Of course, it always had to be Harry, but now to truly resolve the situation!
"Thanks for coming," he says as he opens the door to her. She enters his house.
"I thought we both might be a little overwrought and tired for an evening out."
"That would be putting it mildly," she smiles, nervously.
He smiles too and let's her precede him.
She sees the table is laid and wine is poured.
"Are you sure you are up to this? Dimitri said you were hurt when they found you Harry, or are you going by another name this evening?"
The dig at him is mostly well meant.
"A few cuts and bruises, I've had worse. And besides," he says, walking into the kitchen, "you don't have to be up to much to order a takeaway." He walks back in with several silver trays of Chinese.
Ruth smiles at him.
She is still hesitant to be here with him. Her emotions are still confused. Her joy that Jim is safe and Jim is Harry are intertwined but her recognition that she wanted Jim when she didn't know that he was Harry still weighs upon her.
And…..and it is her biggest 'and' of all – as they stood there in the dark, was it Jo he wanted, not Ruth?
"Let's eat and I'll tell you what I know," he says and pulls out a chair for her.
For the next hour he tells her of the Russian's intercept of Chinese intelligence revealing that they had been duped and that Albany was a fake. From that the Russian's refusal to accept it had never worked and consequent conclusion that MI5 must still have the real thing. Harry had been taken as he walked to his car in the morning, Ruth some time later. Their subsequent imprisonment, would have resulted in deprivation and at some point torture. Fortunately the team had traced the car Ruth had been taken in and they had eventually stormed the building and taken Harry as he was receiving a brutal assault from his captors.
"But why did you tell me your name was Jim?"
"I didn't know who you were, or what you knew, or why you were there. It seemed safer."
"You never knew who I was?" Ruth asks tentatively.
He doesn't answer but asks instead, "you never knew, did you Ruth, that it was me?"
She shakes her head and casts down her eyes, she feels shame and guilt once more.
He speaks again.
"When they took me from the cell they told me it was you. Before that I had no idea."
"You knew?" She tries to take in the information to remember what was said after that point, "but you told me you worked for Six. Why? Why didn't you tell me it was you?" she is agitated now. Agitated he has played her, made her feel this guilt, lied to her. "You said you were married." Her tone is accusatory.
"Ish," he replies with a look in his eye that begs a cheeky forgiveness.
She fails to smile at him and she fails to forgive him. It is easier to be angry with him than to blame herself for wanting another man.
"Ruth, if I'd told you that it was me then it would have been harder for you under interrogation. Of course they would have revealed me to you eventually to make you talk but at least I thought I could buy us time and I hoped you would worry less about a character called Jim, than me."
"But I could have…" and she stops with the thought, she can't verbalise it, it is hard enough to think it.
"You could have what, Ruth? You could have been intimate with 'Jim'?" he helps her out but it is not accusatory.
She cant' bear to look at him and so her eyes remain fixed on the plate before her. The plate is empty. It is a dirty plate. It is coated with the remnants of a chow mein. It needs rinsing and putting in the dishwasher.
Ruth stands and picks up the plate and retreats to the kitchen.
"These need rinsing," she says.
She is at the sink when she feels him behind her. He reaches past her and turns off the tap.
"Ruth?" She pauses but she does not turn around.
"Ruth, why is that when you're eyes are dark and your ears have no words to listen to, why is it that only then can you see me, only then can you hear me, only then can you know who I am?
And for all his riddle she understands. She understands that it was in that moment that she instinctively and without hesitation wanted him. Without the distraction of practicality, without the baggage of who they were and what they'd done, she simply wanted the man in front of her, the man she knew better in that moment than any other, the man that was and is Harry.
"Maybe it's that you don't like my voice?" he murmers.
She turns. "Oh, no, it's a wonderful voice," she blurts out and looks at him and looks away when she sees the seductive half smile on his face and realises he is doing this thing he does to her that makes her nervous and excited and on edge.
"Good. That's good," he says and his voice has gone even lower and is even more honey coated and it slides through her ears and coats her heart.
"Understandably then it was the bag on my head that was an improvement."
"No, you have a lovely face," she says and again has to look away.
He smiles and she feels it, rather than sees it.
She is aware of herself, close to him, standing in his kitchen and playing out all the scenarios of what may happen next.
He says nothing for a little while, aware of the doe like look in her eye, the one that means if he startles her she will run.
"Ruth, I need you to do something?"
"What?" she says nervously.
"Close your eyes and don't open them."
She only looks at him.
"Please," he asks.
And she does so.
His fingers stroke her hand and the gentle tapping resumes. 'This is who I really am' it says and then it is gone as his hand moves delicately up her arm and across her shoulders and up her neck, sliding across her cheek, his fingertips trailing a tender path and on through her hair, caressing the back of her head.
Her hands go to him.
They are back in the dark and he is a man standing before her. A man. Not a boss. Not a knight. Not a figure of responsibility. Not a man with a history.
Just a man.
Her hands find his hips and move past his belt and up his back and she feels the dressings that bind his cuts under his shirt and she makes her touch even more delicate, even more gentle. One hand reaches his shoulderblade and on to the back of his neck and she trails her hand slowly down the length of his spine. Her other hand moves to his chest and feels for his buttons and she begins to undo them so that her mouth is so close to his skin she only has to pout her lips to feel him.
His left hand is falling to her hips and he pulls her towards him and she knows that he wants her.
This man before her.
She can feel how much he wants her.
And she wants him and no longer can she stop herself and no longer can she keep her lips from touching him.
And when their lips meet, they know who they are.
Just a man and a woman.
Ok, hope you enjoyed. Pos epilogue if anyone wants one, though for the life of me I don't know what it is!