LJS - I still trust Kudos to lead us from beyond the fray of S9! Although that is not to say that we will all be at peace with their choices! At any rate, let's see if we can make one more mess of this story before it is put to bed!

Chapter 13

Ruth walked into the trauma cubicle where Harry was lying on a gurney. He was hooked up to a monitor that kept constant track of his blood pressure, respiration and heart rate, an IV line and an oxygen mask. But he was alive. Ruth felt her knees weaken from the thought that she had almost lost him. Again. She cautiously moved forward as she waited for the doctor to pull the curtain closed, which he did after a brief moment. Ruth stood by the gurney, leaning on its guardrail, softly stroking her hand across his forehead.

"God Harry, you gave me a fright," she said softly to his unconscious form. "I nearly lost you again, you stupid, stupid man." She felt tears trickle from the corners of her eyes anew and it angered her. "Damn you for scaring the hell out of me, Harry." Her hand never stopped stroking his brow, but her voice trembled from emotion, "You have no idea what you do to me, Harry. No idea at all…"

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the forehead just as the orderlies walked in.

"Mrs. Pearsall?"

"Erm, yes…"

"We're going to move your husband upstairs to the critical care ward. Would you like to just follow us up there?"

"Yes, thank you."

Ruth walked along with the two young men while they wheeled Harry from the trauma area to the critical care ward. Ruth stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest watching, as they carefully transferred him to a bed, readjusting all of the equipment that had gone with him. When they were finished she thanked them and they left. Ruth sat in the chair nearest his bed and knew it was time to place the phone call she had been putting off. She dialed a number and after a few rings it was answered.

"Alpha, tango, Charlie, small-fox one, silver 24…"

"Hold for the home secretary," the voice on the other end said.

And after a moment she heard, "This is Towers."

"Home Secretary, this is Ruth Evershed from Section-D at five."

"Yes, I know, Ms. Evershed."

"I'm sorry to be bothering you, home secretary, but, I need to talk to you about Harry."

"Harry," he repeated non-committally and as if he had no idea of whom she was speaking.

"Yes, Harry Pearce."

As if there were another one. Towers tried not to let his irritation reflect in his tone, "Yes, Ms. Evershed?"

"He's been shot, home secretary. Whilst out doing your work," she tried unsuccessfully to keep the ire from her voice, "he was shot by a member of his own team."

"Oh dear."

"Yes, oh dear." Ruth was fuming at his casual tone. "After we were all lead to believe he died of a heart attack, he was shot, came to my house, scared the living daylights out of me, asked for my help, bled all over my bed, almost died in the ambulance because he's allergic to amoxicillin and I didn't know," the tears were flowing freely and her voice was becoming more and more shaky as the diatribe continued, "and now he is in hospital under an assumed name because he doesn't want to blow the cover you asked him to keep without your leave, with a wife he isn't actually married to, and a team who don't know he's alive, and…"

But she couldn't continue for the sobs that were rolling from her one after another. The home secretary uneasily shifted in his desk chair, moving the phone to his other ear. He had heard that Ruth Evershed, for as brilliant an analyst as she'd proven to be, could be not only terribly emotional when Harry was involved, but could be a completely downright flustered and annoying female. He rolled his eyes but tried to stay patient.

"Calm down, Ruth, may I call you Ruth?"

"Y-yes."

"All right then. Just calm down. I know you're upset about the events that have taken place over the past few days, I don't blame you at all, but it couldn't be helped. The operation Sir Harry was working on was crucial to our national security—"

"—Home Secretary Towers," Ruth suddenly regained her balance, "all due respect sir, but why did Harry have to go it alone? He could have used the support and help of his team, but instead he was off looking like some rogue assassin. I don't understand why it was so necessary to do it this way."

"Nor I, Ruth."

She frowned, not expecting that response. "What do you mean?"

"You'll have to ask Harry why it had to be done this way. He was the one who insisted that none of you be involved. I believe he felt that a black op was the only way to get through the dirty business of killing twenty people in cold blood before they had a chance to kill twenty-thousand. He honestly did not want any of you to have to be involved in such a bad business."

"And just how were the two of you planning on bringing him back to life, home secretary?" There was only silence on the line. "I see. He was just going to remain dead then."

"Well…"

Exhausted from it all, Ruth sat in the chair. "He's not dead now, and we're not going to leave him in a state of limbo; I've been there and it's far too hot and distressing in its simplicity and junipers. Do I have your permission to make him undead, home secretary? His team deserve to know that he's very much alive, and we certainly don't want his family hearing anything of this dreadful business."

"Yes, I agree, Ruth. I'm sorry this had to be so clandestine. I'm sorry all of you had to go through thinking you'd lost the old sod; he's a good man to have around you know…"

She looked over at Harry, who was still out like a light. "No, home secretary, Harry's not just a good man to have around; he's a good man. Good night, sir."

"Tariq?"

The young man shook his head. "Nothing, yet. If he's in hospital, he hasn't used any of his former legends…"

Beth interrupted. "You don't suppose the two of them would use a play on his name, do you?"

"Would be rather obvious that, wouldn't it?" Tariq commented.

"T'would, but…" Beth agreed.

"What do you have?" Lucas asked.

"Pearsall. Robert Pearsall."

"Isn't that the name of a choral composer?" Tariq asked.

"That just screams Ruth, doesn't it," Beth smiled.

"Where is he?"

"TMH."

Lucas grabbed his coat and was heading toward the pods, when the home secretary and his team walked out of them. Lucas stared at Towers momentarily, surprised to see him on the Grid.

"Home secretary," Lucas finally said. "This is a surprise."

"Is it, Mr. North? You look like you're on your way out to visit a sick friend. Might we have quick word first?"

"Yes, although I do have somewhere I need to be…"

Ignoring Lucas and his urgency, the home secretary simply said, "You'll want to hear this, dear fellow, so let's go into Harry's office, shall we?"

No past tense, no grief. And Lucas knew then that Towers had been in on it since the beginning…

Ruth walked over to the side of the bed, pulled down the guardrail and sat on the edge. She caressed Harry's face with her hand, eliciting a contented moan from him, and after a few minutes, his eyes fluttered.

"There you are, Mr. Pearsall," she smiled at him.

"Who?" He asked hazily.

"You, Harry. For the duration of this stay in hospital, you're Robert Pearsall and I'm your wife."

"My wife?" Harry frowned, not able in his foggy mind to piece it together. "But you said no, Ruth… you said no," he whispered.

"Harry, it's a legend for God's sake…"

She once again let her hand brush over his brow, but gaining cognizance, Harry pulled away from her hand.

"Ruth, don't." She looked at him frowning. "Please don't." Off her look, he continued, "I can't take this anymore, Ruth."

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"I'm talking about us."

She swallowed hard. "Us? There isn't really—"

"—Exactly. There really isn't."

Ruth felt a sudden rush of panic. "Harry, I don't think you're up to this conversation right now. You almost died a few hours ago. And this is neither the time nor the place—"

"—Ruth, you never think anything emotionally uncomfortable has a time or place. So I almost died a few hours ago, so what. I'm still here, and inexplicably, so are you."

"Inexplicably? What was I supposed to do, let the ambulance bring you in and find out later whether you lived or died?"

"You want me, you don't, you do, you don't…" He looked into her uncomprehending eyes. "I'm sorry Ruth, but you said no to me."

"That again?"

"Yes, that again. You said no, Ruth, but then you want to be close by me when we're facing some dreadful crisis and you want to comfort me when I'm down, and now because I almost died you want to take care of me – but it will only be temporary and on your terms, and I can't take those terms anymore. It has to be one or the other, Ruth, and since you already told me no, then I must ask you to stop being anything but my colleague on the Grid. You said we couldn't be closer than we are; but that was a convenient thing to conjure, and patently untrue." He could see tears forming in her eyes as the finality of it was sinking in. "It's just too painful for me, Ruth, don't you see that? Every time you touch my hand or say a comforting word, it's like rubbing salt in an open wound. I won't ever be able to get over it if you don't allow me to put distance between us." He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. "And it isn't fair to me, Ruth. You don't want to be with me, but you want to have my heart and my love in your back pocket for a rainy day, yet I'm not allowed to express it, and you don't reciprocate it. How many times do you think I can stand to be told I'm not good enough to love you?"

"Harry," her trembling voice said, "you're overwrought because of what you've been through, you don't mean this."

"Oh but I do, Ruth."

"No," she shook her head, "it's all the drugs in your system, and exhaustion, Harry. You just need to rest and then—"

"—And then what? It will never change, Ruth; you will never change. You'll never accept my love, nor do you want to let me go. The truth is," his voice was beginning to sound weak from exhaustion but he pressed onward, "you broke my heart when you said no. You broke it into a thousand pieces…"

Tears streamed down her face, but she managed to still the tremble in her voice. "Then why did you come to me when you were shot? Why not Beth or Lucas? What happened to 'I'm grateful to you, Ruth'?"

"I am grateful to you; I just can't be in love with you. Not anymore." He reached a hand out to cup her chin so she would meet his eyes. "And you have to let me go, Ruth."

She swallowed hard, the tears still streaming down her face. "You're right, Harry. I do have to let you go, but I ask that you hear me out first." He sighed, fighting to maintain consciousness. "But not right now; I think you really need to rest, and I'm going to let you do that. We'll talk tomorrow."

He couldn't fight it anymore and his eyelids slipped closed. Ruth slowly got up, put the guardrail back into place and stood by the bed, watching him sleep. Her hand reached out to stroke his cheek, but then realized she shouldn't, and her hand slowly fell back down to her side.

TBC