A/N: I did not expect such an enthusiastic response to this idea. Thanks for all the feedback - I shall endeavour to be worthy of it.

What is the use of living, if it be not to strive for noble causes and to make this muddled world a better place for those who will live in it after we are gone?

Winston Churchill

- 0 -

Same day, early evening
Village close to Bletchley Park

Ruth pushed her bicycle up to the door of the lodging house in which she had a room. She chained it to the railing alongside the four other bicycles already there and headed inside, humming to herself. It was quite a lovely piece the choir she sang in was working on at the moment, an Elgar. Old Mrs Collins peered out of the sitting room as Ruth passed by.
"Who's that then?" she called in her high-pitched voice.
"It's Ruth, Mrs Collins."
"Not sneaking a man up the stairs, Ruthie dear?" the voice called after her. Mrs Collins was quite strict on that front.
"No, Mrs Collins!" Ruth called loudly, and added in a low voice, "When have I ever sneaked a man in here? Old bat."
The mention of the male of the species brought Harry Pearce to the forefront of Ruth's thoughts again. She sighed, and wondered which of the three mathematicians he'd put through that exercise had been the lucky one. She would not mind some time away from Bletchley Park, and after what Connie had told her, if Harry Pearce wanted you, it was bound to be for something exciting. She unlocked her door, stepped inside and closed it behind her before switching on the light. It took her a second to register the man sitting on the chair in the corner. She inhaled sharply, but did not scream. Moments later she was thankful of that fact, when she recognised the features of the man that had occupied her thoughts for most of the day.

Harry watched with interest the various emotions running across her face – shock, fear, recognition, momentary interest and then wariness.
He said, "Don't be alarmed, Miss Evershed. I mean you no harm."
A thousand questions vied for supremacy in her mind, but before she could voice any of them he stood, took a step towards her and held out his hand.
"Harry Pearce," he said rather formally. "How do you do?"
She automatically stuck out her hand, but instead of shaking it he bent over it and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
"Er, Ruth Evershed," she mumbled, quite flustered. "But apparently you already know that."
"Yes. Shall we get comfortable? Bed or chair?"
"Sorry?" she stammered.
"Would you prefer to sit on the bed or on the chair? I'm afraid the options are rather limited," he repeated patiently.
"Oh! I, er, I'll take the bed." She didn't think she could see him sit on her bed without entertaining wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He waited until she'd sat herself down before once again lowering himself onto the chair. Ruth's mind finally managed to grab onto one of the many questions.
"How on earth did you get past eagle-eyed Mrs Collins without being spotted?"
"Ah, yes, Mrs Collins's observation skills are quite admirable. However, her security at the back of the house is not up to the same standard, as the gentleman callers of your fellow lodgers well know."
Ruth nodded, mindful of the muted whispers and giggles she could sometimes hear from other rooms when she went to the bathroom late at night. She had often envied the other women those illicit late night visits, and here she was suddenly the one with a man in her room. Surely he wasn't here for that reason, was he?
"What do you want, Mr Pearce?" she asked somewhat curtly, to cover the blush that tinged her cheeks. Thankfully the muted light would hide it from his inquisitive gaze.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the page on which she had done the exercise. Wordlessly he handed it to her and Ruth's heart stopped momentarily. Had she breached some major security regulation by doing so? Harry watched her fingers fiddle nervously with the paper, but when she lifted her head it was with a defiant look.
"I couldn't help but overhear. You should have done it somewhere else if you didn't want to be overheard."
He leaned forward and gently plucked the page from her fingers before depositing it back in his pocket.
"I'll remember that," he said drily, and then fixed her with a concentrated look.
"Miss Evershed, I am with the SOE. Do you know what that is?"
"Yes, the Special Operations Executive – it means you're a spy."
His mouth quirked at her accurate summation. "Yes. I am here on the special orders of the Prime Minister, and I need you for a vital secret mission. I've looked at your file, and you have all the attributes I require. I won't lie to you; it will be dangerous. But the outcome of the war may depend on the success of this operation."

Ruth stared at him in consternation. "Me?" she asked faintly. "But... What about those men you tested?"
Harry huffed impatiently. "Bugger those men. I need the best. That's you."
When she continued to stare at him mutely, he prodded, "Time is of the essence. I need you to decide tonight. Now."
"This is all rather sudden-"
"You're clearly not being challenged to your full ability in your current job," he overrode her. "You long for more; I can see it in your eyes. Well, this is your chance to be more, to do more."
He smiled slightly, and she was unable to look away. He said, "Please, Miss Ruth. I don't want to settle for second best. You're not going to condemn me to one of those mathematicians, are you?"
She couldn't help but smile in return. "No, I guess we can't have that," she murmured.
"Excellent." He stood. "Pack enough for a week." He glanced at his watch. "In about half an hour Mrs Collins will receive a call to say that your mother has taken ill, and that your cousin is en route to fetch you. I will pull up outside fifteen minutes after that call. A red MG."
Ruth nodded, dazed at the speed with which it was all happening. Harry, who had been halfway to the door, noticed and came back. He looked down at her and found himself unexpectedly moved by the mix of fear and determination in her eyes. He reached out and patted her shoulder awkwardly.
"Thank you, Ruth. And don't worry too much – I'll look out for you. I give you my word."
It was said with such earnest sincerity that she felt herself relax immediately.
"Thank you, Mr Pearce," she said, and he gave her another smile.
"Call me Harry."
"Harry," she repeated softly as she looked into his eyes.
They seemed to soften slightly as he gazed at her, and then he was gone.

- 0 –

Four hours later
Country Manor somewhere in Kent

Harry had driven through the darkness for about three hours. Since all the road signs had been removed, Ruth had no idea where they were. She dared to ask and Harry answered vaguely that they were in Kent. He pulled up in front of a large, dark house. The door opened and a small pool of light danced over the gravel drive towards them. Harry waited until the light had been shone into his face, keeping his hands well in sight.
"Sir," a disembodied voice behind the flashlight said.
"Martins," Harry greeted and got out slowly. It was agony to straighten his damaged knee after the long drive.
Ruth considerately matched her pace to his painful, limping one as they moved towards the house. Martins took her suitcase and she noticed the butt of a gun peeking from underneath his jacket. The door closed behind them and the darkness was total until someone flipped a switch and a dim light came on. Another man was waiting for them, which Ruth recognised as Harry's companion from earlier that day.
"Miss Ruth Evershed, meet Malcolm Wynn-Jones," Harry said, and the two of them shook hands.
Harry looked at the stairs and decided that he could not face going up them.
"Malcolm, would you please show Miss Evershed to her room, and then both of you join me in the study."
He nodded briefly at Ruth and walked off. She watched him go with a hint of pity. When she turned around, Malcolm was looking at her.
"Don't ever let him see you look at him with pity," he advised as he picked up her suitcase. "He can't stand it."

Her room was on the first floor. It was big and airy, and furnished with an elegant wooden wardrobe and dressing table as well as a large double bed.
"What is this place?" Ruth asked as Malcolm pointed out the bathroom across the passage.
"It's the Pearce family home."
Ruth was surprised. "Oh! I thought it was one of the SOE houses."
"Harry says the operation is too sensitive to run out of one of those," Malcolm explained.
Ruth knew she shouldn't, but asked anyway. "Do you know what it is?"
Malcolm shook his head as he led her downstairs again. "I think we're about to find out," he said with a small smile as he opened the study door for her.

Harry was sprawled in a comfortable leather armchair, his left leg stretched out in front of him. He had a large glass of whisky in one hand. Ruth noted the pallor of his skin and the sweat beading on his upper lip. He opened his eyes when they entered.
"Forgive my appalling manners, Miss Evershed, but I simply can't get up right now. Would you mind helping yourself if you want refreshment?"
He indicated a drinks tray on the sideboard and Malcolm and Ruth helped themselves to whisky and soda water respectively. Ruth looked around the room and immediately fell in love with its comfortable but somewhat austere furnishings. It was all leather and dark wood, and along three walls bookcases were filled with hundreds of books. She hoped there would be time later to peruse the shelves; she had always held the view that one could tell a lot about a person from the kind of books they owned.

Harry waited until they had settled into the chairs across from him before picking up the folder that lay on the reading table.
"I am going to give you information that must not leave this room. The only people you speak to about any of this are the ones in the room with you now."
He looked between them and they both nodded their assent.
"Good. As you may have deduced from all the military movements going on, the invasion is scheduled to take place soon. Our preparations are at an advanced stage, and the biggest secret of the war is the where and when of it. We have been doing our utmost to convince Hitler that the landings will take place at Calais, but now all these efforts may be in vain."
Ruth and Malcolm listened in silence, caught up in Harry's grave manner. He opened the folder and extracted a photograph, which he passed to Ruth.
"That is Gunther Hoffhausen. He is one of the German spies we have caught. In fact, he is probably the most professional and best trained of the spies we've captured. Two weeks ago he escaped and disappeared without trace."
"Good Lord," Malcolm exclaimed.
"We now have reason to believe that Hoffhausen has got his hands on the invasion plan. A set of documents was stolen from the British Ambassador to Turkey on his last home visit – ten days ago."
He let that sink in. "The stolen plans clearly state the date of the invasion and identify the real landing sites – in Normandy."

Malcolm looked alarmed. "Can we postpone? Change the plans?"
Ruth shook her head. "We shouldn't postpone. What with their losses in Russia, Germany is probably at her weakest right now. If we postpone, it will only give Hitler a chance to regroup."
"Ruth's right," Harry said, impressed with her analysis.
"So what do we do?" Malcolm asked.
Harry tapped the photo. "We stop Hoffhausen from delivering the plans."
There was a baffled silence.
"You mean he hasn't yet?" Malcolm enquired.
"No." Harry smiled grimly. "We know that he is still in Britain."
"How?" It was Ruth this time.
"Because we monitor the routes all German agents are told to take when they need to get out of the country. The only one that is still in operation uses an old mail boat that calls once every two weeks. The next date is in four days' time."
"So we can intercept him when he boards the boat?"
"If only. We don't know where the pick-up takes place. But we do know where the boat drops its cargo on the coast of France."
His eyes were on Ruth as he spoke, and he was gratified to see that she grasped the implications immediately.
"So you intend to lie in wait for him in France?"
"Yes."
"Wait a minute," Ruth said, "how do we know he hasn't sent his information through by radio?"
"Because that's how we caught him the first time. He knows their radio communications aren't safe. He won't risk it – not with the vital importance of his information."
Harry waited, but his companions had no more questions.

"All right. Malcolm, you are communications officer here at base. Ruth, you and I are going to France."
Ruth's eyes widened, but she said nothing. It was Malcolm who asked, "How are you getting in?"
"We'll catch a bus," Harry said.
"…Bus?" Ruth asked, flabbergasted.
"A plane," Malcolm explained. "You'll parachute in under cover of darkness-"
"Parachute?" Ruth said, alarmed. "Harry, I've never done that before."
Harry was unperturbed. "I know. There's nothing to it really. The door opens, you jump. The static line ensures that your chute opens automatically. All you have to do is try and miss the big trees and rocks when you land."
Ruth paled. "I don't know if I can do this."
His eyes were on her speculatively, gauging her state of mind. He noted that she didn't directly refuse, and she went up in his estimation as a result. "We'll give you a day's training, Ruth. We've dropped lots of other women into France with the same amount of training, and they all survived the jump." He decided that now was not the best time to mention the possibility of a German welcoming party waiting for them on the ground. Ruth was a brilliant woman; she could figure that one out for herself. He added reassuringly, "I'll be there every step of the way."
Ruth took a deep breath and nodded uncertainly.
"We will link up with the French resistance, who will assist us with communications equipment and other material needs. Malcolm, we'll need to take along one of your triangulation machines."
"Right. I'll devise packaging for it so that it will survive a hard landing."
"Good. I suggest you get some sleep," Harry said to Ruth. "Tomorrow you're going to learn how to jump out of a plane."

- 0 –

The next morning

Harry drove her to the nearby airfield himself. When he'd announced his intention to do so at breakfast that morning, Malcolm had lifted his eyebrows in surprise but had said nothing. Had Ruth not been rather occupied with thoughts of imminent death she might have wondered about his reaction, but this morning she had other things on her mind. She was going to throw herself out of an aeroplane. The thought alone made her nauseous. And terrified, but that went without saying. She'd slept surprisingly well, considering. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Harry was at the other end of the passage, or the silence after the continuous noise of the lodging house, she couldn't say. He turned the car into the airfield and Ruth took a shaky breath. Harry glanced at her.
"All right?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I've never been good at physical activities, Harry. I was always the last one picked for sports teams at school, you know."
Harry processed that. "It's a good thing then that there is nothing terribly physical about parachuting. You jump and let gravity do the rest."
She frowned, unconvinced, as he brought the car to a stop next to a Halifax sitting on the runway. He turned to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Ruth. It'll be fine. Believe me when I tell you that some of the other women, and yes, men even, who've done this before you were even worse at the physical aspects, and they got through it unscathed. You can do this. If I didn't believe that, you wouldn't be here." He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to greet the man coming to meet them. Ruth followed, feeling slightly better about things.

She watched as the two men greeted each other warmly. They obviously had history together and Ruth surmised that the man must have served under Harry when he'd been in the Army. He was young, blond and quite dashing in his RAF uniform. Harry turned to her. "Ruth, meet Flight Lieutenant Adam Carter. He's the best there is, and will take personal charge of your training."
Ruth shook his hand and the younger man flashed her a confident smile.
"Pleasure, Miss Ruth."
He looked her up and down; not in an inappropriate manner, but in a clinical and professional way. Ruth wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. She glanced at Harry and for a moment saw something dark flash in his eyes. Before she had time to think about it, Lt Carter spoke.
"Miss Ruth will do just fine, sir. No need to worry."
Harry hesitated, and said, "Right then. I'll let you get on with it."
"You're leaving?" Ruth asked with a hint of panic.
"Yes. I have some things to attend to." Harry smiled gently, "But I'll be back for your first jump."
He nodded at the lieutenant, gave her a last encouraging look, and was gone.
She turned back to Lt Carter to find him watching her with twinkling blue eyes.
"Ready?" he asked cheerfully.
"No," she muttered under her breath, but he heard.
"No matter, you will be soon," he said with sudden steel in his voice, and turned around. He gestured at the Halifax and announced, "This, Miss Ruth, is an aeroplane," and she felt like kicking him on the shin.
"I'm not an idiot, Lieutenant," she snapped.
He looked back at her knowingly. "No, you're not. Harry tells me you are a highly intelligent woman. And that's why you will succeed at this. Let's go inside and I will explain the theory and mechanics behind it to you."
He strode off towards a prefab office building and Ruth followed after a beat, a small smile on her face.

tbc