A/N: Probably a couple more chapters to go after this one, unless I include an epilogue too. This chapter's set after 3.02. Hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You make my day! Cheers, S.C.
Friday, 30th April 2004 – Ruth's Place
He fingers the keys in his pocket, hesitating momentarily before he removes his hand and rings the doorbell instead. He swallows nervously and adjusts his tie, waiting for her to answer the door. He's been such an idiot. He can't believe how much of an idiot he's been, in fact, and as he hears her unlock the door, he can't help lifting his eyes up and silently praying that this will go well and she'll forgive him. He doesn't think he'll survive losing her – not now, not when things have been going so well.
She smiles softly at him as she opens the door, which does wonders to calm his racing heart and the butterflies in his stomach, but the warmth he's accustomed to seeing in her gaze is dimmed, and he can't help berating and kicking himself again. "Hi," she says softly, pulling the door open. "Forgot your key?"
"No, I..." He hesitates, clearing his throat nervously before he continues. "I wasn't sure... I didn't want to intrude." He brings his left hand forward, holding out the bouquet of roses and lilies he's been hiding behind his back. "For you. Happy belated birthday, Ruth. I'm so sorry."
She gives him a crooked smile and takes the flowers, tilting her head forward to sniff them, perhaps in an attempt to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she says and steps back. "Come in, Harry."
He walks into her home and slips his coat off as she closes the door behind him. So far so good, but he daren't hope he is forgiven yet. There is still much to make up for.
"Glass of wine?" she offers, stepping past him down the hall to the kitchen. "Or some food? Are you hungry?"
"I'm fine," he replies, but his stomach betrays him, letting out a ravenous growl of protest that makes her smile briefly.
"I'll take that as a yes, then." And she leaves him no choice but to follow her through to the kitchen.
She immediately sets about washing her hands and pulling another glass out of the cupboard, leaving him to fill it from the practically empty bottle on the table, that's standing next to another glass that's half-full – presumably hers. He fills his glass with what remains in the bottle before picking up the other one and crossing the kitchen to her, holding it out for her to take, saying, "I'm fine, Ruth. Really. Don't trouble yourself. I didn't come here so you could feed me."
She's already heating some soup for him in a saucepan, so it's a bit of a pointless gesture on his part to try to stop her. She's always feeding him, always taking care of him, and he'd wanted so much to reverse their roles tonight and make up for the disaster that was yesterday.
She accepts the glass he hands her and lifts her eyes to his, taking a sip before replying, "Is it sex you're after then?"
He drops his gaze in surprise and hurt, caught between guilt, anger, and shame at such an accusation. "No," he murmurs, squashing down his indignation and lifting beseeching eyes to hers.
She gives him a dubious look. "Are you sure? You seem to be trying to get me drunk. You must realise I've already consumed more than half that bottle."
He winces and drops his gaze again, trying to find the best way forward. She's clearly upset – as he'd expected – despite the brave face she's trying to put on. He's hurt her and that's something he never wanted to do.
"I don't need to get you drunk to seduce you, Ruth," he says, trying to lighten the mood with some humour.
It backfires quite spectacularly.
Her eyes flash as she straightens her spine and sets her glass down with a loud thunk, tilting her head to look down her nose at him. "Oh, you're so full of yourself, Harry Pearce. There isn't a woman alive who can resist you, is there?"
"No." He hastily puts his glass down next to hers and reaches for her hands, but she pulls them away. "It was a joke, Ruth. I didn't mean-"
"A joke?!" she seethes. "I waited for you for hours last night, Harry, and when I grew worried and tried to reach you, you didn't bloody answer your phone! And now you think..." She chokes on the last word, lifting a trembling hand to her mouth, but when he reaches for her, she steps back, eyes flashing at him despite the silver tear that rolls down her cheek. "I can't do this now. Eat your soup. Drink your wine, Harry, and go home." And with that, she spins on her heel and swiftly leaves the room.
He tries to stop her, but despite her shorter strides, he can't seem to catch her, her agility proving a distinct advantage as she negotiates the furniture and stairs with practised ease and locks herself in her bedroom.
"Ruth, please," he entreats her, forehead and palms pressed again her door.
"Go away, Harry," is her firm reply.
"I'm not leaving, Ruth. Not until you hear me out. Not until you let me make it up to you," he growls determinedly to no avail. Her only response is a stony silence.
He stands there for an indeterminable length of time, heart aching for her, ears straining to hear anything, emotions in turmoil. He only has himself to blame, of course. Her reaction is a perfectly reasonable one given the circumstances, and eventually, he simply sighs and turns away, going back downstairs to the kitchen where he switches off the ring and eats. He's a master at forcing himself to eat even when he doesn't feel like it. He hasn't eaten since eleven when he had a pastry with his coffee on his way to the Home Office and he knows that his body needs the sustenance.
Then he cleans up the kitchen and locks up the house, opening and closing the front door for good measure, not above a little deception if it means Ruth comes out of her room again so he can face her and explain. He thinks about getting in his car and driving away to complete the deception, but he's accustomed to parking a few blocks away from here – to give himself the opportunity to slip any tails he might have missed – and he knows Ruth's bedroom doesn't face the street, so he deems that unnecessary. He merely takes his coat away, stealthily going back into the living room, taking up a position in the corner in the dark, with his glass of wine in his hand and a throw over his shoulders, waiting for his chance.
It doesn't take more than half an hour before he hears her door creak open.
He tenses, soundlessly setting aside his glass and pulling off the throw before he eases himself out of the armchair and reaches for the cushions on the floor beside him. Quickly, he arranges them on the chair and covers them with his coat and the throw, then silently crosses over to the door, wedging himself behind it and waiting while he listens to her creep down the stairs, his many years of training coming to his rescue as he manages all this without a sound, keeping himself focused and centred and his breathing calm and quiet.
He feels the air shift as she steps into the doorway, hears her breath hitch when she spies what she thinks is him, sleeping in her armchair. He waits with bated breath, unsure of her emotions at the sight of him, willing her to cross the room so he can spring his trap, adrenalin coursing through him.
"Oh Harry," she sighs softly, and there's such warmth and love in her voice that he begins to panic that he's made the wrong decision. Would it have been better to have stayed in the chair and pretend to be sleeping?
Too late now, for she's crossing the room as he'd hoped she would and it's time to spring the trap. Slowly he pushes the door closed as she reaches the armchair, the hinges working smoothly and soundlessly until the moment when she reaches out to touch what she thinks is him, and discovers his deception. Then several things happen at once: she gasps in surprise and, he thinks, a little fear, the door creaks and closes with a click, making her spin round wide-eyed to face him, and he says softly, "Looking for me, Ruth?"
Even in the darkness, he can see her gaze harden, can see the adrenalin rush transform into anger.
"You bastard!" she says, and despite the stab of fear that he's made yet another mistake in the way he's handled this, he can't help the way his heart leaps to hear her say that, or the way a small smile spreads across his lips.
"Isn't this where we came in?" he murmurs.
She just glares at him, watching like a cornered animal as he advances slowly towards her.
"I'm sorry," he adds softly, imploring her with his eyes.
"For what?" she demands accusingly.
He sighs, stopping a few feet in front of her. "Everything," he says in defeat.
"How convenient." She glares at him, hands balled into fists, utterly unmoved by him.
"Ruth..." He sighs again. "I'm terrible at this."
She lifts her eyebrows. "This? What precisely?"
"Getting things right. Knowing what to do to fix things. Relationships in general."
"No kidding," she replies, crossing her arms, and her face is so stony that he can't help the panic that grips his heart.
"I'm so sorry, Ruth," he says, lifting his palms towards her. "I didn't forget. I promise you. I had planned..." He clears his throat. "I had planned to take you out. To dinner. To a place I know that I thought you'd like. I'd booked a table and, after dinner, I'd planned for us to walk a bit around Greenwich, sit on a bench together in the park, have a bit of whisky from my hip-flask, perhaps share a few kisses in the moonlight. The weather was mild and I thought you'd like that." He blinks and clears his throat, looking down for a moment to compose himself. "But then-"
"Tom happened," she finishes for him.
"Yes." His heart skips a beat at the change in the tone of her voice, flooding with hope. He takes half a step closer. "Please, Ruth," he implores. "I never meant to hurt you. It was so unexpected and I... I'm so sorry, Love. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Please, just give me another chance."
She sighs. "I'm beginning to hate Tom," she says, her eyes sparkling at him for a moment, lips giving him a lopsided, little smile.
He takes a step closer, then another and another until he's standing right before her, but once there, he hesitates, unsure if his embrace will be welcome.
"Hold me," she says simply and his arms are round her in a flash, drawing her against him, holding onto her with a fierce kind of desperation.
"I'll never let you go," he growls, tilting his head forward, leaning into her, pressing a kiss against her temple.
"That's a tad possessive," she mumbles into his chest, but her arms tighten their hold on him, so he's not worried.
"Damned right, it is. You're mine." He nuzzles her neck and she sighs and tilts her head back, making him rather glad he remembered to shave and giving him better access to her neck and her lips that he takes full advantage of for many wonderful moments.
When they eventually surface from the kiss, she nestles her head under his chin and sighs in satisfaction, allowing her anger and something of the pain she's been feeling to drain away. She understands that he didn't set out to hurt her on purpose and, if that's the case, how can she stay angry with him for long? How can she not forgive him? He's been quite wonderful to her most of the time, and their relationship has been going so well. It's inevitable that they'll inadvertently hurt each other at some point. It doesn't mean she doesn't love him still. It doesn't mean he doesn't love her either.
"It wasn't that I thought you'd forgotten, Harry," she murmurs after a bit. "I knew decommissioning Tom was difficult and painful for you. But I'd hoped you might... come to me, confide in me instead of going off on your own." She'd hoped, but she hadn't expected it really. Leopards don't change their spots – at least, not so quickly, so easily as all that. With time perhaps, as the trust continues to grow between them, maybe he will seek her out in such circumstances, but she knows his training and experience so far, perhaps even his very nature, have moulded him into a self-reliant loner. He doesn't open up easily, her Harry, and if she's honest, that's something they have in common.
He's silent for long moments before he eventually replies. "I'm sorry, Ruth," he says. "I needed... space to clear my head. And by the time, I was ready to come to you, it was late and then I suddenly remembered what day it was and..." He pauses and, as she leans back to look at him, she can't help smiling at the uncertain, slightly embarrassed look in his eyes. He was probably terrified of her reaction last night and couldn't bare to face it, she realises with a mixture of fondness, exasperation, and not a small amount of smug satisfaction.
"You thought I'd be angry and you couldn't face that on top of everything else," she finishes the explanation for him.
He smiles, looking rather sheepish. "Yes," he admits. "Forgive me?"
He looks so earnest, so sweet that she is very tempted to let him off the hook already. She tilts her head to the side, pursing her lips pensively, doing her best to hide the fondness in her heart.
"I'll make it up to you," he hastens to add.
Now we're talking!
"How?"
"A weekend away together, like we did for Christmas, only better. I have it all planned out. All you have to do is say yes and pack your overnight bag."
That stuns her. "We're leaving now?!"
"I was thinking in the morning," he explains. "I know you're rostered off for the weekend and I just need to make a quick call to Adam to let him know there's something I need to take care of and he's in charge while I'm gone. It's not too long a drive. Depending on when we set off, we'll be there by mid-morning or lunchtime, and I've already booked the B&B and everything." He pauses to look at her with beseeching eyes. "What do you say, Ruth? Let me make it up to you. Please."
She smiles. She can't help it. For someone as inept as he claims to be at relationships, he's doing alright really and, judging from her last experience of going on a mini-break with him, she knows he's planned this meticulously and that she's certain to enjoy it.
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise," he replies, beaming at her.
"Hmmm," she hums, leaning in and watching with satisfaction as his eyes darken and his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. "The thing is, Harry, I've had enough surprises for one birthday, all of them not very good ones, in fact, so... if you tell me where you're taking me, I might be persuaded to let you sleep in my bed tonight, rather than the sofa."
He frowns, his face almost comical as he processes this.
"You really wouldn't rather wait-"
She slips her arms over his shoulders. "And if you're quick about it, I might even shag you."
"East Sussex," he says immediately, making her chuckle.
"Brighton?"
"Not exactly."
She just presses a soft kiss against his lips and pulls back, lifting one eyebrow.
"Maresfield."
"What's in Maresfield?"
He hesitates, then takes a deep breath and explains. "It's near Ashdown Forest, where-"
"Christopher Robin played as a child. Oh Harry," she sighs happily, marvelling at how wonderful he truly is, how well he knows her. "I love you," she says, drawing him close, her lips finding his, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her flush against him, reciprocating gladly, hungrily, with a passion that leaves her breathless.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs and kisses her again, drawing her lower lip between his teeth. "Forgive me."
"Forgiven," she gasps, hands grasping his head and kissing him harder. "I want you naked in my bed, Harry. I want you to make love to me."
"Mmmm," he hums. "I love it when you proposition me, Ruth."
"And I love it when you fuck me."
He growls, kissing her hard once more before he pulls back, grasps her hand, and marches out the room and up the stairs with such urgency and determination, that she can't help laughing as he practically drags her along behind him.
"He nodded and went out, and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh – bump, bump, bump – going up the stairs behind him," she quotes with a delighted giggle.
He pauses and turns to her, his eyes full of such fondness and love that she cannot help the way her heart skips several beats and melts at the sight of him.
"I love you," he says and kisses her so sweetly that she realises that, in spite of everything, this is the best birthday she's ever had and that she's never been this happy. He's wonderful and he's hers and she loves him so much that she's fit to burst with it.