Must Go On

"Ever feel like you can't go on, Ruth?"

"Can't go on, must go on."

It was a punishingly beautiful day. It wasn't fair that the sky should be so blue and the sun so pleasantly warm and the grass so exquisitely green. Ros Myers was dead, and the day of her funeral had the most miraculous weather. It felt to Ruth as though the universe was mocking their grief.

There was a time when, in the midst of something sad like this, Ruth Evershed might have seen the sun shining in the blue sky and thought that perhaps it was a sign of better things to come. But that had been before. Before she had been swathed in shadow and learned as all spooks did that there rarely were better things to come. That life was more often than not cut too short and there was more horror awaiting them around the next bend. She knew all too well that joy was fleeting and had to be taken however it could be found. And so Ruth could feel sad for Ros and for the terrible way she'd met her end, but she could also appreciate that it was a beautiful day.

Tariq and Lucas made their way back to the cars, but Ruth and Harry both fell back. The weight of the file in her bag would not be patient any longer. "I need to talk to you," she said.

He nodded. "And I you. A turn around the grounds?" Harry asked, nodding towards the pathway out past the little church leading to the field around the back.

Another thing that wasn't fair. The day of the funeral was beautiful, and though Ruth had been anxious about the information she had to give Harry, she felt a distinct calm come over her when they walked side by side like this. She always had felt so at ease with him. Even when she was tongue-tied and awkward, even when she was desperate to escape the weight of her feelings for him—about him, with him—there was a very specific feeling of tranquility that Ruth felt when Harry was near. Like everything would be alright somehow. Like for this one moment, she was with someone who knew her and understood her and cared about her. She'd realized, all that time she was away, that there was no one else she'd ever known who she could say that about. There was no one else who, in spite of everything else, loved her.

Things with Harry had been difficult since her return, of course. Any happiness that might have come from their reunion was overshadowed by trauma and loss. It was only very recently that Ruth had started to think that perhaps she could find some happiness. With him, even. There was still a very loud voice in her head that told her she didn't deserve it, that she and Harry were built for destruction, that getting any closer to him would bring ruin on them both and everyone else as collateral damage. But when Harry looked at her, she heard another voice in her head, this one barely a whisper, that told her that maybe things would be alright if she just let Harry love her the way she knew he loved her and the way she knew she loved him. That whisper had slowly been getting a little louder, day by day.

They went to stand by the fence overlooking the field. Ruth rested her hands on the weathered wood. Harry came to stand beside her, placing one hand on the fencepost as he turned toward her. Ruth faced herself forward. He was too close, she knew, and she couldn't risk facing towards him. Nor could she bear to put any distance between them.

"I feel like she's trying to tell us something," Ruth said. "Like this is what was missing from her life." It was a thought that had come over her when they'd arrived at this little country church that Ros had prearranged to handle her funeral. Had she known peace here? Had this place been special to her for some reason? There was so much they didn't know about Ros. So much they'd never know.

Harry did not respond to her musing about Ros, however. He leaned in close to her. She could feel his breath on her cheek. And softly, reverently, he murmured in her ear, "Marry me, Ruth."

The question shocked her to her core. Those words she had never imagined she would ever hear, spoken now, in this place, amidst everything that had happened. The clouds started to roll in, turning the blue sky a more appropriate gray. Ruth struggled to find the words to respond to "Harry, this is neither the time nor the place…"

"This is exactly the time and the place." She felt him place his hand on her elbow along with the insistence in his tone.

His touch and his voice and the whole of him so close to her was all overwhelming. "Th-the funeral. It's made you emotional," she tried to protest.

But Harry would not relent so easily. "No, it's made me see clearly," he said. "Ros gave everything to this country and six people came to say goodbye to her. Six people, Ruth. I don't want that for myself. And I don't want that for you."

Ruth's heart was pounding. "God, Harry, your timing."

"Timing means nothing."

"The timing means everything," she snapped. He wasn't understanding, but her resolve was starting to crack as she finally turned to look up at him. The look of hurt in his eyes mixed with the fire of his passion as he tried to convince her. But Ruth needed to say her piece first. "It took you one second to ask me to marry you. Do you know that in the years gone by there have been thousands of moments in which if you'd have asked me the same question, I'd have said yes? Always. But—"

"So say yes," he said, cutting her off. "Ruth, will you marry me?"

He was so close. His face just bare inches from hers. She could feel his fingers tighten their grip at her arm as he grew that much more desperate as he faced the buildup to her answer.

She couldn't take it anymore. Ruth turned her head back out toward the field. Her hands clenched on the fence. Harry's own hand fell away from her, and his anxiety over what seemed to be the inevitability of her rejection. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him open his mouth, perhaps to take it back. Perhaps to try and convince her again. But Ruth did not want him to say another word. Not a single word.

"Alright," she breathed.

A beat passed as the penny dropped. "What was that?" Harry asked her, his voice shaking slightly.

Ruth turned back toward him, seeing the shock and surprise in his face. Funny, he seemed so good at schooling his expressions except when it came to moments like this between them, moments of real gravity. But she did not want him to be worried anymore. Not about this. "I will marry you," she answered in a voice more strong and sure than she actually felt.

"You…really?"

"Yes," she replied, a small smile sneaking onto her face. "It is hardly good timing, Harry, and the timing does matter," she insisted. "But we've never done anything with the right timing, I suppose. Waiting for the time to be right won't do us much good. And I'm tired of waiting for things to be better on their own. We've got to make things better ourselves. So yes, I will marry you."

Harry finally smiled. "Thank you," he answered softly. His whole expression melted into one of sincere affection, which in turn melted Ruth's heart.

A long pause passed between them as they stood there, smiling and gazing at each other without touching or talking. It was Ruth that finally broke the silence. "I think traditionally there's a ring and an embrace of some kind," she offered.

"I'll buy you a ring tomorrow. Or today. We can go shopping right now," he answered quickly, making to go back to the car.

Ruth put her hand on his arm to stop him. "Harry, I don't need anything."

"No, I want to," he insisted. "We should do this properly. Now, there was something else…?"

A blush crept to Ruth's cheeks, and she looked down at the knot of Harry's silver tie. "Oh…yes…"

Harry tentatively lifted his hand and gently touched her cheek. "Ruth?"

She looked back up at him. "Yes?"

Without another word, he leaned in. Ruth's eyes fluttered closed as his lips softly brushed against hers.