So here it is, the penultimate chapter. Just the epilogue left to go now. Thanks to all who've stuck with this story and I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Cheers, S.C.
Early next morning, Tuesday, 22nd November
It's just after three, she sees as she glances at the kitchen clock before picking up her mug and taking a seat at the kitchen table. Scarlet follows her over, sitting on her haunches and looking up at her with dancing eyes as she lifts her left paw and rests it against her leg, whining for attention.
"I'm sorry, Scarlet," she smiles, reaching down to pat her head. "It's late... or early, depending on how you look at it. It's not time to play."
She whines again and gets up, moving round her and disappearing under the table where she proceeds to push the chair beside hers out from under it before jumping onto it, looking pleased and rather proud of her trick. "Well, aren't you a resourceful creature," Ruth smiles, surprised by how clever she is. "Does Harry let you sit up at the table like this?" she asks suspiciously, remembering their meal earlier tonight when Scarlet had most definitely not been allowed at the table. Scarlet just thumps her tail against the back of the chair in reply, however, and lies down, inching towards her, carefully manoeuvring herself so she can rest her head on her lap without falling through the gap between the two chairs as Ruth sighs, "Yeah, I bet he does."
She strokes the dog for a few moments in silence, grateful for her company that's working wonders in chasing away the unpleasant memories and emotions from the nightmare she's had tonight, the reasons she's down here with a mug of tea at three in the morning. She'd been dreaming about Harry drowning again and had woken in distress, her breathing shallow, her heart racing, her cheeks damp with tears, her borrowed t-shirt soaked with sweat, but thankfully she hadn't woken him. She'd watched his chest rise and fall while he slept peacefully beside her for a long time, the sight and sound of his breathing soothing her until she'd felt much calmer again. Then she'd got up to pee and decided on a quick shower in the hope of relaxing enough to fall asleep again. It's something she struggles with everyday, the going back to sleep part, and a shower usually helps with that. Tonight, however, though it had helped her relax, it had also made her feel wide awake, so she'd sought out a cup of tea rather than going back to bed, leaving Harry still sleeping upstairs and finding Scarlet here to keep her company.
"He's such a softy," she confides in the dog. "He spoils his girls something silly, doesn't he?" Scarlet, thumps her tail against the chair again and lifts her head, gazing up at her adoringly. She smiles and scratches her behind the ears before taking a sip of her drink, thinking back on last night, remembering how Harry had ushered her into the bathroom upstairs, filling the tub for her and adding a generous dollop of lavender-scented bubble-bath before insisting that she have a good, relaxing soak while he goes back downstairs to cook for them. She remembers lying in the tub, contemplating how truly thoughtful, caring and considerate a person he is, something she never realised he was capable of being until recently. In fact, she'd spent some time worrying that he was only behaving in this way because of what had happened to her, what that man had almost done, right in front of his eyes, and that his protective instincts are working in overdrive for that reason alone. But luckily before she could get really worked up about that, she'd also recalled that he'd already shown her how thoughtful he can be before any of that had happened, getting her that album for her birthday, bringing her cups of tea on the Grid late at night, or sending her home when she'd had a bad case of the flu last winter and ringing her to make sure she was all right. Clearly it's something he's always been capable of, she'd realised with relief. Yet she can't help thinking now that her recent behaviour must be responsible at least in part for how hard he's been trying, how much thought and effort he's been putting into his courtship, and though she hadn't done it deliberately and is sorry for the pain she's caused him, she can't help feeling pleased with the results. She's never known another man willing or capable of it before, at least, not one that isn't fictional, not one who'd do it for her.
Her mind skips back to the moment when he'd returned, still wearing his work clothes minus his tie and jacket and with his shirt sleeves rolled up, looking gorgeous and carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She smiles as she replays the events that followed in her mind...
"Champagne?!" she murmurs in surprise, pushing herself up until her shoulders are out of the water. "What's the occasion?"
He smiles as he puts the glasses down by the sink and begins to peel away the foil from the top of the bottle, but he doesn't explain until he's expertly opened and poured the champagne and handed her a glass, his fingers brushing hers deliciously. He picks up his own glass and takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub, looking down at her with adoring eyes as he murmurs softly, "To us, my Ruth. May we have many, many years together, filled with love and countless moments of true joy and happiness."
She smiles, blinking back tears as the emotions threaten to overwhelm her and clearing her throat to whisper, "To us, Harry." She takes a sip, her eyes still on his as she watches him do the same, feeling her heart overflow with love for him. He really is lovely, she thinks, and it's amazing to her that she's the only one who can appreciate how wonderful he truly is, the only one he trusts to share this tender, gentle side of himself with. "I love you," she says, lifting her free hand to stroke the back of his hand as it rests on his right thigh and squeezing his fingers with her own when he takes her hand in his.
"I love you too," he smiles.
They gaze at each other for long moments before she asks again, "So... you didn't tell me, what's the occasion?"
"Well," he replies, "I suppose there are several. There's the fact that we're now... officially together," he smiles warmly at her here, "and not just the subjects of office gossip and speculation." He pauses and drops his gaze to their joined hands before adding softly, "It's also exactly one month since we... came together that first time," and she can't help smiling and squeezing his hand, overcome by how adorable and sweet he is, but before she can say anything, he's moved swiftly on, saying quickly, "And also the fact that I've managed to finally get you into my bathtub after months of imagining you here and weeks of trying."
He lifts his eyes to hers and grins at her wickedly, making her laugh and then complain, "But you're not in here with me yet, Harry, and you promised the bath would be for both of us."
"Patience," he murmurs, giving her his best smoulder. "All in good time, my Ruth."
"Well seeing as you've been in the kitchen cooking," she replies playfully, "I'll let it slide this time." Then she drops her gaze to their joined hands and confesses softly, "You know, I've never had a man cook for me before."
He smiles, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb before releasing it and lifting his hand up to cup her face. "Then that's another thing worth celebrating," he murmurs huskily as she looks into his eyes. He puts down his glass and bends forward slowly, lifting her face towards his as she pushes herself up in the bathtub, following his gentle guidance until their lips meet in a tender kiss. She hums in appreciation as his soft lips gently massage hers, over and over again, while his fingers caress her skin, stroking her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her collar bone as they glide down her body, making her moan in pleasure as they move lower, cupping her left breast, squeezing it gently, his thumb circling her nipple and then pinching it playfully, sending bolts of desire through her and making her shiver in pleasure.
She sits up in the bathtub, blindly putting her champagne flute down on the edge of the bath to free her hands and slipping them into his hair, pulling him down towards her, their lips still fused together. He groans into her mouth, his hand squeezing harder before it slips down into the water along her body and nestles itself between her legs. She releases his lips then, moaning his name as he finds her heat and brushes his fingertips against the tight bundle of nerves there, and it's only his sudden exclamation of surprise when she pulls him further towards her that breaks through the haze that's clouding her mind and she realises how precariously he is balanced.
He's thrown his left arm out and extended both legs, balancing with his right hip on the edge of the bath and his right hand palm down in the water between her legs. "Ruth," he gasps, "wait! Let me take my clothes off before you pull me in."
She smiles mischievously when she realises how perilous is his position, curling her fingers into the collar of his shirt so he feels it tighten around this throat as she replies, "And if I can't wait? What then?"
His eyes dart to hers and she watches with great satisfaction as they widen in surprise or fear – she's not sure which, perhaps a bit of both – before he narrows his eyes at her and growls, "Then I suggest you release me immediately because, if you pull me in, Ruth, I'll make sure you have to wait for a very, very long time."
She tilts her head at him slightly and pouts before she moves her hands to his shoulders and pushes him up, helping him regain his seat on the edge of the bathtub. Then she reaches for her glass, lying back in the tub and taking a sip of her drink before she complains, "You're no fun at all, Harry."
She watches him drain his glass and place it by the sink before he uses his left hand to squeeze the water out of his right sleeve which ended up submerged in the bath a moment ago. Then he lifts his eyes to hers, murmuring, "If you believe that, Ruth, then I'm going to have to work hard tonight to prove otherwise," and she can't help the way her heart skips several beats at his words. He stands up then and begins to unbutton his shirt, his eyes on her face as she watches, her heart beating fast, her mouth suddenly dry. He's wearing a vest, she sees with disappointment as he begins to pull his shirt off, but it doesn't last long as his shoulders are revealed, followed by his strong arms. He's so large and broad, so male and so sexy, she thinks as he tosses the shirt aside, his eyes still on her face, his gaze scorching in its intensity. He pulls off his watch next, setting it next to his glass, followed by his belt and then his trousers, slippers and socks, revealing strong, muscular thighs and wide sexy feet. "Enjoying the show, Ruth?" he murmurs huskily as her eyes rake over him appreciatively, lingering on the impressive bulge in his trunks.
"Mmmm," she hums, lifting her gaze to his. "Very much. You're gorgeous, Harry, and sexy as hell."
He smiles and lifts his vest over his head, his arms stretching up as his upper body is slowly revealed, his soft belly and broad chest, the light dusting of hair on his chest and down the middle of his stomach, the broadness of his shoulders and the thick tufts on hair decorating his armpits. Scrumptious, she thinks as her insides spasm in need and her fingers move between her legs of their own accord. His vest discarded, he moves closer, stopping by the bath's edge and smiling down at her with a knowing look in his eyes as her gaze drops to his manhood, still cloaked by his underwear, and she begins to pant a little in anticipation.
"Would you like to do the honours?" he asks in a low rumble, taking a step closer still so that his knees are resting against the side of the bathtub.
She doesn't hesitate before sitting up and reaching for the waistband of his trunks, confessing softly, "I was so disappointed last time when I realised you were still wearing your trunks in the bath." Then without waiting for a reply, she quickly pulls his underwear down to his knees, reaching a hand up to touch his erection, something she's not really had a chance to do as much as she'd like to so far. This time is no different, however, as he steps back, kicking his trunks off and stepping over her and into the bath, submerging his body in the warm water beside her and pressing his lips to hers in a fierce, passionate kiss.
"I wanted to touch you so much," he murmurs between kisses as his left hand roams over her body, pulling her against him. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you, Ruth. Everyday, every hour, sitting in meetings, watching you across the Grid, I've wanted you. I've yearned for you, Ruth. All of you. So beautiful... so passionate... so brilliant... so perfect."
"Harry," she gasps, her body on fire as his hands and lips go to work on her, his words inflaming her desire, her whole being wanting, needing him. His fingers slip inside her as he sucks on her skin, his thumb brushing her clit, his other hand behind her back, lifting her out of the water so his lips can close around one nipple and then the other, moving lower and leaving a trail of fire behind them. She's so close to the edge now, panting and moaning in need, her hands pulling him towards her, desperate for release. "Harry, I need you," she whispers, begging him to give her what she wants, to press himself inside her and fill her aching need.
"My Ruth," he whispers and slips his right hand under her bum, lifting her up and plunging his face in the water and between her legs, his mouth closing around her clit, sucking hard, his tongue kneading her expertly as his fingers move inside her and she comes, gasping and arching her back, her movements nearly plunging her own head underwater too. She flings her arms out to stop herself from going under, lifting her head out of the water as the aftershocks of her orgasm continue to ripple through her, his fingers still stroking her intimately.
She smiles and blushes now, taking another sip of her tea as she remembers all this and so much more, the rest of their lustful love making that had nearly flooded the bathroom, the laughter, mischief, and silliness that had followed while they'd mopped up the mess, the quiet, intimate atmosphere of their meal, his sparkling eyes as she'd playfully fed him a forkful of everything on her plate, just in case, except for the dessert – a crumble with custard – that she'd joked must be superb seeing as she's sure he makes it often given how sweet a tooth he has, his delighted bark of laughter at that followed by his gorgeous pout in mock offence that she'd felt impelled to sooth with a kiss and which had swiftly resulted in them making out at the table when he'd unexpectedly pulled her into his lap and delved deeply into her mouth, her playful accusation that he was trying to steal her dessert with that kiss, followed by him pinning her arms to her sides with one arm as he'd trapped her against his chest and proceeded to steal the rest of the crumble from her bowl while she'd struggled to break free and, when that had failed, to intercept the next spoonful he stole with her mouth. She chuckles at the memory of their laughter as they'd fought over the crumble, creating yet another mess that they'd had to clean up, though Scarlet had been more than delighted to help out with that as she'd scooped up every piece that hit the floor with lightning speed. His eyes had been alight with love and merriment when eventually they'd settled down, gazing at each other tenderly and gently wiping away the smears of custard still stuck to each other's faces. "I love you, Ruth," he'd murmured huskily as he'd pulled back from sucking the last smear off her chin, "and you make me so happy," the honesty in his gaze causing his words to touch her deeper than ever before.
She drains her mug and lifts her fingers to her lips, smiling softly as she thinks back on all this and suddenly misses him almost painfully. Time to go back to bed, she thinks, feeling certain she'll be able to fall asleep again now with the warmth of these recollections soothing her heart and soul. She gets up and moves to the sink, rinsing her mug as behind her Scarlet jumps down and pads over to her, sitting beside her and watching her intently. "Time for bed now, Scarlet," she says, smiling down at the dog. "Go to your basket." Scarlet ignores that and instead follows her over to the table, waiting while she pushes the chairs in and then following her to the door. When she attempts to close her in the kitchen, however, she whines pitifully, looking up at her with pleading eyes that tug at her heartstrings. "It's time for bed, Scarlet," she tries repeating firmly to no avail until eventually she has to give in. "All right then. Come on," she sighs, "Just don't wake Harry up." She watches the little dog delightedly wag her tail and dart through the door and up the stairs ahead of her, clearly pleased with herself and making herself scarce before Ruth can change her mind. It's no wonder Harry can't resist her, she thinks as she switches off the light and slowly climbs the stairs behind her.
She finds Scarlet right outside Harry's bedroom, whining softly and looking rather small and scared. "What's the matter?" she whispers, reaching down to stroke the dog in an effort to reassure her, puzzled by her behaviour for a moment until she hears the moan coming from the bed. "Harry?" she says uncertainly as she straightens up and moves into the dim room, approaching the bed slowly, giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness.
"No," she hears him utter clearly, several times, and as she approaches, she can see that he's still asleep and in the throes of a nightmare. He begins tossing about more violently as she watches, climbing onto the bed beside him and feeling her heart clench at the sight of him suffering like this. He's shaking his head now and thrashing about like a fish out of water as he mutters in his sleep, repeating the word no over and over again and struggling as if fighting hard to break free of some invisible force.
"Harry," she says, wondering what to do, feeling a little scared to touch him in case he hurts her inadvertently in his sleep, so agitated does he seem.
"Ruth," he says clearly, his voice sounding anguished as he struggles harder, but just as she's about to throw caution to the wind and reach over to touch his shoulder, his whole body convulses and suddenly becomes rigid as if shot before he sits bolt upright in bed, uttering her name in an anguished voice again and bursting into tears, drawing his knees up towards his chest and curling his body into a ball, covering his head with his arms. She doesn't know if he's still sleeping or if he's awake, but she reaches out her hand anyway, rubbing across his shoulders and softly murmuring his name. A gasp of surprise escapes him as he turns to her immediately, his face the picture of shock, staring at her as if he can't believe his eyes.
"It was just a bad dream, Harry," she murmurs softly, continuing to rub his arm and shoulders in comfort. "It was all a bad dream."
He moves so swiftly then, pulling her to him and squeezing her tightly in his arms as he buries his face in her shoulder and begins to sob again while she gently strokes his back, his neck and hair, murmuring words of comfort and kissing the side of his face, hating to see him like this and at the same time grateful that she's here to offer him what little comfort she can. It's the first time she's seen him have a nightmare, and as she holds him, rocking her body slightly from side to side to sooth him, she can't help remembering him confess that he has nightmares on most nights and wondering if they're all as bad as this. Poor Harry, she thinks as she feels him begin to calm, his sobs subsiding slowly and giving way to periodic hitches in his breathing. She feels him begin to pull away from her then and reluctantly releases him, suspecting that he's feeling rather embarrassed to have fallen apart in her arms like this. Luckily for both of them, however, Scarlet chooses that moment to jump onto the bed and climb over her to get to him, whining as she sniffs at his face and proceeds to lick it, causing him to chuckle as he attempts to fend her off. "It's okay, old girl, I'm fine," he says, his voice a little hoarse.
While he's fussing over Scarlet, she reaches over to switch on the bedside lamp, needing to see him and reassure herself that he's really all right. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually he succeeds in calming Scarlet down and getting her to curl up beside him. She hands him a couple of tissues, which he takes with a quiet thank you though he doesn't quite meet her eye. Eventually, however, he can't reasonably delay any longer and he turns to look at her, giving her a small, uncertain smile, his gaze apologetic and embarrassed as he whisper, "I'm sorry, Ruth."
"It's fine, Harry," she murmurs, running her hand down his arm gently. "You've nothing to apologise for."
"I woke you," he objects, dropping his gaze from hers.
"You didn't," she states and watches him look up at her in surprise. "I was already awake," she explains, curling her fingers around his. "I had a nightmare earlier and couldn't go back to sleep. I had a cup of tea, and when I came back upstairs, you were having a bad dream." She pauses here and then adds, "That's why we have company," nodding at his dog.
"I wondered how she got out of the kitchen," he smiles, dropping his gaze to Scarlet who's sleeping peacefully now between them.
"Are you all right, Harry?" she asks quietly, still feeling concerned for him. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"It's nothing," he says quickly.
"It didn't seem like nothing," she replies quietly, squeezing his hand.
He lifts his eyes to hers again at that, holding her gaze for long moments before he confesses, "It's a reoccurring dream. I've had it for years, but lately it's become..." He tails off, shaking his head.
"Let's go downstairs and get a drink, Harry," she says softly, seeing how hard it is for him to talk about it and knowing he's unlikely to be able to fall asleep again soon anyway.
He nods and they get up, wrapping themselves in their robes – hers being the one she'd borrowed from him earlier – and go back downstairs, cuddling on the sofa with a tumbler of whisky each and Scarlet curled up by their feet.
"I dreamt you were drowning again," she volunteers first and feels him squeeze her shoulder in silent support. "It's always the worst one, nightmare I mean, finding you dead on the beach and there's nothing I can do about it. I try so hard to bring you back but," she pauses swallowing the lump in her throat. "It's no use," she finishes, "and I feel so... helpless and heartbroken and... alone. I'd be so alone without you, Harry. I don't know what I'd do. It's..." She tails off again and turns her head towards him, pressing her face into his shoulder and inhaling deeply, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.
"Mine started years ago after we lost Bill," he says softly. "I don't know if you've seen the files but... he was captured by the IRA, Patrick McCann's group. I was there then they took him, but I didn't dare break cover. It would have endangered more than myself, you see; it would have jeopardised our whole operation. I wanted to go out to look for him right away, but they stopped me, said there was nothing to worry about, that he'd be fine and they were bound to give him back eventually. I knew something wasn't right though, that things had changed because of our work, mine and Bill's, but they insisted I do things their way. I couldn't do that though, sit around doing nothing but wait; I had to do something. So I took leave and set out to find him alone, asked everyone I could think of, every agent I ran, rattled all the cages, but I got nothing. Almost two week after he was taken, they dumped his body outside his flat in Belfast with a note pinned on it addressed to me. He was... horribly mutilated, they'd... burned him with a blowtorch."
She gasps at that, squeezing his hand tightly. "Oh Harry," she says, suddenly realising just how much he's been through.
"In the dream, it's always Bill who goes missing first," he continues after a moment, "and then I know. It's a race against the clock to find him, and the others – there are always others I've lost or care for – but I'm always too late. McCann is there, laughing at me as he hurts them. I try to run faster, to fight, but I can't reach him and he..." he stops speaking, his chest rising and falling fast as he relives the horrors of his nightmare.
"And tonight it was me," she finishes for him softly.
"It's been you for some time now," he confesses, turning his head to look into her eyes, "but this past month he's been after something more. It's not just maiming and killing he's interested in now."
She watches him and it suddenly dawns on her what he means. "Because of what happened... on the boat," she whispers, watching him nod, the pain clearly visible in his eyes. "Oh Harry," she sighs with feeling, lifting her hand up to cup his cheek. "I wish you'd never seen that," she declares, hating that he's suffering too because of what happened.
"I wish I'd been quicker off the mark. I wish I'd killed the bastard before he could lay a single finger on you," he growls fiercely. "I'll never forgive myself for what I let him do to you, Ruth."
"You didn't let him do anything, Harry," she protests. "There was nothing you could have done differently. You did your best. We both did. We had a plan and it worked. Your plan worked and we got out of there in one piece. I wasn't raped and you didn't drown. And then we made love and look how far we've come, how much we've gained, how happy we are. Yesterday was one of the happiest days of my life, Harry, and I have you to thank for it." She gazes at him earnestly and watches as his eyes soften and he gives her a small smile.
"Mine too, Ruth," he says softly, reaching forward to kiss her forehead lovingly and wrapping his arms around her.
"They'll go away eventually," she mumbles into his chest, after a few moments, seeking to reassure herself as much as him. "The nightmares I mean. Mine are getting better. They're not as frequent, especially when we sleep together, share a bed I mean."
She feels him smile and hears him murmur, "Mine have been less frequent too lately when we've shared a bed."
"I guess we'll have to spend every night together then," she replies, feeling herself blush as he pulls back to look at her.
"Ruth... are you suggesting we live together?" he asks cautiously, after a moment of silence.
"No," she says, panicking a little. "I mean, not yet... eventually... but we don't need to rush into anything, do we? I was just thinking we could... work out a schedule or something so we could... sleep in the same bed... most nights."
She gives him an apologetic look as she lifts her eyes to his and is relieved to see he's not upset by her words and how fast she must appear to be back-pedalling. In fact, if anything, he looks pleased. "You'd have to bring some of your things here then," he murmurs huskily. "I can't have you borrowing all my clothes all the time."
"And you'd better leave a few things at mine too so you don't have to keep resorting to taking things out of your emergency kit in the car," she smiles shyly in return.
He grins, he can't seem to help himself. "I love you," he declares, reaching down to kiss her softly. When he pulls back, his gaze is darker and more intense, and she can feel her body begin to respond rapidly to the way he's looking at her. "You know what else helps me sleep well?" he asks huskily, his gaze dropping to her lips again.
"Sex," she whispers, watching his lips curl up in a smirk.
"Right first time, Ms Evershed," he says, drawing her to him for another kiss. "I want you," he murmurs when they pull up for air. "Let me make love to you, Ruth."
"No," she replies a little breathlessly.
"No?" he asks, leaning in to kiss her again and pulling back to look at her. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," she sighs, watching his face fall. "You made love to me twice last night, Harry, which means it's my turn to make love to you. Don't you think?"
He smiles, nodding his head in agreement as he murmurs, "All right though I'm not sure I see the difference. I thought we made love to each other."
"That's true," she concedes, "but there's something I've been dying to do for months now, Harry, and I never get the chance."
"What's that?" he asks a little breathlessly and it pleases her no end.
She smiles enigmatically and gets up before leaning down to whisper in his ear, "Taste you." Then she pulls back and holds his gaze boldly, noting with great satisfaction how dark his eyes have become and how laboured his breathing. "Shall we?" she asks and isn't surprised when he doesn't hesitate to follow her upstairs.