4
RL ch 2
She very nearly calls in sick. She's never done it before, not a single time in over a decade, but she reckons that this time, she is owed a sickie. The thought of going in today, when she's barely slept and spent most of the night crying, on and off, over the detritus of her emotional life, is too much for her. Besides she needs time to work out what to do. To decide whether to stay at MI5, or to leave altogether.
But old habits die hard, and so she showers, and dresses, her movements slow and sluggish, her brain enfogged by tiredness and sadness. I'll do the threat level and come back, she tells herself as she opens her front door. Just two hours then back here and…
She remains very still. 'What are you doing here?', she manages to ask, as calmly and coldly as she can.
He looks truly awful. Unshaven stubble really doesn't suit him. Or heavy bags under his eyes, and dark circles around them.
'It's not true that I have no wish to travel.' His voice is hoarse with sleeplessness. 'As you know perfectly well', he adds after a long pause.
She goes utterly still. He seems dangerously close to losing control over his emotions, gripping the handrail by the side of her front steps tightly, his shoulders rigid with tension.
'What are you doing here?', she asks, more softly this time, hoping against all hope that he has finally understood what she was doing.
He looks away, resigned to the fact that she has no intention, by the look of it, of letting him in. 'I think I owe you an apology', he says. 'For yesterday.'
'You think?'
He sighs. 'OK. I do owe you an apology. I should have let you explain instead of adding two and two and coming up with five.'
'But you'd read the transcript. How could you not…'
'I saw the video last night. That's when I caught it. You see…the words alone Ruth….they were so painful. So hard to read…'
'I had to do it that way', she whispers shakily, 'it was the only way I could convince them.' She can feel the sting of tears to come. 'Don't you see? C ouldn't you guess?'
She is still standing two feet away from him, she still hasn't invited him, and he doesn't want to have this conversation on her doorstep, overall he wants to lie down with her, his head on her chest in the circle of her arms, and sleep, and then wake up, and make love….He gets a grip on himself. 'When I read the stuff…I couldn't. After all, you were right about so many things. My relationship with my children. The fact that I have no life really outside the service…Some of the decisions I've made over the years…But watching the whole bloody thing twice last night…it made me realise what you had done.' He swallows. 'I'm sorry I didn't work it out right away. I'm sorry I misjudged you. It's just…' He shrugs, struggling to find the words to express what he is feeling right now.
'You watched it twice? That's ten hours worth of testimony, Harry…No wonder you look shattered.'
He rubs his hand over his face. 'Will you let me in? Please?'
She hesitates. 'I've got to get to work.'
'Call in sick. I'll tell Alec I told you to', he jokes feebly.
She nods briefly, and goes back in, motioning him into her living room while she calls Alec. Thankfully Beth moved out and she now has the flat to herself. Phone call completed, she finally joins him. He is standing by the window, hands in his pockets, watching the street. He turns around to face her. 'Would you like tea or coffee?' she asks, delaying the inevitably conversation which she knows they must have.
'No. No, thank you. I…', he gestures powerlessly.
'I don't know what do you want from me, Harry' she asks tiredly.
'I'd have thought that was obvious. It's been obvious for years.'
'Not to me, actually…I know you love me. But I don't know what you want. Don't stare at me like that. You proposed to me at a funeral, for God's sake. And the way you made it sound…And the day Lucas died. I came to see you. I was hoping we could talk. About what had happened, about what you'd done…about us. But you brushed me aside. You…' She bites her lips. 'And yesterday…you…' She shakes her head.
'I'm sorry about that. All of it. But Ruth…it's not obvious to me what you want.' He stops, and somehow finds the courage to continue, in a very low, strained voice, 'It's not even obvious to me how you feel about me.'
'But….but…'. She stops, overwhelmed. 'But I love you', she whispers, 'surely you know that, surely you can't doubt that…'
He laughs harshly. 'Of course I can doubt it. You never said it. And you know what? Yes, I proposed at a funeral. Not my finest hour. But the way you turned me down...it made me feel as if I was unclean. As if you found me repellent as a person. And a few days later…after the bomb scare at the House of Parliament…basically, you were telling me that the closest we could get together was through work. You've got to admit that it somewhat falls short of a declaration of love. Or…' He swallows past his tightened, closed up throat. 'Or desire'.
'Is that what this is about?', she asks defensively. 'Sex?'
He shakes his head, sadly. 'No. Yes. It's partly that. It's…it's about your ability to trust in me. In us. To love me and want me as a man, not as your boss or…or someone you go through national crises with. That's what it is about.'
'Fine. Well. I'd say that's the pot calling the kettle black', she points out, close to irritation, and fear, and anger. 'I mean, it's not as if you've made me feel desirable or…' She looks away, but he's spotted the uncertainty in her eyes, her vulnerability, and her shame. And in a lightning moment of insight he sees her as she obviously sees herself, a woman with a brain so powerful as to scare more or less 90% of men, in her early forties, with a rather checkered and troubled love life…
He comes very near her, so close that he can hear the sound of her breathing. She won't meet his eyes, cheeks burning embarrassment. 'Ruth', he says softly, achingly. 'Ruth, look at me…come on, look at me please.' She drags her eyes back to his, with an enormous effort of will. He feels as if he could drown in her eyes. 'Your eyes', he whispers, his fingers tracing the contours of her cheek in a feathery touch, 'they're so beautiful. My day doesn't properly begin until I've seen them. The way they change colour, you know…depending on the light…' He rests his forehead against hers, his hands slowly moving down to her waist. 'I want you. And I'm sorry I haven't been able to show you. But I do. And I'm terrified that you don't. Want me, I mean. Because let's face it. I'm fifteen years older than you, overweight, losing my hair, and I haven't been…' He clears his throat, and this time it's his turn to look away. 'Well. I haven't been….intimate, with anyone in eight years, so I feel rather rusty, to say the least. Plus I need a shave, and probably some sleep before I can be up for…sorry, sorry, wrong word, I'm all over the place and I don't know what I'm saying, but what I need you to know is that…' He stops suddenly. She is chuckling, and he hasn't heard her do this for such a long time that he'd forgotten what she sounds like when she laughs happily, freely, as she is doing now. 'What's so funny?' he asks gruffly.
She frames his face in her hands, shaking her head. 'You can ramble too!', she exclaims delightedly. 'Glad I'm not the only one…'
He sighs with relief. 'Well. You do have that effect on me.'
They fall silent, at the same time, letting their eyes roam freely on each other's face, and afterwards they will not be able to say who made the first move, but suddenly they find themselves locked together, kissing, exploring, pouring their hearts out wordlessly in the timeless duo of love.
He slowly moves away, by an inch or so, from her, keeping his arm around her, anchoring her hips to his. 'Do you see now? How much I want you?'
She raises her eyebrows, face alive with love and joy. 'See? Not yet. Soon I hope….But feel? Definitely, Harry. Most definitely.' He blushes and before he can say anything, she takes one of his hands in hers and places it on her chest. 'And you? Can you feel how much I want you?' He curls his fingers around her. 'Oh yes', he exhales, eyes dark with desire. 'So what do we do now, Ruth?'
'What do we do?What do you mean?'
'This. Us. Together. I mean, are we together ? Do we…?'
She looks at him for a long time. And answers with a question of her own.
A question which leaves him reeling.
TBC