It felt wonderful to be kissing Harry, to be sheltered within the circle of his arms again; it felt right. It felt like coming home.
He was firm while she was yielding, he was insistent while she was hesitant, he was safe while she felt like she was drowning. Harry had drawn her close, with one arm slung low around her hip and the other cradling her cheek, his tongue sliding between her lips to brush against her own while she sighed and melted all around him. While he kissed her the doubts slowly vanished, fading one by one beneath the weight of her growing need for him. Without a thought for the consequences she caught her fingers in the short curls at the nape of his neck and held him close to her, breathing him in and growing bolder with each passing second.
For long moments they stood thus entwined, their bodies pressed tight together with the peanut snuggled in between, her growing stomach brushing against his body with every small, subconscious move of their hips. It would be so easy to lose herself in him, to follow where this might well could lead. They'd found a rhythm together, back when she'd been brave enough to fall into his bed, and the small, intricate movements of that dance came back to her now, as natural as breathing. He'd slide his hand around her hips to the small of her back – there he goes now – and linger there a moment before moving lower – oh Christ, Harry – to knead the soft flesh of her bottom, drawing her hips close enough to feel his slowly hardening length – this has to stop.
Regretfully she pulled out of the kiss, resting her forehead on his chest and trying to catch her breath. He tensed at her withdrawal, but wrapped his arms around her anyway, holding her close, as if to say please don't leave me.
"What are we doing, Harry?" she whispered, unable to look him in the eye, knowing the hurt and the confusion she'd find there.
"I would have thought that was obvious, Ruth." His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her cheek.
"You know what I meant," she admonished him. In her head, she knew she should step away from him, give herself some room, buy some time to think, but her heart would not let her leave the warmth of his embrace.
He sighed. "Ruth-"
"What do you want, Harry?" she interrupted him, leaning back slightly to finally catch a glimpse of his face. She drew her breath in sharply when she saw his eyes, dark and stormy, as the frustration he'd surely been feeling all day finally swam to the surface.
"I told you what I want," he said stubbornly. "I told you the day of Ros's funeral."
That did it. Ruth took a step back, and he dropped his arms from around her body, letting them fall to swing uselessly by his sides.
He had told her what he wanted for them, and she knew it. Harry wanted everything, wanted to marry her, wanted to build a life together. And in that moment, she couldn't quite recall why that seemed like such a bad idea.
"I just need a little time," she told him. "This morning we were nothing to each other and-"
"We've never been nothing to each other, Ruth," he said sadly. "Even when you were cross with me, even when I couldn't seem to speak for putting my foot in my mouth, even when you were…gone, this thing between us wasn't nothing. And you know it."
She nodded, bowing her head in an attempt to hide the sheen of tears that threatened to overcome her. Of course he was right; from the day she'd first walked onto the Grid Harry Pearce had held her in his thrall, and perhaps she'd held him, too. They'd orbited each other, two bright burning stars falling into one another's gravity, desperately fighting the inevitable conflagration that would consume them when they finally collided. Inevitable, that's what they were, what they always had been.
"We don't have to make a decision about this, Ruth," he continued, his voice soft and earnest, his eyes faintly pleading. "We don't have to put a name to what we are to each other, and bugger what anyone else thinks. If you want to be here, then be here. If you want to go, then leave. We can make up the rest as we go along."
Let it all just crinkle out, Ruth thought, and she nearly laughed aloud at the very idea. Telling her not to classify something was akin to telling her not to breathe; everything had a category in her mind, books, intel, relationships. Every little thing had to be neatly identified and filed away, or else she'd never get to sleep at night. And now he was telling her not to define this thing between them, this thing that rested heavy and unknowable at the center of her heart. How could he be so blasé about it? Vaguely she was aware that he was trying to keep her calm, trying to assure her that there was no pressure for them to be or do anything she wasn't ready for, but she needed to know, and she didn't, and it hurt.
"It's been a very long day," she said finally, and she saw the fight go out of him all at once. She supposed Harry was used to these sorts of tactical retreats from her by now. It seemed like she'd spent the better part of the last decade drawing closer to him, only to step away when their need for one another became too much to bear. One of these days, he might not be there when she made to move toward him, and that thought left her shaken and unsteady.
"I just need to rest," she continued, her throat nearly choked with unshed tears.
"Of course," he said softly. He drew his mobile from his pocket, and called her a cab.
Beth was a bit surprised, when Ruth came shuffling through the front door of their little flat. It was after eleven, and she'd assumed that Ruth was out for the night. And why shouldn't she be? She'd left in a nice outfit to have dinner with the father of her child, a man she clearly adored, who clearly felt the same way about her. In truth, Beth had been quietly cheering them on while she frittered away the time sat on the sofa, drinking her wine and watching the telly.
Her flatmate was obviously in no mood to talk; Ruth didn't even offer her so much as a good night before she trooped down the hall and into her bedroom. From where Beth was sitting, it rather looked like Ruth had been sulking as she went.
At the sound of Ruth's bedroom door closing Beth sighed and took a long sip of her wine. She was beginning to suspect that Ruth Evershed was one mystery she'd never be able to untangle.
The next morning they were all settled in the meeting room, Beth and Dimitri and Lucas and Tariq, just waiting for Harry and Ruth to join them. Ruth had reverted to type, and left for the office before Beth's alarm had even gone off, and she was at this very moment closeted inside Harry's office with the man himself, having some sort of private discussion before the morning meeting.
The atmosphere inside the meeting room was tense, to say the least. Beth knew that each of the boys must have their suspicions, about what they'd overheard the day before, but they were all hesitant to speak, none of them willing to be the first to begin openly speculating about the state of relations between their boss and their senior analyst.
In the beginning, Ruth had warned her about office gossip, and while Beth had heard her fair share of whisperings over the last few weeks, none of it had come from the three men sitting around the table with her. The other analysts and junior field agents were always keen to natter on at her, using information as currency to prove their own importance. One analyst had assured her that Ruth and Harry had been secretly married for years, while another was just as certain that Ruth was guilty of the treason that had forced her into exile, and Harry had covered it up in order to bring her back to the Grid. She'd learned that Lucas had been at Thames House, the day of Ruth's dramatic return, and that Tariq had joined the team not long after. They'd worked with her for a year before Dimitri and Beth came on board, and though they likely knew more of the details surrounding her departure and subsequent return than any of the blabbering analysts she'd spoken to, neither of them had offered a word of explanation. They treated Ruth gently, the pair of them; Lucas always spoke to her in a soft voice and Tariq always rushed to do whatever she asked of him, double time. Dimitri flirted with her a little, but there was nothing special about that; Dimitri flirted with everyone.
It was just so damned frustrating, knowing half the story, and wondering about the rest. What had happened to Ruth's mysterious husband? Was that what made Harry and Ruth so hesitant to just be with one another? Why was no one bloody talking?
Before the silence had a chance to entirely overwhelm her, Harry and Ruth came marching into the meeting room, side-by-side and equally stony-faced. When Beth and the boys had entered, they'd left the usual spots open for their fearless leaders, and the pair of them took their seats, Harry at the head of the table, Ruth at his right hand.
"Right," Harry said, taking a deep breath and glowering around at all of them. "You all were listening in coms yesterday, so we're not going to waste anyone's time by pretending that you didn't hear…what you heard." He had started out strong but he faltered quickly, casting a little sideways glance at Ruth as if to make sure she was all right. For her part, Ruth was just staring at the table, refusing to acknowledge anyone.
This is bloody torture, Beth thought, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap to keep from throwing them up in the air in frustration.
"Yes, Ruth is pregnant, and yes, I'm the father."
Dimitri made a startled little sound that he quickly covered by pretending to cough. Tariq's eyes darted back and forth between Harry and Ruth in confusion. Lucas leaned forward slightly in his chair, but he did not speak.
Well, that's that, then, Beth thought grimly.
"I imagine it won't take long for this news to travel. The tapes from yesterday's confrontation are a matter of record now. I would like to ask that you exercise some restraint, and that you encourage others to do the same. This is a very personal matter, and frankly, it's no one's business but ours."
Not for the first time, Harry reminded Beth rather uncannily of her own father. Brooding and stern, demanding excellence as well as obedience. He was glaring around the table at them, as if daring them to say something insolent about his declaration.
"Well, then, I suppose congratulations are in order," Lucas said, his face unreadable.
"Yeah, congratulations," Dimitri echoed him sincerely.
"Congratulations," Tariq said faintly.
Beth didn't say anything at all; she really didn't feel the need to. Ruth already knew that Beth would be there for her, in whatever capacity she needed.
Harry seemed relieved by their response, and for a moment, he very nearly smiled.
"Right then," he said gruffly, obviously trying to hide how pleased he was. "To business. Lucas, what's next on the agenda?"
