Secrets I : Chapter 4 - 6

CHAPTER FOUR






It was nearly 3:30 in the afternoon when Harry finally pushed away from the table and walked around to Ruth. As he took her hand, Harry looked down the street and said, casually, "I think I saw a sign for Italian Ice on the way in. We can leave the car at the park and walk for a bit." She thought his manner was a little too studied, and Ruth gave him a sideways glance, suspiciously.

After reading his face, she gasped and said, "You planned this!" She started ticking them off on her fingers. "Paris café, Italian Ice, and what, an exhibit of Spanish paintings, and maybe a church with German influences?" She was laughing now, and so was he, but he was giving her hand signals that looked much like the bread roll dance. She realised he was trying to get her to switch the last two, and she complied, giggling, "Ah, yes, so, Spanish church, German art?" Harry nodded, looking abashed, but both of them were still laughing.

"Harry, how calculating you are!" She wiped her eyes, and gave him a soft rap on the arm. "How long did you think it would take me to figure it out?"

"Not calculating, Ruth. Just efficient. You, of all people, should appreciate that. And I had the highest expectations for you, my prize analyst. Which of course, you have surpassed." Harry reached his arm around her shoulders and they began walking, "Oh, I was online, looking for a restaurant, and it all just fell into place. I thought if we couldn't actually do The Grand Tour, as it's likely that someone from our place of work would figure out that we were both gone at the same time and sending postcards from the same locations," he pulled her closer and brushed his lips across the top of her head as he spoke more softly, "we could have an abbreviated version today."

Ruth snuggled into the space beneath his arm. How long had she known him? Three years, eighty-four days, give or take some hours, and now the last few minutes. She had always felt that she saw through the mask of his position on the Grid to the real man underneath. But she had often puzzled which one she had fallen in love with, the one who was able to bravely give the order to kill, or the one who cried in private for his fallen people. And, of course, she knew that it was both, that all parts of him came together into the man who walked with her now. When he had been harsh with her, when others had wished he would speak more softly, Ruth had understood. She knew that he fought against his gentler side, that it was always threatening to undermine the steely gaze he showed the world.

Now, as she slowed, she realised the extraordinary gift he was giving her with his softness. The man who plotted out this day, only for her, so romantic, so vulnerable. This was a side he didn't trust to others, and he was trusting it to her. She suddenly felt so privileged, so honoured by that trust, and her heart filled with him to the point that she almost couldn't bear it.

Abruptly, Ruth stopped walking and looked around her until she found what she was seeking. She led Harry by the hand to a narrow corridor, and then to the small alcove of a shop with a door that looked like it hadn't been used in years. It was hidden by the umbrellas of a café, and just big enough for the two of them to stand face to face. It was an old building, and the alcove was cool, shaded, with the slightly musty odour of well-worn stone. It felt to Ruth as if they had stepped back in time.

Ruth leant up and whispered in his ear, "Harry, I'm beginning to understand the whole 'have to kiss you now' problem, and I'd like to apologise for being insensitive about it earlier." She put her arms around his neck and moved her lips from his ear to his cheek. "Harry Pearce, you are the last of the great romantics. And I wanted to say thank you."

With that, she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him, softly at first, and then with more pressure as she tightened her arms around his neck. She had meant simply to give him a kiss, to show him how sweet she thought he had been, to let him know how much his thoughtfulness had touched her. And she meant not to do it in the middle of the street in front of all the people walking by.

What Ruth hadn't taken into account was how vulnerable she, herself, was in this moment. Harry had opened her heart wide and she wanted so much to let him know that he was safe with her, that she could hold and love all of him, the steely and the soft, and he needn't worry that he had to hide any part of who he was.

But as they stood in this private place, amongst buildings that had seen so many come and go, Ruth suddenly felt the weight of every day she had loved Harry alone in her thoughts, and every night she had dreamt of the possibility of this intimacy, of wanting him to respond to her. She kissed him, and then she didn't want to stop. In truth, she wanted them to lose the control that had kept them apart for so long, and although it might not be a good idea, she wanted to take both of them into uncharted territory and see how they would find their way back.

This time, when she parted her lips, he did too, and he tasted deliciously of good French coffee. She felt him hesitate for a moment, and she thought he might break away from her. But then she felt him relax with a deep sigh, as he pushed her gently against the wall of the alcove.

Her back felt cool where it touched the moist, ancient stone, while her body, where it met his, was impossibly warm. His arms were bent, the length of his forearms pressed up against the wall, his hands gently cradling her head, protecting it from the flat rock. As the kiss deepened, she felt his urgency as she felt her own, and without thinking, Ruth pressed her hips forward slightly, wanting to feel all of him against her. Again, he hesitated, but this time he did pull back, his lips just a fraction away from hers, as he struggled for control.

Harry's voice was husky, low, and she felt it vibrate through her. "Ruth, I want to do the right thing here." Her breath was as ragged as his, and she said, "I don't know if it's right, Harry, but I think we've both wanted this, haven't we?" She pulled him gently to her again, wanting more of the softness of his lips, more of his tongue, more of the deep sounds that escaped from his throat. "Yes," he said against her lips, "yes, I want it … but … "

Ruth pulled away slightly, and spoke breathlessly into his cheek. "But not here … " Harry pulled back so he could see her face, see what she was thinking, and she smiled at him, letting him know that she wasn't hurt, that she agreed. "No, not here."

Harry nuzzled into her hair, "Oh, Ruth, don't mistake me. There is nothing I want more right now. This is taking more control than I thought I had." Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her tenderly as he spoke. "But I want clean, white sheets, I want a locked door, I want to have the time to explore every inch of you without interruption. And lovely as this is … " He looked around them. "It's just not big enough for what I want to do with you."

In amazement, Ruth heard herself say brazenly, "There's a room with clean white sheets and a locked door just above us, Harry." Harry didn't flinch, but his eyes searched hers until she broke his gaze, looking down at the space just above his collar.

"Is that what you want, Ruth?" He was still watching her eyes as they both stood motionless.

Ruth sighed, and the moment broke, along with her bravery. "N-No … well, yes … no, Harry, not yet." She looked up at him. "Not because I don't want it, mind you. I think the last few minutes may have convinced you of that." A blush blended with the passion already in her cheeks. "But … but I want … " She stopped, unable to say what she wanted.

"You want … ?"

She almost said, I want a lifetime with you, but stopped herself. "I want time. And although I am the one who wantonly dragged you into this alcove, I am a romantic too, and it is time that I want. Time to know you, off the Grid," and now she spoke the words she had thought in the car, "Time to know Henry James Pearce, Harry. Time for you to know me."

He smiled at her, tilting his head, now curious. "And you would be … ?"

She pursed her lips in the way that he found so adorable in briefings. "I don't use a middle name."

"I know, it's not in your file." He probed her eyes. "But you have one."

"Yes." She looked down again. Ruth sighed as she gave in. "Elizabeth. My mother's name."

"Ruth Elizabeth Evershed." Harry leant his back on the other side of the alcove, and took her hand in his. "Henry James Pearce."

Ruth smiled at him. "Very glad to meet you, Henry."

---

After returning to the street and the crowds, Harry and Ruth walked hand-in-hand through the village. They stopped for Italian Ice, cherry for Ruth, lemon for Harry. And though they hadn't spoken of it yet, both knew that the two walking from the alcove were changed from the two that had walked in.

Harry was frankly reeling just a bit. He could still feel how much he wanted her, and a heightened awareness of the woman who walked beside him. They hadn't gone too far, but it had taken a strong will. And he wondered, if he hadn't been the one to stop, how far Ruth would have gone. And that was a new question to him.

He'd known Ruth had passion because he'd seen it in her. But now, feeling the slight tremor that was brought on by remembering how it felt to have her press against him, he realised he'd vastly underestimated her. He also understood, as they walked lost in their own thoughts, that over the years he'd placed her on somewhat of a pedestal. He'd put her up there, and he really had no right to. He was now quite happy to have her safely off of it and at eye-level with him.

What had he thought? That she was fragile? That if he told her, she would be shocked by the thoughts he'd had of her? And most of all, had he imagined that she hadn't had the same thoughts about him? Harry was the first to admit that he didn't understand women very well, but the more time he spent with Ruth, the more layers he saw in her. And he found himself falling even more in love with the complicated, passionate, fiercely intelligent and intensely feminine woman who walked beside him.

And psychic. "What?" she said, stopping and peering into his eyes.

Harry wasn't sure he still had the power to blush at his advanced age and experience, but he did feel some heat come to his cheeks. "Nothing, really," he said, absolutely unconvincingly.

Ruth smiled up at him. "And what happened to 'I'll always be honest with you, Ruth'?"

Harry raised his eyebrows and exhaled. "May have left it in the alcove." Then he smiled at her. "Shall we go back and look for it?"

Ruth took his hand and led him to a bench that overlooked the Thames. It was picture-postcard beautiful. Flowers in abundant bloom, clear fresh blue water. Even two swans gliding by. Had they spoken of it, they would never have believed that both of them had the same thought as they watched the graceful birds floating by. Swans mate for life.

Looking out at the water, because she couldn't look at him, Ruth said, "Have I shocked you, Harry?"

He realised that she was asking a real question, and that there was some fear attached to it. She was worried that she had gone too far, and that he thought less of her. He immediately took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him on the bench. "No. As I was just thinking, quite the opposite." Harry trailed a fingertip across the line of her jaw. "I love your passion, Ruth. It matches mine."

She looked back at him, her eyes glittering in the sun that was moving low on the horizon. "I've thought about what it would be … like. What it would feel like to … " Pausing to phrase it correctly, she pushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "I suppose I wasn't prepared, Harry. For … for the strength of it. I got lost, a little…"

"Ruth, are you apologising?" His question was direct, matter-of-fact.

Her answer was as forceful as he hoped it would be. "No! No. That was me in that corridor. Completely me, Harry. More of me than I've shown to anyone in a very long time. It's just that I'm not used to … being … "

"Being out of control? Losing yourself in something?" His eyes grew soft as he looked at her. "Another thing we have in common, Ruth." Her skin was becoming almost translucent in the setting sun, and he couldn't help himself. "You're so beautiful, you know. It's almost hard to look at you right now."

Ruth tilted her head and her eyes grew as soft as his. "Oh, Harry. How you make me feel."

"Good, I hope."

"Yes." The word was lost as she leant over and kissed him, gently. His arm went around her and she rested her head on his shoulder while they looked out at the water.

"It's all new, Ruth. No manual. No brochure. I think we're doing very well, actually." He held her tighter. "And to truly answer your question? I was surprised by you in the best possible way. We're more alike than I could have hoped."

She felt his chest rise with a sigh as he continued. "But I've also learned today that if we're to take this as slowly as I think we both know we should, we had better stay away from small, private spaces, my Ruth. We're not to be trusted."

He sat up and saw the final light of the sun on her cheeks. He kissed them both, saying, "Now I need to get you to a church, where you may confess your sins."

"And you?" she asked.

He pulled her from the bench and led her up the path. "I am pure, so I shall wait patiently until you're done."

~~~~~~

CHAPTER FIVE




The church was exactly the type Ruth loved. So old that the shiny wood of the pews had slight indentations where so many had sat. She liked to imagine all the prayers that had been sent up from these seats, and all the stories of the people who had prayed them in the 175 years it had stood here. She managed to visit a church in most of the places she visited, not because she was a particularly religious person, but because she loved the history of them, the quiet echo of the cavernous spaces, and the flicker of candles.

They were the only ones there on this Saturday evening. She sat in the last pew with Harry on her right. As she studied the altar at the front, it was impossible not to think of another day when they sat exactly this way. Ruth closed her eyes, and she added to the prayers that had been sent up to the heavens, as her story was added to all those who came before.

Harry knew what she was thinking, because it was on his mind as well. When she opened her eyes, he moved closer to her and took her hand.

"I'm sorry about that day, Ruth. It wasn't fair of me to take you away from Danny," he whispered to her.

She squeezed his hand. "You have to make the hard decisions, Harry. We all have the luxury of judging them." She turned to him and gave a sad smile. "I said goodbye properly when it was all over. I didn't need to be in a church to find him."

They sat for a time in silence. Suddenly, Ruth's breath caught, and she turned back to him. "So many gone, Harry. But gone to save so many others. And no one knows their sacrifice. Just the few of us. How do you bear it?"

Harry gazed at the pew in front of them. "Because they made a choice, and because that choice makes a difference in the world. Whether anyone knows it or not."

After another few moments of silence, Ruth took Harry's hand and nodded toward the door. "You ready?" He nodded back, and they walked out into the crisp night air.

The lights were dancing on the water, and the bridge in the distance was too enticing for them to pass up. They walked to it in silence, and then Harry laughed softly.

"What?" Ruth looked at him.

"Do you realise that my mobile hasn't rung once since I picked you up? I told Adam that I was to be out of commission today unless the world was falling down around our ears." He stopped and looked at her, and then leant down to give her a soft kiss. "It could be, for all I care." There was a lightness to him that she hadn't seen before, and as he took her hand to walk up the ramp to the bridge, she felt his happiness blend with her own.

They stood quietly for a long time there. When Ruth shivered under his protective arm, he rubbed her shoulders and said, "This was a good day, Ruth. One of the best I can remember. And now I'm going to take you home so that we can dream about it, chastely, in our separate beds."

She snuggled in next to him as they walked back toward the car. One of the best she could remember as well. In this moment, in this time, life was very, very good.

~~~~~~

CHAPTER SIX

"Fidget! Phoebe! Come!"

The two cats came running, knowing that Ruth was ready to give them their favourite treat of the day. Bits of ham and cheese from whatever salad she was making for her lunch dropped into their bowls, and they were suddenly motionless except for the flip of their tails and the sound of their ravenous eating. That is, until one was finished before the other.

"Fidge, don't push! You girls, you'd think you were starving!" Ruth laughed at them, and the joy of it came from somewhere so deep inside of her that she had to sit down. Fidget, grey and elegant, had actually named herself, because she seldom sat still. Phoebe was pure white, and Ruth had named her after the Greek goddess, meaning "Bright Moon." Not only the sun, but the full moon would shine down through Ruth's kitchen windows, and Phoebe would bask in it as if she knew it was her namesake.

Ruth loved the tall kitchen windows that made the room feel almost like a greenhouse. Bright sunshine poured over the kitchen table this morning and warmed her as both cats came to rub up against her, hoping for more. She closed her eyes, seeing the pink through her eyelids, letting the warmth wash over her face, and Ruth realised she was smiling again.

"Idiot," she laughed. She put her head in her hands, but was still unable to stop the corners of her mouth from turning up. "Harry bloody Pearce, what have you done to me?"

Ruth got up to finish making her lunch, and heard herself humming. She hadn't felt quite this good in a very long time. Phoebe was still angling for more food, and she rubbed back and forth on her black pants, leaving trails of snowy white hairs. Ruth would normally scoot her away, fussing, but today she didn't mind. She finished her salad, boxed it up, wiped the counter, and looked at her watch. Ten minutes to the bus.

The last thing she wanted was to be late today. She wanted to see him. So much. It had only been 9 hours since he kissed her goodbye, this time after a late cup of tea at the kitchen table. He had held her hand as they talked, and she had a moment of imagining it was their home together, and what it would be like to have him with her every night.

What do you do when your dreams come true? "You keep right on dreaming," she said aloud to Fidget, who had now begun to add grey to the hair on her pants.

Ruth gave herself a once-over with the lint roller, and quickly let herself out the front door before Phoebe and Fidget could love her some more. Her walk to the bus stop got her there just in time to step up and find a seat on top as the bus pulled away. Of course she never could be on a bus without remembering. The touch of his hand, the intimate feel of his fingers, made especially so because she couldn't see him.

In fact, she always sat in the same seat if she could. The same one she sat in that night. And every time, she would close her eyes and remember the feel of his hand on hers, and his lips brushing her hair saying thank you before he disappeared into the night. She had been disappointed that he reverted to talking about work, but something he said always pleased her, and she thought of it often. " … to my eternal shame, and now regret, I didn't stop." At the time she had brushed it off, saying she liked the bus, but that was only to cover the thrill it gave her that he would say such a thing.

For him to say that meant that he had thought about it, more than once. "To my eternal shame." That he had seen her standing in the rain, passed her by, and not forgotten. For so long, that had been enough for her, that she was in his thoughts. And she had to admit now, as she closed her eyes and felt the movement of the bus, that she had dreamt, but never expected, that she would have a new memory of Harry. One that included a bridge, a church, swans, a lovely French meal in a Brasserie alongside the Thames, and a kiss.

And if she stepped on to the Grid on this Monday morning and everything had gone back to the way it was? If she had to go back to dreaming only, would she survive? She knew she would, and with a memory that would last a lifetime. But, oh, she wanted more. She wanted days and nights with him to fill up oceans with memories. She wanted to know all of him, and for a very long time.

---

Ruth arrived on the Grid and forced herself not to look at Harry's office as she walked in. She went straight to her desk, put her purse away, turned on her computer and monitor and pulled her pens and notebook down off the shelf. Not able to stand it any longer, she allowed herself a peek. Harry's light was on, but he wasn't seated at his desk.

Then he walked out of the hallway from the briefing room with Adam, just as the Foreign Secretary came in through the pods. Things are starting early this morning, Ruth thought, realising that her hopes of a quiet day surreptitiously watching Harry was not to be. But replacing that hope came her usual excitement about what they would all be focusing on. God, she loved being a spy.

Zaf was walking by, and she looked up at him. "What's going on?"

He stopped and bent down to whisper to her. "Havensworth Summit." Ruth knew about the Addressing Africa summit that was to take place starting day after tomorrow for three days at the Havensworth Hotel in Berkshire. She'd included it in Friday's Weekly Report as a matter of course, outlining which dignitaries would be there and the level of possible threat.

"What about it?" she asked Zaf.

"Seems the Americans and the French are trying to back out of signing the agreement. Six intercepted a phone call between the US Trade Secretary and the French government. Styles said it's not a good time to be cutting American farm subsidies, so he won't sign."

Ruth had studied the issues in depth. "But they have to. This could save Africa, Zaf. People are dying there, children are dying because they can't get medicine or food. They can't afford it because no one in their country will buy their crops. It's all going to the Americans, to bloody Alabama, because of the subsidies the Americans pay. It's a horrible situation."

Zaf agreed. "Well, good news is it sounds like we're going to mount an operation inside Havensworth. We're going to make sure the agreement gets the signatures it needs." Zaf inclined his head toward the briefing room. "Harry and Adam are presenting it to the Foreign Secretary right now."

Ruth loved this part. "Goody." She raised her eyebrows and asked Zaf, "Any idea where I'll be?"

"You and Malcolm are on surveillance. I'm in service at the hotel somewhere. Don't know the rest."

Just then, Harry and Adam walked the Foreign Secretary to the pods. They said goodbye, and Harry looked over to her. She couldn't suppress the quick jump of her heart. Harry, the man she had spent the day with on Saturday, who had kissed her in the alcove, held her hand in the church, walked with her, touched her face tenderly, spoken to her so softly, brushed his lips against her hair …

"Ruth. Briefing room. Now." Yes, this was the same man. Ruth smiled, knowing that all was right with the world.

After Harry had briefed them on all the particulars of the Summit, including the intentions of the French and the Americans, he said, "This will be an uphill fight, but we're going to do what we can."

Ruth couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Harry, we have to do better than that. People are suffering, with cholera, with malnutrition. Their families can't make a living, they can't sell their cotton because it's all being purchased cheaply overseas. Their own countrymen are dying, and they're only thinking about the money."

"Good, Ruth. We're going to give you an opportunity to channel some of that enthusiasm. You're writing a speech for the President of West Monrassa, Gabriel Sekoa. He'll give it at the opening ceremonies. It needs to be emotional and persuasive, two adjectives I know you understand. We'll need it this afternoon."

She stared Harry down. "Good. Then you'll have it this morning."

"Even better. So, Ros, you'll be in the hotel as Summit organiser … " Harry moved on to the next assignment. As the rest of the briefing continued, Ruth marvelled at the two people she and Harry could be. They slipped effortlessly into these roles, and she doubted that anyone would guess what the Head of MI5 and his Senior Intelligence Analyst had done over the week-end. For a moment, she thought about the alcove again, and as the colour rose in her cheeks, she wondered if Harry had thought about it since he stepped on the Grid this morning.

She doubted he had, and that was all right with her. He needed to be Harry Pearce. They needed him to be. And she always had her memories to pull out and warm herself by, whenever she wished.

But if she had been able to peer into his brain, Ruth would have been very surprised. Although Harry kept himself thoroughly focused, since last week she had been the final thing he thought of before falling off to sleep, and the first image in his mind as he awakened. He was aware of where she was as he greeted the Foreign Secretary, and had inwardly been intensely proud as she spoke her compassion so eloquently in the briefing.

And right now, as he nodded his head and listened intently while Malcolm explained the finer technical points of video surveillance, Harry was figuring out just how he could see Ruth again tonight.

~~~~~~