A/N: This is the final chapter of this story. Thanks to all who have followed it this far, and as always to the generosity of the reviewers.
8 weeks later - Saturday afternoon:
Given it's November, Harry had booked them into a comfortable hotel in Heybridge, where they will spend just one night. Ruth had flopped onto the bed to test its bounciness, giving it the thumbs up. "Perfect for a good night's sleep, and ... any other activity we can think of while we're here."
"I'm all for a good night's sleep," Harry had mumbled moodily.
"We'll see," Ruth had replied, confident she could convince him to change his mind.
"I haven't slept properly since ..."
"I know, but lying awake for hours reliving past events won't bring Lucas back."
"I don't want the bastard back, Ruth. He was planning to sell Albany to the Chinese, and I still have no idea how he knew where to find it."
"Monetary gain is a powerful motivator. I imagine he hadn't expected the Chinese to kill him, rather than pay for it. I'd say he had a fitting ending."
On the weekend immediately following Lucas North's betrayal, Ruth had lain awake beside Harry while he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. What began as a soothing touch of her fingers to his skin soon became a deep massage to the muscles of his shoulders as she straddled his back, her bottom resting on his buttocks. Harry had groaned as she'd released the knots of tension in his shoulder muscles, and when she leaned down to place a kiss on the back of his neck he rolled over so that she was then sitting across his lap. They'd watched one another for a long moment before she had reached down once more, this time to kiss his mouth. What followed was a flurry of clothing being tossed aside, before they came together quickly and noisily.
Afterwards Harry had talked quietly while Ruth lay beside him, listening. He had shared with her his long history of betrayals - from Northern Ireland to the recent past - and then when he'd finished talking, he'd kissed her before turning on his side, ready for sleep. Long after Harry's breathing had deepened, Ruth had lain awake, silently mulling over his story, in awe of his resilience, his persistence in a job which could easily have destroyed him. At last she understood his silences, his melancholy, and his regular need for solitude.
By the time Ruth herself was on the cusp of sleep, she admitted to herself that she had never loved him more than she did in that moment. Harry would have to be the strongest man she had ever known, and she felt privileged to be loved by him. She'd turned on her side to face him. "I love you," she'd said aloud and unheard, while Harry slept on.
They have reached Landsby, and Harry decides to drive past the hotel and the village square. "Nothing's changed here," he says quietly.
"Did you expect it to have changed?"
"Not really. I suppose I thought that, given the events of the past few weeks ..." and they drive slowly past the square, and then on to the road towards the goat farm. "I still think I should have seen it coming," Harry muses, referring to Lucas' betrayal.
"You're not clairvoyant, Harry. We should all have seen what he was up to."
"But I'm meant to have my fingers on all available pulses," Harry says, and Ruth can detect the ribbon of guilt threaded between his words.
"If I had my way," she says quietly, gazing out the car window towards the saltmarsh, "there'd only be one pulse your fingers would be searching for."
She feels him glance at her, so she turns to him to see him smiling. "And a fine pulse it is, too, especially right there," he says, reaching out with the tips of two fingers to touch the hollow in her throat.
She bats his hand away. "Eyes on the road," she says.
"I'd find that spot in the dark while blind-folded." His voice is low and seductive, and Ruth suspects they might be doing more than sleeping when this day ends.
Harry suddenly pulls the car off the road, and kills the engine. "Look at that, Ruth," he says, his gaze focused on something behind her, beyond the confines of the car. "Last time I was here all I could think about was Ros, and the miracle of her survival ... and you, of course."
Harry is leaning towards her, and his eyes momentarily focus on her. He is close enough that she can feel his breath on her cheek.
Ruth turns in her seat to see Osea Island floating between a grey sea and grey sky while nestled in the bosom of the saltmarsh in the foreground. They both focus on their environment for a long moment before Ruth turns her attention to Harry, leaning closer to him to wind her hands around his neck, drawing his face to her with the press of her fingers on the back of his head. As expected, he doesn't object, willingly meeting her lips with his own.
Harry is the only man Ruth has known who can kiss her with soft and supple lips, pushing her to the edge of distraction while remaining apparently unmoved. She slides one hand along his inner thigh, and that is when he slowly draws away from her.
"You know we can't take this any further, Ruth."
"I know, but ..." and she sits up, breaking contact with him.
"But what?"
"I've always fancied the idea of being closeted in a car with you, and taking a good snog to its natural conclusion."
Harry is watching her, his pupils dilated. "And for how long have you ... entertained this fantasy?"
"Years." Ruth looks away from him, through her window through which she can see Osea, the skies above it low and threatening. "It was after Colin Wells died, and you drove me back to the Grid after the meeting in Adam's flat." She turns back to him then. "That was the first time I thought it might be nice, although I can also remember thinking you were probably too ... mature .. to ever seriously consider it."
"The last time I had sex in a car I was twenty-two. Believe me when I say it's an uncomfortable experience."
Harry has this thing he does whenever they move too close to one another when the time or place isn't quite right. He erects an invisible wall between them, shutting her out, keeping her at arm's length. She turns her head so that she is again focused on the island in the Blackwater, and it is then, while she is staring at the island without really seeing it, that Ruth recognises that Harry is only doing what she had done to him for years. This hollowness she feels, this brief loss of contact between them is how he must have felt during the long years since she had turned down his second invitation to dinner. He is protecting himself, just as she had been.
"I'm so sorry," she says quietly, turning her head just enough that she can see him in her peripheral vision.
"It wasn't that bad, Ruth, but the cramped space detracted from the experience."
"Not that," and it is then she turns to him. "I'm sorry I pushed you away all these years." He sighs, but says nothing, watching her, perhaps determining whether she really means what she says. "It wasn't fair," she continues, "to you, and it wasn't fair to us."
This time Harry responds with a nod. "I know," he says. He makes no move to touch her, but she notes the softening around his mouth as he relaxes. Ruth feels her body relaxing in sync with Harry's clear unbending, as together they unwind their combined mistakes from the past, rolling them up to be shelved with so many other memories.
Having sat in silence for some minutes, Ruth wonders why Harry hasn't started the engine and driven off. Before she has a chance to speak, he answers her question, still unspoken.
"I've just realised something," he says quietly, staring through the windscreen at the road ahead. "Today will in all probability be the last time I see Ros."
Ruth knows he is right. She thinks to mention that he had already believed he'd seen and spoken to Ros for the last time, but she remains silent. Harry had already lost Ros once. Perhaps the prospect of losing her again is just one loss too many.
"Surely you can still communicate by phone," she suggests, just as Harry starts the engine, easing the car back onto the tarmac.
"I've advised her to cut all ties with me," he says soberly, " for her own safety."
Ruth doesn't know how to reply to that, so she reaches out and gently squeezes his arm before returning her hand to her lap. While Ruth enjoys Harry's company, feeling blessed that he loves her, there are times when he confounds her with his knotty, entangled web of emotions. She has found that he is rarely ever genuinely happy for long. The pressure of his job, the well-being of his team, his long history of betrayal all weigh heavily upon him. Despite that, she wouldn't have him any other way, and nor would she want to be with anyone else.
"What is it between you and Ros?"
Ruth quickly lifts her head from the group of kids, each one vying for their attention, butting their heads against her hands as she reaches out to touch them. She is so used to Harry's sharp observations, and sometimes sharper tongue; she hadn't expected such an observation from the calm and gentle Howard.
"Ros and I ..." she begins, not sure that she wants to be exposing herself to this man, harmless as he seems.
"It's just that I was trained to observe," Howard continues quietly, "just like you."
"You were ... one of us?" When he nods and smiles, she turns away for a moment, before again giving him eye contact. "When?"
"I resigned from the service eighteen years ago. I'd just turned forty. You know what it's like, Ruth ..." Ruth nods. She certainly does. "After an especially messy operation, I took leave, and never went back." Howard glances down at Ruth. "A year later I met Gail, and after a while we bought this place. It was her idea to set it up as a recovery unit for intelligence personnel. I was against the idea at first, but ... it's now an integral part of our operation, and to my surprise I find that I am at last a contented man."
"Are you happy?"
"As happy as I'll ever be."
Ruth finds Howard's voice to be soothing. He is also a good listener. A part of her would like to know why he'd ever believed the intelligence service to be a suitable career choice for him, but maybe his experience as a spy was for the express purpose of leading him to this farm, and to Gail.
"Ros and I have a history," Ruth says quietly, pulling her hand from a particularly persistent little goat as it attempts to nibble her fingers. "I don't especially wish to talk about it. I find it difficult to talk about, even with Harry, so I .."
"So you keep it to yourself." Ruth nods, lifting her eyes to Howard, who has stood up straight, moving away from the fence which separates the goats from the humans. "Perhaps you need to speak with her one last time," he says gently, stepping away from her as another figure joins them, her approach almost silent.
"I thought we could talk out here," Ros says, nodding to Howard, who quickly leaves them on their own, hurrying along the pathway towards the concrete shed.
Ruth is surprised to note that Ros no longer requires a wheelchair, although she walks with the assistance of a wooden walking stick, one hand grasping the curved handle. "I mainly need it for negotiating steps," Ros says, noting Ruth's eyes on the walking stick. "I regard it as insurance."
"Is Harry not joining us?" Ruth asks, glancing over Ros's shoulder.
"Gail is giving him tea and scones," Ros replies, lifting her eyebrows in an unspoken editorial.
Ruth feels a small stab of irritation that Harry had not thought to join her and Ros, his presence hopefully providing a buffer between herself and the sharp edges of Ros's personality. She is also irritated with Ros's unspoken implication towards Harry sharing afternoon tea with Gail. Is she suggesting that Harry might have a wandering eye, or that he has no need to be eating afternoon tea? Perhaps the lift of her eyebrows was little more than a habitual response, and so means nothing at all. Ruth is already exhausted from being in Ros's presence, and it's been less than three minutes. She just wishes Harry had thought to join them, if only to provide moral support.
"Although I have to say," Ros continues, gazing towards the concrete and steel building into which Howard had disappeared, "that Harry is looking relaxed, so you must be doing something right." Ruth's mouth is open, with no suitable reply at hand, when Ros turns back to her. "I mean the two of you together, not some magical mystery formula you have with him. Sometimes all it takes for a man to relax into his own skin is for him to be with the right woman ..."
Well ... she hadn't expected that.
".. and so," Ros continues, "you've both clearly made the right choice by being together."
"Did Harry tell you that ... that we're together?"
"He didn't have to. It's written all over both your faces. I must say I'm just a little bit jealous; not about Harry, because he's hardly my type. He's too pig-headed by far."
Which is when Ruth has to stifle a laugh by coughing.
"You alright, Ruth? You haven't said much."
"That's because you're saying enough for both of us," Ruth says quietly.
"I always did appreciate a captive audience," Ros muses, reaching out tentatively towards the group of kids, "but I don't fully appreciate the bucolic life Gail and Howard have here. Too earthy by far," she adds, wrinkling her nose.
"I take it you needed to speak with me," Ruth says, hoping to bring the meeting to a rapid close, so that she can get back to Harry.
"Harry and I have discussed ways in which he and I might be able to communicate ... once I'm in the US. To directly communicate is not the safest option, so we came up with an idea ..."
"You want me to be a go-between?" Ruth had expected something like this, and although she's annoyed with Ros, she knows that both Harry and Ros will be happier were they to have a safe option for communicating.
"You're free to say no, Ruth, but I have spoken at length with Howard, and it was his idea to set up a relay system - from me to this farm, then to you, and from you to Harry. What do you think?"
"I'm not prepared to use the Grid's communication systems."
"And I'm not asking you to. That would be ... foolish."
Ruth's mind is working quickly. "I'll ask Tariq Masood to set up something off-Grid, and when that's done, I can test it by contacting Howard." Ros nods, and Ruth sees the beginning of a smile around her mouth. "I'm sure we can make it work," she continues.
Ros nods, gazing again towards the newest shed. "I promised Howard I'd give him a hand," she says, "so ... I guess this is farewell." Ros moves her walking stick to her left hand, freeing her right hand for Ruth to shake. "Truce?" she says, tilting her head to one side, in much the same way as Harry.
"I'm prepared to work with you, Ros. I hope that with this job in Seattle you find ... some value, and purpose."
Ruth finds her own little speech to be a trifle pompous. It must be Harry's influence, she thinks, before she smiles, offering that smile to Ros. She shakes the hand offered, before turning and making her way back to the house. She doesn't look back, so she doesn't see Ros watching her all the way.
On the drive back to Heybridge, Harry pulls the car into a lay-by, one designed especially to capture the best view of Osea from the road. Ruth watches Harry as he sits, staring towards the island, both hands on the steering wheel, as she waits for him to speak.
"Did Ros tell you anything about her job in Seattle?" he asks at last.
"Nothing. We only discussed the communications relay." Ruth decides to postpone telling Harry about Ros's conclusions about their relationship.
Harry nods. "I'm hoping that once it's up and running, you'll be free to drop out of the relay."
Ruth nods. She'd been hoping the same thing. To her, a four-way communications relay sounds messy.
"Rod Delahunty's business is officially about investigating insurance fraud. Initially Ros will be looking into insurance claims, but ..." and he turns to look directly at Ruth.
"It's a front for something else?"
Harry nods. His expression is serious, but Ruth knows him well enough to read in his face his fear for Ros. "It's going to be dangerous work, and she may not survive."
His voice is so quiet Ruth barely hears him. "This is intelligence work ... isn't it?"
"It is. Delahunty plans to send her undercover. She'll effectively be an asset for Six, joining their team on the north-west coast. There are gangs, and gangsters, and that's just the CIA ..."
"It sounds risky."
He turns towards her once more, gazing longingly into her eyes. "I feel so bad for suggesting she go there, although ... she's looking forward to it."
"I think Ros works best under that kind of pressure."
Harry's face softens in a smile, and he lifts one hand to glance his fingers across her cheek, lingering for a long moment below her bottom lip. Ruth grasps his hand in both hers, pressing her lips to his knuckles. "I don't want you to take any risks, Ruth. I couldn't bear to lose you."
Again, Ruth presses her lips to his knuckles in a lingering kiss. "I have no intention of leaving you," she says.
"But I suspect Ros feels free to take all the risks available to her," he says wearily, threading his fingers through hers. "I don't expect her to make old bones."
Ruth nods. She has suspected a similar outcome for Ros. "Perhaps having you to .. consult might be enough incentive for her to ... avoid unwise actions."
"That's the main reason I've agreed to set up the communication relay."
Dear Harry. Still saving the world, one person at a time. "I love you," Ruth says quietly, and this time it is Harry who lifts her hand to his lips.
"I suggest that after dinner we do something more than sleep," he growls, before dropping her hand and starting the car.
Ruth smiles as Harry guides the car onto the road. He can be such a pushover, which is one of the many reasons she loves him. And it has only taken her four years to reach that blindingly obvious conclusion.
And to think that Craig had described Harry as `Mr Average'. What would he know? Average is something Harry will never be.