Blood, Sand and Tears Part II

[Silktie]

Warning: Contains scenes of a suggestive nature


There could be no honour in sure success, but much might be wrested from a sure defeat.
- T.E. Lawrence


Friday 1 July, late night
London, Ruth’s apartment

They lay entwined under a single sheet, waiting for their heartbeats to slow down. Harry had wanted to discuss the Libya issue with her before indulging in any pleasurable activity, but that thought went out the window the moment she’d closed the door behind him and pulled him towards her by his tie. Before he could get a word in, she had kissed him hungrily, and he had happily given in to her ministrations. In fact, he had reciprocated enthusiastically, and by the time they had reached the bedroom he had stripped her of everything but her underwear. Ruth could be unstoppably passionate, he had learned to his delight as soon as they began sleeping together, and times like this, when she couldn’t keep her hands off him, did his ego a world of good. She was not the only one, of course. He was not ashamed to admit that she had the ability to make him lose all control, something that he had seldom been able to do with previous lovers. And he liked it. It offered a feeling of freedom that very little in his busy, regimented life could provide, and he craved it when he was not with her. She made him feel alive, and he could see in her eyes, when he hovered above her as they made love, that he did the same for her, and nothing gave him more joy. It was a wondrous thing to see those striking eyes and that beautiful face so animated, so blissful, so fulfilled. He rarely closed his eyes during their coupling, because he couldn’t bear to miss seeing that expression, or her desire for him radiating from every pore.

These happy reminiscences led his thoughts back to the subject he had come to discuss with her. In the vague plan that had been forming in his head since the meeting with the Foreign Secretary, Ruth played an integral part. After their love making, however, he was filled with a desire to cherish and coddle her, and keep her away from danger as much as possible. But as he ran his hand appreciatively over the curve of her hip, he also knew instinctively that such an approach would destroy what they had. The success of their union was dependent on trust, and that included trust in each other’s professional abilities. If he tried to wrap her in cotton wool, she would resent him for it.
“What are you thinking about?” She looked at him with luminous eyes, and he lifted his head to kiss her languidly before answering.
“I want to discuss something with you. But not here; not in bed.”
It was the one firm rule they had established when they started seeing each other, and enforced religiously: there was to be no discussion of work in bed.
Ruth grasped his meaning immediately, and snuggled closer to him in response. She was not quite ready to give up on her relaxed state, on the feel of his skin against hers. One of her legs slid over his, and he groaned appreciatively.
“It can wait until tomorrow,” he murmured, as his hands started to wander.
Her own hands did some exploring before she withdrew them reluctantly, kissing his neck as she did so.
“No. It’s going to distract you until you’ve told me.”
She sat up and his eyes lingered on her. “I really don’t think it will,” he said earnestly. But instead of reaching for her again, he sat up too. One of the first things he’d learned about her was that she seldom changed her mind once it was set upon a specific course of action.

She put on his shirt, buttoning it haphazardly, whilst he slipped on his boxers. They moved to the kitchen where Harry started moving around gathering mugs, Milo and milk. Ruth leant against the doorjamb and watched him fondly, stirred by the familiarity of having him in her kitchen, making them Milo. Dressed only in his boxers. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders as he turned away to warm milk in the microwave, before moving on to admire his biceps and finally sliding down to caress his backside, so wonderfully rounded and… full. When he turned back to her it took her a few seconds to drag her gaze up to his face, but his focus remained on his task and he didn’t notice. It left her free to leisurely drift her eyes over his front, and she felt desire build anew. One of the things she loved about Harry was how comfortable he was in his own skin. He knew that he could be in better shape, or have more hair, but he wasn’t hung up on those things, and it was infectious and made her less concerned about her own imperfections. She was reminded of the comment she’d made to one of the pretty young things in the Registry Office not too long ago. The girl had expressed confusion as to why so many women found Harry sexy. “I mean, the man’s pudgy, for God’s sake,” she had exclaimed. He and Ruth had just started sleeping together and no-one knew yet, but she couldn’t refrain from replying.
“That’s because he’s pudgy in all the right places,” she had said knowingly, with a smirk, and had left the girl behind, slack-jawed and speechless.

Harry handed her a mug and leaned back against the counter blowing on his own as he gathered his thoughts. He recounted his meeting with the Foreign Secretary, and smiled in vindication when Ruth raised the same concerns he had. He finally got to the crux of the matter.
“She wants me to go along and blackmail Yusif al-Sanussi into becoming our mouthpiece.”
Ruth shook her head. “You know they’re more likely to kill him than to listen to him.”
“I know.”
She studied him. “Then why did you agree to it?”
In response he changed the focus of the conversation slightly. “What do you think, in your capacity as my best analyst, the chances are that Libya will launch retaliatory terror attacks against Britain?”
Ruth was silent for a while as her brain turned over all available information. “I’d say the chances are very good, especially in light of the threats made by Gaddafi today.”
Harry nodded, pleased that they were on the same wavelength. “So do I, and that is why I agreed to it.”
He could see that she was beginning to figure out his plan.
“You’re going to try and use this al-Sanussi to get intelligence about possible attacks planned in Britain?” she asked slowly.
“Yes.”
“How is he going to do that if he loses all influence because he’s spouting the West’s rhetoric in Gaddafi’s ear?”
Harry just looked at her, waiting for the penny to drop. Which it did.
“Oh, Harry. You plan to countermand the Foreign Secretary’s instructions, don’t you? You’re going to tell your agent to ignore what she said, and to do your bidding only.”
“Yes,” he said again, and she looked at him with a mixture of admiration and concern.
“That’s a dangerous strategy. Carlisle will not take kindly to you ruining her bid for glory. She’ll destroy you.”

Harry took a sip of his Milo. “I know. Which is why I insisted on taking my own translator along. I don’t want some Foreign Office lackey to witness my discussion with Yushua.”
He looked levelly at her as he spoke again, every inch the commanding Section Head, despite his state of undress. “I want you to be my translator.”
It was not a request, but it was not quite an order either, and she knew that if she declined he would accept it, and perhaps even be secretly relieved. But the fact that he ignored his natural inclination to protect her, and instead took a decision that was for the best of the operation meant a lot to her, and she nodded without hesitation. They watched each other wordlessly, both aware what the other was thinking, before Ruth suddenly frowned.
“Why do you call him Yushua? His name is Yusif, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Yushua is his code-name.”
Ruth smiled in admiration. “Very fitting. Joshua was one of the 12 spies in the Old Testament, and is revered in both Christianity and Islam for this role. A spy with a foot in each sphere of belief.” She moved toward him. “You came up with that, didn’t you?”
He put down his mug and reached for her. “Yes. And I love that you got it immediately,” he said, before he turned them and lifted her onto the counter. His hands skimmed down her front as he unbuttoned the shirt and parted it reverently.
“What a brilliant, beautiful woman you are,” he marvelled, desire burning in his eyes, before he tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her ardently. She responded with equal fervour, and they were soon lost to the world, passionately wrapped up in each other.

* * *

Saturday 2 July, early morning
London, Ruth’s apartment

Harry slid out of bed quietly, and Ruth barely stirred. He collected his mobile from the bedside table and moved into the sitting room where he dialled Dimitri’s number. His officer took some time to answer, sounding groggy when he did.
Harry was unrepentant. “I need you to do something for me. There’s a woman, name of Lily Nelson, aged thirty-seven. She used to live in Clapham in ’89. She has a daughter, Andrea, who should be twenty-two now. Find them, get me some pictures. I’m calling a team meeting for this afternoon, so if I can have them by then, that would be useful.”
“Right,” Dimitri responded, as he philosophically let go of yet another weekend. He wondered what scheme his boss was cooking up this time.

Harry disconnected and looked up to see Ruth watching him from the doorway.
“You’re up early,” she observed guardedly.
“I tried not to wake you, but in vain apparently.” He smiled disarmingly, but she wasn’t buying it. She knew he was up to something. Harry capitulated with a rueful sigh.
“Yushua had a child with an underage girl in ’89, and I used that to break him back then. I thought it might once again be useful, if added pressure is needed to get him to cooperate.”
He watched her apprehensively, sensitive to anything that involved children where she was concerned. Though she never talked about it, he was certain that she still missed the Greek boy. The death of George and the loss of the boy would forever lie like a shadow between them, despite her proclamations that she didn’t blame him for it. He accepted that; such was human nature. Forgiving doesn’t mean that one could just forget everything; he knew that all too well. Because of this, he preferred to avoid situations that would remind her of the boy. But she would have found out what he planned to do eventually, so better to confess now than surprise her with the information during the operation, he figured.

Ruth looked at her hands and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She could sense Harry’s discomfort, and she knew the cause of it. And he was right. Every time they used an innocent to achieve their objectives, Nico’s face swam to the front of her mind and stayed there, a silent accusing ghost from the past. Nothing could be gained from talking it to death, so she didn’t try to explain what she was feeling to Harry. Instead she contained herself to express understanding that what he was planning was necessary. “It might be useful if the threat of exposing him isn’t enough to sway him,” she agreed.
Harry smiled at her a little sadly, and nodded wordlessly, wishing that he didn’t have to do these unsavoury things quite so regularly. Ruth came over and took his hand. “It’s the right call, just as it was back when the child was still small,” she stated, squeezing his hand. He sighed, then followed her into the kitchen.

* * *

Late afternoon
The Grid

The team was gathered in the meeting room, and Harry had just briefed them on the Libya operation.
“Ruth will accompany me as a translator,” he concluded. “Erin, Dimitri, you need to be on standby back here. We may be working within limited time, so as soon as we get anything from my agent, you need to be ready to act on it. I’ve already asked the Home Secretary to increase the threat level.”
Erin nodded. “We’ll be ready.”
Harry looked to Dimitri questioningly, and the younger man slid an envelope across the table. “The photos you asked for.”
“Thank you.” Harry’s eyes rested on the envelope, but he didn’t reach out to touch it. Instead he said, “Ruth, a word,” and the others took that as their cue to leave.

Once they were alone, Harry lifted his eyes to hers. “I want you to do some digging. Quietly.”
She cocked her head. “What am I looking for?”
He stood and walked to the corner of the room, hands in pockets. “I keep asking myself why the PM would authorise this foolhardy enterprise. He’s not stupid, for a politician.”
Ruth smothered a smile at the caveat.
“There is a smell of desperation to the whole thing, and I’d like to know what it is they’re not telling us,” he continued. “Start with MI6. The Foreign Secretary was a little too eager to convince me that our sister department is impotent where Libya is concerned. If there weren’t one or two of their officers ‘advising’ the rebels, I’d be very surprised.”

* * *

Monday 4 July, morning
En route to Libya

On Harry’s request, the RAF pilot took the plane on a detour across North Africa at a high enough altitude to be safe from anti-aircraft artillery. When they entered Libyan air space, Ruth leaned over Harry’s shoulder to look out the window. Mile upon mile of dry, desolate desert slid by below.
“The land of blood, sand and tears,” Harry murmured, for her ears only. “That’s what Yushua called it.”
“Apt,” she decided.
“Hmm.” Without turning his head from the window, he rested the tips of his fingers lightly against the back of her hand that was curled around the armrest between them. She turned her hand upward and allowed him to caress her palm softly, sensually.

Far below them, the coastline passed by, and oil tankers the size of Dinky toys were dotted around the harbour. Unbeknownst to the two people staring so intently at them, aboard one of the outbound tankers at that very moment, five men were gathered around a table, studying a map of the UK on which five targets were marked in red.

tbc

[beatrice4ruth]

Thank you for the amazing chapter. You should have written for Spooks. You would have shown them that it is possible to combine the professional world with the private sphere with great success. Harry and Ruth make such an invincible couple. I love their intimate scenes. At the same time, you make clear that all is not rosy in their new relationship. The past still hovers over them. You do not brush over the fact that “The death of George and the loss of the boy would forever lie like a shadow between them”. I am also impressed by Harry’s spying instincts. Their mission seems so treacherous that I am worried that Harry and Ruth will come to harm.

[Tea Lady]

Oh what a super chapter. Harry and Ruth are finding their way after everything. Can't wait to see what Libya has in store for them.

[pookster]

An amazing chapter. A very mature look at both Harry and Ruth and their collective past influencing their relationship - I like how its there. The plot is terrific - politics and espionage so close to reality I feel and how brilliantly Harry and Ruth are at the game. And I'm looking forward to more.

[kmac82]

I LOVE it! Well done, Silktie. No schmaltz or silliness, but mutual respect and admiration, bound together with passion - now THAT'S romance. Harry and Ruth are quite the team. I wouldn't want to be Yushua!

[A Cousin]

“That’s because he’s pudgy in all the right places,”

BWA-hahahahahaha!!! You ROCK my little world!

Dimitri "philosophically" letting go of yet another weekend is a great turn of phrase.

Now that I have had a bit of time to refresh my very creaky memory re: the little brain worm you slipped in the first chapter, Joshua was also Moses' successor and the guy that actually led the Israelites into Caanan. That code-name is very clever of Harry, but more to the point, it is very clever of you!

This story is a great balance of plot and character. More soon please!

[Sparky]

Another fantastic chapter with some great lines particularly the one about Harry being pudgy 'in all the right places'!

Great to see them working and being together on a professional and personal basis and it's just a shame we'll never get to see this on screen (unless S10 throws up a few surprises) because I really think it would work - still we get to read your amazing fan-fic which is just as good!