin. How are you?" he asked politely.

"Everything's fine. Don't think I can go into any more detail while you're on leave," Erin answered.

Harry's brow raised in slight surprise. He'd told Erin he was taking personal leave to be with Ruth, but he'd told Towers in no uncertain terms that he'd be retiring. Apparently that message had not been relayed to Erin. Ah well, no need to bother with that now. That was not the conversation that needed to happen now. "Well that's fine," he replied over the phone. "I'm not calling for anything work-related, actually. I'm calling on Ruth's behalf. She's…well, she'll be in the hospital for quite a while. And she's got a rescue cat called Jaffa Cake, who is a very sweet thing. I've been feeding him for her. But because she's not going to be going home, she wants Jaffa to have a proper home, and she was hoping that your Rosie might like to have him."

"Oh!" Erin exclaimed in surprise. She probably had never imagined in all her days that Harry Pearce would be calling her to ask if she'd adopt a cat.

"I realize this is a bit abrupt, but Ruth wanted me to call you. She's in surgery getting tumors removed at the moment." Harry was laying on the guilt quite thick, but he certainly wasn't above such things.

Erin hesitated. "She's been asking for a puppy, but I don't think she'd really care one way or the other if it was a cat instead of a dog. And cats make less mess anyway."

"Jaffa is a very good cat," Harry added. "And it would make Ruth feel a lot better to know he's going to a good home."

"Yes, alright, we'll take him," Erin conceded.

"Let me know when would be a good time for me to bring him 'round with all his things. You won't have to buy anything," he told her.

"That's fine. I should be able to be home around six tomorrow evening, if you want to come by then. I want a day to get Rosie used to the idea."

"Wonderful. I'll be at yours at six-thirty tomorrow, and you just let me know if there's any change."

"I will," Erin agreed. "But now I've got to go, we have a briefing that I'm running late for."

Harry smiled again, glad that it was her instead of him. "I'll not keep you. Thank you, Erin."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Harry was glad he'd gotten that out of the way on Ruth's behalf, but it was a bit disheartening to know Ruth's beloved cat would not be hers any longer. What it really meant was that they were both having to accept the reality of Ruth's prolonged sickness. She'd be in the hospital for a long time. And they just had to get used to it. Eventually she would be well enough to go home, and then they could really start their life properly. But for now, they needed to make the best of what they had for now.

Harry took to pacing the room for a little while after he tried reading for a while. It was growing late. He'd skipped lunch, too nervous for Ruth to eat after she'd gone into surgery. And now it was past dinnertime. He still didn't want to eat. There was not much else to occupy him for now. Visiting hours were nearly through, but the nurses had already told Harry that he'd be allowed to stay until Ruth got out of surgery and returned to her room. All that was left was for him to wait.