Two:
Asunder

She wasn't able to avoid the cameras when they were pointed at her, taking an award from the Mayor and the Governor for being teacher of the year for the state. Ruth knew she would be all over the front page of the papers; that something terrible would happen.

What she hadn't expected was nothing had happened. Despite her hyper-vigilant state, nothing had happened. No Oliver Mace on her doorstep, no Harry tracking her down and insisting she come home. Nothing at all.

Four years, three months, twelve days.

That was when life changed forever.

She trudged into her classroom and got her cuppa brewed so she felt human before the kids came in for first period Greek Literature. Lucy Parsons, the headmistress slash principal as she was referred to by basically everyone, came to a stop in her doorway. "Sarah, we've got a gentleman coming today to scout us for his children. He's a Knight of the Realm and might be shipped over here with his job. I do hope you'll be very pleasant. He's asked specifically to see your classes, after seeing the articles about your Teacher of the Year honors."

Ruth rolled her eyes and sighed. "Lucy, I really don't have the time to hand-hold a politician today. We're preparing for debates against Westbrooke –"

"Yes, well, someone else can handle that," Lucy said with a small smile. "Dannette, maybe?"

"I ask too much of Dannette," Ruth said with another heavy sigh.

"Sarah, look, I know it's hard for you with Jamie – but maybe what you need is a night out with the girls."

Ruth smiled sadly. "No, Lucy. What I need – what I really need – is something I can never have again. I need my husband and my family. And since that's never going to happen… No. Lucy, I'm not going out to the bar to drink and hop into someone's bed. That's not who I am."

Lucy's smile waned. "You can't pine for a dead man for the rest of your life, Sarah."

Ruth set her cup of tea down and said, "I'm sorry you don't understand, Lucy."

This time it was Lucy's turn to sigh. "Well, think about it for me, will you? Just think about it. And please play nicely with Sir William – he's a widower and quite upset about the idea of uprooting his children after losing their mother. I think you can understand that."

This time, Ruth rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can," she said. "When will he be sitting in?"

"Fourth period, and then you're to take the rest of the day and show him around the school and the grounds, please," Lucy said.

"Regency to Early Victorian English Literature then," Ruth said. "Good choice. We're about to start Charlotte Bronte's Villette." She picked up her mug again, and said, "Lucy, I didn't mean to snap a few minutes ago. It's just… our anniversary is next week. It's quite hard for me right now."

Lucy frowned and said, "All the more reason for you to escape."

"I can't, Lucy," Ruth said very softly. She held up her hand, showing off her rings. "I made a promise to him, and I shan't – I won't – go back on it."

"You loved him very much –"

Ruth shook her head. "I love him," she corrected. "It's never in the past tense. I love him so much my heart and head just ache with it, and being apart from him… just feels like hell on earth. I'm so lucky to have Jamie; he makes it easier."

"Your son must take after his father," Lucy said.

Ruth nodded a little and smiled. "Yes," she said softly. "He does." At almost three years old, Jamie was still chubby and still very much looked like Harry – albeit with her birthright of dark hair. He was spry and actively curious, picking up languages and words like they meant nothing but more information. He already spoke fluent French along with English, and he'd been reading and speaking in complete sentences and paragraphs since he was very small. She was so proud of him, of what he could do. And it only hurt a little to know that he was Harry in miniature.

But whenever her son smiled and his dimples came out to play, the hurt went away.

"Okay," Ruth murmured. "So I'm escorting Sir William….?"

"Oh, sorry – Sir William Cecil."

"Sir William Cecil. Never heard of the blighter," Ruth replied cheerfully. "What kind of job are we talking about?"

"You know, he didn't actually say," Lucy said.

"Which means either finance or government," Ruth said. "If he's in finance, it will be a low-profile visit because he will have better things to do. If it has to do with the Embassy, Consulate, or government, it will be a high-profile coup for the school to take on his children."

"Right," Lucy agreed. "So will you please do your best to be charming and seduce the man into it?" Lucy all but begged.

"God, you make me feel like a prostitute," Ruth grumbled.

"I'll bring you a nice bottle of wine if you do it, love," Lucy promised. "And I'll baby-sit."

Ruth held back a small smile. "Make it white burgundy and you've got a deal," she promised.

"Absolutely," Lucy said, clapping her hands as the first bell rang through the building, signaling the girls' erupting from their breakfasts and emerging in the classrooms. There were only about a hundred, and only twenty or so who slept on campus. But it was still enough.

Lucy disappeared as the six girls came in for first period. Ruth couldn't say whether she was pleased or frustrated – or somewhere in the middle between the two.

"All right – so, we've had the conventional Pride and Prejudice study and then the poetry of Lord Byron, and now we're onto Charlotte Bronte," Ruth said, picking up a copy of Villette. The door to her classroom opened, but she didn't look up. If this Sir William Cecil wanted his daughters to attend Broadhurst Academy so badly, he was damn well going to see her teaching the students.

Jillian Morgan raised her hand; she was the fourteen year old daughter of one of the delegates of the UN. "Mrs. Walker, miss – why are we reading this instead of Jane Eyre?"

Ruth smiled at her. "Because everyone else reads Jane Eyre – have you read it?"

"Yes, miss."

"Then why should you read it again?"

Jillian stared at her, stumped for a moment, before she grinned and nodded her understanding.

Ruth said, "How many of you have already read Jane Eyre?" All eight hands went up immediately. "Well, Villette is quite similar in tone. You will be required to use your language skills in both English and French, so Miss Fontinblanc will be able to assist you with any questions you might have about the text in French. As will I, but she would appreciate you asking her instead. The story begins –"

By the time she had read the first chapter aloud and had asked a few questions of the students, the bell was ringing shrilly. She ignored her visitor completely, heading back to the kettle to make herself a cup of tea as her students disappeared. "Can I get you something – a tea? Instant coffee?"

The classroom door closed and latched with a click. There was a small, tense silence. She didn't look back at him, hadn't even been curious enough to look at him to begin with.

And then she heard, softer than she could imagine, a single word filled with emotion. "You."

"What?" she echoed, a bit startled.

"I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you are."

She dropped her mug, heard it shatter, felt the hot liquid splash across her shoes. But she didn't care; she was turning around to see if her mind was playing tricks on her. Her hand covered her mouth, smothering her gasp.

"Harry," she breathed, feeling like the world had stopped turning just for her. "Oh my god – you can't be here – why are you here?"

"To take you home," he said simply.

"No, it's not that simple," she said, shaking her head.

"Yes, it is," he said with a smile, taking a couple of hesitant steps toward her. "You've been cleared of all wrong-doing and your passport and identity have been reinstated…"

"No, Harry, it's not that simple," she repeated. She didn't elaborate – how could she? "What about my job? My friends here? I can't just walk away. I'm making a difference here."

"You would make a difference at home –"

Ruth shook her head and backed away from him till she was up against the wall. "It's been over four years," she said very quietly. "I'm not that person anymore, Harry. I'm Sarah Walker: I'm a teacher. I mold young minds into greatness. I'm not a spy anymore. I'm not anything but this. This, Harry."

He took one step, two steps, three, then four, toward her, his mere presence serving to weaken her defenses. By the time he pressed against her body, pinning her to the wall, she was almost weak with a longing she'd felt every day since leaving him. His mouth was hot against hers, his body taut with need as strong as hers. It was as if no time at all had passed between them, and yet, so long –

"Come home with me, Ruth," he whispered against her lips. "We need you so much."

"I can't," she breathed, knowing that this would be her undoing.

"Can't or won't?" he asked.

"I can't," she repeated, her voice cracking and breaking. "I can't, I can't, I can't –"

"My love," he whispered, wiping away her tears as they fell in torrents, "talk to me. I don't understand."

"I might have my identity restored, and I might have my passport, but I can't leave without Jamie," she sobbed brokenly. "Oh god, what am I going to do?"

He pulled away from her, stiffening, his mouth drawing into a taut line, his eyes unreadable. "Jamie," he repeated in a cold, emotionless tone. "I thought better of you, Ruth – I thought you'd keep your promise…"

She stopped crying and stared at him in shock. "What?"

"You can't leave without Jamie?" he repeated back to her. "He better be worth ending your marriage over –"

"NO!" she yelped, pushing past him and grabbing her phone off the desk. She flicked through her photos, finding one from the week before when Jamie had been so excited about the trip they'd made to the Zoo. He had posed with someone who had been dressed in a penguin costume, and he had the biggest smile on his face. "This is Jamie," she said quietly, handing the phone over to him. "James Henry Smith – he doesn't have a passport because it's a false identity. I was Miranda Smith when he was born, Harry. He's got a birth certificate, but not a passport. I won't leave without my son." The tears started afresh, and she whispered, "I can't leave without our son, Harry."

He looked up from the phone, his face slackening in shock. "Ruth –"

"I didn't know," she said very quietly. "Not till after it was all over and I was wandering. I couldn't – I wouldn't bring myself to tell you because it would put all of us in such grave danger. But now… now what are we going to do?"

He swallowed hard and said, "I'm owed several favors. Let me call them in. Our son will come home with us," he promised.

She exhaled and whispered, "I can't just up and leave –"

"I made your boss sign the Official Secrets Act," he said quietly. "I told her you've been on a long-term undercover mission for Five. And that it's time for you to be recalled. She's all right with it, I think."

"Did you tell her that you're Section Chief? Or that you're my husband?" she challenged.

Harry paused for a long moment, then said, "I told her as the DG. There have been a lot of changes, Ruth – a lot of shake-ups since you left."

She just stared at him. "If you're the DG, how are you here?" she asked, her voice high and tight. "You're meant to be in London, handling the world –"

"I had to bring you home," he said simply. "It's been too long in coming."

She inhaled, exhaled, felt dizzy and weak, but he caught her in his arms as she fell. "Oh god, Harry –"

"Shh," he whispered. "It's all right. It's all right."

"How did you find me?" she asked. "I suppose Malcolm saw me in the bloody paper –"

He sank with her to the floor, holding her close, cradling her as if she were the most precious piece of china he'd ever seen. "No, Tariq twigged it," he said softly. "Malcolm retired about a year ago, after…" Harry stopped and shook himself. "No, today must be a happy day," he said almost to himself. "We're together again – and I have a son. Tell me about my son," he requested in a thinly veiled order.

"I didn't know," she said very softly, "when I left. I thought for sure that the in vitro was going to fail with the amount of stress I was under, but… it took. I was so scared to do all of this on my own, on the run," Ruth admitted. "But I couldn't be anything but strong for our Jamie. He's such a good boy – so smart, so quiet, so loving, Harry." She smiled at him. "His bear's named Harry. He doesn't go anywhere without that bear. He says it's so he can talk to his daddy – I told him his daddy's name is Harry."

"Is he very sweet?" Harry asked. "He looks it –"

She held his hand, twining their fingers together. "He is our sweet, perfect little boy," Ruth whispered. "He's like Rose was when she was small."

Harry nodded and said, "We should make a move – the Ambassador is bringing your passport to the hotel in about an hour."

"Hotel?" she echoed. "I have an apartment I share –"

Harry brow furrowed. "Yes, but –"

"No, if we're doing this, we're going to my home," she said firmly. "So I can speak to the Ambassador about our son's need for a passport."

"All right," Harry said softly, reaching for his phone. "Give me the address and I will pass it on. But we have to stop at the hotel on the way – to pick up the girls."

She sat stock still. "You brought the girls?"

"I couldn't leave them behind, much the same way you can't leave Jamie," Harry said quietly. "The incident that forced Malcolm to retire… involved Ginny. She died, Ruth, horribly. Senselessly. Tragically. And I haven't been able to replace her. Malcolm cares for the girls now, but… his mother has been ill. So it's just been me. I couldn't leave them behind, you understand. So they're here. At the hotel. Waiting patiently for me to bring them a rather large gift."

"Am I?" Ruth asked very softly. "A very large gift, I mean?"

He gave her a gentle, feather-light kiss. "This will be all the Christmasses and birthdays all rolled together into one, my love," he whispered.

She leaned into him, and hoped that his words were truth.

END PART TWO