A/N: Okay, so after watching 2:10 and 3:01, I realised that Tom couldn't possibly have gone for a swim in winter and survived, so I've set this chapter sometime in the spring. Hope the timeline still makes sense. Thanks for all your kind words of encouragement. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this fic. Cheers, S.C.
Thursday, 1st April 2004 – London
"I suppose it's possible she didn't know what Tom was planning," Ruth says. He gives her a sceptical look. "I mean, he might have feared she'd not support the idea. Perhaps he was planning to secure the money, then convince her to leave with him without ever having to disclose where it came from."
"Perhaps," he agrees, without much conviction. He rather thinks Christine Dale's the reason and the mastermind behind all this.
"You believe she's lying?" Ruth presses, hastening to keep up with his larger strides.
"Right now, Ruth, I don't know what to believe."
They hurry down the steps and into the waiting car, where they sit side by side, each lost in thought.
"Do you think Tom would throw it all away like that though? For love?" she asks after a few moments of silence, sounding sceptical.
"I've seen it happen before," is all he offers.
"Really? Who?"
"Doesn't matter."
"But this is Tom, Harry!" she protests. "I just can't believe it of him any more than I would believe it of you. You wouldn't do something like this just to run away with someone. The Tom we know wouldn't either. There must be another explanation."
"Like what, Ruth?" he questions, turning to look at her. "We need to accept the facts before our eyes without judgement. We can't be second guessing ourselves at every turn. He'll use that, he'll use our doubts and loyalty against us."
"I know," she sighs.
They're silent after that for a few moments until she murmurs softly, "He gave me a second chance once. I'd just like to return the favour."
He wants to reach for her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, to show her that he understands, but he can't. As wonderful as their continued friends with benefits scheme is working for them, he knows that they cannot afford to go public with it. Others knowing will ruin everything and he's not ready to lose her.
"It's an admirable sentiment, but misplaced until we understand more. We need to find him and bring him in. Then we'll see if it's merited, yes?"
"Yes." She nods and turns to look out the window. She's remarkable – she really is – being able to set aside her emotions like this. Zoe and Danny hadn't been so easily convinced to let go of their loyalty and look at the facts before them, and they've both been with MI-5 and his Section in particular for much longer than Ruth has. It's invaluable – what she brings to the team and to him personally, of course – and he's not at all sure what he'd do without her. He hopes to never have to find out.
Seven months they've been seeing each other now, though they haven't acknowledged to each other that this is more than two friends enjoying sex together. He can't believe that she doesn't feel something for him too after so long together though. He can't believe that she doesn't suspect that he's fallen in love with her. Their encounters are more tender, more fun and loving now than they were at the beginning, and though still passionate and electric, there is a depth, a real connection when they come together, a feeling of intimacy, of trust and love. He can't be imagining that, can't be the only one who experiences it as he moves inside her. Yet still he hesitates and holds back from bringing it up in conversation, is still unsure about taking it to the next level. Acknowledging what they share, he fears, will destroy it, reaching for more would be tempting fate, and losing her now would hurt too much, might very well bring him to his knees or destroy him.
He yanks his thoughts back to the present and the situation with Tom, wondering what his next move might be. None of it makes much sense to him. His actions speak of a man who's become unhinged and he wonders if Tom's really losing the plot or if it's just a very elaborate double, triple bluff he's trying to pull. If he'd been planning to assassinate a high profile target and skip the country with his lover, he'd not have orchestrated it in this way at all. Then again, Tom's been acting odd for a while now. Maybe he has become somewhat unhinged, in addition to the clear disillusionment he feels for the job and the Service. He sighs, rubbing his temples with thumb and fingers.
"We'll find him," she says softly and, when he turns to look, he finds her watching him, her gaze warm and tender.
He desperately wants to kiss her, gather her in his arms, draw comfort and strength from her, lose himself in their passion and lust. They haven't talked much about their pasts, haven't shared that much information with each other, both of them content with just a few snippets here and there, and yet, somehow, he feels closer to her than anyone else, feels like he knows her in and out, intimately, like she understands, appreciates, and loves him. Does she really, or is that just wishful thinking on his part?
Perhaps he's still just a place holder in her bed, perhaps she's still waiting for another man to come along and sweep her off her feet, perhaps she still believes that he's not looking for love or commitment, that he will never want more, could never love her, and that what they have must end, sooner or later. Perhaps – though she feels his love – she daren't allow herself to trust it, to believe that he could fall for her when his behaviour and everything he'd said to her at the beginning had made it crystal clear that he doesn't want commitment or love, that it was all just lust and sex and physical pleasure. Perhaps she could love him fully if he just admitted his own feelings, gave her reason to hope that there could be more between them, but the truth is that he will simply never be sure either way unless he asks her, will never know for certain how she feels until he plucks up the courage to offer her more.
Somehow she'd known something bad would happen, had watched him leave the Grid with a growing sense of unease, had feared, deep down, that she might never see him again, and in that moment, she'd realised just how very much he has come to mean to her, that for better or worse, she's well and truly in love with him now.
He's alive, she tells herself, that's what's important, and he wouldn't want her to fall to pieces like this. She needs to stop crying and get a grip, help Danny and Zoe and Malcolm and the rest to solve this, deal with the aftermath, hold the fort until Harry's recovered. Losing both Tom and Harry – their two leaders – in one fell swoop, is not at all good for the Section.
Tom, oh Tom. How could you do this?!
There is truly no limit to the insanity, the unpredictability of human behaviour.
She manages to get her emotions under control again and work together with Sam and Malcolm to manage the situation from the Grid until Danny and Zoe can get back, taking on more of a leadership role than ever before because there's simply no one else willing to do it. They all seem to be looking to her for guidance and she finds herself surprisingly able to take that on and rise to the occasion. But then Special Branch descends on them and attempts to take over, and she knows she cannot fight them alone. So she makes the call to Zoe and Danny, urging them to come in quickly, but when Oliver Mace makes his appearance, she realises all is lost.
Tell Harry.
That's what Zoe had said, and she knows that it's what she must do, part of her fearing what she'll find when she gets to the hospital, the rest of her thrilled to be given an opportunity to see him and make sure that he's really alright. All Danny had said is that he was shot in the left shoulder, but that it looked like he would pull through.
He looks so vulnerable, lying in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown, what she can see of his face looking drawn and in pain. Poor love. She wants to set everything else aside and just take care of him, but she knows that they have bigger problems to solve than Harry's wounds and obvious discomfort and Harry would be the first to tell her that.
She tries the door only to find it locked and to have a goon from Special Branch deny her entrance. The cheek! They wouldn't be able to turn her away if Harry was her partner, if they had moved as far as listing each other as their next of kin, she finds herself fuming as she walks away, and that's where the idea comes from to bribe and sway the nurse with a soppy love story.
It's true enough, the part about being in love with him, but it's not enough to sway the nurse until she closes the deal with a lie about having his child, in addition to the fifty pound note she hands over to get her message to Harry – "JIC closing Grid". In reality, she's pretty confident it wouldn't happen. She's been extra careful not to fall pregnant over the past few months, knowing that that's the last thing either of them need, given the nature of their work and their unusual relationship. Besides, children are not something she sees in her future – they never have been – and certainly not in her future with Harry. The responsibility, the reality of a child would destroy them, she's sure – rather than bringing them closer together – plus, she believes with all her heart that children should be wanted and loved before they're brought into this world, that none of them should be a mere accident. No, if something like that were to happen, she'd probably just take care of it and not even bother telling him about it. What would be the point if she wasn't going to keep it anyway?
A serious relationship though, she finds herself wondering as she moves through London trying to shake her tail, is that something she wants with Harry? Is that where this is going in her mind? Up until now, she's avoided thinking about it, has simply drifted along aimlessly, content with what they share, however frequently they share it, deliberately avoiding probing her heart and mind too deeply, convinced that more is not possible anyway, so why worry about it? But since Danny had told her that Harry had been shot, her emotions, her thoughts have been all over the place and she can't seem to stop herself from reassessing everything – what they have, what she wants, where they're going with this.
What they have is precious to her, yet it's not at all like what she's pictured her future to be over the years. She's been picturing someone from outside the Service, someone who can infuse her life with a good dose of normality and stability and grounding, a link to the outside world, a counterpoint to the stress and paranoia of spying. Harry cannot give her any of these things, but he can give her understanding, support, guidance, loyalty, passion, and perhaps even love. The reason they'd first come together had been EERIE, the same reason, she suspects, Tom's relationship with Dr Totally-Bananas had finally fallen apart. Harry had understood her, in that moment, in a way that an outsider never could.
Could a relationship with someone outside the service even work long term? Zoe doesn't believe so. Neither does Sam. And the more she thinks about it, the more she finds herself agreeing with them. If she wasn't a spook, would she understand Harry? Would she put up with and forgive the secrecy, the uncertainty of plans made, the last minute cancellations, the long, unpredictable working hours, his shifting moods and his drinking? She rather thinks not. In fact, if she didn't know what he deals with everyday and how brilliantly he handles it, she would not respect him as she does, would not value him and admire him, and ultimately, would not have fallen in love with him in the first place.
And so it is that the sight of him walking onto the Grid fills her heart with joy and with love and with a desperate desire to run to him, kiss his soft lips, take his hand in hers and lead him home, where he can rest and she can take good care of him. But of course, she can do none of these things, and try as she might, she can't seem to shake her resentment and frustration over it. At least she can comfort herself with the knowledge that she was the first person his eyes sought out when he stepped through the pods, looking pained and exhausted, yet determined and, after he'd caught her eye, calmer and more focused too. Perhaps, like her, he's hoping to fix this quickly so he can go home with her and let her take care of him while he rests and recovers.
She manages to stay away from him until Adam asks him, "What about you, Harry? Would you have shot you if you were in Tom's position?"
She can tell Adam's teasing and clearly he knows Harry well enough to get away with it, especially when he's feeling so rotten, but it pierces her heart to see the dejection and exhaustion clearly writ on Harry's face, and the moment Adam tells them to take a break, she's out of the room like a shot, quickly making her way to the kitchen where she boils water for tea and pours it into a mug, intent on carrying it through to Harry's office.
"I'll just take this to Harry," she tells those who've followed her into the kitchen.
"Here," Danny says, sliding a BLT sandwich packet over to her. "Give him this too, would you, and tell him it's from me?"
She smiles. "If you're trying to make amends, Danny, I imagine some chocolate would work best."
"Good point," he replies and dashes out of the room. "I've got a Lion bar and a Yorkie," he says somewhat breathlessly when he reappears, just as she's stepping out of the kitchen.
She gives him a sceptical look. "No chocolate biscuits?"
"These are all I've got."
"Well... they might work."
"Which one?"
"How should I know? He might not want either. He's clearly not feeling well."
Danny takes a moment to stare at each of the bars in his hands, his lips twisting with indecision, obviously reluctant to part with either.
"Don't worry about it, Danny. I'll give him the sandwich. I'm sure it's better for him anyway not to be having chocolate when he's not feeling good."
"Right. Yes," he agrees, looking relieved, then smiling brightly at her. "Thanks, Ruth." And with that, he rips open the Yorkie bar and wanders back into the kitchen, leaving her free to check on Harry.
He's sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, his head tilted back, eyes closed, his right arm cradling his left, forehead slightly damp with perspiration.
"Sweet tea," she murmurs, setting the mug in front of him, her eyes taking him in, her heart going out to him. "And Danny sent this sandwich for you. It's a BLT."
He smiles softly and opens his eyes, turning his head to look at her. "Thank you, Ruth."
"You don't look good, Harry," she says with concern, stepping closer and lifting her hand to his forehead. "You're burning up. You should be in bed."
He's closed his eyes again at her touch, a small hum of pleasure escaping his throat at the cool feel of her hand on his hot skin. "Good to know you still find me irresistible," he murmurs, "and can't wait to get me into bed."
She smiles, pleased that he's feeling well enough to joke and rather glad she thought to close the office door behind her. She wants to admonish him for saying such a thing at work, but she can't quite bring herself to do it when he's in this state. "At least lie down on the sofa," she suggests.
"If I lie down now, I fear I won't be able to get up again."
"I'd offer to help you up, but I don't think I'd be able to lift you."
He smiles and opens his eyes to look at her. "Are you saying I'm fat, Ruth?"
"Not so much," she reassures him, her heart expanding with relief to be having a conversation with him again. "I'm saying you're very large." He lifts his eyebrows and smirks, and she can't help being thrilled to see it. "Oh shut up," she complains, her lips twitching as she suppresses a smile.
"I didn't say a thing," he protests.
"You were thinking it very loudly."
He chuckles, then closes his eyes with a groan. "Must remember not to laugh."
"Oh Harry," she breathes, feeling tears spring to her eyes.
"I'm alright," he reassures her quickly.
"You're not alright, Harry. You're in pain, you've been shot, you're burning up, and you should be in bed, resting."
"Probably," he concedes, "but unfortunately, I'm stuck here and just have to make the best of it."
"So lie down then," she presses. "Adam looks strong enough to get you up again, if need be, and it'll do you good to rest, maybe have a bit of a kip. Did they give you any painkillers? Something that'll help lower your temperature?"
"In my coat pocket," he instructs, so she goes over to get it, quickly reading the label while he takes a few sips of his tea, then eases himself out of his chair and walks over to the most uncomfortable sofa in the world that some sadist dumped in his office.
"Have you had any since they discharged you?"
"No."
"Looks like you can have a couple now then," she says, unscrewing the childproof lid and removing two tablets that she hands him. "Do you need water?"
"No, I can manage without. Could you bring me my tea though?"
"Of course," she says, putting the bottle on his desk and retrieving his mug. "Did you want the sandwich too?"
"I'm not hungry," he replies, so she just carries the tea over to where he's now lying down on the sofa. She sets it down beside him, then turns to draw the blinds, to give him a little privacy and block out the lights from the rest of the grid that are shining on his face, before going back over to get his coat to cover him. "Don't the braces bother you, Harry?" she asks, frowning down at him. "They're right over your shoulder."
"Strangely, no," he murmurs, his gaze soft and open. "Why? Are you looking for excuses to undress me?"
"I'd slap you, but I might hit the wrong shoulder." She frowns at him, crouching down beside him and pulling his coat over him, tucking it under his chin. "You scared the hell out of me, Harry Pearce," she whispers softly. "Don't ever do that again."
"I won't," he promises, equally softly, his gaze warm and tender.
She wants to say more, so much more, but this is not the right place for such confessions. Already she's lingered close to him too long and the others might have noticed. At least they can't be seen through the windows of his office any more.
"Rest," she says softly, and impulsively leans in to brush a soft kiss against his forehead before she stands.
"Thank you," he murmurs, his eyes closed, his lips smiling softly.
And that's how she leaves him, switching off the light as she slips out of his office and pulling the door closed behind her.
"How's he doing?" Adam asks, almost making her jump.
"Not good," she replies, keeping her expression neutral. "He's got a temperature and he's in pain. He should be in hospital. I've managed to convince him to lie down for a bit. Hopefully some sleep will do him good. I'll have the duty doctor pay him a visit later."
Adam smiles. "I'm impressed, Ruth. There's not many people could convince him to do that."
"Yes, well, around here, I'm the only one old enough to play mother and get away with it," she replies, lifting her eyes in a long suffering way and making Adam chuckle. Then she turns away and goes back to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, thinking that, unless Adam overheard any of their conversation, she's managed to pull that off quite nicely, though she doubts she'll be so lucky a second time. She must stay away from Harry unless she wants everyone to know what's going on between them, and given that Oliver Mace is looking for excuses to dismantle the section and knowing his reputation, this would be a particularly stupid time to be found out for both of them.