A Morning Without

[JHyde]

(This fan fic takes place immediately after Ruth leaves at the end of 5.5. It grew out of my wanting to know what Harry did in those hours just after she departed for France.)

A MORNING WITHOUT

Harry waited on the edge of the pier, watching the boat disappear into the mess of vessels on the early morning Thames. Long after her face had escaped from view, he remained there. Waiting for....something. Another lost to this lifestyle for which he had been hand selected. Had they seen what his life would become, his history scattered with broken lives and lost chances? He allowed the emptiness to overtake him, just for a few moments, while he planned to nurse the pain later. Alone, with a tumbler of scotch.

A tugboat's horn bleated nearby, rousing him. The driver angrily gestured to the rowers in his way, as Harry turned on his heel and walked away. It would not do to return to the Grid in this state, he recognized the familiar symptoms of loss and grief. He was the happy warrior of Section D and morale was bad enough without him in anguish too. Although the day was overcast, it was clear enough that he could indulge in a brisk walk. He had an hour or so before he would be missed; perhaps brute force would help clear his mind sufficiently before returning to his team. He would focus on how he was to replace someone of the calibre of his intelligence analyst now part way across the Channel. GCHQ would send some graduate too well schooled in Eastern philosophy, with few teamwork skills and fewer social ones. Mace's leaving would leave an absence of power in the JIC, God only knows what problems that was likely to bring....

Without realising, his feet had led him to a familiar street, one he had visited just days before. A few houses away from Ruth's now former residence, he paused, recognizing his surroundings. He tensely looked for the intelligence officers he expected, but there was no car nor anyone lurking outside the front door. Relaxing slightly, he nonetheless ducked around the back, to make sure they weren't merely smoking in the back garden. It wouldn't do to get inside and then be caught by some lackey on job training.

Once certain that he was alone, Harry returned to the stained glass door gleaming gently in the mellow light. The reds and greens filtered the gloom behind as he let himself in quietly, praying that those wretched cats weren't lurking just behind the door. He then mentally kicked himself for cursing them, and with a pang remembered they were now in his guardianship. Perhaps that was why he was here, he told himself. It was instinct guiding him here to rescue the cats before others arrived.

Harry paused in the living room, the ghost of certain happy afternoons pulling at his memory. He had been here before many times, when he required Ruth's softer touch and perceptive eye in nutting out some troublesome theory or piece of intelligence. Not once had she treated him as an imposition; indeed, she seemed glad of his company. They had been careful about it - Ruth routinely swept her home for bugs, and Harry brought certain of Malcolm's choice gadgets to mask their discussions from eavesdroppers. Such security breaches had been well worthwhile. They had been happy times, sipping tea and mulling over unsavoury characters while Schubert played softly in the background. They had been so enjoyable, those stolen afternoons in this shabby but comfortable room.

But as he glanced toward the hallway, he saw the door to her bedroom open and the fear Ruth had felt in her last day here was palpable. Ruth was such an orderly person that her scattered mind in her final hours here was obvious in the hastily arranged flowers from the garden, the cups and plates still in the dishrack in the kitchen, and the newspaper strewn over parts of the room.

Drawn to the door of her quarters, Harry paused. Was it an intrusion, he wondered, to enter her place of rest? This was certainly not the way he had hoped to first enter this room. But then he almost laughed. Better he disturb the air here before the sadists from Section S arrive to strip her belongings, and rifle through what remained of her life. To pack away her possessions to be stored in some airless prison of a warehouse, after being catalogued by someone who had never known her wit and charm. So it had been with every rogue agent, from Burgess to Salter.

On that thought, he strode to her wardrobe, searching for a suitably sized box. Harry was not prone to hoarding, to the stashing of sentimental trinkets and keepsakes. He did not drag a box from under his bed when maudlin and examine evidence of life past, as a rule. But he was seized suddenly with a desire to hide some part of Ruth from the Service that had abandoned her. To hide her heart and mind away from endless scrutiny which she had never deserved. She had never been a rogue agent and did not deserve this final desecration of her privacy.

Harry crossed quickly to her dresser, finding at once the object he desired. The necklace she had worn almost every day for years, but neglected to wear that last day. Her sterling silver ring from Syria was not there however - he had never seen her without it, and assumed it was still on her finger. Something of her perfume remained, a little stale but still soft and lingering, the way it had always been since she had first stumbled onto the Grid just a few years ago. He turned, not wanting to think too deeply about her at that moment, and saw the clothes scattered on her bed, the almost empty glass of tea beside her bed. Ruth's favourite tea glass, the one she had told him she'd bought as her first souvenir visiting Turkey in her early twenties. Its ruby hue reflected the text of the open book she'd last cast aside; flipping it over, he was touched to see it was the Ovid he had given her on her last birthday. It had been an old edition, but she had clearly marked her territory on it as her own. Newly dogeared, she had been mulling over a passage in Ars Amatoria, the first book, and his eye fell upon long forgotten words:

"Shall I lament or warn that faith's a name,
Friendship a word, and right and wrong the same?
Ah! to a comrade never praise your fair:
He trusts your praise and ousts you unaware."

For now he could not appreciate the irony, only snatch the Ovid and teaglass to go with the necklace laced tightly around his fingers and retreat into the living room to find one of the only photos Ruth kept. It was framed and near the television, her at the age of nine on her first trip to Greece near the Acropolis. And her print of Magritte's "The Lovers" which hung on the wall. It was only small, but she had loved the painting, the mute figures gazing unseeingly through the sacks pulled over their heads. He stripped it from the wall, trying not to think too much about what it was he was doing. The box full with what he felt he could honestly save without being noticed, he was suddenly overcome with weariness. A fatigue that had been brewing since this whole miserable affair began, and had its roots many, many years before then. But he resisted the urge to indulge any longer and unwillingly left, making sure the door was locked behind him.

Harry crossed the street, drained of feeling. He realised what this little detour meant. Ruth was gone forever, with the hopes he'd dared entertain these last few months dashed too. It was time to start letting go of something that had never even started. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialled Adam.

"Adam."
"Harry?"
"I need you to arrange some transport for Ruth's cats with Section S. They're not to be harmed."

[femaleBertieWooster]

That was very good, so detailed and knowledgeable. I don't usually read fan fic.

I could see them distilling this to 30 seconds as Harry goes to meet Ruth for their drink (in season 9.) He could also return to her something he took from her flat, startling her as she realizes he was there.

[almh]

I love that last line! It made me lol!

I really liked this story It was nice to see what Harry did immediately after 5.5.

[JHyde]

The way I actually went about this was I originally conceived it as a scene between the two of them in the present day as Harry debates whether or not to return them to her. I thought it could be a really beautiful scene, but I decided to go with this after reading Harry's Diary on Friday night in one sitting

I might take a pass at it as a way to get them together in the next week or two.

Thanks for the props guys.

[lwhite53]

"Wretched cats" LOL. Loved it -- thanks.

[HellsBells]

You have great insight into Ruth/Harry, such a touching story.

[Beatriz]

That was amazing!
I can imagine Harry doing all of this after she left.
I've always wondered where the necklace is.