Ruth looked out of the window and watched the Parisian streets slip by.
Every pavement cafe made her think of Harry. Made her think of the cities that could have been theirs to explore together, if only she hadn't been afraid.
"Are you okay, Ruth?"
"Fine," she nodded.
"I would have thought you'd be quite keen to get off the grid to somewhere like Paris," smiled Lucas.
"Normally, I would be."
"But not this time?"
"No, not this time."
Harry felt lost without her. It was always the way.
The grid was starved of her presence. And so was he.
He could see that his campaign was working. He knew she was beginning to feel it as much as he.
But there would be no dinner tonight.
No proposal.
However long it would be until he next saw her, it would be too long.
"I don't really understand why you need me here, Lucas. Surely you could have just got anyone with the right language skills?"
"It's more than that I need, though, Ruth."
Her eyebrows raised.
"No, nothing like that," Lucas laughed. "As terrorists go, you'll like this particular group."
"Like!"
"Well, possibly admire. They aren't passing information in any of the usual ways, they're too savvy for that and they fear their technology is breached."
"And?"
"And so they are communicating by passing intel through art exhibitions."
Ruth looked curious.
"I thought that might interest you. And that's why I need you. They're somehow hiding the relevant information they need within the artwork on display. I've tried and for the life of me I can't see it, but you Ruth, you'd find anything if you looked at it for long enough."
"I'd like to think you're right," said Ruth thinking about Harry.
"So that's what you'll be doing tomorrow. Browsing the galleries."
She was silent.
"Do you think you can manage that?"
"Do I think I can manage to walk round an art gallery in Paris? Yes, Lucas. I think I can just about manage that."
Lucas grinned, "Good, now here we are."
She got out and crossed the road alone to the hotel. Lucas was staying with the cell and had only got out to meet her on some pretext or other.
She checked in under her new legend and as the porter opened her bedroom door she discovered the most beautiful room, with large high windows and wonderfully Parisian décor.
On the table in the center of the room was an orchid.
The porter was at the door. "There is a note with the flowers, madame."
Ruth nodded and she knew suddenly that Harry had chosen the room and Harry had organized the flowers and Harry had sent the note.
Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
She sighed and held the note to her and for all that most would long to be in Paris, she merely longed to be at home with Harry.