Solace

[Silktie]

This story takes place right after the end of episode 8.1. It takes into account earlier events described in Harry's Diary. Characters: Harry, his daughter Catherine, mention of Ruth. Inspired by discussions on the Harry Pearce thread about Harry's state of mind after 8.1.

SOLACE

The whiskey burns the back of his throat. He welcomes the sensation – another indication that he is still alive, after all – and watches Malcolm exit the pods for the last time. His oldest friend on the Grid, walking out the door without looking back. Without any regrets, it seems. Harry wishes, suddenly, that he could do the same. Chuck it all in, pack up Scarlet and go and live somewhere quiet. Somewhere simple, his brain supplies before he can stop his thoughts from going there. He flinches involuntarily as Ruth’s face comes up in his mind’s eye, and he knows, wearily, that the words ‘simple’ and ‘elegant’ will forever be linked with her now, tainted by what happened today.

He swallows another mouthful as his gaze shifts towards the remainder of his team. Ros, Lucas and Jo laughing together, sharing in the euphoria of another successful operation; of saving him, and Ruth, and the boy. He wishes that he could share in that euphoria, feel joy in his own survival, but he cannot. Instead, he feels fractured, as though he is keeping himself in one piece through conscious thought alone. That he would physically fly apart as soon as he stops concentrating, or allow his thoughts to wander unchecked.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, hoping to escape the despair threatening to overwhelm him by concentrating on the feeling of the alcohol spreading through his system. But as soon as he closes his eyes, a kaleidoscope of memories start to flit past – Ruth screaming, Bill’s mutilated body, Adam blowing up, Danny being shot, Tom shooting him, Archie and Amanda and little Lucy dying in a car crash… He hurriedly opens his eyes, and has to put out a hand to steady himself. He feels the prick of tears behind his eyelids, and knows that he is in real danger of losing his self-control; that the walls he’s so painstakingly built around his emotions are cracking, and that he is on the verge of a breakdown. Of drowning himself in alcohol, and spiralling into depression. Again. And this time, there is no Clive McTaggart waiting in the wings to help him gain perspective.

Harry swallows hard, desperately trying to maintain his façade. He does not want to break down on the Grid. He cannot show weakness in front of his team, cannot allow them to know how deeply he is affected by what happened today. Suddenly, the need to get away from Thames House is overwhelming, to find something good and pure to remind himself what he is fighting for. There is only one person he desperately wants to see, who can bring him some solace. Catherine. No, there is another, his subconscious reminds him, but she does not want to see you, and will probably never forgive you… Moving back to his desk, Harry picks up the phone, and dials. He glances at the calendar: it’s Friday, and he decides to take the weekend to try and put himself back together as best he can.

* * *

After a restless night, in which he’d jerked awake from nightmares every few minutes, he boards the 06:22 Eurostar to Paris. It’s the earliest train there is, and he sinks into his seat wearily. Catherine now lives with her French boyfriend, Fabian, in Paris. Harry likes the young Frenchman. In fact, he expects to get a wedding invitation sometime soon, and seeing his daughter so happy lightens his heart.

The train moves off, and Harry sighs. Only two hours until he’ll see his little girl. He shakes his head – his grown-up ‘little girl’ now, as she is fond of reminding him. But to him, she will always remain his little girl, who he has a duty to protect.

As the English countryside zips by, he ponders his relationship with Catherine. After years without any contact, they had re-established a tentative relationship after Catherine had become entangled in one of his team’s operations, but it was only after she was injured in a bomb blast in the West Bank that they’d finally formed a close bond. Harry shudders at the memory; he still gets nightmares about it. He will never forget the desperate week he’d spent searching for her, already emotionally unbalanced as he was by Ruth leaving only days before Catherine got injured. He remembers vividly how he broke every rule in the book and used all his professional knowledge and contacts to find her. And when he’d finally found her in a hospital in Beirut, delirious and in danger of losing her leg, he’d started to cry. He gave her his blood, sitting next to her and holding her hand, watching the blood flow directly from his veins into hers, and begging her not to leave him as well.

Catherine did survive, and they were able to save her leg, and he was able to bring her home. Oddly enough, she later remembered everything he’d said to her then, and asked him what he’d meant by begging her not to leave him as well. He could have lied, but after everything he and Catherine had been through, he found himself telling her about Ruth – how she’d awakened feelings in him that he had thought he would never experience again, and how he couldn’t save her.

Now, Harry thinks back to that moment when Mani had him on his knees, surrounded by men chanting and pointing guns at him, when he for the first time realised that his chances of surviving this ordeal was negligent. He’d asked to phone his family – with a faint notion of calling the Grid instead - but he now knows that, if Mani had allowed him a phone-call, he would have called Catherine. To tell her one last time that he loves her, and that he is so very proud of her. And now that he has survived, he still feels an overwhelming need to see her, to hear her voice, and to tell her those things. He glances at his watch; only one hour to go.

* * *

Catherine opens the door as soon as he rings the bell, smiling broadly.
“Hi Dad!”
Her happy greeting almost floors Harry. He stands rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of his daughter and fighting down the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. Catherine’s smile falters as she senses immediately that all is not well. Her Dad has a haunted, exhausted look about him that scares her somewhat. The last time she had seen him look like that, she was struggling for her life in a hospital in Beirut.

Harry finally recovers his equilibrium sufficiently to return her greeting, only for his voice to crack slightly with emotion. He gives up his attempt to pretend that all is normal, and crushes Catherine against him in a fierce hug. She returns it.
“Dad?” Her voice has a note of uncertainty in it.
Harry pulls back, frames her face with his hands.
“Sorry. I’m just so bloody happy to see you… I love you, Catherine, and I’m very proud of you.” He smiles, presses a kiss to her forehead.
“I wanted to make sure you know that.”
Her eyes search his face, noting all the emotions he is struggling to suppress. She reads his despair, sadness and even fear, and also his silent plea for her not to pursue it. She does as he asks.
“Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my Dad?” Her tone is light, teasing, and Harry smiles his gratitude at her.
But Catherine sobers after a moment, and puts a hand on Harry’s arm.
“I love you too. You know that, right?”
“Yes… Yes, I do know that. Thank you, Catherine.”

Fabian watches this most uncharacteristic display of affection between the two Pearces with bemusement, and wonders what on earth could have happened to Harry to prompt it.

* * *

It is a nice, sunny Saturday, and the three of them spend the rest of the day taking in the sights of Paris, and talking about safe topics. Unemotional topics. Harry and Catherine debate the state of affairs in the Middle East, passionately and at length, and Harry feels himself slowly getting back on more stable ground. Fabian and Harry argue good-naturedly about the Six Nations, and Harry makes an ill-advised bet with him on the outcome of the next England/France test. They picnic in a small park close to Fabian’s flat in the late afternoon, and Harry begins to flag after too many sleepless nights. He begs for an early night in, and after enduring Fabian’s teasing about his age showing, they return to the flat.

It is a small flat, so Harry has to sleep on the sofa, but he doesn’t mind. He is exhausted, and hopes that he will be able to sleep tonight.

* * *

He’s on his knees, surrounded by men with guns, and they’re chanting. “You heartless bastard, you heartless bastard…” Over and over. “No,” he says, “please. I do have a heart…” Mani pulls the trigger, shooting him through the head.

He falls through a hole, onto a chair in the middle of a circle of lights. The MI5 interrogator is talking to him, circling him in the shadows. “She is right. You’re a heartless bastard, Harry. You’re willing to sacrifice everyone in your life for the job. You always say she knows you better than anyone. You heartless bastard…” Harry squeezes his eyes shut against the brilliance of the light. “No!” He pleads. “She’s upset, she doesn’t mean it! She knows I had no choice. Please…” A needle plunges into his neck.

He is standing over Bill’s body. He is crying. It is hard to tell it is Bill with so much of him burnt away. Bill opens his eyes. “Don’t cry, Harry,” he says. “Heartless bastards don’t cry. You chose the job over my life. Heartless bastard.” He morphs into Adam. “Always the job first, right Harry?” A merry-go-round of faces; Danny, Fiona, Zoe, Tom, Graham, Jane, George - all chanting “heartless bastard” in his face. Harry shakes his head violently. “It’s not true!”

Everything stops. Ruth stands in front of him. She is holding the boy’s hand. She looks him in the eye, and says, calmly and deliberately: “You heartless bastard.” She turns and walks away. He is on his knees, with a gun pressed to his head. He has nothing left to give. “Do it,” he says. Mani pulls the trigger.

Harry jerks awake with a shout, sweat pouring off him, breathing hard. He swings his feet to the floor, rests his elbows on his knees and cradles his head in his hands. This is how Catherine finds him.

She sits down next to him, doesn’t say anything. He mumbles an apology for waking her, his voice unsteady.
“It’s all right.” She is looking at him, eyes filled with concern.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
He nods wordlessly. Catherine takes a deep breath.
“Dad, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
There is a long silence before Harry lifts his head from his hands to stare aimlessly into space. When he finally answers, his voice is barely audible.
“Ruth is back.”
Catherine inhales sharply. She wants to say ‘that’s wonderful’, but the blanket of sadness that hangs over Harry prevents her. Instead she asks carefully: “Is that not a good thing?”
“The circumstances are… less than ideal.” His voice is dull, lifeless. When he finally looks at her, she finds the pain in his eyes almost unbearable.
“I had to make a terrible choice. Because of it, a man she… cared for… was killed, and a little boy would have died were it not for the bravery of a member of my team.” He takes a shuddering breath.
“What kind of a man can make decisions like that? I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me. She…” he has to swallow before he can continue, “she called me a ‘heartless bastard’.”
“Oh Dad.” Catherine puts a sympathetic hand on his arm, and it is this caring act that is his undoing. He covers his eyes with his hand as his shoulders start to shake.

She lets him cry quietly for a few minutes before she speaks again.
“How well does Ruth know you, really?”
The question surprises him, but his guard is down so he answers instinctively, honestly.
“Probably better than anyone.”
Catherine squeezes his arm.
“And therein lies the problem for you, doesn’t it?”
His arm stiffens under her hand, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at her. She continues doggedly.
“If the person who knows you better than anyone can think that of you… You’re afraid that she’s right, aren’t you?”
“Catherine…”
“Dad, people say things in the heat of the moment that they don’t mean. Things like wishing their father was dead, for instance.”
That earned her a small smile, so she continued.
“I never really wished that you were dead. Never. And if Ruth knows you at all, she knows you’re not a heartless bastard. Give her time, talk to her again.”
Harry finally looks at his daughter, and she is grateful to see a little less pain in his eyes. He puts a hand over hers.
“How did you get so wise?”
She smiles.
“Ah well, I’m told I take after my Dad.”
He laughs, puts an arm around her, and pulls her against his side. She leans her head against his shoulder as she speaks again.
“I’m proud of you too, Dad. I thought you should know that. There is no-one I would trust more than you to do the right thing with the ridiculous amount of power your position gives you.”
Her admission takes Harry’s breath away. He cannot believe she has just said those words, after everything that has happened between them. It makes him unspeakably grateful for second chances in life. He presses a kiss into her hair.
“Thanks, love.”
She gets up, and looks down at him.
“I’m going back to bed. Try to get some sleep, okay?”
He nods, and watches her until she disappears into the bedroom.

Wearily, he lies back down, and stares at the darkened ceiling. He sees Ruth’s face in front of him again, but this time her eyes are not accusing. He sees her face as it was when she said his name right after Lucas had shot Mani, when all he had wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her. He thinks again about second chances, and decides he will call her tomorrow, once he’s back in London, and ask her to see him, to talk to him. His mind goes back to their only kiss all those years ago, and he holds onto that memory until he falls asleep.

This time he does not dream.

Fin

[JHyde]

Firstly, I'm sorry this sat so long in the moderation queue, Silktie. It shouldn't have. We usually approve stuff quickly but sometimes stuff gets missed.

I really love this, I think it's the best thing you've written for us. I can really see Harry doing this. Harry had a very rough week in the lead up to this visit - the events of 7.5, 7.6, 7.7, 7.8 and 8.1 all take place within 8 or 9 days, at most. Seeing Catherine makes complete sense and I like that you've incorporated the end of Harry's Diary into this. Most of us dismiss those events as not really canonical, due to stuff that happens in 5.6 and 5.7 that makes us think Ruth hasn't been gone long at all vs the three months provided in the diary. So it's nice to see that mined here. A nice parallel that joins Ruth's leaving/Catherine's accident with Ruth's return and this visit.

I think Catherine is spot on too. I liked Catherine and again, you've brought back an observation Harry makes in his diary about how similar they are. This comes through well in the dialogue.

You're completely right - if anyone could comfort Harry at this time, it's Catherine. Really great.

[Tea Lady]

I really wonderful read Silktie. Totally believable that Harry turned to Catherine at this time. His only family, really. I felt Harry got some redemption while in Paris for his actions. Was that one of the reasons he went? Catherine - "There is no-one I would trust more than you to do the right thing."

[A Cousin]

Beautiful. Just - beautiful....

[arctic]

Fantastic! A really great story. Nice characterization of Catherine and Harry.

[lwhite53]

This is a really great read, Silktie. Wonderful (and absolutely truthful to character) that Harry would seek out Catherine and her belief in his goodness is the keystone to the story. Fantastic writing.

[Aria]

Lovely story, Silktie. Wonderful characterisation and Harry turning to Catherine rings true.