Saviours of the North Sea Part IV

[Silktie]

PART IV

05 March, early evening
Barents Sea

Andrei lies on his bunk, smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling. The ship’s movement has become increasingly pronounced over the last hour and he knows they’re about to enter a storm. They may have to change course if it becomes too severe, but it shouldn’t pose a problem to their time-table. He thinks they will arrive at their destination within the two day window, most probably late in the evening on the 8th. That will suit him. The cover of darkness will lessen the chances of detection, as long as the seas aren’t too rough. There is a knock on the door and the Captain pokes his head around it.
“We’re changing course to miss the worst of the storm.”
Andrei nods, and watches the smoke curl towards the ceiling.

* * *

Same time
Shetland Islands, the bird hide

Harry is first to recover.
“Try your mobile, Ruth.”
She digs it out of her coat pocket and checks the signal.
“Nothing.”
They look at each other helplessly before Harry’s frustration gets the better of him.
“Masterful. We could be here all night! What’s the matter with that bloody man?! Is he five years old, for God’s sake?”
Ruth sits down on one of the benches and tracks Harry’s movements as he paces the length of the bunker restlessly, thinking about the bizarre turn of events.
“What are you doing here?”
Her question stops him in his tracks.
“What?”
“Are you spying on me and Jean-Paul?”
“What?! No, of course not. I didn’t even know he was here.”
The striking eyes remain on him questioningly as she registers that he did apparently know that she would be here.
“Why are you here, then?”
Harry looks around a little guiltily until his gaze falls upon the birds on the cliff outside.
“I got tired of making small talk, and decided to come and have a look at the, erm…” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the birds.
“The puffins?” Ruth provides helpfully.
“Right, the puffins.” Finally meeting her eyes, he smiles sheepishly and sits down next to her.

When he starts to take off his tie and loosens the first few buttons of his shirt, she looks at him askance. He notices.
“Might as well get comfortable.”
She smiles slightly and draws her coat closer around her against the chill in the air. They look at the puffins without speaking.
“They are rather peculiar,” Harry finally offers.
“Hmm. They’re known as the clowns of the ocean.”
He ponders that for a while before turning to her.
“Are you going to tell me about you and McCintosh?”
She mirrors his position on the bench and they sit facing each other.
“Not much to tell,” she begins hesitantly.
When he merely lifts an eyebrow in disbelief she laughs a bit.
“I know everyone’s thinking that I had a torrid affair with him or something, but that’s not it at all.”

Harry remains quiet and lets her tell the story in her own time. They have all night after all, he thinks ruefully.
“He was a few years ahead of me at university, and quite the man-about-town. We used to joke that his major was seeing with how many women he could sleep. Then he started dating my best friend Annie.”
She shakes her head at the memory.
“I thought she was out of her mind, but she rather stupidly believed that he was in love with her and would change his ways. After they’d been dating for about two months, she persuaded me to go with them to the trendiest social event on the university’s calendar. It all started well enough, with Jean-Paul playing the role of attentive boyfriend admirably. Unfortunately, much later in the night and after having imbibed a lot of alcohol, his real colours began to show. He had the gall to come onto me right in front of Annie, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. After he’d pinned me to the wall and forced a kiss on me, I kneed him in the groin.”

Harry regards her with amusement, and not a little pride.
“Well done,” he murmurs.
Ruth shrugs.
“Anyway, there were a lot of witnesses, and the story spread like wildfire. It put a dent in his reputation and he never forgot it.”
She brightens.
“At least Annie finally saw the light and dumped him.”
“And tonight?” Harry asks, frowning. “What was going on when I came in?”
She sighs. “He was up to his old tricks, trying to persuade me to sleep with him. When I said no, he tried to force me to kiss him. That’s when you interrupted, thank God.”
Glancing at him, she says softly, “Good timing, Harry.”
He looks at her sharply, but is unable to read her expression in the gathering gloom. Realising that they need to find a source of light, he locates a few candles stuffed into empty wine bottles standing in a corner. A box of matches lies next to them. He places them around the bunker and lights them, and returns to his seat. His step falters for a moment when he looks at her; she is beautiful in the candlelight. His heart constricts at the sight of her and it makes him think about all that could have been.

Ruth notices that he is exuding an air of melancholy when he sits back down. She wonders at the cause of it, before realising that she has yet to tell him about the latest developments.
“Catherine had some interesting information.”
Harry looks increasingly alarmed the longer she talks. He jumps to his feet and starts pacing again.
“Stupid girl! She could be in danger. If McCintosh knows that she is onto him… I’ve got to get out of here – I need to protect her.”
“Harry…”
“Why in God’s name must she always get herself in trouble like this?”
“Harry.”
“She should’ve told me. I swear, sometimes I wonder whether she uses that brain of hers at all…”
“Harry!”
He shuts up at her insistent tone.
“McCintosh doesn’t know that she’s investigating him. She was standing next to me when he ran into me at the cocktail function, and he didn’t recognise her at all. He has no idea who she is.”
Her voice becomes gentler. “She’s safe for now.”

Harry takes a deep breath, then sits down again.
“Right. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She hugs herself, pressing her hands into her armpits for warmth.
“Here.” He takes off his gloves and offers them to her.
Her first instinct is to refuse, but there is something vulnerable in his expression and it prevents her from doing so. She accepts them with a murmured ‘thanks’. They are still warm from his own hands when she puts them on, and her heart moves inside her. She watches him stuff his now bare hands in his coat pockets and tuck his chin into the collar.

The only sound is their breathing; the thick walls of the bunker blot out the sound of the ocean and the birds outside.
“I started watching cricket while I was in Cyprus,” Ruth announces suddenly into the quiet.
Harry looks at her, surprised. “I thought you hated all sport.”
“I did… I do. I just missed England so much, you know? It was a piece of home I could cling to. And I actually came to appreciate the game very much.”
He smiles. “In that case we should go to a Test sometime.”
It is only when she stiffens next to him that he realises what he’s said.
Looking away, he mutters, “Forget I said that.”
An awkward silence descends on the bunker once more.

Never taking her eyes off him, Ruth weighs her next words carefully before releasing them.
“Why haven’t you given up on me – on us?”
Harry’s head swivels towards her and he studies her face with intense eyes. Stunned by her choice of subject, he takes a long time to answer. When he finally does, his voice is soft and carefully controlled.
“You’re one in almost seven billion, Ruth. Why would I give up on that?”
She scans his face for any sign of teasing, but there is none. He is deadly serious. She waits, but he says nothing else and they lapse back into silence.

After a while Harry notices Ruth shivering slightly. He looks around the bunker, but there are no blankets to be seen. Knowing that they will have to do something soon to warm up, he clears his throat.
“There is no way to say this without it sounding like a tawdry chat up line, but we’re going to have to share body heat if we don’t want to freeze tonight.”
Ruth turns her head to him, astounded. Anxious to prevent any misunderstanding, he continues.
“I’m not suggesting we have sex. But we’ll have to cuddle.” She blanches at the mention of sex, so he presses on nervously.
“It could have been worse…” He trails off at the incredulous look on her face.
“How exactly?”
“Well, we have ablutions.” He nods at the small room holding a toilet with a little wash basin in the corner.
“At least we’re spared the humiliation of trying to relieve ourselves in one of these bottles.” She stares at him disbelievingly, before shaking her head and muttering something under her breath.
He tries to save face by offering gallantly, “Ladies first.”

While she is in the bathroom, Harry moves two cushioned benches together, then takes off his coat, jacket, cufflinks and belt. Ruth eyes his state of undress a little worriedly when she emerges.
“It’s best to have as few layers of clothing between us as possible if this is going to work,” he explains. “We’ll just have to ignore any embarrassment or, er, physical reactions this may cause.”
“Oh, right,” Ruth says, not sounding certain about the turn of events at all and doing her utmost to keep her gaze on his face. Whilst Harry takes his turn in the bathroom, she removes her own coat, jacket and boots. She is eyeing the benches with trepidation when he comes back out. He avoids eye contact as he settles himself on his side, his back towards the wall, then waits for her to lie down in front of him. Once she is settled he covers them with both of their coats before carefully wrapping an arm around her waist and edging closer until his chest is lightly touching her back.

She is rigid against him and he sighs sadly.
“Ruth, just for tonight, let’s forget everything between us and concentrate on not getting hypothermia. Please?”
He is relieved when she relaxes and presses more closely against him in response.
“Goodnight, Harry,” she says softly, and eventually they both drift into uneasy sleep.

* * *

06 March, 02:00
Barents Sea

The storm has gotten progressively worse, and their attempt to sail around it has proven futile. Andrei is standing on the bridge, having given up on sleep after the ship had begun to pitch and roll violently. Roiling green water breaks across the prow every time the ship pitches down into a trough between two waves. She is shuddering under the force of the onslaught. Visibility has been reduced to zero as rain lashes down in sheets, and for the first time Andrei is truly grateful for the upgrades he has made to the navigational equipment.
The Captain watches the instruments anxiously.
“Will she hold?!” He has to yell to be heard over the tumult of the storm.
Andrei watches another wave hurl itself at them.
“She’ll hold.”

He has barely finished speaking when the ship rears up the flank of a monstrous wave, her bough pointing almost vertically up into the sky. She reaches the summit and teeters there for a few seconds, before pitching sharply down the other side with such force that Andrei is thrown across the bridge. The ship slams into the water below, the impact causing the whole vessel to shudder and groan. An alarm starts to wail and the Captain claws his way back to the instrument panel. He pushes some buttons, then looks apprehensively at Andrei who is gingerly picking himself up from the floor.
“The capsule has broken loose. It has slammed into the bilge doors with enough force to buckle them.”
Andrei closes his eyes and turns to move down to the hold where the capsule is kept. But he knows already that it will be too damaged to complete the mission. He wonders what he is going to tell the man in London.

* * *

05:00
The bird hide

Ruth slowly awakens to a feeling of snug warmth and safety. For a moment she is totally disoriented and uncertain of where she is, before registering the arm wrapped around her and cradling her against the warm body behind her. Finally remembering in whose arms she is lying, she snaps instantly fully awake. She lies motionless, taking stock. His deep breathing and the heaviness of the arm draped across her seems to indicate that he is still asleep. Half of her brain is screaming at her to move away from him, but the other half and her heart rebels against the notion. So she stays still, and concentrates all her senses on remembering this moment, this rare moment of physical closeness between them.

Their legs are entwined, and she realises belatedly that her hand is resting on his thigh. They are touching from hip to shoulder, and she registers with a jolt that one part of him is apparently very much awake. She is shocked by the overwhelming desire his physical reaction to her nearness awakens in her. Arousal pools deep and warm in her abdomen, and it takes every ounce of her considerable self control not to move against him. Ashamed and angry at herself, she starts edging away from him. His instinctive response is to tighten his arm around her.
“Mmm, no, stay a bit longer…” His voice is heavy with sleep, and she thinks she feels him press a kiss against the back of her head.

She panics, and begins to struggle in earnest.
“No, Harry, let me go!”
The urgency in her voice gets through to his sleep-addled brain, and he comes fully awake.
“Ruth, what…”
“Let go!”
He yanks his arm away as though stung and scrambles backwards, away from her. Ruth shoots to her feet and stumbles into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She leans against it, breathing heavily. When she closes her eyes, all she sees is the confused and hurt expression on Harry’s face as she practically ran away from his touch. Raising her head, she studies her own expression in the mirror. It is full of self disgust, but also full of desire. She closes her eyes again.

After what she deems to be a suitable amount of time for both their mortification to have dissipated, Ruth ventures from the bathroom. Harry is sitting on the bench, his coat folded on his lap. He has put his jacket and shoes back on. He doesn’t look up at the sound of the bathroom door opening. She only progresses two steps into the room before stopping uncertainly. His stillness unnerves her.
“Harry, I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t mean to-“
“Yes, you did.” His voice is soft and laced with humiliation. He still refuses to look at her.
She is stung by his reaction, but she doesn’t know what to do to soothe his hurt. Sighing deeply, she looks down at her feet.
“Look, can we just pretend this whole debacle never happened?”
And suddenly he is angry. He stands up abruptly, dropping the coat on the bench. Not making any attempt to hide his aroused state, he meets her eyes squarely.
“You do what you want. I won’t pretend that I don’t have feelings for you, or that I don’t find you desirable to the point of distraction.”
With that, he moves towards the bathroom, brushing past her in the process.

When he does so, Ruth reaches out and grabs his arm. He tries to shake her off, but she holds on determinedly. Harry stops, and his wounded gaze meets hers. They are centimetres apart. In that moment, Ruth realises with certain clarity that she loves him. She could fight it whilst their connection was mostly work related and borne of mutual respect; when she could fool herself that their attraction was based on a shared need to find companionship and emotional fulfilment. But this raw, open display of mutual desire is her undoing. She can no longer deny it: she loves him. She wants him.

Her hand slides down his arm and their fingers twine together.
“Please,” she says. Everything she is feeling is entrapped in that one word, and Harry hears it all. They move simultaneously and their lips meet. There is nothing tender about this kiss; it is hot and hard and passionate. Years of self denial, longing and love is poured into it, until it threatens to overwhelm them. Harry pushes her back against the wall and presses against her. He can’t stop kissing her; he is drunk on the feel of her lips under his. His hand fumbles for her breast, and he moans into her mouth when her own hand encloses him.

The moment is interrupted by a scraping noise at the door. Ruth tears her mouth away and gasps, “Someone is about to open the door.”
Before Harry’s lust-fogged brain can register what is happening, she has darted across the room, collected all their clothes, and stuffed his coat into his arms. Dumbly he follows her lead and shrugs it on, then watches in amazement as she spins the surprised caretaker a story about one of their friends playing a joke on them to explain their presence. Still unable to form a coherent thought, let alone words, he merely nods at the man, clutches his coat closed in front of him, and follows her back to the hotel.

tbc

Comment: This chapter is all about the characters, but I haven't forgotten about the plot - we'll be getting to it soon. I had to get all the pieces in place first.

[Tea Lady]

*wipes brow* Thanks Silktie. You made my journey into work a lot more enjoyable this morning. I'm intrigued as to where you are going with this.

[Aria]

Great chapter, Silktie. Can't wait to see how you develop this.

[A Cousin]

Plot...? Oh, yeah, Russian ship somewhere in the North Sea. A big portion of the reason I like your fics is that you have the talent for balancing plot and character. A bit of fan-ficous interruptous is OK. Really, really OK!

And now back to maturity.

Favorite bits:

“You’re one in almost seven billion, Ruth. Why would I give up on that?” It is indeed just that simple.

You always do such a good job of getting the characters individual speech patterns. Harry is so archaic sometimes. In a "turn about the grounds" kind of way. These two in particular jumped out to me as very Harry-esque.

“Well, we have ablutions.”

and

I won’t pretend that I don’t have feelings for you, or that I don’t find you desirable to the point of distraction.”

Looking forward to more.

[DogSoSmall]

Yes, please don't apologise about the plot. It's fine......absolutely fine! (I am ashamed to admit how often I check for updates of this fic.)

[HellsBells]

Poor Harry and Ruth, couldn't you have let them have a bit longer in the bird hide?!!!
Excellent, as always Silktie.

[DogSoSmall]

I love that Harry is so befuddled he can't register a coherent thought.