Eleven:
A Bit of a Backfire

"Oh, mom, you look so pretty!" Portia exclaimed excitedly.

Harry was putting on his suit jacket when Ruth came into the living room, and he glanced up, a smile twitching at his lips. "You do look a treat," he said with a smile. A treat was probably not the adjective description that Ruth wanted – her hair was down and curled, a few studded hairpins glittering here and there. Her gown was simply, but masterfully, made; a lovely shade of green silk that caressed her body and held fast and tight in all the right places. Her only jewelry was what he'd given her – dangling earrings made of diamonds and platinum, cascading almost to her bare shoulders, and her engagement and wedding rings. She held a black clutch in her hand, and a smile was on her lips.

"I'm glad you approve, Harry," Ruth said with a smile, "but this little show isn't for you – and you look rather smart. Catherine will be pleased." She proceeded to ignore him completely, giving the list of emergency numbers and instructions to the baby-sitter.

The doorbell rang, and Ruth said, "You'd better go get Catherine – that will be Joe's driver, waiting to take us."

Harry hurried to open the door and smiled at Joe. "Joe, welcome – we're just putting on the last minute things and I'm going to gather Catherine from next door," he greeted, stepping out onto the porch.

Ten minutes later, they were all settled in the back of the limo, and Joe was offering everyone champagne. "Seems we've got the wrong dates tonight," Joe teased, "seeing as how Sir Harry and Janet can't keep their eyes off one another."

"They've been all moony since they got back from Vegas yesterday," Catherine said with a chuckle. "I don't even want to know what kind of things they got up to last night behind closed doors."

"We read for a bit and went to bed," Harry said, giving his daughter a disapproving glare. "You have a dirty mind like your mother's, young lady."

Ruth laughed and held up her left hand to show Joe her rings. "We flew to Las Vegas to get married," she confessed softly. "Because there's no sense in waiting forever – when forever will never come."

"Congratulations!" Joe exclaimed. "You might have warned me, though, so I might think of you as Lady Pearce instead of Janet Williams, though – I'll be struggling with it all night whenever those bloody reporters ask."

Catherine laughed. "Whereas, all I have to do is say, 'Oh, hey, this is my dad!' and they'll all get bored."

Harry glanced over at her. "I'm not sure about that, seeing as how I was on the cover of several gossip rags in my dressing gown a few days ago. I'm afraid I've become rather infamous."

"You're only infamous because I'm embroiled in scandal," Ruth pointed out with a sad smile.

"Sod your bloody scandal," Harry replied, holding her hand and squeezing it. He was pleased as punch, to be honest, at the thought that he might get to retaliate in Iain Lewis's direction at some point in the evening's festivities. Only it would be an exchange of words; one that might just end in, 'You'd better leave my wife alone or I'll wring your bloody neck.'

"Harry…"

"No, he's right," Joe said. "You being set up as that prick's fall guy has made your life change for the better. Tell anyone who says otherwise to go fuck themselves. You are an incredibly strong woman, Janet, and I know this better than anyone…"

"Not better than Harry," Ruth contradicted softly, squeezing his hand.

Catherine interjected, "No one is debating the point of whether or not my dad knows better than anyone else – just… Joe is right. And I'm not saying that because I want to suck up to the man who's going to bankroll my next series or anything."

Joe laughed and said, "Now, that was a scandalous proposal, Cate… What makes you think your show's going off-air any time soon?"

"It's not," Catherine said, "but I'm going to take a less active role in the day-to-day of things because one of my mates from uni wants me to help her create a scripted comedy in Britain, and I'd like to think I could. She's already got iNBC chomping at the bit to fund her, so… it wasn't exactly ironic."

"Wait, you're working with Jen Fischer?"

"Yeah, right now, we're Skyping about character proposals, but I think I'm going to have to make a trip to Edinburgh soon to see her," Catherine replied.

"Hollywood really is just an incestual hotbed," Harry commented.

"It is," Ruth agreed. "By the way, you never told me how you know Joe."

Joe glanced over and said, "My ex-wife got shirty about not getting anything in the divorce and hired a hit-man to take me and the kids out. Sir Harry, here, and his team of ragamuffins, saved my skin."

Harry glanced over at Ruth and sighed. "Yes," he acknowledged. "Ros Myers took a bullet for him, and was rather pissed off about it." Ruth nodded, and began to say something, but Harry cut her off. "It was only a few weeks before she died trying to save the Home Secretary." Ruth fell silent and he could see the regret and tears in her eyes. "But anyway – I supervised the operation and had a hand in protecting Billy and Maisie from their mother. It was quite satisfactory."

"Maisie had him wrapped round her tiny baby fingers," Joe said, making Catherine laugh. "She remembers him, and asks about him."

"Well, then, we should get them back together again," Ruth said with a small smile.

"I'm good with babies," Harry said, "but not so much when they get big enough to talk and have opinions."

"You're good with Charlie and Gracie," Catherine pointed out.

"They're my grandchildren," Harry replied. "They're meant to be spoiled and coddled and sent home to mum."

"You're good with Portia," Ruth murmured.

"That will wear off in time," he sighed. "One day, she'll hate me as much as Catherine did when she was a teenager."

"I was a bad kid," Catherine said. "And you were never home. It'll be different for her."

The limo finally pulled to a stop, but idled. "And now, we bloody wait," Joe said. "I wouldn't even have come if it hadn't been for this stupid lifetime achievement award they're lobbing at me."

"My show might actually win," Catherine said. "It might be nice to get up and accept an award for once."

"I hope it does," Joe said. "Because then I can buy you a celebratory drink."

Catherine hesitated a moment, then blew him off with, "I think all the things are complimentary at the Governor's Ball."

Harry wanted to sigh and shake his daughter, but that might be slightly excessive. Either way, the limo was moving again and within a few minutes, they were exiting the car and getting straight onto the red carpet. He'd been on several of these horse and pony displays in his lifetime – the most recent being at the Queen's Gala celebrating Prince George's first birthday – but this was probably the worst of them all. It was cramped, there were cameras and reporters everywhere with microphones and he hated every moment of it.

Catherine was talking to some reporter with a ghastly shade of lavender hair and a yellow dress that clashed spectacularly, and she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over. "And I've brought my father along tonight as my plus one," Catherine said. "Maybe even my good luck charm, seeing as how he's had quite a good run of luck lately."

He smiled just a bit and said, "I have, in fact…"

The reporter thrust her microphone in his face and said, "Tell us about it!"

Ruth felt oddly, then she realized why. She and Joe had moved away from the worst of the crowd to have a short, candid conversation with the reporter from CNN, but upon turning, she found herself face to face with Iain Lewis. She didn't say a word, just took a step away from him.

"You cost me my job," Iain said, his voice low and angry.

"I did no such thing," Ruth said, her voice equally hushed. "I've been out of the loop for days – who do you think I called to force your show into shutdown?"

"Your little friend Joe there?"

She took a step forward, eyes blazing. "Your show was cancelled because it was a hot mess," she hissed. "Do not even dare to insinuate that I care enough about you to wish you ill. I don't care about you at all. I am entirely apathetic about you, now that you're out of my life. So bugger off and find another job. I'm sure you'll get one in no time. Just leave me alone."

He grabbed her upper arm and said, "You don't get it –"

"Let me go," Ruth said very quietly, "or I won't be held responsible for what's going to happen in about thirty seconds when Harry realizes what you're doing."

"Your little boyfriend doesn't scare me."

"Oh, really? Do I frighten you, then? Because I should." She struggled in his grasp, then stopped. "You have screwed the pooch this time, Iain. Let me go now."

"Let go of my wife or I'm going to make a scene that makes Shakespeare look a treat in comparison," Harry growled. "I'll file a restraining order against you, and I'll see to it that you'll never work in Britain… or the States… again. In fact, Cuba is looking nice this time of year… and it's not difficult to make someone look like a terrorist in America."

"Are you threatening me, old man?" Iain shot back.

"No, I don't make idle threats," Harry said. "Release my wife and I will allow you to walk away with your tail between your legs. Otherwise, there are so many, many things that might happen."

"Harry, don't," Ruth said very quietly, not liking the malice in his eye or the way his face was flushed bright, angry red. "He's not worth it. Iain, let me go."

Iain finally released his grasp of her arm, and she rubbed the bruising, giving Joe and Harry a look that communicated that she was all right.

"Now," Ruth said, turning back toward her former lover, "if you ever touch me again, if you ever come within five feet of me, I will not hesitate to ruin you. Your actions just now have already blackballed you from working with iNBC in any capacity; and that's where you've made your choice, Iain. I'm the new head of PR, and all it will take is a few words to the competition about the way you treat people, and you'll find yourself out of work permanently. I would caution you to listen very well and leave me alone. This is the only time I'm going to say that again."

He met her unwavering gaze with hatred and anger. One step closer to her, and Joe stopped him. "Don't," Joe advised coldly. "I'm not nearly as kind as Janet is – I'll cold-cock you. And Harry here? He's retired Security Services, mate. I wouldn't fuck with him – he's a bit scary when he gets pissed off."

Iain shook his head and walked away, leaving Ruth to exhale weakly, glad that they were away from the reporters when it had happened. Harry immediately came over and supported her, checking her over, wincing and growling in anger when he saw the bruises on her upper arm. "Are you –"

"I'm fine," Ruth choked out. "Fine."

Catherine put her phone into her clutch and said, "I've got most of it on video, if you need to release it."

"My love?" Harry said very softly. Ruth was shaking with a mixture of anxiety and relief, and she stifled a sob. "Love, please talk to me –"

"I didn't think he'd try something here," she confessed. "God, why was I so stupid?"

"He's not going to do anything," Joe assured her. "Not now. Not when we can get a restraining order filed first thing tomorrow. He's lost and he knows it. Just keep your head up and keep going, Jan."

Ruth swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

Catherine looped her arm through Ruth's and said, "Come on, mum, we'd better get to our seats."

"God, please don't call me that," Ruth protested.

Catherine grinned at her. "No big deal, just a term of endearment… mum."

In the end, they all wound up at the Governor's Ball, then the Vanity Fair party, and the iNBC blowout. By the time they got home, the sun was coming up and Ruth and Catherine, at least, were more than slightly drunk and giddy. Harry gave Joe a suffering look and said, "Why do we put up with this?"

"Because they're pretty," Joe replied with a wry smile.

"You think I'm pretty?" Catherine said. "Oh, that's so sweet – Jan, he thinks I'm pretty…"

"He thinks a lot more than that," Ruth said, giggling a bit. "He wants to –"

"Okay, you're getting into dark territory, love," Harry warned. "Hush."

"You want to come in?" Catherine asked Joe.

"I'd… I would love to, Cate, but I need to go home and check on my children," Joe said gently. "And you need to get some rest. Don't you go back to work in a few days?"

"Ugh," Catherine sighed. "Spoilsport. I was going to make sure the girls had breakfast and then I was going to take you to bed and make sure you got some good rest."

Harry stifled a groan. "Catherine –"

"And that's exactly why I'm going home," Joe said. "Because you'll regret everything when you're not hungover. But we can have dinner. Call me."

Catherine huffed and stormed off. She turned around and flashed him the 'v' and turned back around, promptly falling on her face. She struggled to get up, then snapped, "I'm fine." She kept going until she'd disappeared inside her house.

"You think she'll call?" Joe asked rhetorically.

"I think she's going to feel like a right twat for a couple of days," Harry said.

"I think she's lonely," Ruth said with a sad sigh, leaning against Harry. "Come on, Harry, let's go inside and you can make some eggs and toast."

"Why me?" he asked.

"Because I'm rubbish at it and I'm about to fall over."

Harry chuckled. "Ah, yes… Joe, thank you for a very… enlightening… experience. I'm not certain I'll be allowing myself the dubious honor of attending such a soiree again at any point in time soon."

Joe laughed and saluted Harry. "When she wakes up from her drunken slumber, have her call me – I'll see her in the office first thing tomorrow."

"Come on," Harry said, gently guiding Ruth inside. "Let's get you your eggs and toast and get you to bed."

"I don't want eggs and toast," Ruth whined. "I want you."

"Not when you're drunk enough that I could light a match and send the whole house up," Harry warned. "I won't take advantage of you in this condition."

"It's not taking advantage if I want it," she replied stubbornly.

"When you wake up later," Harry said, "we can make love. But not right now. You're going to have eggs and toast and kiss Portia good morning – and then you're going to bed."

She pouted. "Yes, well –"

"Don't," he said softly, propelling her into the kitchen. "Breakfast, and then bed."

"How are you not drunk?" she whined.

"I've got more body mass than you do," he said. "It helps. And, also, I didn't down an entire bottle of wine after six cocktails and god only knows how much champagne."

"Mmm, there is that," she sighed, sitting down at the table. After a minute, she laid her head down and watched him as he went round, gathering things. He glanced over at her when she said, "Has anyone told you how sexy you are?"

"Not recently," he said.

"Well, you are," Ruth murmured. "You are very, very sexy, Harry Pearce."

He smiled a bit and cracked two eggs into the skillet. "That's the wine talking, love."

Ruth sighed. "I used to pretend that Iain was you," she admitted. "I'd've never gotten off if I hadn't. I drink too much, I'm entirely too… whatever. I can't believe you still want me."

"I've always wanted you," Harry said, his voice low. The admission was a slippery slope; he hoped that her memory would be a bit impaired by the amount of drink that she'd imbibed, so that they wouldn't have to repeat this humiliating conversation again.

"Oh," she whispered. "Really?"

"Really."

"So when I had that silly crush on… on…"

"Yes."

"You were really very cross?"

"I was." The toast sprang up and he laid it out on a plate. The eggs followed. "Now, eat up. I'm going to go check on Portia and the sitter."

Harry left Ruth to eat her breakfast, and followed the noises into the living room, where Portia and the baby-sitter were watching cartoons. "Hello," he said.

"Dad!" Portia cried, the television forgotten. "I'm glad you're home!"

"I'm glad to be home," he said with a chuckle, hugging her. "I missed you, too."

"Where's mom?"

"She's eating some breakfast," he said. "She had a little bit too much to drink, so she's going to be going to bed soon. But that means that you and I can go get Charlie and Gracie and go do something."

Portia smiled and nodded. "Good!"

Harry smiled down at her. "Now, I've got to pay the baby-sitter and then we'll decide what we're going to do."

"Okay, dad," Portia said, releasing him and jumping back onto the couch.

Harry settled the bill with the sitter in cash, then saw her out. After that, he checked on Portia again – still watching her show – and then headed to the kitchen. Ruth had finished her breakfast, but was asleep on the table in a very uncomfortable-looking position.

He gently roused her and whispered, "You're going to be miserable if you sleep at the table, Ruth."

She whimpered and put her arms around him, getting up as he helped her. "I love you," she mumbled.

"I love you, too," he murmured. "Come to bed, love. Get some rest. You've had a long night."

She yawned and mumbled, "Portia?"

"Don't worry," he whispered. "You just get some sleep." He helped her into bed and tucked her in. "No more drinking like a fish, love."

"No more," she agreed as she drifted back to sleep.

END PART ELEVEN