Disclaimer: Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC.
Author's Note: This is the final chapter of White Night Fantasy!
I hope you have enjoyed reading it, and please don't forget to read and review! (Edited on the 6th of July 2006 to make it easier to read)
White Night Fantasy – Chapter Four
The door opened with an icy rush of wind. The snow gave way under her boots with a satisfying crunch. Ruth watched the snow flakes tumble to the ground in a graceful waltz. A sigh past her lips, swirling blue in the cold air.
A group of middle aged men and women huddled around the blazing chimera. Stamping their feet and rubbing their hands together to keep out the cold. Their voices lost in the sleet.
There was only one place where Harry would be. Only one place that would give them any privacy. Mark and Grace had installed a deck and an ornamental pond during the summer. A screen of ivy blocked the deck from view of the house. Perfect for when you wanted to be alone.
The snow littered ground made it hard to manoeuvre the path. Weeds grew up from the broken slabs, pieces the size of gold balls lay forgotten amongst the overgrown grass. With her hands occupied with a bottle and two glasses, she couldn't afford to get her heels caught in the debris. Falling on her backside lacked a certain elegance.
Harry stood with his back to her, hands flat against the wooden railings. He was staring out over the pond, oblivious to her presence. She wondered if he were cold standing in the snow without a coat. Ruth watched him for a moment. He had always been a mystery, near impossible to read. She never knew what he was thinking. Except every now and again he would do something that surprised her. Nothing quite so immense as to alert anyone to it unless they were really looking. Maybe a softening around the eyes, a few choice words, a touch of his hand. But something just the same.
He turned his head, just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. The smallest smile on his face. Had it been that obvious that she would choose him?
Ruth couldn't help but smile as she tore the seal from the bottle of Southern Comfort that she'd found hiding amongst a box of mulled wine. She doubted that Mark would miss it. As she unscrewed the cap, she inhaled the first smell of the whiskey. That sickly sweet aroma that always reminded her of warm, summer nights.
Harry took the glass from her with a smile and a thank you. "Made your choice then?" He sounded far more confident than he was. For a brief moment, he had doubted that she would join him. He had left her somewhat startled by his offer.
"There was no comparison," she said, leaning against the railings. She crossed her arms across her chest and sipped at her drink. "You were always going to win." She risked a glance sideways to see his reaction.
"Glad to hear it." The nervous swallow he took of his drink said different.
She had the strangest expression on her face, like she was trying not to laugh or frown. "So what does John do?" she asked. The change of subject wasn't lost on either of them.
His smile was rather arrogant, and he had right to be. "He's a teacher." At Ruth's spellbound look, he continued. "A level English."
Her eyes glittered with admiration. Legends are supposed to be dull as ditch water so that no one's interested in them. Usually something along the lines of the civil service. Harry's was just so…normal.
"Sounds wonderful." Her voice held the same admiration as her eyes. "And so incredibly unlike you," she said with just a hint of laughter.
"Every now and then people surprise you."
She raised her glass in a mock toast. With a smile, Harry touched his glass with hers. "Every now and then," she repeated with a dreamy eyed look in her eyes.
A shiver ran through Ruth's spine like someone had taken an ice cube to her back. Harry was close enough to see Goosebumps raised on her arms. She rubbed at them absently with her free hand.
"We could go back inside if you're cold."
The concern in his voice was plain enough that she smiled. "No," she said, touching the back of his hand with her own. "I like it out here, it's peaceful."
"If you're sure." She nodded, and raised her glass to her lips. "And not just saying that to avoid someone?"
Ruth noted the subtle tone. It was subtle, almost too subtle to pick out. If she hadn't been looking directly at him she might have missed it. "Like who?" Her voice taking on a playful lit.
He shook his head, and looked down at his depleting drink. "No one in particular," he said, his eyes slightly narrow. "Tim, perhaps?"
And there it was; the first hint of jealousy from Harry. It had been a long time coming and now that she was confronted with it; she had no idea what to do. Better to tackle things head on. "Are you jealous Harry?"
It was worth it just to see the look of outrage on his face. Though it never reached his eyes. She could see something there that she couldn't even put a name too. Whatever it was suggested that her accusation was nothing short of the truth.
"Not that Tim ever had a chance." The moment is rolled off her tongue, she regretted it. She had almost grown out of the habit of saying whatever popped into her head. Almost.
Harry turned the full force of his gaze onto her. Not quite so long ago, she would have turned away almost as soon as she looked at him. A blush forcing itself across her cheeks. Now she held his gaze, bold as brass. The only sign that she was uncomfortable was her slightly laboured breathing. It was only then did he realise that she had a death grip on his hand, her palm slick with sweat. The breeze tossed a lock of her hair into her eyes.
"Ruth," he said softly.
She closed her eyes and tried to think. She licked her lips; her mouth had run completely dry. Her heart pounded in her chest like a caged thing. If she could have thought even to form a sentence, she didn't know if she would have trusted her voice.
The cool winter breeze blew the scent of her perfume and whiskey against his face. He reached out and brushed the stray strand of hair back off of her face. She watched his every move with something close to anticipation in her eyes. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just inches above hers, his hand lightly resting on her cheek. If she had breathed out, it would have brought their mouths together.
"Sharon!"
Ruth jerked back, pulling her fingers lose of Harry's. The last drops of whiskey sloshing up over the rim of the glass and onto her hand. She could still feel his hand against her cheek, the softness of his skin. She broke away from Harry's gaze and turned the face the source of their interruption.
Tim bounced down the path with a childlike glee. His smile faltered as he joined them. He clearly wasn't oblivious the tension that hang in the air. It was thick enough to feel it with bare hands. "Sorry to interrupt, but Vanessa sent me to look for you two," he said, somewhat nervously. "She wants everyone inside for Mince Pies and Carol Singing."
Ruth made herself smile. She felt the tense mask slipping back into place. "We'll...we'll be there in a minute." She hated the sound of her trembling voice.
She cursed under her breath and turned to look at Harry. He stood facing the pond, tapping his glass on the wooden railing. She could practically feel the frustration coming off of him in waves. Ruth bit down on her bottom lip, there was so much to say, yet she didn't know where to start.
Harry had felt her eyes on him for a while. An awkward silence that seemed to last for weeks enveloped them. Eventually he heard her retreating footsteps. Every one of them echoed like a gun shot. There should have been something to tell her, something to take the sting out of what had just happened. But she deserved so much more than empty and meaningless lines. He said her name, gently.
She stopped and turned partly towards him. She waited for him to continue, to say anything. She looked like she would wait for him forever, and maybe she would.
The question was, as always, how long would he make her wait? He started to say something, but the words died in his throat. He tried twice before he finally found his voice. "I'll see you in the morning."
A small sigh escaped her lips, though it sounded like a groan. "Goodnight Harry." Her voice was as emotionless and as flat as her words. The under lying tone of disappointment was bitter on the tongue.