Thanks for all the reviews for this story so far. I quite enjoyed writing this chapter in particular, so I hope you enjoy reading it.
Harry waited until dark, which wasn't long, then went onto the grid, to sit in his office and think. He'd called the hospital a couple of times to check on Ruth's condition, and she was still doing well, much to his relief. Once he was sat behind his desk, he thought there was a possibility he might be able to think more clearly. He always thought more clearly at work than he did at home, or anywhere else for that matter. He poured himself a small whisky then sat down, wondering what on earth he was going to do. He loved Ruth, but this was not a small thing to cope with. How could he be with her when in a few short months she'd have a baby which wasn't his? He finished his whisky and debated having another one. He didn't want to get drunk, and he knew if he started downing the whisky, the bottle would be empty before he knew it.
He looked up in surprise as the door of his office opened. He'd thought he was alone on the grid. "Erin, what can I do for you?" he asked.
"I thought I'd find you here," she said, sitting down opposite him. "I got a call from Ruth."
"Is she all right?" he asked concerned.
"She's worried about you," Erin said. There was silence for a few moments as he ran through what he wanted to say in his mind. He couldn't do this being subtle, if he was going to talk, he had to talk properly. Erin wouldn't be the person he'd have chosen, but she was in front of him right now. He'd take what he could get.
"I love her, Erin," he said. "But she slept with someone else. And I am going to have the evidence of that in front of me every day. I don't know how I can cope with that. Even… If I can."
"Harry, she's alive," Erin said. "You know damn well that's the most important thing."
"Of course I'm glad she's alive," he said. "I don't know if I'd ever recover had she… died." He paused before saying the word. Contemplating Ruth's death was the stuff that haunted his nightmares, and far too recently, it seemed like it could be the possible future. "But… this?"
Erin sighed, twitching her lips as if debating what to say. As if coming to a decision, she spoke. "When she was dying in your arms, you didn't care that she was pregnant. You didn't care that she'd slept with someone else. All that mattered was the woman you loved, dying in your arms. Don't throw that away." Erin took a deep breath. "I think you know that… it won't matter in the long run, it's just going to be hard."
Harry closed his eyes. "I really thought… I really hoped that Ruth and I had done the hard part. I want it to get easier."
"She's lying in a hospital bed, from a stab wound, which she took for you. Whatever else, she must love you to do that. Has she ever forgiven you a mistake?" Harry shook his head, more in desperation than disagreeing. "I'll leave you to it," she said. "Just call Ruth at some point. She is worrying about you."
"Yes," he agreed. Once Erin had left he thought in the silence for maybe an hour more. He was thinking through every possibility, every option for both him and Ruth, and he could only come up with one option he could live with. That he wanted to live with. Which meant he had to talk to Ruth first.
Ruth awoke at five past four in the morning, according to the digital clock on her bedside table. Her lung felt incredibly tight and she lay with her eyes closed as she tried to breathe slowly. The doctors had suggested she try to breathe without the mask if she felt ready for it. Anything to get her out of hospital so she'd happily agreed. But now her chest felt tight. Once she felt in control of herself, she looked to her right and found Harry watching her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's four in the morning."
"I had to see you," he said. "I pulled some strings so they'd let me in."
"That doesn't answer my question," she said. "Why are you here?" Harry switched the bedside light on and they blinked for a few seconds, getting used to the light.
"I need to talk to you," he said. "Or do you want to sleep?"
"I can't sleep, seeing you looking so agitated," she said. "Talk to me."
"You've got your mask off," he said. "Are you any better?"
"It hurts," she said simply. "Carry on."
"What bothers me isn't that you're pregnant," he said. "It bothers me that not so many weeks ago you could randomly sleep with someone else. Then want to be with me on a more permanent basis. Ask me to leave the service with you. That is my bigger problem."
"Okay," she said. "I don't know what I can say to fix this. I do love you, but I'm not foolish enough… or naïve enough to believe that telling you how I feel will fix everything." She gasps at the effort that long sentence cost her and it takes a few seconds before she stops flinching.
"What if it were me?" he asked. "What if I'd slept with someone a couple of months ago and the woman turned up carrying my child. How would you feel?"
She was silent, but not because she was ignoring him. She was thinking it through. "I'd feel… hurt. Very hurt. And… insanely jealous. I'd also…" She started chewing her bottom lip.
"Also?" he asked when she showed no indication of carrying on the sentence.
"I wouldn't be able to stop picturing it," she said quietly. "Another woman with her hands all over you." She couldn't look at him, because for the first time she could appreciate what was going through his mind. Even the suggestion of Harry being with another woman had her mind going to places she'd rather it didn't. And Harry would have a permanent reminder due to her growing stomach. "I'm so sorry."
"I know," he said. "I cannot bear thinking of another man touching you and…" He didn't finish his sentence.
"You should go," she said quietly, trying not to cry. "If you don't… or can't do this, I'd rather you leave. It's too hard to have you here, so close to a future I can't have." Her eyes were damp, but she couldn't stop herself from crying.
"I can't leave you," he said. "It would be easier if I could, but I can't. I want you. I want us, and I cannot leave you, unless you seriously would rather I leave."
"I wouldn't," she said. "Of course I wouldn't."
He smiled slightly at that. "I probably could live without you. But I really don't want to. I don't want to have to try living without you." He reached for her and gently curved his palm around her cheek. "Promise me you wont try and die on me again," he said very quietly.
"I'll do my very best," she said. He leaned forward and kissed her softly. She smiled against his mouth. "You need to shave," she whispered, her fingers caressing his cheeks in a way that shouldn't have been arousing, but was.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Don't you dare." He smiled and kissed her again, making her sigh against him. The kiss turned passionate, their tongues dancing against each other until Ruth started pushing him away, her hands on his chest. He stopped in bewilderment, which faded when she gasped for breath.
"Sorry," he said when her breathing returned to normal.
"Don't be," she said. "Just let me up for air every so often." She took his shirt in her hands and pulled him to her again. He smiled in the moments before their lips touched.