May 1, 2011
Ruth was in a fine mood, which pleased Harry immensely. She was smiling and her eyes sparkled and she was quick with teasing little jokes. It reminded him of their early days, when she wore clothes with garish patterns and cheap, chunky jewelry. She had been so young, then. She was still young, in the grand scheme. But she did not have her youthful naivety anymore, which was good.
At forty-one years old, Ruth was older and wiser. They'd just celebrated her birthday a few days before. Unfortunately it was the day before her first treatment so they had to be quite careful; Dr. Blake was monitoring her quite closely to ensure that there were no additional risks to account for before starting chemotherapy. And Ruth had been quite nervous for it all. Harry had brought her flowers and a diamond tennis bracelet—which she had insisted was too much and only accepted it when he put it on her wrist and pressed gentle kisses on the inside of her arm—and they had otherwise spent her birthday talking quietly and sharing a bit of a cuddle, curled up together in Harry's chair beside her bed.
But the last couple days had gone well. The treatment had been painless and simple. Harry was allowed to join Ruth in the room where patients were lined up in comfortable chairs with IVs placed between them. Harry watched as Dr. Blake inserted the IV needle into Ruth's arm and set up the bags of medication himself. Ruth wore her new diamond bracelet on that same arm. Harry watched it sparkle in the florescent hospital lights as he tried to pay attention to the doctor explaining which drug was which and what they would do. It was a little over Harry's head, but Ruth took in all the information and asked questions and got the answers she needed. Regardless of their circumstances, Ruth was still herself, always clever and finding solutions and learning every aspect of whatever was placed in front of her. Harry was less thorough in his knowledge base, but obviously his mind had served him perfectly well in life. Ruth, though, was far more brilliant than any other living person, and Harry was prouder of her than he could say.
The chemo treatment had not lasted too long, thankfully. Ruth was feeling fine, and they returned to her room to watch a movie and let Ruth relax. Dr. Blake said that the chemo would not affect her for a little while. In the future, the day after treatment would be the worst, and the side effects would not be bad until they'd gone through a couple of treatments. But the course was very aggressive, and Ruth was very new to it. Her body had healed from her surgeries, but this was different altogether. They'd just have to wait and see how she fared.
Today, Harry was contentedly helping Ruth put away the laundry he had done and brought back for her. She did not have much of a wardrobe, living at the hospital, but she liked to have a choice of things to wear. Harry didn't blame her, retaining that small amount of normalcy in this highly abnormal circumstance.
But Ruth had never been the most organized or tidy of people. Harry liked things properly put in place and everything neat and orderly. Ruth was like an explosion. Her desk on the Grid had always been full of piles everywhere. She always knew where everything was, and it didn't take her more than a second to shift those piles and flip through pages to get what she needed. Harry had never really liked that about her, it making him a bit uneasy to see all the mess, but it worked for her.
It was something to consider, however, for when they moved to Suffolk. Harry would have to try not to get cross when she was messy like this. He probably would get cross, he knew, and she would probably get very annoyed with him for his fastidiousness. He could foresee rows about it as they argued about clutter in their house.
That thought made him smile, actually, the idea that they would one day be having little domestic squabbles together like normal people living normal lives. No more arguing over assets and the credibility of intelligence and the right course of action to take with suspected terrorists. No, they'd argue about Ruth leaving out a pile of shoes or a stack of books and Harry tripping on them. How marvelous.
"What do you think of this?" Ruth asked, holding up a pale pink jumper with an unsure expression on her face.
Harry smiled. "I have always quite liked that one. You got that from Sam, didn't you?"
Ruth brightened immediately. "She gave it to me for Christmas one year. I can't believe you remember."
"I remember a great number of things about you, darling. I can't believe you've managed to salvage it," he responded.
"Jo was able to take some things from my old house after Section X finished with it but before my mother went in for the estate sale," she explained sadly.
Harry hated that he'd not had the same idea. He'd taken some things before Section X had gone in, including the copy of Amores he'd given her for her birthday and a scarf that he'd always remembered her wearing. But he should have thought to save some of her things for her return. Although, at the time, Harry had not let himself believe she would be returning. It was far too painful.
"I think I'll wear this now, actually," Ruth decided. She had on one of her long dark skirts and a black blouse at the moment, but she suddenly turned her back to Harry and pulled her top off over her head and tossed it aside before taking the pink jumper and putting that on instead.
Harry was captivated by the first view of her half-naked. The expanse of her back was pale and creamy and gorgeous. And the outline of her body was better than he'd imagined from his few opportunities to reach just under her top and feel that soft skin when they kissed. Her waist was a neat tuck that flared slightly to her hips. Her clothes hid her figure far too much, and it was a beautiful figure. Harry's hands twitched to reach out and touch her. It wasn't the only part of him that twitched to see her partially undressed like that.
Ruth turned back to him and must have seen the expression on his face. His jaw had dropped, and he was sure his eyes were dark with desire that he just couldn't bring himself to hide. She looked him up and down, first with brow furrowed in question and then with a sparkle of understanding. With a little grin, she took his hand.
They went around the bed from the wardrobe and into the bathroom where Ruth turned on the light and closed the door. Harry wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure his mind was functioning properly yet. "Ruth?" he asked in confusion.
She backed him up against the door with her hands on his chest and she pressed herself against him. "I'm not used to seeing that look on your face, and I think I know what it was for, and I think we're not going to get a better opportunity," she said, leaning in. She was up on her tiptoes to kiss him, but she pulled back momentarily. "Unless I've gotten this all wrong and you don't actually want me."
"Of course I want you," he answered quickly. His hands found their way to her hips. He very much enjoyed having her this close to him.
"And I want you," she said, blushing slightly. "But since I don't really want you to make love to me in a hospital bed, I think a shag in the bathroom is all we'll be able to manage for a while."
Harry hadn't even considered that. He'd been so worried about her health and safety through all this that sex was not a possibility he'd contemplated. But Christ did he want her. Seeing her bare skin like that had awakened his lust like nothing he could have imagined.
So instead of answering her, he chose instead to just kiss her. It was hot and messy and passionate, much more so than any of their kisses in the past. Her tongue was eager against his own. His hands did not hesitate moving up that pale pink jumper of hers to feel the skin he'd momentarily feasted his eyes on. Her own hands tackled the buttons on his shirt.
Their shirts were discarded quickly. Harry unzipped her skirt and it pooled at her feet while his lips and tongue traced the elegant lines of her neck. Ruth gave breathy little sighs in response to his actions, and her fingers trembled on the button of his trousers. With a few quick movements, Harry unhooked her bra and peeled it off her body. But before he could get a proper look and feel for her breasts, she began to kiss him again. She was demanding in her kiss, desperate almost. Her hips pressed against his, moving a way that made him groan into her mouth. He couldn't recall a time in recent memory when he'd gotten so hard so quickly. He wanted her so much he could hardly see straight.
He was just about to traced his hands down her back to squeeze her bum and remove her knickers when Ruth tore herself away from him. It was so sudden that he didn't know what was happening. She grabbed the towel hanging at Harry's left beside the tiny shower stall and turned to the bathroom sink just behind her. And then the retching began.
"Ruth? Oh god," he muttered. She'd had chemotherapy yesterday. Very aggressive chemotherapy. They were warned about the day after treatment. And all the excitement and everything must have been too much for her system.
Harry's arousal deflated instantly upon realizing her distress. He came over and took the towel to wrap around her nearly-naked body and gently rubbed her back with one hand and held her hair back with the other.
"It's alright, Ruth," he murmured gently, trying to soothe her as his heart clenched.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she moaned, wiping tears from her eyes. There was a reprieve from the vomiting, thankfully, so she could take a breath.
"You're sick," he said simply. "Lest we forget, unfortunately. You have nothing to apologize for. We can make up for lost time when you're well again." His own voice sounded falsely cheerful even to him. But it was all he could do for now.
Ruth turned on the sink and washed away the mess she made. Harry collected her clothes for her to get dressed again. He found his own shirt and pulled it back on. She paused her actions and watched him sadly. "I really am sorry. I had hoped we could…"
"I know," he answered, not wanting to subject her to having to talk about it. "I hadn't really expected us to be able to till we went home. It'll be better that way, anyway," he pointed out. "I'm an old man, Ruth, and I don't much trust my bad knee to hold me and you upright."
She chuckled slightly at that. "I'd kiss you, but that wouldn't be nice right now. If you don't mind, I think I should get cleaned up and brush my teeth."
"You sure you're alright?"
Ruth just shrugged. "I just need a minute."
He nodded in understanding. She didn't want him around just now. He left the bathroom and closed the door behind him again. Harry buttoned his shirt back up and tried not to feel too let down. It would have been very nice to have that opportunity with Ruth before she got sicker. But it seems they'd missed their chance. Such was the way for he and Ruth, it seemed. They always were missing their chance for one reason or another. But surely everything would work out for the best in the end.