A/N: Thank you for the enthusiastic response to Ch 1. Here's the next bit. Oh, and rude-word-alert.
It is six days later when Harry again sees Ruth alone and away from the Grid. She had run from him one night in the Havensworth hotel, and he knows she hadn't wanted to. He had noticed the way her eyes roamed over his body before she'd turned and rapidly retreated to her hotel room. On their first night back on the Grid, Ruth had comforted him after Ros had chastised him over her father's gaol sentence, and he had chosen to not take advantage of that. Were he being honest with himself he hadn't wanted to pursue her when she left his office after grasping his arm. He'd been exhausted – by the conference, by his need for sleep, by Ros' tearing strips off him, but mostly he'd been exhausted by thinking far too much about Ruth, and that rendered him vulnerable. He just wanted to forget about her, but the harder he tried to wipe thoughts of her from his mind, the more persistent those thoughts became. He found himself concocting scenarios in which they'd fall into one another's arms, agreeing to give themselves another chance.
Just six days after the Havensworth conference had ended Harry is sitting in his office checking a report Ruth had left on his desk while he'd been attending a meeting upstairs. He knows all the facts will check, and that her overview and conclusions will be apt and accurate. He tells himself he is reading it through because of a need to be informed. The truth is that any contact with Ruth – even reading the words she has composed in that brain of hers – has him believing he is closer to her than he really is. They have spent the last few days each surreptitiously watching the other, while no progress of any kind has been made.
Harry feels rather than hears someone at his office door. "Harry," Ros says from the doorway. "I think you might need to rescue Ruth."
"What? Is she in danger?"
"Not yet, but she might soon be. I was just at Dexter's -"
"The pub?"
"Yes. I had to meet an asset – one from years ago – and as I was leaving I saw Ruth sitting in the corner, nursing a drink. I asked was she alright and she told me to fuck off, and whilst I can sympathise with the sentiment, I thought it unusual for Ruth to speak like that, even to me -"
"That is unusual, yes. How long ago was this?"
"Around twenty minutes. I thought you might have more ….. success with her than I had."
"I'm not sure I'm the right person, but …."
"She'll listen to you, Harry."
"Perhaps. Thank you, Ros. I'll handle it."
Harry pockets his phone, checks he has his house keys, then turns out the light in his office before locking the door behind him. He leaves Thames House on foot and hurries through the streets to Dexter's, a small corner pub, normally frequented by those who work in and around Whitehall. He can't imagine why Ruth is in there, and what has motivated her uncharacteristic behaviour, although he has a fair idea. As soon as he enters the bar he spies her. She is sitting alone at a table near the back of the room, and even from a distance Harry can see how miserable she appears. Her mood may have nothing at all to do with him, but he's prepared to believe otherwise. He has arrived just in time, He is almost to her table when a lone man approaches her and appears about to sit down opposite her. Harry steps up to him from behind and places a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Excuse me, but she's with me," Harry says, close to the man's ear.
"You left her alone, mate."
"The last person to call me mate ended up in hospital in traction," Harry hisses, close to the man's face.
Harry notices that the man is much younger than he – perhaps in his late thirties – and he has neat brown hair and an equally neat charcoal grey suit with a pale mauve tie …... and he wears a wedding ring. "Go home to your wife, and leave the lady alone."
Luckily the man turns and leaves quickly, leaving Harry standing across the table from Ruth. He hesitates, watching Ruth carefully. She lifts her glass in his direction. "Cheers," is all she says, so he pulls out a chair and sits down.
"What are you doing, Ruth?" His voice is quiet, but loud enough for Ruth to hear.
"What does it look like? I'm drowning my sorrows."
This is not a Ruth with whom he is familiar. He's only ever seen Ruth inebriated twice, and each time she'd been more tipsy than legless. "You shouldn't be here on your own," he says quietly, leaning towards her. "It's not safe."
He sees Ruth's eyes widen and her mouth moves as if to form words, but speaking seems to suddenly be beyond her. Harry would like to take her arm and lead her out of here, take her home and see her safely inside. He has a sense she may not be terribly cooperative, so he sits back and watches her. She is drinking white wine, so she shouldn't be drunk. He's seen her knock back a whole bottle on her own with little effect.
"What's wrong, Ruth? It's not like you to drink alone."
Ruth's eyes shoot up to meet his. "How do you know? If I want to drink alone, then I'll drink alone, whether you like it or not."
Harry hesitates before continuing. As belligerent as she is, he's determined to get to the bottom of her atypical behaviour. "What's this all about, Ruth? You seem quite ….. angry."
"And you think I shouldn't be?" Ruth knocks back the remainder of the wine in her glass before she places the glass very carefully on the table. "I think I could do with a coffee now."
Harry quickly gets up and crosses to the bar where he orders and pays for two coffees. He is relieved that Ruth has decided to not drink any more wine. When he returns to her table he sits and then looks across at her to see tears in her eyes. "Ruth …... talk to me. What's wrong?" She doesn't answer for some time. It is clear to him that she is enduring some kind of inner battle which perhaps even she doesn't undertand. He hopes he has not been the cause of her being upset.
"You're going to think I'm quite mad," she says at last, after their cups of coffee have been delivered to their table.
"Try me. I'm sure I've heard worse."
She looks up at him and smiles, and it is then he sees tears glistening in her eyes. "I always muck up relationships ….."
"You're not alone there, Ruth. I've …... mucked up …... every relationship I've ever had."
"So you see …... we're unlikely to be …..." Ruth is still watching him while she struggles to find the right words, and Harry wonders – not for the first time – how someone so competent with language can be so inarticulate in her personal life. "I especially muck up the ones which matter the most to me." Ruth breaks eye contact with him and turns her coffee cup one full rotation on its saucer. "I've never managed to sustain a relationship – with a man – for longer than a few months, and I suspect that you're …. looking for more than one or two dinner dates ….. with me."
Once she has finished speaking Ruth doesn't look up at Harry, so he knows it his his turn to speak. He notices that despite the burr of conversation from all around them, interpersed with occasional bursts of laughter, they are having no difficulty in hearing one another above the ambient noise. "Yes …. with you …... I am looking for …. more than I normally ….. look for."
"And what is it you usually …. look for?" Ruth's eyes are on him now, steely grey and confronting.
"I haven't sought out a …... relationship …... that is, a proper relationship with a woman in some time. In the past I have had brief …. encounters for …..."
"For sex?"
"Yes, for sex. What I want with you is something ….. meaningful and far more …... and I think we both deserve that. I believe …. I hope ... that we can be …... very good together."
They again fall silent while they sip their coffees. Then Ruth sits very still, watching him as he carefully places his cup back on its saucer.
"That's what I suspected," she says at last.
"Do you have a problem with that? I am looking for more with you. I'm not wanting to just take you to bed."
"But you'd like to anyway."
"Of course. I am attracted to you in that way. I think you know that."
Ruth nods, and Harry notices a slight smile on her lips. "As I am to you."
"Then …... I don't undertand the problem, Ruth …... especially since we're each attracted to the other …... possibly in equal measure."
"It's not that simple ….. Harry."
"It is that simple."
Ruth sits back in her chair, looking up at Harry briefly and then down again to her hands which are now clasped in her lap. There is a very long moment during which Ruth examines her hands, while Harry leans further forward in his chair, trying to gain her attention. Suddenly a group of three men push past them, bumping the back of Harry's chair. His response is one of irritation, and he is about to suggest to Ruth that they go elsewhere, when she begins speaking, her voice a quiet monotone.
"I don't want to happen to us what has happened in my previous relationships. I've invested too much in the outcome of all my relationships, and then the …. man … has tired of me and moved on to someone more interesting, someone prettier, someone who makes him look good, someone more adventurous in bed. It always happens that way ….. except for Aidan Clothier. I ended it with him ….. he was …. unpleasant when I got to know him better, but all the others have left me for someone better, usually after having cheated on me."
When she stops speaking, Harry waits a long moment before replying. "Those men were clearly idiots, Ruth. They couldn't have had anyone better, more wonderful than you." He sips his coffee, all the time watching Ruth, waiting for her to give him eye contact. "Are you thinking that the same will happen with us?"
Ruth nods, and when she lifts her eyes to him he can see how unhappy she is. He wants to get up and sit next to her, pull her against him and tell her it will be alright, but even he is not certain of that.
"I'm not some gauche boy, Ruth. I've been like the men you describe, but at the time I was rather young and insensitive. I know that I'm different now, and …... I can guarantee I'll not be treating you that way." When she doesn't reply, he simply keeps going. "I've had my own fears about us. You're young and attractive. You could have anyone. I wonder why it is you even went to dinner with me in the first place."
"Because I wanted to. Because ….. you know why ..."
"I worry that we'll get close and then you'll meet someone younger and more suited to you..."
"I won't."
"You don't know that, Ruth. You might. But even with those many …... undesirable possibilities hanging over us, I still want to give us a chance …... a second chance. Don't you?"
This time Ruth looks his straight in the eye and nods. "Yes. I do ….. but -"
"No buts, Ruth. We have to communicate openly, and I have to confess that I've never been terribly good at that. All my previous partners …... and there have only been a very few whom I would class as `partners' ….. they have all complained about my reticence. We'll have to each learn to be more open and …. honest with one another. No more excuses about whether the others are gossiping about us."
"I don't like being gossiped about."
"No-one does, Ruth, but we can't control the behaviour of others. We mustn't allow what they say to hurt us." Harry lifts his coffee cup and takes another sip, carefully placing it in its saucer. Ruth is watching him, her eyes following his fingers and then resting on his lips. "What would you rather, Ruth ….. that we spend some time together, and perhaps find that we enjoy being together, or we stop this now and don't even give it a chance, just because others might be gossiping? I know which I prefer."
Ruth nods, and Harry can see no sign of the tears which had earlier been about to fall. To him she seems calmer, happier, and more relaxed. "I'd rather like to go home now."
Harry gives the taxi driver Ruth's address, and then settles back against the seat, leaving a space between he and Ruth. He doesn't wish to crowd her. As much as he would like to have dinner with her the next evening, he is prepared to allow her time in which to get used to the idea. They travel in silence until they are only a few streets from Ruth's house.
"I'd quite like to try again."
"Did you just say what I thought I heard you say?" Harry turns his head to see Ruth looking up at him.
"I'd like to have dinner with you …... again …... soon …... if you want to, that is."
Harry nods as he watches her face carefully, looking for any sign that she is not being genuine. With her face turned up to his, the reflection from the streetlights flicking across their faces, she looks endearingly vulnerable, and he longs to kiss her. The moment is shattered when the car slows, and the driver says, "We're here," and then announces the cost of the fare.
Harry asks the driver to wait while he helps Ruth out of the taxi and then accompanies her to her front door.
"I'd quite like it if you came inside with me," she says, having unlocked her door. They stand in the open doorway, neither knowing what would be the correct thing to be doing right now.
"As much as I would really like that, Ruth, I'm going to head straight home." Since the broken moment in the taxi, something has shifted between them. Some obstacle – a wall of reserve - which had previously been there between them is now gone. Ruth's face shows her disappointment. "But if you'll agree to have dinner with me tomorrow night, then …... I might like to be invited in for coffee afterwards."
Ruth smiles, and then turns towards him, reaching up to slide her hand around his neck. Harry is momentarily shocked by her action, until he feels his face being drawn closer to hers. He allows the kiss to happen, like they do it all the time. This time it is not a brief touch of lips. It is a proper kiss, and he slides his hands around her waist to pull her against him. The kiss is only briefly passionate, and as their mouths open briefly he can taste the hint of wine on her tongue. "Tomorrow night," he says, before he places his lips on hers in a brief goodbye, and then he turns and heads back to the taxi, a broad smile on his face.