Twenty-four:
Hope and the Absence of It

"Daddy!" Portia cried, bursting into the hospital room, her curly hair fanning out like a wild halo around her head as she ran. She didn't wait for a reply from Harry, just flew into his waiting arms, holding him tightly. "I missed you so much," the tiny whirlwind whispered, tucking her face into his chest as he rubbed her back.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart," Harry said, choking up. He could have given up fighting at any time, but he had to keep pushing on… for her sake. For Portia and Ruth's sake, his defeatist attitude must be pushed aside and given no credence. For Ruth's sake, he must try harder; he must be the man she believes him still to be. Honorable, strong, unbroken. For Portia's sake, he must be all the better than before; he mustn't give in to self-doubt and destruction. "Have you grown since I saw you last?"

The bright blue eyes regarded him suspiciously. "I don't think so, daddy," she said.

"I think you did," he said gently, with a smile. He glanced up and saw Ruth hovering in the doorway. "Have you been good for mummy and your sister and brother?"

Portia nodded and snuggled closer to him, refusing to let go. "I've tried to be," she said quietly. "So I could come see you."

"Well," Harry said in a low, soft voice so Ruth couldn't hear him, "I'm very glad you have, Portia. I feel so much better already."

She lifted her head and smiled up at him, eyes twinkling. "I brought a book so I can read to you," Portia said. "That always makes me feel better when I'm sick. Mom's got the book, though, so I've got to get it first –"

"No, you stay right here for just another minute," Harry murmured. "I just want to snuggle with you a bit longer, sweetheart."

"Okay," Portia agreed quietly.

She was his second chance; her tiny body was warm and sweet in his arms, a piece of him, a piece of his heart and Ruth's entwined in one little person that was the best bits of both of them. He smiled a wavering smile at Ruth, who looked tired and sad. It took less than a moment for him to realize that she was sad because he'd treated her badly the last couple of days but he'd turn around and embrace Portia readily. Shit.

He released their daughter and sighed. "Go get your mum," Harry instructed gently. "I need to talk to her for a moment. Can you stand just outside the door and not move a muscle for just a minute?"

"Do you promise just a minute?" Portia asked.

Harry nodded and kissed her forehead. "Just a minute," he repeated.

She skipped off and said, "Mom, daddy needs to talk to you."

Ruth raised an eyebrow and crossed over to his bed. "Yeah?" she murmured softly.

"I love you," Harry said, each word carefully enunciated and precise, clear and without doubt. "I'm sorry I've behaved like a boor –"

She cupped his face in her hands and murmured, "You've been unwell. It's understandable."

"It's not an excuse for making you feel like you don't matter to me," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Ruth."

She gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, the tender sensation setting his frayed nerves aflame. "I love you, too," Ruth whispered. "Always, Harry. Always. Even when you act like a bratty child."

"I just don't want you to think I'm taking you for granted –"

She kissed him again and murmured, "It will be okay, Harry. Everything will be okay."

When Portia joined them and began reading gravely to him in her small, clear voice, he really began to believe that it might just be.

Once they got Harry bundled away up in bed, Ruth set about making a list of things she needed to pick up for Portia's first day of school and groceries for the larder and a plan of attack for accomplishing everything and picking up Duchess at the kennel, besides. She would have to make a trip back to California at some point – Catherine was packing their things up and putting them in storage, and there were things she needed – but for the moment, she needed to concentrate on the immediate future.

Portia had quietly gone up to her room and Ruth found her sprawled across the bed, book fanned out over her face as if she'd dropped it square on her nose as she'd fallen asleep. Ruth tucked her in and put a bookmark in the book, then retreated.

Graham and Sarah were already tucked up for the night, so she headed upstairs. Harry startled out of his doze when she opened the door, and she smiled softly. "Hey," she murmured. "Try to get some rest – we've got a big shopping day tomorrow, and there's nothing like getting out and taking a walk to get some of your strength back."

He grunted and rolled his eyes. "I shan't be doing sprints any time soon," he said, "but I'm fully capable of going to the shops. I've got the all clear, remember? They wouldn't have let me leave Stokesley if I hadn't been cleared."

"Yes, and Portia starts school day after tomorrow," Ruth pointed out. "She's already nearly five weeks late on that count. So we need to get her things."

"Are you going to come to bed?" he asked gruffly. "Or are you going to going to pontificate until your poor brain explodes under the strain?"

"Arse," she muttered under her breath. "I've got an appointment in the morning before we do our shopping, okay?"

"Get. In. Bed."

She huffed and took her nightgown into the en suite, getting even more annoyed when his call of, "Don't bother with that rigamarole, love," floated in behind her. Just because he'd been cleared for everything – within reason – didn't mean that they should just up and…

She shrugged into her nightgown and dressing gown, then headed back into the bedroom. Harry's look of utter disappointment was suddenly etched on her consciousness like a white hot flame. "Oh, don't give me that look," Ruth sighed. "You're tired. I'm tired. We've had a long day traveling." She shed the dressing gown and climbed under the covers with him. The first thing that happened was that he grabbed her tightly around the torso and all but hauled her to him with an almost punishing grip. "Harry!"

"You haven't slept with me in weeks," he growled against her ear. "Forgive me for needing desperately to feel you in my arms… against my body –"

She bit her lip, unwilling to let him hear the moan that was threatening to escape her. His lips caressed her neck, the plane of her shoulder, and he caught the spaghetti strap of her nightdress in his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. "Harry," Ruth breathed, "if this was just about a need to hold me… you wouldn't be – be –"

"Oh, I want to do more than hold you," he said in that 'Harry of the Grid' voice that made her snap to obedient attention – a tone that booked nothing but unconditional surrender. "I want to take that sad little worry line between your eyes away. I want to make you relax, Ruth."

"What, you think I can't get off without you?" she shot back. "I can. I do. So…" Words failed her as his hand covered her breast, his fingers gently working her nipple through the satin of her chemise. "Harry –" Oh dear, that definitely came out in a way that will encourage him… And it did; the breathy whimper of his name made him that much bolder in his touch. It didn't take much to make her melt back against him and give in.

"You just prefer me," he teased, nibbling on her earlobe.

She exhaled a low moan and murmured, "Are you certain the doctors cleared you for –"

"You were there," he reminded her. "You know they did. Within reason."

"Well, who's to define what's within reason and what isn't?" she breathed. He loosened his grip slightly, and Ruth murmured, "Promise me we'll stop if you start feeling off or if anything isn't right –"

"I promise," he said softly, his voice a delicious rumble in her ear.

She met his lips, eager, wanting, the kiss as intense as any they'd ever shared. Maybe moreso, more poignant, than any other kiss that had passed between them before. Because this was a new beginning; this was a breath, a hope and a prayer, shared between them. It meant so much more now, all of it. Everything was so clear between them; there were no more barriers.

Except for the pajamas between them, that was.

"Let me go," Ruth ordered brusquely, turning over in his arms once he'd done as she'd asked. Now that she was facing him, their bodies pressed closely together, everything seemed so much better. She melted back into his embrace, deepening the kiss and making the world that much more focused with clarity.

They never really got around to taking off their clothes per se. By the time they'd reached the point of no return, they'd barely gotten Ruth's knickers pushed out of the way and his track pants and trunks down around his thighs. It was vaguely inglorious and a teenaged stunt, yes, but somewhere tangled up in the mess of their clothes barely removed lay their hearts, raw, exposed, and needy. Their physical need triumphed over everything else, and they came together like waves crashing, breaking, regrouping before the next tide.

Ruth did most of the work, straddling him, taking him deep with a contented sigh that bordered on a moan. She moved against him slowly, then faster, feeling his needs equal and outweigh her own. And the truth was, their needs were both great. She felt the beginnings of her climax rising in her body, tingling, raging like a firey torrent until the pleasure and the pressure became too great. It was like a rubber band snapping; white hot sparks of intense pleasure shot through her and she collapsed against him, panting and moaning. His hands were on her hips – the grip firm but unsteady. "Oh Ruth," he breathed, kissing her cheek where her face lay against his. "My Ruth."

"My Harry," she whispered.

They didn't stay like that for long; her thigh cramped and being splayed across him shamelessly only made it worse. But once the cramp had eased, they righted their nightclothes and found themselves snuggled up beneath the duvet, their breath mingling together as one.

"Here, let me," Sarah said, taking one of the food bags from Harry's arms. "You shouldn't be –"

"I'm fine," he sighed. "You're the one who's bloody pregnant and shouldn't be lifting things."

"Where are your travel companions?" Sarah teased, setting the bag on the counter and beginning to put away the fresh things.

"They dropped me and went back out to get something they forgot," he muttered, sitting down heavily at the table. "I think – no, I don't know what it was."

"Janet was in a bad mood earlier," Sarah said mildly.

"She's fine now," he replied. "I was thinking I could make dinner tonight. Nothing super special; if you could help me with the bread bit, I could make pizza. There are tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella in the bags."

Sarah smiled at him and said, "I'd love to help. By the way, my new job starts tomorrow. I felt so guilty sitting around that I applied at a booksellers', and I'll be stocking and filling online orders."

Harry smiled back at her. "I'm glad," he said honestly. "You were meant for so much more than just sitting around and fidgeting."

"So," Sarah replied, changing the subject again, "I've got my next scan in a few days. I'll be five months, so, we might know what the baby is now. Maybe? I don't know: I've never done this before, so I'm a bit nervous, actually."

"You'll be fine," Harry said. "It's me that's in trouble – we'll have to find a spot to set up a nursery…"

"Yeah, about that," Sarah said quietly, "Jane is angling to move us into a flat that she owns. I'm not sure if I should be elated or terrified of the strings that come attached to it."

"Be very afraid," Harry said gravely, firmly.

Sarah nodded and pursed her lips together. "Okay, so dough for pizza, then," she said. "Let's get to work so it's proofing when Jan and Portia get back."

The kitchen was a flurry of activity, taking Harry's mind off of his concerns, until Ruth and Portia got home. "What are you making?" Portia asked excitedly.

"I thought we'd have pizza tonight," Harry said, "so that's the dough just there…" He smiled at his daughter and reached over to ruffle her hair affectionately. "Do you want to help me put the pies together when it's time, love?"

"Can I?" Portia asked eagerly.

"I'd love it if you did," he said honestly. "Did you wear your mum out?"

"I didn't try to," Portia replied sweetly. "Did I, mom?"

"No, love, you didn't wear me out," Ruth promised. "Now, why don't you run upstairs and make sure all of your clothes and things are ready for in the morning?"

"Okay," Portia agreed. "Mom? Will they make fun of me because I'm from America?"

"No," Harry interjected. "They'll make fun of you because you're small and kind. And your response should be to not listen to them at all."

Portia sighed. "But it's hard to ignore people who are mean to you," she said, whining a little.

"Yes," Ruth agreed, "but eventually, that will pass." She hugged her daughter around the shoulders, and Harry smiled at them both. "Your dad and I love you very much," she murmured, "and you should always, always remember that."

Portia smiled and hugged her mother tightly. "I will," she promised. "I'm going to go get my stuff ready – but I'll be back down soon to help dad!" She bounced off.

Sarah chuckled. "I wish I had her energy," she said, finishing off her cup of decaf.

"I think we all do," Ruth admitted.

"I'm going to go take a nap," Sarah said. "Little one has me pretty tired today." She headed out of the room, leaving Harry and Ruth alone.

"Hi," Harry said with a small smile, opening his arms and drawing Ruth into them. "I love you," he said softly. "How did your doctor's visit go?"

She sighed and snuggled up closer. "It was my quarterly check. Bloods taken, a quick scan of my lower abdomen, and I was on my way."

"They didn't see anything on the scan?"

"Not right off, no," she murmured, sighing. "I just got worked up earlier and I think I snapped at Sarah because I was worried and anxious… I should apologize."

"It'll be okay," Harry promised softly. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head; this was love, this was safety, this was everything good about the world… right here in his arms. It didn't matter that it had taken them so long to get to this point; all that mattered was that they were here. And that here they would stay.

She inhaled deeply and kissed his collarbone before pulling away. "So, you're making pizza for dinner?" Ruth asked. "I didn't know you knew how…"

"The first year I was retired, I took some classes," he replied, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. He'd had to fill his time somehow, and he and Graham still hadn't really been on good terms at the time. Cooking meals for his son, his son's girlfriend, and himself had given Harry a chance to express how much he cared without saying a word. "It's been a while since I've made pizza dough, but it looks like it's rising well."

She smiled then. "You know I go back to work in a few days, right?"

"Yes, and when you do, I'm sure I'll be fine puttering around the house by myself with Duchess," Harry replied. "Speaking of…"

"She's upstairs with Portia," Ruth said dismissively. "That's what we went back out for," she said, teasing him. "We almost left her at the kennel. Poor baby was absolutely overjoyed to see Portia."

"She probably thinks I don't care about her anymore," Harry said with a little pout. "Poor girl."

Ruth gave him a quick kiss. "She knows you care," she said, "but she thinks Portia is her girl."

And, as if on cue, Duchess trotted into the kitchen, wuffling as she came up to them. The little dog stood up on her hind legs and pawed at Harry's leg, her tail wagging. "Oh, hello, girl," Harry said, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. "Who's my good girl, then?"

"Why don't you go take her for a walk?" Ruth suggested gently. "I can slice the tomatoes and the cheese so everything's ready when you get back."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Oh, get on with you before she makes a puddle on the floor," she scolded, smiling.

It was early evening, that odd time between sundown and twilight when everything seemed surreal. Harry and Duchess walked to the park, where the dog ran after anything that moved, and then came back to him with a stick in her mouth. He smiled and played tug-of-war with her for a couple of minutes before he acknowledged the woman who had joined him on the bench.

"Miss Watts, it's generally not on to make contact on a day ending in 'y'," he said with some annoyance in his tone.

"The DG wanted me to confirm that you're not dead yet," Erin Watts said. "He needs you to come back for an operation."

"Bugger Dolby," Harry hissed. "I just survived a heart attack that could quite probably have killed me and he wants me to bloody re-enlist? Tell him to go have a wank at a chainsaw: not interested."

"Harry – it has to do with –"

"I don't care. I'm retired. My health and the health of my family comes first." He was beginning to get angry. "I spent decades running myself into the ground; I cannot, will not, do it again."

"You would spearhead the operation –"

"What part about no is unclear, Erin?" Harry snapped, finally turning to stare daggers of fury at her.

"We need your knowledge," Erin said very quietly. "Aiden Montgomery was released from prison three days ago on a technicality. He's in the wind; you know as well as I do that he'll come after you and your family soon as he can. He just needs an in and an excuse."

Harry felt very clammy and nauseated all of a sudden. "He has an in," he muttered. "Sarah Montgomery – Graham's fiancée – is his baby sister."

"Has he tried to contact her?"

"Not that I know of – she wanted out of all of that," he said, shaking his head. "She took Graham out of that world of drugs, prostitution, and murder for hire… she wouldn't put herself in danger by seeking out contact with Aiden. Not now. Not after all of this."

"Blood is thicker than water," Erin pointed out.

"Yes," Harry exhaled, "but she's carrying my blood. And she will protect her child at all costs, Erin."

"With your approval, I'd like to put together a protection unit –"

"You have my bloody approval," Harry snapped. "And tell Dolby that if Section D can't bloody unravel this on their own without me at the helm, there will be hell to pay. If any member of my family is harmed before Aiden Montgomery is re-apprehended, there is nothing and no one on this planet that will be able to protect him."

There was silence. By the time he looked to his right again, she was long gone, disappeared into the shadows.

Duchess laid the stick at his feet and barked.

Harry didn't feel much like playing anymore.

END PART TWENTY-FOUR